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Theological   Seminary, 

NCETON,    N.  J. 

BV    4500     .S44    1847 

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CONSISTING    OP 


CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  FAMILY  MONITOR,  AND  CHRISTIAN 
FATHER'S  PRESENT; 

B^  THE  REV.  JOHN  ANGEL  JAMES. 


THE   COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN; 

BY  THE   REV.   HENRY  VENN. 

TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT   OF  EUROPE; 

BY    DANIEL    WILSON, 

BISHOP    OP    CALCUTTA. 

SACRA    privata; 

BY  THOMAS  WILSON, 

BISHOP     OF     SODOR     AND     MAN. 

THE    MARYS; 

BY"   THE   REV.    ROBERT   PHILLIP. 

THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED; 

BY  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  JAY. 


NEW    YORK: 
ROBERT    CARTER,     58    CANAL    STREET; 

PITTSBURG:    56    MARKET    STREET. 

1847. 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY   EXPLAINED 


OR,   TKB 


INFLUENCE  OF  RELIGION  UPON  TEMPER  STATED 


JN  AN  EXPOSITION  OF  THE  THIRTEENTH  CHAPTER  OF  THE  FIRST  Eri?TLE 

TO  THE  CORINTHIANS. 


EY   JOHN    ANGELL   JAMES, 

49IH08    OP    THE    CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT,    SC. 


"  Truth  and  Love  are  two  of  the  most  powerful  things  in  the  world ;  and  when  they  both  f  o  tcre- 
tner,  they  cannot  easily  be  withstood.  The  golden  beams  of  Truth,  and  the  silken  cords  of  Lcve, 
twisted  together,  will  draw  men  on  with  a  sweet  violence,  whether  they  will  or  no."—  Oiidworth. 


PREFACE. 


A  work  which  the  author  published  a  few  years 
since,  on  the  Duties  of  Church  Members,  concludes 
with  the  following  sentence: — "  Let  us  remember, 
that  humility  and  love  are  the  necessary  fruits  of 
our  doctrines,  the  highest  beauty  of  our  character, 
and  the  guardian  angels  of  our  churches."  To 
prove  and  elucidate  this  sentiment,  and  to  state  at 
greater  length  than  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do  in 
that  treatise,  the  nature,  operations,  and  importance 
of  charity  ;  he  was  induced  to  enter  upon  a  series 
of  Discourses  on  the  chapter  which  is  the  subject 
of  this  volume:  these  Discourses  were  heard  with 
much  attention,  and  apparent  interest.  Before  they 
were  finished,  many  requests  were  presented  for 
their  publication ;  a  promise  was  given  to  that  ef- 
fect, and  the  intention  announced  to  the  public.  On 
a  further  inspection  of  his  notes,  the  author  saw  so 
little  that,  was  either  novel,  or  on  any  account 
worthy  to  meet  the  public  eye,  that  he  had  for  two 
years  quite  abandoned  his  intention  of  printing. 
Circumstances  which  need  not  be  mentioned,  toge- 
ther with  frequent  inquiries  from  his  friends  after 
the  forthcoming  treatise,  drew  his  attention  again 
to  the  subject  a  few  months  since,  and  revived  the 
original  purpose  of  sending  from  the  press  the  sub- 
stance of  these  plain  and  practical  Discourses. 
That  intention  is  now  executed  ;  with  what  results, 
the  sovereign  grace  of  J-hovah,  to  which  it  is  hum- 
bly commended,  must  d  ;termine. 

The  author  offers  .his  volume  primarily  and 
chiefly  to  his  own  friends,  to  whom  it  is  dedicated. 
He  has,  however,  by  publishing  it,  placed  il  within 
the  reach  of  the  public,  though  he  can  truly  say, 
that  he  does  not  expect  much  interest  to  be  produced 
by  his  work,  in  the  minds  of  many,  beyond  those 
who  are  prepared,  by  friendship,  to  value  it  above 


its  intrinsic  merits.  One  thing  is  certain,  the  sub- 
ject  is  confessedly  important,  and  it  is  as  plain  as  it 
is  important.  It  requires  little  argument  to  explain 
or  to  defend  it;  and  as  for  eloquence  to  recommend 
and  enforce  it,  the  only  power  that  can  render  it  ef- 
fectual for  practical  benefit,  is  the  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit :  without  this  aid,  a  giant  in  literature 
could  do  nothing,  and  the  feeblest  effort,  by  such  as- 
sistance, may  be  successful.  Too  much  has  not 
been  said,  and  cannot  be  said,  about  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel ;  but  too  little  may  be  said,  and  too 
little  is  said  and  thought,  about  its  spirit.  To  con- 
tribute something  towards  supplying  this  deficiency 
in  the  treasures  of  the  temple,  the  author  offers  this 
small  volume;  and  though  it  be  but  as  the  widow's 
two  mites,  yet,  as  it  is  all  he  has  to  give,  as  it  is 
given  willingly,  and  with  a  desire  to  glorify  God, 
he  humbly  hopes  that  however  it  may  be  despised 
by  those,  who  he  rejoices  to  know,  are  so  much 
richer  than  himself  in  intellectual  and  moral  afflu- 
ence, it  will  not  be  rejected  by  him,  who  more  re- 
gards the  motive  than  the  amount  of  every  offering 
that  is  carried  to  his  altar. 

The  author  can  easily  suppose,  that  among  many 
other  faults  which  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  criticism 
will  discover  in  his  work,  and  which  its  stern 
voice  will  condemn,  one  is  the  tautologies,  of  which, 
in  some  places,  it  appears  to  be  guilty.  In  answer 
to  this,  he  can  only  remark,  that  in  the  discussion 
of  such  a  subject,  where  the  parts  are  divided  by 
such  almost  imperceptible  lines,  and  softened  down 
so  much  into  each  other,  he  found  it  very  difficult 
to  avoid  this  repetition,  which,  after  all,  is  perhaps 
not  always  a  fault — at  least  not  a  capital  one. 

Edgbastan,  April  22,  1828. 


CHRISTIAN   CHAMT 


V. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE   OCCASION    OF    PAUL'S    DESCRIPTION   AND   ENFORCE- 
MENT   OF    CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


The  credibility  of  the  Gospel,  as  a  revelation  from 
heaven,  was  attested  by  miracles,  as  had  been  pre- 
dicted by  the  prophet  Joel.     "  And  it  shall  come  to 
pass  afterwards,  that  I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit  upon 
all  flesh,  and  your  sons  and  your  daughters  shall 
prophesy,  your  old  men  shall  dream  dreams,  your 
young  men  shall  see  visions ;  and  also  upon  the 
servants  and  the  handmaidens  in  those  days,  I  will 
pour  out  my  Spirit."     This  prophecy  began  to  re- 
ceive its  accomplishment  when  our  Lord  entered 
upon  his  public  ministry, — but  was  yet  more  re- 
markably fulfilled,  according  to  the  testimony  of 
Peter,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  when  the  disciples 
"  were  all  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  began  to 
speak  with  other  tongues,  as  the  Spirit  gave  them 
utterance ;"  and  still  continued  to  be  fulfilled  till  the 
power  of  working  miracles  was  withdrawn  from  the 
Church.    Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ceased  not,  dur- 
ing his   continuance  on  earth,  to  prove,  by  these 
splendid  achievements,  the  truth  of  his  claims  as 
the  Son  of  God;  and  constantly  appeal  to  them  in 
his  controversy  with  the  Jews,  as  the  reasons  and 
the  grounds  of  faith  in  his  communications.     By 
him  the  power  of  working  miracles  was  conferred 
on  his  apostles,  who,  in  the  exercise  of  this  extraor- 
dinary gift,  cast  out  demons,  and  "  healed  all  man- 
ner of  sickness,  and  all  manner  of  disease."   Christ 
also  assured  them  that,  under  the  dispensation  of  the 
Spirit,  which  was  to  commence  after  his  decease, 
their  miraculous  powers  should  be  so  much  en- 
larged and  multiplied,  as  to  exceed  those  which  had 
been  exercised  by  himself.     This  took  place  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  when  the  ability  to  speak  all  lan- 
guages without  previous  study  was  conferred  upon 
thein.     The  apostles,  as  the  ambassadors  and  mes- 
sengers of  their  risen  Lord,  were  authorized  and 
enabled  to  invest  others  with  the  high  distinction; 
for,  to  confer  the  power  of  working  miracles,  was  a 
prerogative  confined  to  the  apostolic  otfice.     This  is 
evident  from  many  parts  of  the  New  Testament. — 
But  while   apostles  only  could  communicate   this 
power,  any  one,  not  excepting  the  most  obscure  and 
illiterate  member  of  the  churches,  could  receive  it; 
as  it  was  not  confined  to  Church  officers,  whether 
ordinary  or  extraordinary.    It  is  probable  that  these 
gifts  were  sometimes  distributed  among  all  the  ori- 
ginal members  of  achurch  :  asthe  society  increased, 
they  were  confined  to  a  more  limited  number,  and 
granted  only  to  such  as  were  more  eminent  among 
the  brethren,  till  at  length  they  were  probably  confin- 
ed to  the  elders;  thus  being  as  gradually  withdrawn 
from  the  Church  as  they  had  been  communicated. 

These  miraculous  powers  were  of  various  kinds, 
which  are  enumerated  at  length  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Romans.  "  Having  then  gifts,  differing  according 
to  the  grace  that  is  given  to  us,  whether  prophecy, 
let  us  prophesy  according  to  the  proportion  (ana- 
logy) of  faith  ;  or  ministry,  let  us  wait  on  our  mi- 
nistering :  or  he  that  teacheth.  on  teaching;  or  he 
that  exhorteth,  on  exhortation;  or  he  that  giveth, 
let  him  do  it  with  simplicity  ;  he  that  ruleth,  with 
diligence ;   he  that  showeth  mercy,  with  cheerful- 


twelfth  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinth- 
ians. "Now  there  are  diversities  of  gifts,  but  the 
same  Spirit.  And  there  are  differences  of  admin- 
istration, but  the  same  Lord.  And  there  are  diver- 
sities of  operations,  but  it  is  the  same  God  which 
worketh  all  in  all.  But  the  manifestation  of  the 
Spirit  is  given  to  every  man  to  profit  withal :  for  to 
one  is  given  by  the  Spirit,  the  word  of  wisdom  ;  to 
another  the  word  of  knowledge  by  the  same  Spirit ; 
to  another,  faith  by  the  same  Spirit ;  to  another  the 
working  of  miracles;  to  another  prophecy ;  to  ano- 
ther discerning  of  Spirits ;  to  another  divers  tongues: 
to  another  the  interpretation  of  tongues." 

It  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  here  explain 
the  nature,  and  trace  the  distinction,  of  these  en- 
dowments— a  task  which  has  been  acknowledged 
by  all   expositors  to  be    difficult,    and    which   is 
thought  by  some  to  be  impossible.     But  vague  and 
general  as  is  the  idea  of  them  which  we  possess,  we 
can  form  some  conception  of  the  strange  and  novel 
spectacle  presented  by  a  society  in  which  they  were 
in  full  operation.    They  constituted  the  light  which 
fell  from  heaven  upon  the  Church,  and  to  which 
she  appealed,  as  the  proofs  of  her  divine  origin.     It 
is  not  easy  for  us  to  conceive  of  any  thing  so  strik- 
ing and  impressive,  as  a  community  of  men  thus  re- 
markably endowed.     We  may  entertain  a  general, 
though  not  an  adequate,  idea'of  the  spiritual  glory 
which  shone  upon  an  assembly,  where  one  member 
would  pour  forth,  in  strains  of  inspired  eloquence, 
the  profoundest  views  of  the  divine  economy,  and 
would  be  succeeded  by  another,  who,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  the  gift  of  knowledge,  would  explain  the 
mysteries  of  truth,  concealed  under  the  symbols  of 
the  Jewish  dispensation;— where  one,  known  per- 
haps to  be  illiterate,  would  rise,  and  in  a  language 
which  he  had  never  studied,  descant,  without  hesi- 
tation and  without  embarrassment,  on  the  sublime- 
est  topics  of  revealed  truth;  and  would  be  followed 
by  another,  who,  in  the  capacity  of  an  interpreter, 
would  render  into  the  vernacular  tongue  all  that 
had  been  spoken  ;  where  one  would  heal  the  most 
inveterate  diseases  of  the  body  with  a  word,  and 
another  discern  by  a  glance  the  secrets  of  the  mind, 
and  disclose  the  hypocrisy  which  lurked  under  the 
veil  of  the  most  specious  exterior.     What  seeming 
confusion,  and  yet  what  real  grandeur,  must  have 
attended  such  a  scene!     What  were  the  disputa- 
tions of  the  schools,  the  eloquence  of  the  forum,  or 
the  martial  pomp,   the  accumulating  wealth,  the 
literary  renown  of  the  Augustan  age  of  the  Roman 
Empire    to    this    extraordinary  spectacle  1      Yea, 
what  was  the  gorgeous  splendor  of  the  temple  of 
Solomon,  in  the  zenith  of  its  beauty,  compared  with 
tins'?     Here  were  the  tokens  and  displays  of  a  pre- 
sent though  invisible  Deity,  a  glory  altogether  un- 
earthly and  inimitable,  and  on  that  account  the 
more  remarkable. 

For  the  possession  and  exercise  of  these  gifts,  the 
Church  at  Corinth  was  eminently  distinguished. — 
This  is  evident  from  the  testimony  of  Paul, — "  I 

thank  my  God  always  on  your  behalf,  for  the  grace 
of  God  which  is  given  you  by  Christ  Jesus;  that  in 
every  thing  ye  are  enriched  by  him  in  all  utterance, 
and  in  all  knowledge  ;  even  as  the  testimony  of 
Christ  was  confirmed  in  you  :  so  that  ye  come  be- 
hind in  no  gift:"  and  in  another  place  he  asks  them 


nes  ."  They  are  set  forth  still  more  at  length,  in  the!  "What  is  it,  wherein  ye  Wv,rn  inferior  to  othe 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


Churches'!"  It  is,  indeed,  both  a  humiliating;  and 
an  admonitory  consideration,  that  the  Church 
which,  of  all  those  planted  by  the  apostles,  was  the 
most  distinguished  for  its  gifts,  should  have  been 
the  least  eminent  for  its  graces;  for  this  was  the 
case  with  the  Christian  Society  at  Corinth.  What 
a  scandalous  abuse  and  profanation  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  had  crept  in  !  What  a  schismatical  spirit 
prevailed  !  What  a  connivance  at  sin  existed  ! — 
What  resistance  to  apostolic  authority  was  set  up  ! 
To  account  for  this,  it  should  be  recollected,  that 
the  possession  of  miraculous  gifts  by  no  means  im- 
plied the  existence  and  influence  of  sanctifying 
grace.  Those  extraordinary  powers  were  entirely 
distinct  from  the  qualities  which  are  essential  to 
the  character  of  a  real  Christian.  They  were  pow- 
er? conferred  not  at  all,  or  in  a  very  subordinate 
degree,  for  the  benefit  of  the  individual  himself,  but 
were  distributed  according  to  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Divine  will,  for  the  edification  of  believers  and  the 
conviction  of  unbelievers.  Hence  saith  the  apostle, 
— "  Tongues  are  for  a  sign,  not  to  them  that  believe, 
but  to  them  that  believe  not:  but  prophesying  serv- 
eth  not  for  them  that  believe  not,  but  for  them  which 
believe."  Our  Lord  has  informed  us,  that  miracu- 
lous endowments  were  not  necessarily  connected 
with,  but  were  often  disconnected  from,  personal 
piety.  "  Many  will  say  unto  me  in  that  day,  Lord, 
Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name,  and  in 
thy  name  done  many  wonderful  works  1  And  then 
will  I  profess  unto  them,  I  never  knew  you  ;  depart 
from  me  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  Paul  supposes 
the  same  thing  in  the  commencement  of  this  chap- 
ter, where  he  says, — "  Though  I  speak  with  the 
tongues  of  men,  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  charity, 
I  am  become  as  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cym- 
bal. And  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and 
understand  all  mysteries  and  all  knowledge: — and 
though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove 
mountains,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing."  — 
This  hypothetical  mode  of  speech  certainly  implies, 
that  gifts  and  grace  are  not  necessarily  connected. 

This  is  a  very  awful  consideration,  and,  by  show- 
ing how  far  self-deception  may  be  carried,  ought  to 
be  felt  as  a  solemn  admonition  to  all  professing 
Christians,  to  be  very  careful  and  diligent  in  the 
great  business  of  self-examination. 

It  is  evident,  both  from  the  nature  of  things,  and 
from  the  reasoning  of  the  apostle,  that  some  of  the 
miraculous  powers  were  more  admired,  and  there- 
fore more  popular,  than  others.  The  gift  of  tongues, 
as  is  plain  from  the  reasoning  in  the  fourteenth 
chapter,  appears  to  have  been  most  coveted,  because 
eloquence  was  so  much  cultivated  by  the  Greeks: 
to  reason  and  declaim  in  public,  as  a  talent,  was 
much  admired  and  as  a  practice,  was  exceedingly 
common  :  schools  were  established  to  teach  the  art, 
and  places  of  public  resort  were  frequented  to  dis- 
play it.  Hence,  in  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  espe- 
cially with  those  whose  hearts  were  unsanctified  by 
Divine  grace,  and  who  converted  miraculous  ope- 
rations into  a  means  of  personal  ambition,  the  gift 
of  tongues  was  the  most  admired  of  all  these  extra- 
ordinary powers.  A  desire  after  conformity  to  the 
envied  distinctions  of  the  world,  has  ever  been  the 
snare  and  the  reproach  of  many  of  the  members  of 
the  Christian  community. 

Where  distinctions  exist,  many  evils  will  be  sure 
to  follow,  as  long  as  human  nature  is  in  an  imper- 
fect state.  Talents,  or  the  power  of  fixing  attention 
and  raising  admiration,  will  be  valued  above  vir- 
tues ;  and  the  more  popular  talents  will  occupy,  in 
the  estimate  of  ambition,  a  higher  rank  than  those 
that  are  useful.  Consequently,  we  must  expect, 
wherever  opportunities  present  themselves,  to  see 
on  the  one  hand,  pride,  vanity,  arrogance,  love  of 
display,  boasting,  selfishness,  conscious  superiority, 


and  a  susceptibility  of  offence  ;  whiie  on  the  other 
we  shall  witness  an  equally  offensive  exhibition  of 
envy,  suspicion,  imputation  of  evil,  exultation  over 
failures,  and  a  disposition  to  magnify  and  report  of- 
fences. Such  passions  are  not  entirely  excluded 
from  the  Church  of  God,  at  least  during  its  militant 
state ;  and  they  were  most  abundantly  exhibited 
among  the  Christians  at  Corinth.  Those  who  had 
gifts,  were  too  apt  to  exult  over  those  that  had  none ; 
while  the  latter  indulged  in  envy,  and  ill-will  to- 
ward the  former  :  those  who  were  favored  with  the 
most  distinguished  endowments,  vaunted  of  their 
achievements  over  those  who  attained  only  to  the 
humbler  powers;  and  all  the  train  of  the  irrascible 
passions  was  indulged  to  such  a  degree,  as  well 
nigh  to  banish  Christian  love  from  the  fellowship  of 
the  faithful.  This  unhappy  state  of  things  the 
apostle  found  it  necessary  to  correct,  which  he  did 
by  a  series  of  most  conclusive  arguments  ;  such,  for 
instance,  as  that  all  these  gifts  are  the  bestowments 
of  the  Spirit,  who  in  distributing  them  exercises  a 
wise  but  irresponsible  sovereignty — that  they  are 
bestowed  for  mutual  advantage,  and  not  for  personal 
glory — that  this  variety  is  essential  to  general  edifi- 
cation— that  the  useful  ones  are  to  be  more  valued 
than  those  of  a  dazzling  nature — that  they  are  de- 
pendent on  each  other  for  their  efficiency;  and  he 
then  concludes  his  expostulation  and  representation, 
by  introducing  to  their  notice  that  heavenly  virtue 
which  he  so  beautifully  describes  in  the  chapter  un 
der  consideration,  and  which  he  exalts  in  value  and 
importance  above  the  most  coveted  miraculous 
powers.  "Now,  ye  earnestly  desire  (for  the  words 
should  be  rendered  indicatively,  and  not  impera- 
tively,) the  best  gifts,  but  yet  I  show  unto  you  a 
more  excellent  way."  "  Ye  are  ambitious  to  obtain 
those  endowments  which  shall  cause  you  to  be  es- 
teemed as  the  most  honorable  and  distinguished 
persons  in  the  Church;  but,  notwithstanding  your 
high  notions  of  the  respect  due  to  those  who  excel 
in  miracles,  1  now  point  out  to  you  a  way  to  still 
greater  honor,  by  a  road  open  to  you  all,  and  in 
which  your  success  will  neither  produce  pride  in 
yourselves,  nor  excite  envy  in  others.  Follow  af- 
ter Charity,  for  the  possession  and  exercise  of  this 
grace  is  infinitely  to  be  preferred  to  the  most  splen- 
did gift." 

Admirable  encomium  —  exalted  eulogium  on 
Charity!  What  more  could  be  said,  or  be  said 
more  properly,  to  raise  it  in  our  esteem,  and  to  im- 
press it  upon  our  heart  1  The  age  of  miracles  is 
past;  the  signs,  and  the  tokens,  and  the  powers 
which  accompanied  it,  and  which,  like  brilliant 
lights  from  heaven,  hung  in  bright  effulgence  over 
the  Church,  are  vanished.  No  longer  can  the  mem 
bers  or  ministers  of  Christ  confound  the  mighty 
perplex  the  wise,  or  guide  the  simple  inquirer  after 
truth,  by  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  and  of 
power:  the  control  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and  of  the 
spirits  of  darkness,  is  no  longer  intrusted  to  us;  but 
that  which  is  more  excellent  and  more  heavenly  re- 
mains :  that  which  is  more  valuable  in  itself,  and 
less  liable  to  abuse,  continues;  and  that  is,  Charity. 
Miracles  were  but  the  credentials  of  Christianity, 
but  Charity  is  its  essence;  miracles  but  its  wit- 
nesses, which,  having  ushered  it  into  the  world,  and 
borne  their  testimony,  retired  for  ever  : — but  Cha- 
rity is  its  very  soul,  which,  when  disencumbered 
of  all  that  is  earthly,  shall  ascend  to  its  native  seat 
— the  paradise  and  the  presence  of  the  eternal  God. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    NATURE    OP    CHARITY. 


In  the  discussion  of  every  subject,  it  is  of  great  im 
portance  to  ascertain,  and  to  fix  with  precision,  th 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


meaning  of  the  terms  by  which  it  is  expressed; 
more  especially  in  those  cases  where,  as  in  the  pre- 
sent instance,  the  principal  word  has  acquired,  by 
the  changes  of  time  and  usages  of  society,  more 
senses  than  one.  Formerly,  the  English  word  cha- 
*iiy signified  good-will  or  benevolence:  when  re- 
stricted to  this  meaning,  it  was  significant  enough 
of  the  Greek  term  employed  by  the  apostle  in  this 
chapter;  but  in  modern  times  the  word  charity  is 
often  employed  to  signify  almsgiving — a  circum- 
stance which  has  thrown  a  partial  obscurity  over 
many  passages  of  Scripture,  and  has  led,  indeed,  to 
the  most  gross  perversion  of  Divine  truth  and  the 
circulation  of  the  most  dangerous  errors.  That  the 
charity  which  is  the  subject  of  the  present  treatise 
cannot  mean  almsgiving,  is  evident  from  the  asser- 
tion of  the  apostle,  where  he  says — "  Though  I  give 
all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  have  not  charity, 
it  profiteth  me  nothing."  The  meaning  of  the  term 
is  Love,  and  so  it  is  rendered  in  many  other  pas- 
sages of  the  New  Testament ;  such,  for  instance,  as 
the  following:  "Love  worketh  no  ill  to  its  neigh- 
bor.1' "  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love."  "  Love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law."  "Faith  which  worketh 
by  love."  It  is  the  same  word  in  all  these  texts, 
which  in  the  present  chapter  and  in  the  following 
passages,  is  rendered  charity. 

"The  end  of  the  commandment  is  charity." — 
"  Charity  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins."  The  em- 
ployment of  the  term  charity,  instead  of  love,  in  the 
last  quoted  passage,  is  peculiarly  to  be  regretted,  as 
in  consequence  of  the  modern  meaning  attached  to 
it,  many  have  taken  up  the  false  and  dangerous  no- 
tion, that  pecuniary  liberality  to  the  poor  will  make 
an  atonement  for  human  guilt;  an  error  which 
could  have  had  no  countenance  from  Scripture,  had 
the  word  been  rendered  as  it  is  in  other  places. — 
"Love  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins."  This  is  not 
the  only  case  in  which  our  translators,  by  the  ca- 
pricious employment  in  different  places  of  two 
English  words  for  the  same  Greek  term,  have  helped 
to  confuse  the  English  reader  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

We  shall  in  this  treatise  substitute  for  charity  the 
word  Lovk,  which  is  a  correct  translation  of  the 
original.  If,  however,  the  word  charily  should  be 
tonally  used  to  avoid  a  too  frequent  repetition 
of  lout;  we  beg  that  it  may  be  understood  as  syno- 
nymous with  that  term. 

Of  what  kind  of  love  does  the  apostle  treat  1  Not 
of  love  to  God,  as  is  evident  from  the  whole  chap- 
ter, for  the  properties  which  are  here  enumerated 
have  no  direct  reference  to  Jehovah,  but  relate  in 
every  instance  to  man.  It  is  a  disposition  founded, 
no  doubt,  upon  love  to  God,  but  it  is  not  the  same. 

Nor  is  it,  as  many  have  represented,  the  love  of 
the  brethren.  Without  all  question,  we  are  under 
special  obligations  to  love  those  who  are  the  child- 
ren of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  us  in  Christ.  "  This 
is  my  commandment,"  says  Christ,  "  that  ye  love 
one  another."  "  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye 
are  my  disciples,  if  ye  love  one  another."  Our 
brethren  in  Christ  should  be  the  first  and  dearest 
objects  of  our  regard.  Love  to  them  is  the  badge  of 
discipleship— the  proof,  both  to  ourselves  and  to  the 
world,  that  we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life. — 
And  although  we  are  "to  do  good  to  all  men,"  yet 
we  are  especially  to  regard  "  the  household  of  faith." 
But  still,  brotherly  love,  or  the  love  of  the  brethren 
as  such,  is  not  the  disposition,  any  otherwise  than  as 
included  in  it,  which  is  here  enjoined. 

A  far  more  comprehensive  duty  is  laid  down, 
which  is  lovk  to  mankind  in  general.  As  a  proof 
of  this  I  refer  to  the  nature  of  its  exercises.  Do  they 
not  as  much  respect  the  unconverted  as  the  convert- 
ed ;  the  unbeliever  as  the  believer  1  Are  we  not  as 
much  bound  to  be  meek  and  kind,  humble,  forgiv- 
ing, and  patient,  towards  all  men,  as  wc  are  towards 


our  brethren  ]  Or,  may  we  be  envious,  passionate, 
proud,  and  revengeful,  towards  "  those  that  arc 
without,"  though  not  towards  those  "  that  are  with- 
in V  We  have  only  to  consider  the  operations  and 
effects  of  love  as  here  described,  and  to  recollect 
that  they  are  as  much  required  in  our  intercourse 
with  the  worid,  as  with  the  Church,  to  perceive  at 
once,  that  it  is  love  to  man,  as  such,  that  is  the  sub- 
ject of  this  chapter.  Nor  is  this  the  only  place  where 
universal  philanthropy  is  enjoined.  *  The  apostle 
Peter,  in  his  chain  of  graces,  makes  this  the  last 
link,  and  distinguishes  it  from  "brotherly  kindness," 
to  which,  says  he,  add  "charity,''  or,  as  it  should  be 
rendered,  "  love."  The  disposition  inculcated  in 
this  chapter  is,  that  love  which  Peter  commands  us 
to  add-  to  brotherly  kindness;  it  is,  in  fact,  the  very 
state  of  mind  which  is  the  compendium  of  the  se- 
cond table  of  the  moral  law.  "  Thou  shalt  love  Iky 
neighbor  as  thyself." 

The  temper  so  beautifully  set  forth  by  Paul,  is  n 
most  lively,  luminous  and  eloquent  exposition  of  this 
summary  of  duty  to  our  neighbor,  which  is  giver,  us 
by  our  Lord. 

Strange,  indeed,  would  it  be,  if  Christianity,  the 
most  perfect  system,  of  duty  as  well  as  of  doctrine, 
that  God  ever  gave  to  the  world,  should  contain  no 
injunction  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  general  good-will. 
Strange,  indeed,  if  that  system,  which  rises  upon  the 
earth  with  the  smiling  aspect  of  universal  benevo- 
lence, did  not  breathe  its  own  spirit  into  the  hearts 
of  its  believers.  Strange,  indeed,  if,  while  God  loved 
the  world,  and  Christ  died  for  it,  the  world  in  no 
sense  was  to  be  an  object  of  a  Christian's  regard. — 
Strange,  indeed,  if  the  energies,  the  exercises,  and 
propensities  of  true  piety,  were  to  be  confined  with- 
in the  narrow  boundaries  of  the  Church,  and  to  be 
allowed  no  excursions  into  the  widely  extended  re- 
gions that  lie  beyond,  and  have  no  sympathies  for 
the  countless  millions  by  which  these  regions  are 
peopled.  It  would  have  been  regarded  as  a  blank 
in  Christianity,  as  a  deep  wide  chasm,  had  philan- 
thropy gained  no  place,  or  but  a  small  one,  amidst 
its  duties :  and  such  an  omission  must  ever  have 
presented  a  want  of  harmony  between  its  doctrines 
and  its  precepts;  a  point  of  dissimilarity  between 
the  perfection  of  the  divine,  and  the  required  com- 
pleteness of  the  human,  character.  Here,  then,  is 
the  disposition  inculcated:  a  spirit  of  universal  love; 
good-will  to  man  ;  a  delight  in  human  happiness;  a 
carefulness  to  avoid  whatever  would  lessen,  and  to 
do  whatever  would  increase,  the  amount  of  the  feli- 
city of  mankind  :  a  love  that  is  limited  to  no  circle; 
that  is  restricted  by  no  partialities,  no  friendships, 
no  relationships;  around  which  neither  prejudices 
nor  aversions  arc  allowed  to  draw  a  boundary; 
which  realizes,  as  its  proper  objects,  friends,  strang- 
ers, and  enemies  ;  which  requires  no  recommenda- 
tion of  any  one  but  that  he  is  a  man,  and  which 
searches  after  man  wherever  he  is  to  be  found.  It 
is  an  affection  which  binds  its  possessor  to  all  of  his 
kind,  and  makes  him  a  good  citizen  of  the  universe. 
We  must  possess  domestic  affections,  to  render  us 
good  members  of  a  family ;  we  must  have  the  more 
extended  principles  of  patriotism,  to  render  us  good 
members  of  the  state;  and  for  the  same  reason,  we 
must  possess  universal  benevolence,  to  render  us 
good  members  of  a  system  which  comprises  the 
whole  human  race.  This  is  the  generic  virtue,  the 
one  simple  principle  out  of  which  so  many  and  such 
beautiful  ramifications  of  holy  benevolence  evolve. 
All  the  actings  of  love,  so  finely  described  by  the 
apostle,  may  be  traced  up  to  this  delight  in  happi- 
ness; they  all  consist  in  doing  that  which  will  pro- 
mote the  comfort  of  others,  or  in  not  doing  that 
which  will  hinder  their  peace  ;— whether  they  con- 
sist in  passive  or  in  active  properties,  they  have  a 
direct  bearing  on  general  well-being. 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


It  will  be  proper  to  remark  here,  that  by  universal 
benevolence,  we  mean  nothing  that  bears  the  most 
distant  resemblance  to  the  spurious  philanthropy  ad- 
vocated some  few  years  since  by  a  school  of  modern 
infidels,  who  resolved  all  virtue  into  a  chimerical 
passion  for  the  public  good  ;  and  the  characteristic 
feature  of  whose  system  it  was,  to  build  up  general 
benevolence  on  the  destruction  of  individual  tender- 
ness. Reason  and  revelation  unite  in  teaching  us, 
that  in  the  development  of  the  passions  we  must 
advance  from  the  private  to  public  affections,  and 
that  extended  benevolence  is  the  last  and  most  per- 
fect fruit  of  individual  regards. 

But  although  we  represent  this  love  as  consisting 
in  a  principle  of  universal  benevolence,  we  would 
remark  that  instead  of  satisfying  itself  with  mere 
speculations  on  the  desirableness  of  the  well-being 
of  the  whole,  or  with  mere  good  wishes  for  the  hap- 
piness of  mankind  in  general ;  instead  of  that  indo- 
lent scntimentalism  which  would  convert  its  inabili- 
ty to  benefit  the  great  body  into  an  excuse  for  doing 
good  to  none  of  its  members  : — it  will  put  forth  its 
energies,  and  engage  its  activities,  for  those  which 
are  within  its  reach :  it  would,  if  it  could,  touch  the 
extreme  parts ;  but  as  this  cannot  be  done,  it  will 
exert  a  beneficial  influence  on  those  which  are  near  ; 
its  very  distance  from  the  circumference  will  be  felt 
as  a  motive  to  greater  zeal  in  promoting  the  comfort 
of  all  that  may  be  contiguous ;  and  it  will  consider 
that  the  best  and  only  way  of  reaching  the  last,  is 
by  an  impulse  given  to  wkat  is  next.  It  will  view 
every  individual  it  has  to  do  with  as  a  representa- 
tive of  his  species,  and  consider  him  as  preferring 
strong  claims,  both  on  his  own  account  and  on  the 
account  of  his  race.  Towards  all,  it  will  retain  a 
feeling  of  good-will,  a  preparedness  for  benevolent 
activity ;  and  towards  those  who  come  within  the 
sphere  of  its  influence,  it  will  go  forth  in  the  actings 
of  kindness.  Like  the  organ  of  vision,  it  can  dilate, 
to  comprehend,  though  but  dimly,  the  whole  pros- 
pect ;  or  it  can  contract  its  view,  and  concentrate  its 
attention  upon  each  individual  object  that  comes 
under  its  inspection.  The  persons  with  whom  we 
daily  converse  and  act,  are  those  on  whom  our  be- 
nevolence is  first  and  most  constantly  to  express 
itself,  because  these  are  the  parts  of  the  whole, 
which  give  us  the  opportunity  of  calling  into  exer- 
cise our  universal  philanthropy.  But  to  them  it  is 
not  to  be  confined,  either  in  feeling  or  action  ;  for, 
as  we  have  opportunity,  we  are  to  do  good  to  all 
men,  and  send  abroad  our  beneficent  regards  to  the 
great  family  of  man. 

Nor  are  we  to  confound  this  virtue  with  a  mere 
natural  amiableness  of  disposition.  It  is  often  our 
lot  to  witness  a  species  of  philanthropy  which,  like 
the  painting  or  the  bust,  is  a  very  near  resemblance 
of  the  original;  but  which  still  is  only  a  picture,  or 
a  statue,  that  wants  the  mysterious  principle  of  life. 
From  that  mere  good-will  to  man,  which  even  un- 
converted persons  may  possess,  the  love  described 
by  the  apostle  differs  in  the  following  particulars. 

1.  It  is  one  of  the  fruits  of  regeneration.  "  The 
fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love."  Unless  a  man  be  born 
of  the  Spirit,  he  can  do  nothing  that  is  spiritually 
good.  We  are  by  nature  corrupt  and  unholy— des- 
titute of  all  love  to  God — and  till  renewed  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  in  the  spirit  of  our  mind,  we  can  do  no- 
thing well  pleasing  to  God.  "  If  any  man  be  in 
Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature ;"  and  this  love  of  our 
species  is  a  part  of  the  new  creation.  It  is,  in  the 
strictest  sense  of  the  term,  a  holy  virtue,  and  one 
great  branch  of  holiness  itself;  for  what  is  holiness, 
but  love  to  God,  and  love  to  man  1  And  without 
that  previous  change  which  is  denominated  being 
"  born  again,"  we  can  no  more  love  man  as  we 
ought  to  do,  than  we  can  love  God.  Divine  grace 
is  as  essentially  necessary  f#r  the  production  and 


the  exercise  of  philanthropy,  as  it  is  for  piety ;  and 
the  former  is  no  less  a  part  of  religion  than  the  lat- 
ter. Love  is  the  Divine  nature,  the  image  of  God, 
which  is  communicated  to  the  soul  of  man  by  the 
renewing  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

2.  This  love  is  the  effect  of  faith :  hence  it  is  said 
by  the  apostle,  "  In  Christ  Jesus  neither  circum- 
cision availeth  anything,  nor  uncircumcision,  but 
faith,  which  toorketh  by  love."  And  by  another  in- 
spired writer,  it  is  represented  as  a  part  of  the  su- 
perstructure which  is  raised  on  the  basis  of  faith: — 
"  Add  to  your  faith — love."  It  is  certain  that  there 
can  be  no  proper  regard  to  man,  which  does  not  re- 
sult from  faith  in  Christ.  It  is  the  belief  of  the  truth 
which  makes  love  to  be  felt  as  a  duty,  and  which 
brings  before  the  mind  the  great  examples,  the  pow- 
erful motives,  furnished  by  the  Scriptures  to  pro- 
mote its  exercise.  Nothing  spiritually  excellent  can 
be  performed  without  faith.  It  is  by  faith  aione, 
that  any  thing  we  do  is  truly  and  properly  religion : 
this  is  the  identifying  Christian  principle,  separate 
and  apart  from  which,  whatever  excellence  men 
may  exhibit,  is  but  mere  morality.  By  faith  we 
submit  to  the  authority  of  God's  law  ;  by  faith  we 
are  united  to  Christ,  and  "  receive  from  his  fulness 
and  grace  for  grace  ;"  by  faith  we  contemplate  the 
love  of  God  in  Christ ;  by  faith  our  conduct  becomes 
acceptable  to  God  through  Christ. 

3.  This  love  is  exercised  in  obedience  to  the  authori- 
ty of  God's  u-ord.  It  is  a  principle,  not  merely  a 
feeling ;  it  is  cultivated  and  exercised  as  a  duty,  not 
yielded  to  merely  as  a  generous  instinct ;  it  is  a  sub- 
mission to  God's  command,  not  merely  an  indul- 
gence of  our  own  propensities ;  it  is  the  constraint 
of  conscience,  not  merely  the  impulse  of  constitu- 
tional tenderness.  It  may  be,  and  often  is,  founc 
where  there  is  no  natural  softness  or  amiableness 
of  temper  :  where  this  exists,  it  will  grow  with 
greater  rapidity,  and  expand  to  greater  magnitude, 
and  flourish  in  greater  beauty,  like  the  mountain 
ash  in  the  rich  mould  of  the  valley ;  but  it  still  may 
be  planted,  like  that  noble  tree,  in  a  less  congenial 
situation,  and  thrive,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  its 
nature,  amidst  barrenness  and  rocks.  Multitudes, 
who  have  nothing  of  sentimentalism  in  their  nature, 
have  love  to  man  ;  they  rarely  can  melt  into  tears, 
or  kindle  into  rapture — but  they  can  be  all  energy 
and  activity  for  the  relief  of  misery,  and  for  the 
promotion  of  human  happiness:  their  temperament 
of  mind  partakes  more  of  the  frigid  than  of  the  tor- 
rid, and  their  summer  seasons  of  the  soul  are  short 
and  cold  ;  but  still,  amidst  their  mild  and  even  love- 
ly winter,  charity,  like  the  rose  of  Pactum,  blooms 
in  fragrance  and  in  beauty.  This  is  their  motto — 
"  God  has  commanded  me  to  love  my  neighbor  as 
myself;  and  in  obedience  to  him  I  restrain  my  na- 
tural tendency,  and  forgive  the  injuries,  and  relieve 
the  miseries,  and  build  up  the  comfort,  and  hide 
the  faults,  of  all  around  me." 

4.  It  is  founded  upon,  and  grows  out  of  lore  to  God. 
Wc  are  to  love  God  for  his  own  sake,  and  men  for 
God's  sake.  Our  Lord  has  laid  down  this  as  the 
order  and  rule  of  our  affections.  We  must  first 
love  God  with  all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind, 
and  then  our  neighbor  as  ourselves.  Now,  there 
can  be  no  proper  religious  affection  for  our  neigh- 
bor, which  does  not  spring  out  of  supreme  regard 
for  Jehovah  ;  since  our  love  to  our  neighbor  must 
respect  him  as  the  offspring  and  workmanship  of 
God  :  "  and  if  we  love  not  him  that  begat,  how  can 
we  love  him  that  is  begotten  of  him  1"  Besides,  as 
we  are  to  exercise  this  disposition  in  obedience  to 
the  authority  of  God,  and  as  no  obedience  to  his  au- 
thority can  be  valuable  in  itself,  or  acceptable  to 
him,  which  is  not  an  operation  of  love,  no  kindness 
to  our  neighbor  can  come  up  to  the  nature  of  the 
duty  here  enjoined,  which  does  not  arise  out  of  a 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


proper  state  of  heart  towards  God.  We  love  any 
thins;  more  truly  and  properly,  the  more  explicitly 
we  acknowledge  and  love  God  in  it ;  upon  the  view 
of  those  strokes  and  lineaments  of  the  divine  beauty, 
and  the  characters  of  his  glory,  which  are  discerni- 
ble in  all  his  creatures,  our  love  should  someway  be 
commensurate  with  the  occasion,  and  comprehend 
the  universe  in  its  large  and  complacential  embraces. 
Though,  as  any  thing  is  of  higher  excellency,  and 
hath  more  lively  touches  and  resemblances  of  God 
upon  it,  or,  by  the  disposition  of  his  providence  and 
law  more  nearly  approaches  us,  and  is  more  imme- 
diately presented  to  our  notice,  converse,  use,  or 
engagement ;  so  our  love  should  be  towards  it  more 
explicitly,  in  a  higher  degree,  or  with  more  frequen- 
cy. As  man,  therefore,  hath  in  him  more  of  divine 
resemoiance  of  God's  natural  likeness  and  image — 
good  men,  of  his  moral  holy  image — we  ought  to 
love  men  more  than  the  inferior  creatures,  and  those 
that  are  good  and  holy  more  than  other  men  ;  and 
those  with  whom  we  are  more  concerned,  with  a 
more  definite  love,  and  which  is  required  to  be  more 
frequent  in  its  exercise:  bur  all  from  ibf  attraction 
of  somewhat  divine  appearing  in  the  object.  So 
that  all  rational  love,  or  that  is  capable  of  being  re- 
gulated and  measured  by  a  law,  is  only  so  far  right 
in  its  own  kind,  as  we  love  God  in  every  thing,  and 
every  thing  upon  his  account,  and  for  his  sake. — 
The  nature  and  spirit  of  man  is,  by  the  apostacy, 
become  disaffected  and  strange  to  God— alienated 
from  the  divine  life— addicted  to  a  particular  limit- 
ed good,  to  the  creature  for  itself,  apart  from  God  ; 
whereupon  the  things  men  love  are  their  idols,  and 
men's  love  is  idolatry.  But  when,  by  regeneration, 
a  due  piopension  towards  God  is  restored,  the  uni- 
versal good  draws  their  minds;  they  become  in- 
clined and  enlarged  towards  it ;  and,  as  that  is  dif- 
fused, their  love  follows  it,  and  flows  towards  it 
every  where.  They  love  all  things  principally  in 
and  for  God  ;  and  therefore  such  men  most,  as  ex- 
cel in  goodness,  and  in  whom  the  Divine  image 
more  brightly  shines.* 

Let  us,  then,  remember  that  the  beautiful  super- 
structure of  philanthropy,  which  the  apostle  has 
raised  in  this  chapter,  has  for  its  foundation  a  su- 
preme regard  for  the  great  and  blessed  God.  The 
utmost  kindness  and  sympathy  ;  the  most  tender 
compassion,  united  with  the  most  munificent  liberal- 
ity ;  if  it  do  not  rest  on  the  love  of  God,  is  not  the 
temper  here  set  forth — is  not  the  grace  which  has 
the  principle  of  immortality  in  its  nature,  and  which 
will  live  and  flourish  in  eternity,  when  faith  and 
hope  shall  cease.  Human  excellence,  however  dis- 
tinguished,  whatever  good  it  may  diffuse  upon 
others,  or  whatever  glory  it  may  draw  around  it- 
self, if  it  be  not  sanctified  and  supported  by  this  holy 
principle,  is  corruptible  and  mortal,  and  cannot 
dwell  in  the  presence  of  God,  nor  exist  amidst  the 
glories  of  eternity;  but  is  only  the  flower  of  the  grass 
which  shall  wither  away  in  the  rebuke  of  the  Al- 
mighty. For  want  ofthi ,  vital  and  essential  prin- 
ciple of  all  true  religion,  how  much  of  amiable  com- 
passion, and  of  tender  attention  to  the  woes  of  hu- 
manity— how  much  of  kindly  feeling  and  active  he- 
nevolence, — is  daily  ex;  iich,whileil  yields 

its  amiable  though  unrenewed  professor  much  honor 
and  delight,  has  not  the  weight  of  a  feather  in  the 
scaler  of  his  eternal  destiny. 

5.  This  disposition  is  cherished  in  our  heart  by  a 
tense  of  God's  lore  in  Christ  Jesus  to  vs. 

There  is  this  peculiarity  in  the  morality  of  the 
New  Testament; — it  is  not  only  enforced  by  the 
consideration  of  Divine  power,  but  by  a  distinct 
and  repeated  reference  to  Divine  goodness.     Not 


*  Howe  on  Charity  in  Reference  to  other  Men's 
Sins. 


that  any  motive  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  a 
command  binding  upon  our  conscience,  beyond 
God's  right  to  issue  it ;  the  obligation  to  duty  is 
complete,  in  the  absence  of  every  other  considera- 
tion than  the  rightful  authority  of  the  command: 
but  as  man  is  a  creature  capable  of  being  moved  by 
appeals  to  his  gratitude,  as  well  as  by  motives  ad- 
dressed to  his  tear,  it  is  both  wise  and  condescend- 
ing, on  the  part  of  Jehovah,  thus  to  deal  with  him, 
and  to  i:  make  him  wilting  in  the  day  of  his  power." 
He  thus  not  only  drives  us  by  the  force  of  his  ter- 
rors, but  draws  us  by  the  cords  of  his  love. 

The  great   evangelical    inducement    to   mutual 
affection  between  man  and  man,  is  God's  love  in 
Christ  Jesus  to  us.     God  has  commended  and  man- 
ifested his  love  to  us  in  a  manner  that  will  fill  im- 
mensity and  eternity  with  astonishment :    He  has 
"so  loved  the  world  as  to  give  his  only  begotten 
Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."     This  stupendous 
exhibition  of  divine  mercy  is  presented  by  the  sa- 
cred writers,  not  only  as  a  source  of  strong  consola- 
tion, but  also  as  a  powerful  motive  to  action;  we 
are  not  only  to  contemplate  it  for  the  purpose  of  joy, 
but  also  of  imitation.     Mark  the  beautiful  reason- 
ing of  the  apostle  John — "  Herein  is  love,  not  that 
wc  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son 
to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.     Beloved,  if  God 
so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one  another." — 
Similar  to  this  is  also  the  inference  of  Paul — :'  And 
be  ye  kind  one  to  another,  tender-hearted,  forgiving 
one  another,  even  as  God  for  Christ's  sake  haJh  for- 
given you.     Be  ye  therefore  followers  (imitators) 
of  God,  as  dear  children,  and  walk  in  love  as  Christ 
who  hath  loved  us,  and  hath  given  himself  for  us  an 
offering  and  a  sacrifice  to  God,  for  a  sweet  smelling 
savor."     How  forcible,  yet  how  tender  is  such  lan- 
guage !    there  is  a  charm  in  such  a  motive,  which 
no  terms  can  describe.     The  love  of  God,  then,  in 
its  existence  and  arrangements  from  eternity ;   in 
its  manifestation  in  time  by  the  cross  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ;    in  its  topless  height,  its  fathomless 
depth,  its  measureless  length  and  breadth  ; — is  the 
grand  inducement  to  universal  affection  :  and  is  it 
not  enough  to  soften  a  heart  of  stone — to  melt  a  heart 
of  ice  1     The  love  spoken  of  in  the  chapter  under 
consideration,  is  that  impulse  towards  our  fellow- 
men  which  is  given  us  by  the  cross  of  Christ :  it  is 
not  mere  natural  kindness,  but  it  is  love  for  Christ's 
sake;  it  is  not  the  mere  operations  of  a  generous 
temper,  but  it  is  the  feeling  which  moved  in  the 
apostle's    breast,   when  he  exclaimed,    "  The  love 
of  Christ  constraineth  us;"  it  is  not  natural  religion, 
but  Christianity;   it  is,  so  to  speak,  a  plant  which 
grows  on  Calvary,  and  entwines  itself  for  support 
around  the  cross.      It  is  a  disposition  which  argues 
in  this  way:   "  Has  God  indeed  thus  loved  me,  so 
as  to  give  his  Son  for  my  salvation  ?  and  is  he  kind 
to  me  daily  for  the  sake  of  Christ  ]      Has  he  for- 
given all  my  numberless  and  aggravated  transgres- 
sions'?    Does  he  still,  with  infinite  patience,  bear 
with  all  my  infirmities  and  provocations!     Then 
what  is  there,  in  the  way  of  most  generous  affection, 
T  ought  not  to  be  willing  to  do.  or  to  bear,  or  to  sa- 
crifice,  for  others  1     Do  they  offend  me,  let  me  bear 
with  them,  and  forgive  them  ;  for  how  has  God  for- 
borne with  me,  and  blotted  out  my  sins  ?     Do  they 
/'•«///,  let  me  be  forward  to  supply  "their  necessities; 
for  how  has  God  supplied  mine!"     Here,  then,  is 
love — that  deep  sense  of  God's  love  to  us,  which 
shows  us  the  necessity,  the  reasonableness,  the  duty, 
of  being  kind  to  others;    the  feeling  of  a  heart, 
which,  laboring   under  the   weight  of  its  obliga- 
tions to  God.  and  finding  itself  too  poor  to  extend 
its  goodness  to  him,  looks  round,  and  gives  utter- 
ance to  its  exuberant  gratitude  in  acts  of  kindness 
to  man. 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


(J.  It  is  ikut  good-will  to  'man  which,  while  its  prox- 
i'i't'ir  wS  it  if  Ike  wi\f*re  cf  our  fellow-creatures,  is 
V:  V*  Ht.j  atrcaed  to  the  glory  of  God. 

It  is  the  sublime  characteristic  of  every  truly 
Christian  virtue,  that  whatever  inferior  ends  it  may 
seek,  and  through  whatever  intervening  medium  if 
may  pass,  it  is  directed  ultimately  to  the  praist-  o\. 
Jehovah:  it  may  put  forth  its  excellences  before 
the  admiring  eyes  of  mortals,  and  exert  its  energies 
for  their  happiness;  but  neither  to  attract  their  ap- 
plause, nor  to  build  up  their  interest-.-,  n.ust  be  its 
highest  aim.  The  rule  of  our  conduct,  as  to  its 
chief  end,  is  thus  explicitly  and  comprehensively 
laid  down:  "Whether  tneiefore  ye  eat  or  drink,  or 
whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God/' — 
This  is  not  mere  advice,  but  a  command — and  it  is 
a  command  extending  to  all  our  conduct.  To  glo- 
rify God  is  to  act  so  as  that  his  authority  shall  be 
recognized  and  upheld  by  us  in  the  world  ;  it  is  to 
be  seen  submitting  to  his  will,  and  behaving  so  as 
taat  his  word  and  ways  shall  be  better  thought  of 
W  vc^iY-Hd  Oa.T  ftCticjiiS  must  appear  to  have  a 
;  if*  a  «,  .o  Cr'oa  ;  and  without  this,  they  cannot 
partake  of  the  character  of  religion,  however  ex- 
cellent and  beneficial  they  may  seem. 

But  perhaps  this  disposition  of  mind  will  be  best 
illustrated  by  exhibiting  an  example  of  it ;  and 
where  shall  we  find  one  suited  to  our  purpose  1 
Every  mind  will  perhaps  immediately  revert  to 
Him  who  was  love  incarnate;  and  we  might  indeed 
point  to  every  action  of  his  benevolent  career  as  a 
disi.'av  of  the  pidest  philanthropy  :  but  as  his  ex- 
ftS.f.e  Wi..  hereafter  be  considered,  we  shall  now 
select  one  from  men  of  like  passions  with  ourselves; 
but  we  must  go  for  it  to  "the  chamber  where  the 
good  man  meets  his  fate,"  rather  than  to  the  resorts 
of  the  healthy  and  the  active  ;  for  it  seems  as  if  the 
brightest  beauties  of  this  love  were  reserved,  like 
those  of  the  setting  sun,  for  the  eve  of  its  departure 
to  another  hemisphere.  How  often  have  we  beheld 
the  dying  Christian,  who,  during  long  and  mortal 
sickness,  has  exhibited,  as  ha  smod  on  the  verge  of 
heaven,  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  glorified  im- 
mortal. The  natural  infirmities  of  temper,  which 
attended  him  through  life,  and  which  sometimes 
dimmed  the  lustre  of  his  piety,  disquieted  his  own 
peace,  and  lessened  the  pleasure  of  his  friends,  had 
all  departed,  or  had  sunk  into  the  shade  of  those 
holy  graces  which  then  stood  out  in  bold  and  com- 
manding relief  upon  his  soul.  The  beams  of 
heaven  now  falling  upon  his  spirit  were  reflected, 
not  only  in  the  faith  that  is  the  confidence  of  things 
not  seen — not  only  in  the  hope  which  entereth  with- 
in the  veil, — but  in  the  love  which  is  the  greatest  in 
the  trinity  of  Christian  virtues.  How  lowly  in  the 
heart  did  he  seem — how  entirely  clothed  with  hu- 
mility J  Instead  of  being  puffed  up  with  any  thing 
of  i:s  own,  or  uttering  a  single  boasting  expres- 
siciv,  li  "was  ]  ke  a  wound  in  his  heart  to  hear  any 
one  remind  him  either  of  his  good  deeds  or  dispo- 
sitions ;  and  he  appeared  in  his  own  eyes  less 
than  .ever,  while,  like  his  emblem,  the  setting  sun, 
he  expanded  every  moment  into  greater  magnitude 
in  the  view  of  every  spectator.  Instead  of  envying 
the  possessions  or  the  excellences  of  other  men,  it 
was  a  cordial  to  his  departing  spirit  that  he  was 
leaving  them  thus  distinguished  :  how  kind  was  he 
to  his  friends !— and  as  for  ins  enemies,  he  had 
none;  enmity  had  died  in  his  heart,  he  forgave  all 
that  was  manifestly  evil,  and  kindly  interpreted  all 
that  was  only  equivocally  so.  Nothing  lived  in  his 
recollection,  as  to  the  conduct  of  others,  but  their 
acts  of  kindness.  When  :n..*cl!i? race  reached  his 
ear  of  the  misconduct  of  those  who  had  been  his 
adversaries,  he  grieved  in  spirit,  even  as  he  rejoiced 
when  told  of  their  coming  back  to  public  esteem  by 


deeds  of  excellence.  His  very  opinions  seemed 
under  the  influence  of  his  love;  and,  as  he  wished 
well,  he  believed  well,  or  hoped  well,  of  many  of 
whom  he  had  formerly  thought  evil.  His  meek- 
ness and  patience  were  touching,  his  kindness  in- 
describable ;  the  trouble  he  gave,  and  the  favurs  he 
r-^eived,  drew  tears  from  his  own  eyes,  and  were 
acknowledged  in  expressions  that  drew  tears  from 
all  around.  There  was  an  ineffable  tenderness  in 
his  looks,  and  his  words  were  the  very  accents  of 
benignity.  He  lay  a  pattern  of  all  the  passive  vir- 
tues; and  having  thus  thrown  off  much  that  was 
of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  put  on  charity  as  a  gar- 
ment, and  dressed  himself  for  heaven,  in  his  ante- 
chamber, his  sick  room,  he  departed  to  be  with 
Christ,  and  to  be  for  ever  perfect  in  Love. 

There  was  a  man  in  whom  this  was  realized,  and 
some  extracts  from  his  invaluable  Memoir,  will 
prove  it ;  I  mean  Mr.  Scott,  the  author  of  the  Com- 
mentary. 

"His  mind,"  says  his  biographer,  {:  dwe'd  much 
upon  love-  God  is  love,  and  he  that  dwelleth  in 
love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.  Faith 
worketli  by  love.  He  seemed  full  of  tenderness 
and  affection  to  all  around  him.  '  One  evidence,' 
he  said,  "  I  have  of  meetness  for  heaven:  I  feel 
much  love  to  all  mankind— to  every  man  upon 
earth— to  those  who  have  most  opposed  and  slan- 
dered me.'  To  his  servant  he  said,  '  I  thank  you 
for  all  your  kindness  to  me.  If  at  any  time  I  have 
been  hasty  and  short,  forgive  me,  and  pra>  to  Jod 
to  forgive  me ;  but  lay  the  blame  upon  me,  not 
upon  religion.'" 

"  His  tender  affection  for  us  all  is  astonishing  in 
such  a  state  of  extreme  suffering,  and  cuts  us  to  the 
heart.  He  begged  his  curate  to  forgive  him,  if  he 
had  been  occasionally  rough  and  shaip.  '  I  meant 
it  for  your  good,  but,  like  every  thing  of  mine,  it 
was  mixed  with  sin ;  impute  it  not,  however,  to  my 
religion,  but  to  my  want  of  religion.'  He  is  so 
gentle  and  loving — it  is  so  delightful  to  attend  upon 
him, — that  h: s  se  v-.  its,  finding  themselves  in  dan- 
ger of  contention  which  should  wait  upon  him, 
agreed  to  tik?  it  V,'  *?*•■*)«,  that  each  might  have  her 
due  share  of  the  pleasure  and  benefit;  and  yet  he 
is  continually  begging  our  forgiveness  for  his  want 
of  patience  and  thankfulness.  His  kindness  and 
affection  to  all  who  approached  him  were  carried 
to  the  greatest  height,  and  showed  themselves  in  a 
singularly  minute  attention  to  all  their  feelings, 
and,  whatever  might  be  for  their  comfort,  to  a  de- 
gree that  was  quite  affecting — especially  when  he 
was  suffering  so  much  himself,  often  in  mind  as 
well  as  body.  There  was  an  astonishing  absence 
of  selfish  feelings:  even  in  his  worst  fours  he 
thought  of  the  health  of  us  all ;  observed  if  we  sat 
up  long,  and  insisted  on  our  retiring;  and  w>s  much 
afraid  of  paining  or  hurting  us  in  any  way.  Mr. 
D.  said  something  on  the  permanency  of  his  Com- 
mentary; 'Ah!'  he  cried,  with  a  semi-contemptu- 
ous smile  ;  and  added,  '  you  know  not  what  a  proud 
heart  I  have,  and  how  you  help  the  Devil.'  He 
proceeded :  '  There  is  one  feeling  I  cannot  have,  if 
I  would  :  those  that  have  opposed  my  doctrine,  have 
slandered  me  sadly ;  but  I  cannot  feel  any  resent- 
ment; I  can  only  love  and  pity  them,  and  pray  for 
their  salvation.  I  never  did  feel  any  resentment 
towards  them ;  I  only  regret  that  I  did  not  more 
ardently  long  and  pray  for  their  salvation.' — This 
is  love,  and  how  lovely  is  V1" 

Can  we  conceive  ot  a  more  beautiful  exemplifi- 
cation of  the  virtue  I  am  describingl  and  this  is 
the  temper  we  ought  all  to  seek.  This  is  the  grace, 
blended  with  all  our  living  habits,  diffused  through 
all  our  conduct,  forming  our  character,  breathing 
in  our  desires,  speaking  in  our  words,  beaming  in 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


oar  eyes ;  in  short,  a  living  part  of  our  living  selves. 
And  Ws,  be  it  remembered,  is  religion— practical 
re.igion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CHRISTIAN  LOVE  IS  NOT  TO  BE  CONFOUNDED  WITH 
THAT  SPURIOUS  CANDOR  WHICH  CONSISTS  IN  INDIF- 
FERENCE TO  RELIGIOUS  SENTIMENT,  OR  IN  CONNIV- 
ANCE  AT    SINFUL,    PRACTICES. 

A  separate  and  entire  section  is  devoted  to  this  dis- 
tinction of  love  from  a  counterfeit  resemblance  of 
if,  because  of  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and 
the  frequency  with  which  the  mistake  is  made  of 
confounding  things  which  are  so  different  from 
each  other.  No  terms  have  been  more  misunder- 
stood or  abused  than  candor  and  charity.  Some 
have  found  in  them  an  act  of  toleration  for  all  reli- 
gious opinions,  however  opposed  to  one  another  or 
to  the  word  of  God,  and  a  bull  of  indulgences  for 
all  sinful  practices  which  do  not  transgress  the  laws 
of  our  country :  so  that,  by  the  aid  of  these  two 
words,  all  truth  and  holiness  may  be  driven  out  of 
the  world;  for  if  error  be  innocent,  truth  must  be 
unimportant ;  and  if  we  are  to  be  indulgent  towards 
the  sins  of  others,  under  the  sanction  and  by  the 
command  of  Scripture,  holiness  can  be  of  no  con- 
sequence either  to  them  or  ourselves. 

If  we  were  to  hearken  to  some,  we  should  con- 
ceive of  Charity,  not  as  she  really  is — a  spirit  of 
ineffable  beauty,  descending  from  heaven  upon  our 
distracted  earth,  holding  in  her  hand  the  torch  of 
truth,  which  she  had  lighted  at  the  fountain  of  ce- 
lestial radiance,  and  clad  in  a  vest  of  unsullied 
purity  ;  and  who,  as  she  entered  upon  the  scene  of 
discord,  proclaimed  "glory  to  God  in  the  highest," 
as  well  as  "  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  ;" 
and  having  with  these  magic  words  healed  the 
troubled  waters  of  strife,  proceeding  to  draw  men 
closer  to  each  other,  by  drawing  them  closer  to 
Christ,  the  common  centre  of  believers;  and  then 
hushing  the  clamors  of  contention,  by  removing 
the  pride,  the  ignorance,  and  the  depravity,  which 
produced  them.*  No:  but  we  should  think  of  her 
as  a  lying  spirit — clad,  indeed,  in  some  of  the  attire 
of  an  angel  of  light,  but  bearing  no  heavenly  im- 
press, holding  no  torch  of  truth,  wearing  no  robe 
of  holiness  ;  smiling,  perhaps,  but  like  a  sycophant, 
upon  all  without  distinction;  calling  upon  men,  as 
they  are  combating  for  truth  and  striving  against 
sin,  to  sheathe  their  swords  and  cast  away  their 
shields,  to  be  indulgent  towards  each  other's  vices 
and  tolerant  of  each  other's  errors;  because  they 
all  mean  and  feel  so  substantially  alike,  though 
they  have  different  modes  of  expressing  their  opi- 
nions and  of  giving  utterance  to  their  feelings.  Is 
this  charity  1 — No:  it  is  Satan  in  the  habiliments 
of  Gabriel. 


*  An  anonymous  American  writer  has  given  the 
following  eloquent  description. 

"Her  thrones  seemed  ivory,  and  over  her  white 
robes  floated  an  azure  mantle  besprinkled  with 
drops  of  heavenly  lustre.  On  her  head  was  a  chap- 
let  of  such  flowers  as  spring  in  the  region*  of  bliss; 
and  the  summit  of  the  diadem,  was  distinguished 
by  a  centre  of  rays  that  resembled  the  morning 
star.  The  bloom  of  eternal  youth  was  in  her  coun- 
tenance, but  her  maje>tic  form  can  only  be  describ- 
ed in  the  language  of  that  world  where  she  is  fully 
known.  In  her  right  hand  was  "the  Sword  of  the 
Spirit,"  and  at  her  side  the  symbols  of  power  and 
majesty.  Beneath  her  feet  the  clouds  were  con- 
densed in  awful  darkness,  and  her  chariot  was 
borne  along  by  the  breath  of  the  Almighty." 


That  there  is  much  of  this  spurious  candor  in 
the  world,  and  that  it  is  advocated  by  great  names, 
will  appear  by  the  following  quotation  from  Dr. 
Priestley  : — "  If  we  could  be  so  happy,  as  to  believe 
that  there  are  no  errors  but  what  men  may  be  so 
circumstanced  as  to  be  innocently  betrayed  into; 
that  any  mistake  of  the  head  is  veiy  consistent  with 
rectitude  of  heart ;  and  that  all  differences  in  modes 
of  worship  may  be  only  the  different  methods  by 
which  different  men,  who  are  equally  the  offspring 
of  God,  are  endeavoring  to  honor  and  obey  their 
common  parent ; — our  difference  of  opinion  wou.d 
have  no  tendency  to  lessen  our  mutual  love  and  es- 
teem." Dr.  Priestley,  and  the  followers  of  his  re- 
ligious system,  are  not  peculiar  in  this  sentimer.U 
Pope's  Universal  Prayer  is  to  the  same  effect. 

"Father  of  all,  in  every  age, 
In  every  clime  adored, 
By  saint,  by  savage,  or  by  sage, 
Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord." 

The  well-known  metrical  adage  of  this  poet  Is 
adapted,  to  the  full  extent  of  its  spirit  and  design 
by  great  multitudes  who  suppose  that  they  are  quite 
orthodox  both  in  opinion  and  practice,  and  who  per- 
haps boast  of  their  charity,  while  they  exclaim — 

"For  modes  of  faith,  let  graceless  zealots  fight; 
His  can't  be  wrong,  whose  life  is  in  the  right.''' 

It  is,  I  imagine,  generally  thought,  by  at  least  a 
great  part  of  mankind,  that  it  is  of  little  conse- 
quence what  a  man's  religious  opinions  are,  pro- 
vided his  conduct  be  tolerably  correct;  that  charity 
requires  us  to  think  well  of  his  state ;  and  that  it  is 
the  very  essence  of  bigotry  to  question  the  validity 
of  his  claim  to  the  character  of  a  Christian,  or  to 
doubt  of  the  safety  of  his  soul ;  in  other  words,  it 
is  pretended  that  benevolence  requires  us  to  think 
well  of  men,  irrespective  of  religious  opinions  ;  and 
that  it  is  almost  a  violation  of  the  rule  of  love  to 
attempt  to  unsettle  their  convictions,  or  to  render 
them  uneasy  in  the  possession  of  their  sentiments, 
although  we  may  conclude  them  to  be  fundament- 
ally wron?.  But  does  this  disregard  of  all  opi- 
nions— at  least,  this  disposition  to  think  well  of  per- 
sons as  to  their  religious  character,  and  the  safety 
of  their  souls,  whatever  may  be  the  doctrines  they 
hold, — enter  essentially  into  the  nature  of  love? 
Most  certainly  not ;  but  actually  opposes  it.  Be- 
nevolence is  good-will  to  men,  hut  this  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  a  good  opinion  of  their  princi- 
ples and  practices;  so  different,  that  the  former 
may  not  only  o>  :st  in  all  its  force  without  the  latter, 
but  be  actually  incompatible  with  it ;  for  if  I  believe 
that  a  man  holds  opinions  that  endanger  his  safety, 
benevolence  requires,  not  that  I  should  shut  my 
eyes  to  his  danger,  and  lull  him  into  false  confi- 
dence, but  that  I  should  bear  my  testimony  and  ex- 
press my  fears  concerning  his  situation.  Benevo- 
lence is  a  very  different  thing  from  complacency 
or  esteem.  These  are  founded  on  approbation  of 
character ;  the  other  is  nothing  more  than  a  desire 
to  promote  happiness. 

The  question,  whether  love  is  to  be  confounded 
with  indifference  to  religious  principle, — for  such 
does  the  spurious  candor  I  am  contending  against 
amount  to, — is  best  decided  by  an  appeal  to  Scrip- 
ture. "Ye  shall  know  the  truth,"  said  Clinst; 
"  and  the  truth  shall  make  you  free/'  "  This  is 
life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent."  "He  that  be- 
lieveth  on  the  Son,  hath  everlasting  life;  and  he 
that  believeth  not  the  Son,  shall  not  sec  life,  but 
the  wrath  of  God  abidethon  him."  With  what  em- 
phasis did  the  apostle  speak  of  the  conduct  of 
those  who  attempted  to  pervert  the  great  doctrine 


10 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


of  justification  by  faith,  by  introducing  the  obsolete 
ceremonies  of  the  Jewish  law.  "But  though  we, 
or  an  angel  from  heaven,  preach  any  other  gospel 
unto  you  than  that  which  we  have  preached  unto 
you,  let  him  be  accursed.  As  we  said  before,  so 
say  I  now  again,  if  any  preach  any  other  gospel 
unto  you  than  that  ye  have  received,  let  him  be  ac- 
cursed." Now,  certainly,  this  is  any  thing  but  in- 
difference to  religious  opinion;  for,  be  it  observ- 
ed, it  was  matter  of  opinion,  and  not  the  duties 
of  morality,  or  of  practical  religion,  that  was  here 
so  strenuously  opposed.  The  apostle  commands 
Timothy  "  To  hold  fast  the  form  of  sound  words  ; 
and  to  give  himself  to  doctrine."  The  apostle 
John  has  this  strong  language  : — "  Whosoever  trans- 
gresseth,  and  abideth  not  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ, 
hath  not  God.  He  that  abideth  in  the  doctrine,  of 
Christ,  he  hath  both  the  Father  and  the  Son.  If  there 
come  any  unto  you,  and  bring  not  this  doctrine,  re- 
ceive him  not  into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  God 
speed;  for  he  that  biddeth  him  God  speed,  is  par- 
taker of  his  evil  deeds."  Jude  commands  us  to 
"contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to 
the  saints."  From  these,  and  many  other  passages 
which  might  be  quoted,  it  is  evident,  not  only  that 
truth  is  important  and  necessary  to  salvation,  but 
that  error  is  guilty,  and  in  many  instances  is  con- 
nected with  the  loss  of  the  soul.  "  If  a  man  may 
disbelieve  one  truth,  and  yet  be  free  from  sin  for  so 
doing,  he  may  disbelieve  two;  and  if  two,  four; 
and  if  four,  ten;  and  if  ten,  half  the  Bible;  and  if 
half  the  Bible,  the  whole :  and  if  he  may  be  a 
Deist,  and  yet  be  in  a  safe  state ;  he  may  be  an 
Athiest  and  still  go  to  heaven."  To  such  awful 
lengths  may  the  principle  be  pushed,  that  there  is 
no  guilt  in  mental  error.  "  Let  those,"  says  Dr. 
Priestley,  "  who  maintain  that  the  mere  holding  of 
opinions  (without  regard  to  the  motives  and  state  of 
the  mind  through  which  men  may  have  been  led  to 
form  them,)  will  necessarily  exclude  them  from  the 
favor  of  God,  be  particularly  careful  with  respect 
to  the  premises  from  which  they  draw  so  alarming 
a  conclusion."  Nothing  can  be  more  sophistical 
than  this  passage;  for  we  do  not  in  maintaining 
the  guiltiness  of  a  false  opinion,  leave  out  the  stale 
of  the  heart ;  but  contend  that  all  errors  in  the 
judgment  have  their  origin  in  the  depravity  of  our 
nature,  and,  in  so  far  as  they  prevail,  discover  a 
heart  not  brought  into  subjection  to  Christ.  A  per- 
fectly holy  mind  could  not  err  in  the  opinion  it  de- 
rived from  the  word  of  God :  and  it  may  be  most 
fairly  presumed  that  there  are  certain  fundamental 
truths,  which  cannot  be  rejected,  without  such  a 
degree  of  depravity  of  heart,  as  is  utterly  incom- 
patible with  true  piety  towards  God. 

It  is  to  be  recollected,  that  the  holiness  required 
in  the  word  of  God,  is  a  very  superior  thing  to 
what  is  called  morality.  Holiness  is  a  right  state 
of  mind  towards  God,  and  it.  is  enforced  by  motives 
drawn  from  the  view  which  the  Scriptures  give  us 
of  the  Divine  nature,  and  of  the  Divine  conduct 
towards  us.  If  our  views  of  God,  and  of  his  scheme 
of  mercy,  be  incorrect,  the  motives  which  influence 
us  cannot  be  correct.  Hence  all  risht  feeling  and 
conduct  are  traced  up  by  the  sacred  writers  to  the 
truth.  Do  they  speak  "of  regeneration  1  they  tell 
us  we  are  "  begotten  by  the  incorruptible  seed  of 
the  word."  Do  they  speak  of  sanctification  1  they 
ascribe  it,  so  far  as  instrumentality  is  concerned,  to 
the  truth;  and  the  truth  itself  is  characterized  as 
a  "  doctrine  according  to  godliness."  It  is  evident, 
that  without  the  truth,  or  in  other  words,  without 
right  opinions,  we  can  neither  be  born  again  of  the 
Spirit,  nor  partake  of  true  holiness.  The  whole 
process  of  practical  and  experimental  religion  is 
carried  on  by  the  instrumentality  of  right  senti- 
ments,; and  to  suppose  that  holiness  could  be  pro- 


duced in  the  soul  as  well  by  error  as  by  truth,  is  not 
only  contrary  to  revelation,  but  no  less  contrary  to 
reason.  If  truth  sanctify,  error  must  in  some  way 
or  other  pollute ;  for  to  suppose  that  two  causes, 
not  only  so  distinct  but  so  opposite,  can  produce  the 
same  effect,  is  absurd ;  and  the  Scriptures  every 
where  insist  upon  the  importance  of  the  truth,  not 
merely  on  its  own  account,  but  on  account  of  its 
moral  effect  upon  the  soul. 

If  this  view  of  the  subject  be  correct,  Christian 
charity  cannot  mean  indifference  to  religious  senti- 
ment; for  if  so,  it  would  be  a  temper  of  mind  in 
direct  opposition  to  a  large  portion  of  Scripture : 
nor  are  we  required,  by  this  virtue,  to  give  the  least 
countenance  to  what  we  think  is  error.  We  may, 
indeed,  be  called  bigots;  for  this  term  in  the  lips 
of  many,  means  nothing  more  than  a  reproach  for 
attaching  importance  to  right  sentiments.  No  word 
has  been  more  misunderstood  than  this.  If  by 
bigotry  is  meant  such  an  overweening  attachment 
to  our  opinions,  as  makes  us  refuse  to  listen  to  ar- 
gument ;  such  a  blind  regard  to  our  own  views,  as 
closes  the  avenues  of  conviction;  such  a  selfish 
zeal  for  our  creed,  as  actually  destroys  benevolence, 
and  causes  us  to  hate  those  who  differ  from  us ; — it 
is  an  evil  state  of  mind,  manifestly  at  variance  with 
love  :  but  if,  as  is  generally  the  case,  it  means,  by 
those  who  use  it,  only  zeal  for  truth,  it  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  love,  and  actually  a  part  of  it;  for 
"charity  rejoiceth  in  the  truth."  It  is  quite  com- 
patible with  good  will  to  men,  therefore,  to  attach 
high  importance  to  doctrines,  to  condemn  error,  to 
deny  the  Christianity  and  safety  of  those  who  with- 
hold their  assent  from  fundamental  truths,  and  to 
abstain  from  all  such  religious  communion  with 
them  as  would  imply,  in  the  least  possible  degree, 
any  thing  like  indifference  to  opinion.  It  does  ap- 
pear to  me,  that  the  most  perfect  benevolence  to 
men,  is  that  which,  instead  of  looking  with  com- 
placency on  their  errors,  warns  them  of  their  dan- 
ger, and  admonishes  them  to  escape.  It  is  no  mat- 
ter that  they  think  they  are  in  the  right — this  only 
makes  their  case  the  more  alarming;  and  to  act 
towards  them  as  if  we  thought  their  mistaken  views 
of  no  consequence,  is  only  to  confirm  their  delu- 
sion, and  to  aid  their  destruction. 

It  is  true  we  are  neither  to  despise  them  nor  per- 
secute them;  we  are  neither  to  oppress  nor  ridicule 
them ;  we  are  neither  to  look  upon  them  with 
haughty  scorn,  nor  with  callous  indifference;— but 
while  we  «et  ourselves  against  their  errors,  we  are 
to  pity  them  with  unaffected  compassion,  and  to 
labor  for  their  conversion  with  disinterested  kind- 
ness. We  are  to  bear,  with  unruffled  meekness,  all 
their  provoking  sarcasms;  and  to  sustain,  with  deep 
humility,  the  consciousness  of  our  clearer  percep- 
tions; and  to  convince  them  that,  with  the  steadiest 
resistance  of  their  principles,  we  unite  the  tender- 
est  concern  for  their  persons. 

And,  if  charity  do  not  imply  indifference  to  reli- 
gious opinions,  so  neither  does  it  mean  connivance 
nt  sin.  iThere  are  some  persons  whose  views  of 
the  evil  of  sin  are  so  dim  and  contracted,  or  their 
good  nature  is  so  accommodating  and  unscriptural, 
that  they  make  all  kinds  of  excuses  for  men's  trans- 
gression's, and  allow  of  any  latitude  that  is  asked, 
for  human  frailty.  The  greatest  sins,  if  they  are 
not  committed  against  the  laws  of  society,  are  re- 
duced to  the  mere  infirmities  of  our  fallen  nature, 
which  should  not  be  visited  with  harsh  censure; 
and  as  for  the  lesser  ones,  they  are  mere  specks 
upon  a  bright  and  polished  surface,  which  nothing 
but  a  most  fastidious  precision  would  ever  notice. 
Such  persons  condemn,  as  sour  and  rigid  ascetics, 
all  who  oppose  and  condemn  iniquity;  revile  them 
as  uniting  in  a  kind  of  malignant  opposition  to  the 
cheerfulness  of  society,  the  very  dregs  cf  puritan 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


11 


ism  and  barbarism ;  and  reproach  them  as  being 
destitute  of  all  the  charities  and  courtesies  of  life. 
But  if  candor  be  a  confounding  of  the  distinctions 
between  sin  and  holiness,  a  depreciating  of  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  latter,  and  at  the  same  time  a  dimi- 
nishing of  the  evil  of  the  former ;  if  it  necessarily 
lead  us  to  connive  with  an  easy  and  good  natured 
air  at  iniquity,  and  to  smile  with  a  kind  and  gentle 
aspect  upon  the  transgressions  which  we  witness; 
— then  it  must  be  something  openly  at  variance 
with  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  revelation:  and 
surely  that  candor  which  runs  counter  to  the  mind 
of  God,  cannot  be  the  love  on  which  St.  Paul  passes 
such  an  eulogium  in  this  chapter.  We  are  told  by 
the  word  of  God,  that  sin  is  exceedingly  sinful : 
that  it  is  the  abominable  thing  which  God  hates; 
that  the  wages  of  it  are  death;  that  by  an  unholv 
feeling  we  violate  the  law  :  we  are  commanded  to 
abstain  from  its  very  appearance  ;  we  are  warned 
against  excusing  it  in  ourselves,  or  in  each  other; 
we  are  admonished  to  reprove  it,  to  resist  it,  and  to 
oppose  it,  to  the  uttermost.  Certainly,  then,  it  can- 
not be  required  by  the  law  of  love,  that  we  should 
look  with  a  mild  and  tolerant  eye  on  sin.  Love  to 
man  arises  out  of  Love  to  God  ;  but  can  it  be  pos- 
sible to  love  God,  and  not  to  hate  sin  1  it  is  the  fruit 
of  faith,  but  faith  purifies  the  heart ;  it  is  cherished 
by  a  sense  of  redeeming  love;  but  the  very  end  of 
the  scheme  of  redemption  is  the  destruction  of  sin. 
Indulgence  of  men  in  their  sins,  connivance  at  their 
iniquity,  instead  of  being  an  act  of  benevolence,  is 
the  greatest  cruelty:  hence  the  emphatic  language 
of  God  to  the  Israelites—"  Thou  shalt  not  hate  thy 
brother  in  thine  heart ;  thou  shalt  in  any  wise  re- 
buke thy  neighbor,  and  not  suffer  sin  upon  him." 
Would  it  be  benevolence  to  connive  at  that  conduct 
by  which  any  individual  was  bringing  disease  upon 
his  body,  or  poverty  into  his  circumstances  1  If 
not,  how  can  it  be  benevolent  to  leave  him,  without 
a  warning,  to  do  that  which  will  involve  his  soul 
in  ruin.  To  think  more  lightly  of  the  evil  of  sin 
than  the  word  of  God  does;  to  call  that  good,  or 
even  indifferent,  which  by  it  is  called  evil ;  to  make 
allowances  which  it  does  not  make,  for  human  frail- 
ty; to  frame  excuses  for  sin  which  it  disallows;  to 
lull  the  consciences  of  men,  by  considerations  in 
extenuation  of  guilt  which  it  forbids;  or  to  do  any 
thing  to  produce  other  views  and  feelings  in  refer- 
ence to  iniquity,  than  such  as  are  warranted  by  the 
Scripture,—  is  not  charity,  but  a  participation  in 
other  men's  sins. 

It  is  the  nature  of  charity,  I  admit,  not  to  be  hasty 
to  impute  evil  motives  to  actions  of  a  doubtful  na- 
ture :  not  to  take  pleasure  in  finding  out  the  faults 
of  others;  not  to  magnify  them  beyond  the  reality, 
but  to  make  all  the  allowance  that  a  regard  to  truth 
will  admit  of;  to  hope  the  best  in  the  absence  of 
proof;  and  to  be  willing  to  forgive  the  offence  when 
it  has  been  committed  against  ourselves  :  but  to  car- 
ry it  beyond  this,  and  let  it  degenerate  into  a  com- 
plaisance which  is  afraid  to  rebuke,  or  oppose,  or 
condemn  sin,  lest  we  should  offend  the  transgressor, 
or  violate  the  law  of  courtesy,  or  subject  ourselves 
to  the  reproach  of  being  a  censorious  bigot  ;  which 
courts  the  good-will  and  promotes  the  self-satisfac- 
tion of  others,  by  conniving  at  their  sins;  which 
seeks  to  inzra'iate  itself  in  their  affections,  by  being 
indulgent  to  their  vices;  is  to  violate  at  once  the  law 
both  of  the  first  and  of  the  second  Table  ;  istoforgel 
every  obligation  which  we  are  laid  under,  both  to 
love  God  and  our  neighbor.  If  this  be  candor,  it  is 
no  less  opposed  to  pi<nv  than  to  humanity,  and  can 
never  be  the  love  enioined  in  so  many  places  in  the 
New  Testament.  No,  Christian  charitv  is  not  n 
poor  old  dotard,  creeping  about  the  world,  too  blind 
to  perceive  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil ; 
or  a  fawning  sycophant,  too  timid  to  reprove  the 


bold  transgressor,  and  smiling  with  parasitical  and 
imbecile  complacency  upon  the  errors  and  iniquities 
of  the  human  race ; — but  a  vigorous  and  healthy 
virtue,  with  an  eye  keen  to  discern  the  boundaries 
between  right  and  wrong,  a  hand  strong  and  ready 
to  help  the  transgressor  out  of  his  miserable  condi- 
tion, a  heart  full  of  mercy  for  the  sinner  and  the 
sufferer;  a  disposition  to  forgive  rather  than  to  re- 
venge, to  extenuate  rather  than  to  aggravate,  to  con- 
ceal rather  than  to  expose,  to  be  kind  rather  than 
severe,  to  be  hopeful  of  good  rather  than  suspicious 
of  evil, — but  withal,  the  inflexible,  immutable  friend 
of  holiness,  and  the  equally  inflexible  and  immuta- 
ble enemy  of  sin. 

We  are  not  allowed,  it  is  true,  to  be  scornful  and 
proud  towards  the  wicked,  nor  censorious  towards 
any;  we  are  not  to  make  the  most  distant  approach 
to  the  temper  which  says,  "  Stand  by,  I  am  holier 
than  thou  !"  we  are  not  to  hunt  for  the  failings  of 
others,  nor,  when  we  see  them  without  hunting  for 
them,  to  condemn  them  in  a  lone  of  arrogance,  or 
with  a  spirit  of  acerbity ;  but  still  we  must  main- 
tain that  temper  which,  while  it  reflects  the  beauty 
of  a  God  of  Love,  no  less  brightly  reflects  Ills  glory 
as  a  God  of  holiness,  and  a  God  of  trutn. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    INDISPENSABLE    NECESSITY    OP    CHRISTIAN   LOVE. 

A  distinction  has  been  introduced  kito  the  subject 
of  religion,  which,  although  not  wholly  free  from 
objection,  is  sufficient  to  answer  the  purpose  for 
which  it  is  employed  ;  I  mean  that  which  exists  be- 
tween essentials  and  non-essentials.  It  would  be  a 
difficult  task  to  trace  the  boundary  line  by  which 
these  classes  are  divided  ;  but  the  truth  of  the  gene- 
ral idea  cannot  be  questioned — that  there  are  some 
things,  both  in  faith  and  practice,  which,  for  want 
of  perceiving  the  grounds  of  their  obligations,  we 
may  neglect,  and  yet  not  be  destitute  of  true  reli- 
gion ;  while  there  are  others,  the  absence  of  which 
necessarily  implies  an  unrenewed  heart.  Among 
the  essentials  of  true  piety,  must  be  reckoned  the 
disposition  we  are  now  considering.  It  is  not  to  be 
classed  with  those  observances  and  views,  which, 
though  important,  are  not  absolutely  essential  to  sal- 
vation :  we  must  possess  it,  or  we  are  not  Christians 
now,  and  shall  not  be  admitted  into  heaven  hereaf- 
ter. The  apostle  has  expressed  this  necessity  in  the 
clearest  and  the  strongest  manner.  He  has  put  a 
hypothetical  case  of  the  most  impressive  kind,  which 
I  shall  now  illustrate. 

"  Though  1  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  or  of  an- 
gels, and  have  not  charity,  /  am  become  as  sounding 
brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.'" — Verse  1. 

By  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  we  are  not 
to  understand  the  powers  of  the  loftiest  eloquence, 
but  the  miraculous  gift  of  tongues,  accompanied  by 
an  ability  to  convey  ideas  according  to  the  method 
of  celestial  brings.  Should  a  man  be  invested  with 
these  stupendous  endowments,  and  employ  them  in 
the  service  of  the  gospel;  still,  if  his  heart  were  not 
a  partaker  of  love,  he  would  be  no  more  acceptable 
to  God,  than  was  the  clangor  of  the  brazen  instru- 
ments employed  in  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the 
Egvp'ian  Isis,  or  the  noise  of  the  tinkling  cymbals 
which  accompanied  the  orgies  of  the  Grecian  Cy- 
bele.  Such  a  man's  profession  of  religion  is  not  only 
loorthless  in  the  sight  of  God,  but  disagreeable  and 
digesting.  The  eornparison  is  remarkably  strong, 
inasmuch  as  it  refers  not  to  soft  melodious  scunds, 
as  of  the  flute  or  of  the  harp— not  to  the  harmonious 
hoi  ' !  of  a  concert — but  to  the  harsh  dissonance,  of 
instruments  of  the  most  inharmonious  character: 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


12 

and  if,  as  is  probable,  the  allusion  be  to  the  noisy 
clank  of  idolatrous  musicians,  the  idea  is  as  strongly 
presented  as  it  is  possible  lor  tiie  force  of  language 
tc  express  it. 

"  And  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  un- 
derstand all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge ;  and 
though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  1  could  remove 
mountains,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing." — 
Verse  2. 

Paul  still  alludes  to  miraculous  endowments. — 
Prophecy,  in  the  Scripture  use  of  the  term,  is  not 
limited  to  the  foretelling  of  future  events,  but  means, 
to  speak  by  inspiration  of  God  ;  and  its  exercise,  in 
this  instance,  refers  to  the  power  of  explaining,  with- 
out premeditation  or  mistake,  the  typical  and  pre- 
dictive parts  of  the  Old  Testament  dispensation,  to- 
gether with  the  facts  and  doctrines  of  the  Christian 
economy.  "  The  faith  that  could  remove  moun- 
tain;," is  an  allusion  to  an  expression  of  our  Lord's, 
which  occurs  in  the  gospel  history.  "  Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  if  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard 
seed,  Ve  shall  say  unto  this  mountain,  Remove  hence 
tc  yonder  place;  and  it  shall  remove."  This  faith 
is  of  a  distinct  nature  altogether  from  that  by  which 
men  are  justified,  and  become  the  children  of  God. 
It  has  been  called  the  faith  of  miracles,  and  seems 
tc  have  consisted  in  a  firm  persuasion  of  the  power 
or  ability  of  God  to  do  any  miraculous  thing  for  the 
support  of  the  gospel.  It  operated  two  ways:  the 
first  was  a  belief  on  the  part  of  the  person  who 
■wrought  the  miracle,  that  he  was  the  subject  of  a 
divine  impulse,  and  called  at  that  time  to  perform 
such  an  act;  and  the  other  was  a  belief  on  the  part 
of  the  person  on  whom  a  miracle  was  about  to  be 
performed,  that  such  an  effect  would  be  really  pro- 
duced. Now  Ihe  apostle  declared,  that  although  a 
man  had  been  gifted  with  prophecy,  so  as  to  explain 
the  deepest  mysteries  of  the  Jewish  or  the  Christian 
systems,  and  in  addition,  possessed  that  miraculous 
faith  by  which  the  most  difficult  and  astonishing 
changes  would  have  been  effected,  he  was  nothing, 
and  less  than  nothing,  without  love. 

"  And  though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor, 
and  though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not 
charity,  it  profitcth  me  nothing." — Verse  3. 

This  representation  of  the  indispensable  necessity 
of  love  is  most  striking;  it  supposes  it  possible  that 
a  man  may  distribute  all  his  substance  in  acts  of 
apparent  beneficence,  and  yet,  after  all,  be  without 
true  religion.  Actions  derive  their  moral  character 
from  the  motives  under  the  influence  of  which  they 
are  performed ;  and  many  which  are  beneficial  to 
man,  ma}'  still  be  sinful  in  the  sight  of  God,  because 
they  are  not  done  fiom  a  right  inducement.  The 
most  diffusive  liberality,  if  prompted  by  pride,  vani- 
ty, or  self-righteousness,  is  of  no  value  in  the  eyes 
of  the  omniscient  Jehovah:  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
very  sinful.  And  is  it  not  too  evident  to  be  ques- 
tioned, that  many  of  the  alms-deeds  of  which  we 
are  the  witnesses,  are  done  from  any  motives  but 
the  right  ones  7  We  can  readily  imagine  th&l  mul- 
titudes are  lavish  in  their  pecuniary  contributions, 
who  are  at  the  same  time  totally  destitute  of  love  to 
God  and  love  to  man;  and  if  destitute  of  these  sa- 
cred virtues,  they  are,  as  it  respects  real  relig:on, 
less  than  nothing,  although  they  should  spend  everv 
farthing  of  their  property  in  relieving  the  wants  of 
the  poor.  If  our  munificence,  however  great  or  self- 
denying,  be  the  operation  of  mere  selfish  regard  to 
ourselves,  to  our  own  reputation,  or  to  our  own  safe- 
ty, and  not  of  pure  love,  it  may  do  good  to  others, 
but  will  do  none  to  ourselves.  "  And  though  I  give 
my  body  to  be  burned,"  ?'.  e.  as  a  martyr  for  reli- 
gion, "and  have  not  charity,  it  profiteth  me  no- 
thing." Whether  such  a  case  as  this  ever  existed, 
we  know  not;  it  is  not  impossible,  nor  improbable; 
but  if  it  did,  not  the  tortures  of  an  agonizing  death, 


nor  the  courage  that  endured  them,  nor  the  seem- 
ing zeal  for  religion  which  led  to  them,  would  be 
accepted  in  lieu  of  love  t  j  man.  Such  an  instance 
of  self-devotedness  must  have  been  the  result  either 
of  that  self-righteousness  which  substitutes  its  own 
sufferings  for  ihose  of  Christ,  or  of  that  love  of  fame 
which  scruples  not  to  seek  it  even  in  the  fires  of 
martyrdom ; — in  either  case  it  partakes  not  of  the  na- 
ture/nor will  it  receive  the  reward,  of  true  religion. 
It  will  help  to  convince  us,  not  only  of  the  necessi- 
ty, but  of  the  importance,  of  this  temper  of  mind,  if 
we  bring  into  a  narrow  compass  the  many  and  va- 
rious representations  of  it  which  are  to  be  found  in 
the  New  Testament. 

1.  It  is  the  object,  of  ihe  divine  decree  in  predesti- 
nation. "  According  as  he  hath  chosen  us  in  him 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we  should 
be  holy  and  without  blame  before  him  in  love." — 
Ephes.  i.  4. 

2.  It  is  the  end  and  purpose  of  the  moral  law. 
"  The  end  of  the  commandment  is  charity  (love.") 
"  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord 
thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul, 
and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the  first  and  great 
commandment.  And  the  second  is  like  unto  it — 
Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  On  these 
two  commandments  hang  all  the  law  and  the  pro- 
phets." Matt.  xxii.  37—40.  "  Love  is  the  fulfilling 
of  the  Law." 

3.  It  is  the  evidence  of  regeneration.  "  Love  is 
of  God,  and  every  one  that  loveth  is  born  of  God." 
— 1  John  iv.  7. 

4.  It  is  the  necessary  operation  and  effect  of  saving 
faith.  "For  in  Christ  Jesus  neither  circumcision 
availeth  any  thing,  nor  uncircumcision;  but  faith 
which  worketh  by  love." 

5.  It  is  that  grace  by  which  both  personal  and  mu- 
tual edification  is  promoted.  "  Knowledge  puffeth 
up,  but  charity  (love)  edifieth."  1  Cor.  viii.  1.  - 
"  Maketh  increase  of  the  body  to  the  edifying  of 
itself  in  love."     Eph.  iv.  16. 

G.  It  is  the  proof  of  a  mutual  inhabitation  between 
God  and  his  people.  "  "  If  we  love  one  another,  God 
dwelleth  in  us,  and  his  love  is  perfected  in  us. 
Hereby  know  we  that  we  dwell  in  him,  and  he  in 
us,  because  he  hath  given  us  of  his  Spirit.  And 
we  have  known  and  believed  the  love  that  God  hath 
to  us.  God  is  love;  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love 
dwelleth  in  Gcd,andGodin  him."     1  Johniv.  12 — 16. 

7.  It  is  decUred  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  the  Chris- 
tian virtues.  "  The  greatest  of  these  is  charity 
(love.") 

8.  It  is  represented  as  the  perfection  of  religion. 
"  Above  all  these  things,  put  on  charity  (love,) 
which  is  the  bond  of  perfectness."     Col.  iii.  4. 

What  encomiums  are  these !  what  striking  proofs 
of  the  supreme  importance  of  the  disposition  now 
under  consideration  !  Who  has  not  been  guilty  of 
some  neglect  of  it  7  Who  has  not  had  his  attention 
drawn  too  much  from  it  7  Who  can  read  these 
passages  of  Holy  Writ,  and  not  feel  convinced  that 
not  only  mankind  in  general,  but  the  professors  of 
spiritual  religion  also,  have  too  much  mistaken  the 
nature  of  true  piety  7  What  are  clear  and  ortho- 
dox views— what  are  strong  feelings — what  is  our 
faith — what  cur  enjoyment — what  our  freedom  from 
gross  immorality — without  this  spirit  of  pure  and 
universal  benevolence  7 

Whether  an  instance,  we  again  repeat,  ever  ex- 
isted of  an  individual  whose  circumstances  an- 
swered to  the  supposition  of  the  apostle,  we  cannot 
determine ;  the  statement  certainly  suggests  to  us 
a  most  alarming  idea  of  our  liability  to  self-decep- 
tion in  reference  to  our  personal  religion.  Delusion 
on  this  subject  prevails  to  an  extent  truly  appalling. 
Millions  are  in  error  as  to  the  real  condition  of 
their  souls,  and  are  travelling  to  perdition,  white 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


13 


according  to  their  own  idea,  ihey  are  journeying  to 
the  celestial  Canaan.  Oh  fearful  mistake  !  Oh 
fata,  imposture!  What  terrible  disappointment 
awaits  them !  What  horror,  and  anguish,  and 
despair,  will  take  eternal  possession  of  their  souls, 
in  that  moment  of  revelation,  when,  instead  of 
awaking  from  the  sleep  of  death  amidst  the  glories 
of  the  heavenly  city,  they  shall  lift  up  their  eyes, 
"being  in  torment."  No  pen  can  describe  the  over- 
whelming anguish  of  such  a  disappointment  and 
the  imagination  shrinks  with  amazement  and  tor- 
ture from  the  contemplation  of  her  own  faint  sketch 
of  the  insupportable  scene. 

To  be  led  on  by  the  power  of  delusion,  so  far  as 
to  commit  an  error  of  consequence  to  our  temporal 
interests:  to  have  impaired  our  health,  our  reputa- 
tion, or  our  property;  is  sufliciently  painful,  espe- 
cially where  there  is  no  prospect,  or  but  a  faint  one, 
of  repairing  the  mischief:  yet,  in  this  case,  religion 
opens  a  balm  for  the  wounded  spirit,  and  eternity 
presents  a  prospect,  where  the  sorrows  of  time  will 
be  forgotten.  But,  oh  !  to  be  in  error  on  the  nature 
of  religion  itself,  and  to  build  our  hopes  of  immor- 
tality on  the  sand  instead  of  the  rock ;  to  see  the 
lamp  of  our  deceitful  profession  which  has  served 
to  amuse  us  in  life,  and  even  to  guide  us  in  false 
peace  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  suddenly  extinguished  as  we  cross  the 
threshold  of  eternity,  and  leaving  us  amidst  the 
darkness  of  rayless,  endless  night,  instead  of  quietly 
expiring  amidst  the  blaze  of  everlasting  day!  Is 
such  a  delusion  possible  ?  Has  it  ever  happened  in 
one  solitary  instance  ?  Do  the  annals  of  the  unseen 
world  record  one  such  case,  and  the  prison  of  lost 
souls  contain  one  miserable  spirit  that  perished  by 
delusion  1  Then  what  deep  solicitude  ought  the 
possibility  of  such  an  event  to  circulate  through  the 
hearts  of  all,  to  avoid  the  error  of  a  self-deceived 
mind?  Is  it  possible  to  be  mistaken  in  our  judg- 
ment of  our  state? — then  how  deeply  anxious  ought 
we  all  to  feel,  not  to  be  misled  by  false  criteria  in 
forming:  our  decision.  But  what  if,  instead  of  one 
case,  millions  should  have  occurred,  of  souls  irre- 
coverably lost  by  self-deception  1  What  if  delusion 
should  be  the  most  crowded  avenue  to  the  bottom- 
less pit  1  What  if  it  should  be  the  common  infatu- 
ation, the  epidemic  blindness,  which  has  fallen  upon 
the  multitudes  of  the  inhabitants  of  Christendom? 
What  if  this  moral  insanity  should  have  infected 
and  destroyed  very  many  who  have  made  even  a 
stricter  profession  of  religion  than  others?  How 
shall  we  explain,  much  more  justify,  that  want  of 
anxiety  about  their  everlasting  welfare — that  desti- 
tution of  care  to  examine  into  the  nature  and  evi- 
dences of  true  piety — that  willingness  to  be  imposed 
upon,  in  reference  to  eternity — which  many  ex- 
hibit ?  Jesus  Christ  does  tell  us  that  many,  in  that 
day,  shall  say,  "Lord,  Lord,  did  we  not  prophesy 
in  thy  name?"  to  whom  he  will  say,  "  Depart  from 
me,  I  never  knew  you,  ye  workers  of  iniquity." 
He  says,  that  "many  are  called,  but  few  chosen." 
He  says,  that  of  the  four  classes  of  those  who  hear 
the  word,  only  one  hears  it  to  advantage.  He  says, 
that  of  the  ten  virgins,  to  whom  he  likens  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  Jive  only  were  wise,  while  the  other 
five  were  deceiving  themselves  with  the  unfed  lamp 
of  a  deceitful  profession.  He  intimates  most  plainly, 
that  self-deception  in  religion  is  fearfully  common — 
and  common  amongst  those  who  make  a  more  se- 
rious profession  than  others.  It  is  he  that  has 
sounded  the  alarm  to  awaken  slumbering  professors 
of  religion  from  their  carnal  security.  It  is  he  that 
hath  said,  "He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear." — "  I  know  thy  works,  how  that  thou  hast  a 
name  that  thou  livest  and  art  dead."  How  careful, 
then,  ought  we  to  be,  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by 
false  evidences  of  religion,  and  not  to  conclude  that 


we  are  Christians,  while  we  are  destitute  of  those 
things  which  the  word  of  God  declares  to  be  essen- 
tial to  genuine  piety.  We  must  have  love  there- 
fore, or  all  else  is  ir'sufheient. 

1.  Some  conclude,  that  because  they  are  regular 
in  their  attendance  upon  the  services  of  religion, 
they  are  true  Christians:  they  go  punctually  to 
church  or  to  meeting — they  receive  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per— they  frequent  the  meetings  for  social  prayer — 
they,  perhaps,  repeat  prayers  in  secret,  and  read 
the  Scriptures.  AH  this  is  well,  if  it  be  done  with 
right  views,  and  in  connection  with  right  disposi- 
tions: but  it  is  the  whole  of  their  religion  ;  a  mere 
abstraction  of  devotional  exercise;  a  tiling  separate 
and  apart  from  the  heart,  and  temper,  and  conduct ; 
a  business  of  the  closet,  and  of  the  sanctuary;  a 
sort  of  composition  paid  to  the  Almighty,  to  be  re- 
leased from  all  the  other  demands  of  Scripture  and 
obligations  of  piety;  an  expression  of  their  willing- 
ness to  be  devout  in  the  church,  and  on  the  Sabbath, 
provided  they  may  be  as  earthly-minded,  as  selfish, 
as  malicious,  and  as  unkind,  as  they  please,  ia  all 
places  and  all  times  besides.     This  is  not  religion. 

2.  Others  are  depending  upon  the  clearness  of  their 
views,  and  their  attainments  in  evangelical  know- 
ledge. They  pretend  to  a  singular  zeal  for  the 
truth,  and  are  great  sticklers  for  the  doctrines  of 
grace,  of  which  they  profess  to  have  an  acquaint- 
ance little  short  of  inspiration.  They  look  upon 
all,  besides  a  few  of  their  own  class,  as  mere  babes 
in  knowledge,  or  as  individuals  who,  like  the  man 
in  the  gospel,  have  their  eyes  only  half  opened,  and 
who  see  "  men  as  trees  walking."  They  are  the 
eagles  who  soar  to  the  sun,  and  bask  in  his  beams; 
while  the  rest  of  mankind  are  the  moles  that  bur- 
row, and  the  bats  that  flutter  in  the  dark.  Doctrine 
is  every  thing;  clear  views  of  the  gospel  are  the 
great  desideratum ;  and  in  their  zea  for  these 
things  they  suppose  they  can  never  say  things  ex- 
travagant enough,  nor  absurd  enough,  nor  angry 
enough,  against  good  works,  practical  religicn,  or 
Christian  temper.  Puffed  up  with  pride,  selfish, 
unkind,  irritable,  censorious,  malicious — they  mani- 
fest a  total  want  of  that  humility  and  kindness 
which  are  the  prominent  features  of  true  Chris- 
tianity. Clear  views,  even  where  they  have  no  re- 
semblance to  the  monstrous  caricatures  and  fright- 
ful deformities  of  modern  antinomianism,  a:e  of 
themselves  no  evidence  of  religion,  any  more  than 
right  theoretical  notions  of  the  constitut;on  are  the 
proofs  of  loyalty;  and  as  a  man,  with  these  notions 
in  his  mind,  may  be  a  traitor  in  his  heart,  so  may  a 
professor  of  religion  be  an  enemy  to  God  in  his 
soul,  with  an  evangelical  creed  upon  his  tongue. 
Many  profess  to  be  very  fond  of  the  lamp  of  truth, 
grasp  it  firmly  in  their  hands,  admit  its  flame,  pity 
or  blame  those  who  are  following  the  delusive  and 
meteoric  fires  of  error;  but,  after  all,  make  no 
other  use  of  it,  than  to  illuminate  the  path  that 
leads  them  to  perdition:  their  religion  begins  and 
ends  in  adopting  a  form  of  sound  words  for  their 
creed,  approving  an  evangelical  ministry,  admiring 
the  popular  champions  of  the  truth,  and  joining  in 
the  reprobation  of  fundamental  error.  As  to  any 
spirituality  of  mind,  any  heavenliness  of  affection, 
any  Christian  love — in  short,  as  to  any  of  the  natu- 
ral tendency,  the  appropriate  energy,  the  vital  ele- 
vating influence,  of  those  very  doctrines  to  which 
they  profess  to  be  attached — they  are  as  destitute  as 
the  veriest  worldling;  and,  like  him,  are  perhaps 
selfish,  revengeful,  implacable,  and  unkind.  This 
is  a  religion  but  too  common  in  the  present  day, 
when  evangelical  sentiments  are  becoming  increas- 
ins\y  popular;  a  religion  but  too  common  in  our 
churches;  a  religion,  cold,  heartless,  and  unin- 
fluential;  a  sort  of  lunar  light  which  reflects  the 
beams  of  the  sun,  but  not  his  warmth. 


.'4 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


3.  On  the  other  hand,  some  are  satisfied  with  the 
vividness  and  the  violence  of  their  feelings.  Pos- 
sessed of  much  excitability  and  want  of  tempera- 
ment, they  are,  of  course,  susceptible  of  deep  and 
powerful  impression  from  the  ordinances  of  reli- 
gion. They  are  not  without  their  religious  joy,  for 
even  the  stony  ground  hearers  rejoiced  for  a  while  ; 
and  they  are  not  without  their  religious  sorrows. 
Their  tears  are  plentiful,  and  their  smiles  in  pro- 
portion. See  them  in  the  house  of  God,  and  none 
appear  to  feel  more  under  the  word  than  they. 
The  sermon  exerts  a  plastic  power  over  their  affec- 
tions, and  the  preacher  seems  to  have  their  hearts 
at  command.  They  talk  loudly  of  "  happy  frames," 
"  precious  seasons,"  "  comfortable  opportunities." 
But  follow  them  from  the  house  of  God  lo  their 
own  habitation,  and,  oh,  how  changed  the  scene  ! 
the  least  offence,  perhaps  an  unintentional  one, 
raises  a  storm  of  passion,  and  the  man  that  looked 
like  a  seraph  in  the  sanctuary,  seems  more  like  a 
fury  at  home :  follow  them  from  the  Sabbath  into 
the  days  of  the  week ;  and  you  will  see  the  man 
who  appeared  all  for  heaven  on  the  Sunday,  all  for 
earth  on  the  Monday:  follow  them  from  the  assem- 
bly of  the  saints  to  the  chief  places  of  concourse, 
where  they  buy,  and  sell,  and  get  gain ;  and  you 
will  see  the  man  who  looked  so  devout,  irritated 
and  litigious,  selfish  and  overreaching,  rude  and  in- 
sulting, envious  and  malicious,  suspicious  and  de- 
famatory. Yes  ;  and  perhaps  in  the  evening  of  the 
same  day,  you  will  see  him  at  a  prayer  meeting, 
enjoying,  as  he  supposes,  the  holy  season,  Such  is 
the  delusion  under  which  many  are  living.  Their 
religion  is  in  great  part,  a  mere  susceptibility  of  im- 
pression from  religious  subjects;  it  is  a  selfish,  reli- 
gious voluptuousness. 

It  is  certain,  that  more  importance  is  often  times 
attached  to  "  sensible  enjoyment,"  as  it  is  called — to 
lively  frames  and  feelings — than  belongs  to  them. 
There  is  a  great  variety  in  the  constitution  of  the 
human  mind,  not  only  as  it  respects  the  power  of 
thinking,  but  also  of  feeling:  some  feel  far  more 
acutely  than  others  ;  this  is  observable  separate  and 
apart  from  godliness.  The  grace  of  God  in  con- 
version, operates  a  moral,  not  a  physical  change  ;  it 
gives  a  new  direction  to  the  faculties,  but  leaves  the 
faculties  themselves  as  they  were ;  consequently, 
with  equal  depth  of  conviction,  and  equal  strength 
of  principle,  there  will  be  various  degrees  of  feeling, 
in  different  persons:  the  susceptibility  of  the  mind 
to  impression,  and  its  liability  to  vivid  feeling,  were 
there  before  conversion,  and  they  remain  after  it; 
and  ci'ten  times  the  lively  emotion  produced  by  af- 
fecting scenes,  or  seasons,  or  sermons,  is  partly  an 
operation  of  nature,  and  partly  of  grace.  A  man 
may  feel  but  little,  and  yet,  if  that  lit c le  lead  him  to 
do  much,  it  is  great  piety  notwithstanding.  Of  two 
persons  who  listen  to  an  affecting  tale,  one  is  seen 
to  weep  profusely,  and  is  overwhelmed  by  the  sto- 
ry ;  the  olher  is  attentive  and  thoughtful,  but  nei- 
ther weeps  nor  sobs.  They  retire:  the  former,  per- 
haps, to  wipe  her  tears,  and  to  forget  the  misery, 
which  caused  them  ;  the  latter  to  seek  out  the  suf- 
ferer and  relieve  him.  Which  had  most  feeling  1 
The  former.  Which  most  benevolence?  The  lat- 
ter. The  conduct  of  one  was  the  result  of  nature, 
that  of  the  other  the  effect  of  principle.  Take  ano- 
ther illustration,  still  more  in  point.  Conceive  of 
two  real  Christians  listening  to  a  sermon  in  which 
the  preacher  is  discoursing  from  such  a  text  as  this 
— "  Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to 
iove  one  another ;"'  or  this — "  Ye  know  the  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though  he  was  rich, 
yet  for  our  sake?  he  became  poor,  that  ye,  through 
his  poverty  might  become  rich."  His  object,  as 
that  of  every  man  should  be,  who  preaches  from 
such  a  text,  is  to  show  that  a  sense  of  divine  love  to 


us,  should  fill  us  writh  benevolence  towards  others. 
In  order  to  bring  the  heart  to  feel  its  obligations,  he 
gives  a  vivid  description  of  God's  love  to  man  ;  and 
then,  while  his  hearers  are  affected  with  God's  mer- 
cy he  calls  upon  them,  in  imitation  of  Jehovah,  to 
relieve  those  who  are  in  want;  to  bear  with  those 
who  are  vexatious  ;  to  forgive  those  who  have  in- 
jured them;  to  lay  aside  their  wrath,  and  abound 
in  all  the  expressions  of  genuine  affection  to  their 
fellow-christians.  One  of  the  individuals  is  deeply 
interested  and  affected  by  the  first  part  of  the  dis- 
course, sheds  many  tears,  and  is  wrought  up  to  a 
high  pitch  of  feeling,  while  the  preacher  paints  in 
glowing  colors  the  love  of  God :  the  other  hears 
with  fixed  attention,  with  genuine  faith,  the  whole 
sermon,  but  his  emotions  are  not  powerful ;  he  feels 
it  is  true,  but  it  is  tranquil  feeling,  unattended  by 
either  smiles  or  tears.  They  go  home ;  the  latter 
perhaps  in  silence,  the  former  exclaiming  to  his 
friends,  "  Oh,  what  a  delightful  sermon  !  what  a 
precious  season  !  did  you  ever  hear  the  love  of  God 
so  impressively,  so  beautifully  described  V  With 
all  his  feeling,  however,  he  does  not  go  forth  to  re- 
lieve one  child  of  want,  nor  does  he  attempt  to  ex- 
tinguish one  angry  or  implacable  feeling  towards  an 
individual  who  had  offended  him.  He  is  as  pas- 
sionate and  unforgiving,  as  unkind  and  selfish,  af- 
ter the  sermon,  as  he  was  before  he  heard  it.  The 
other  retires  with  more  of  calm  reflection  than  of 
strong  emotion.  Hearken  to  his  soliloquy  : — "  The 
preacher  has  given  us  a  most  astonishing  idea  of 
the  love  of  God  to  us,  and  most  clearly  and  affect- 
ingly  deduced  from  it  our  obligations  to  love  one 
another.  Am  I  interested  in  this  lovel  What !  has 
this  ineffable  grace  lavished  all  its  benefits  on  me,  a 
rebel  against  God,  upon  me  a  sinner  1  And  shall  I 
not  feel  this  love  constraining  me  to  relieve  the 
wants,  to  heal  the  sorrows,  to  forgive  the  offences, 
of  my  fellow-creatures  1  I  will  bear  ill-will  no  long- 
er ;  I  will  put  out  the  kindling  spark  of  revenge ; 
I  will  go  in  a  spirit  of  meekness  and  of  love,  and 
forgive  the  offender,  and  be  reconciled  to  my 
brother."  By  that  grace  on  which  he  depended,  he 
is  enabled  to  act  up  to  his  resolution.  He  becomes, 
upon  principle,  upon  conviction,  more  merciful, 
more  meek,  more  affectionate.  Which  has  most 
feeling  1  The  former.  Which  has  most  religion  1 
The  latter. 

Any  emotion,  however  pleasurable  or  intense, 
that  does  not  lead  to  action,  is  mere  natural,  not 
holy,  feeling:  while  that,  however  feeble  it  may 
seem,  which  leads  us  to  do  the  will  of  God,  is  un- 
feigned piety.  In  order  to  ascertain  our  degree  of 
religion,  we  must  not  merely  ask,  how  we  feel  un- 
der sermons,  but  how  this  feeling  leads  us  to  act  af- 
terwards. The  operative  strength  of  our  princi- 
ples, and  not  the  contemplative  strength  of  our  feel- 
ings, is  the  test  of  godliness.  All  that  imaginative 
emotion,  produced  by  a  sense  of  God's  love  to  us, 
which  does  not  lead  to  a  cultivation  of  the  virtue 
considered  in  this  treatise,  is  one  of  the  delusive 
fires,  which,  instead  of  guiding  aright,  misleads 
the  souls  of  men. 

4.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  many,  in  the  present  day, 
satisfy  themselves  that  they  are  Christians,  because 
of  their  zeal  in  the  cause  of  religion.  Happily,  for 
the  church  of  God,  happily  for  the  world  at  la"ge, 
there  is  now  a  great  and  general  eagerness  for  i^e 
diffusion  of  knowledge  and  piety.  Throwing  eff" 
the  torpor  of  ages,  the  friends  of  Christ  are  laboring 
to  extend  his  kingdom  in  every  direction.  Almost 
every  possible  object  of  Christian  philanthropy  is 
seized  upon ;  societies  are  organized  ;  means, 
adapted  to  every  kind  of  instruments,  are  employed ; 
the  whole  levy  en  masse  of  the  religious  world  is 
called  out ;  and  Christendom  presents  an  interesting 
scene  of  benevolent  energy.   Such  a  state  of  things 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY, 


however,  has  its  dangers  in  reference  to  personal 
religion,  and  may  become  an  occasion  of  delusion 
to  many.  It  does  not  require  genuine  piety  to  as- 
sociate us  with  these  movements:  from  a  natural 
liberality  of  disposition,  or  regard  to  reputation,  or 
a  desire  of  influence,  or  by  the  compulsion  of  exam- 
ple, we  may  give  our  property ;  for  all  these  motives 
are  no  doubt  in  partial  operation,  when  giving  is  in 
fashion.  And  as  to  personal  exertions,  how  many 
inducements  may  lead  to  this,  besides  a  sincere  and 
an  ardent  love  to  Christ;  an  inherent  fondness  for 
activity,  a  love  of  display,  the  spirit  of  party,  the 
persuasion  of  friends — may  all  operate,  and  un- 
questionably do  operate,  in  many  cases,  to  produce 
astonishing  efforts  in  the  cause  of  religious  benevo- 
lence, where  there  is  a  total  absence  of  genuine 
piety.  The  mind  of  man,  prone  to  self-deception 
and  anxious  to  find  some  reasons  to  satisfy  itself  in 
reference  to  its  eternal  state,  short  of  the  true  evi- 
dence of  a  renewed  heart,  is  too  apt  to  derive  a  false 
peace  from  the  contemplation  of  its  zeal.  In  pro- 
portion as  the  cause  of  the  delusion  approximates 
to  the  nature  of  true  religion,  is  its  power  to  blind 
and  to  mislead  the  judgment.  If  the  mind  can  per- 
ceive any  thing  in  itself,  or  in  its  operations,  which 
bears  the  semblance  of  godliness,  it  will  convert  it 
into  a  means  of  lulling  the  conscience  and  removing 
anxiety.  This  is  to  many  persons  the  fatal  opiate, 
the  soul-destroying  imposture— their  activity  in  the 
cause  of  Christian  zeal:  none  are  more  diligent 
in  their  devotedness  to  the  duties  of  committees, 
none  are  more  constant  in  their  attendance  upon 
public  meetings;  others,  again,  weary  themselves 
in  their  weekly  rounds  to  collect  the  contributions 
of  the  rich  or  the  offerings  of  the  poor.  These 
things,  if  they  do  not  lead  them  coolly  to  reason  and 
to  conclude  that  they  are  believers,  take  off  their 
attention  from  the  real  condition  of  their  souls,  leave 
them  no  leisure  for  reflection,  repress  the  rising 
fear,  and  either  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience,  or  en- 
able them  to  drown  its  remonstrances  in  the  elo- 
quence of  the  platform,  or  in  the  discussions  of  the 
cominittee-room.  We  doubt  not  that  some  unwor- 
thy professors  of  religion,  in  the  present  age,  resort 
to  public  meetings  for  the  same  reason  as  many  a 
guilty  votary  of  pleasure  does  to  public  amusements 
— to  forget  his  own  condition,  and  to  turn  away  his 
ear,  for  a  short  season,  from  the  voice  that  speaks 
to  him  from  within.  Individuals  are  known  to  us 
all,  who,  amidst  the  greatest  zeal  for  various  public 
institutions,  are  living  in  malice  and  all  uncharita- 
bleness,  in  the  indulgence  of  a  predominate  selfish- 
ness, and  uncontrolled  wralh.  But  it  will  not  do. — 
This  isnot  piety.  Could  we  support  the  whole  ex- 
penditure of  the  Missionarv  Society  by  our  afflu- 
ence, and  direct  its  councils  by  our  wisdom,  and 
keep  alive  its  energy  by  our  ardor,  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  were  destitute  of  love, — we  should  perish 
eternally,  amidst  the  munificence  of  our  liberality. 

And  nl'  those  who  have  the  grace  of  love,  and 
who  are  real  believers,  some  are  far  more  deficient 
in  its  influence  and  activity  than  they  should  be ; 
and  endeavor  to  quiet  an  accusing  conscience  with 
the  wretched  sophistry,  "that  as  a  Christian  cannot 
be  supposed  to  excel  in  every  thing,  their  forte  lies 
in  the  active  virtues  of  religion  more  than  in  the 
passive  graces ;  and  that,  therefore,  any  little  defi- 
rienev  in  the  latter  is  made  up  by  their  greater 
abundance  of  the  former."  This  reasoning  is  as 
false  in  its  principle,  as  it  is  frequent,  we  fear,  in 
its  adoption.  Where,  in  nil  the  word  of  God,  is  this 
speci.'s  of  moral  composition  of  duties  taught  or 
sanctioned!  This  is  really  carrying  the  popish 
principle  of  indulgences  into  our  own  private  con- 
cerns, and  creating  a  surplus  stock  of  one  virtue  to 
be  available  for  the  deficiencies  of  another. 

It  is  to   be  apprehended,   that  as  every  age  is 


marked  with  a  peculiar  tendency,  either  to  some 
prevailing  error  or  defect,  the  tendency  of  the  pre- 
vailing age  is  to  exalt  the  active  virtues  of  piety, 
at  the  expense  of  the  passive  ones;  and,  while  the 
former  are  forced  into  an  increasing  luxuriance,  to 
permit  the  latter  to  wither  in  their  shade;  or,  at 
least,  there  is  a  disposition  to  devote  all  that  time 
and  attention  to  the  culture  of  one  which  ought  to 
be  shared  between  both.  It  cannot  be  denied  that 
our  love  of  activity  and  of  display,  will  generally 
incline  us  to  prefer  the  cultivaffon  of  public  spirit, 
rather  than  the  more  private  and  self-denying  tem- 
pers of  meekness,  humility,  and  forbearance;  for  it 
is  inconceivably  more  easy,  and  more  pleasant,  to 
float  upon  the  tide  of  public  feeling  towards  the  ob- 
jects of  religious  zeal,  than  to  wade  against  the 
stream  of  our  own  corrupt  tendencies,  and  to  ac- 
complish an  end  which  he  only  who  sceth  in  secret 
will  duly  appreciate. 

5.  May  it  not  be  said,  that  in  many  cases,  a  pro- 
fession of  religion  seems  to  release  individuals 
from  all  obligation  to  cultivate  the  dispositions 
which  it  necessarily  implies;  who,  instead  ot  deriv- 
ing from  this  circumstance  a  stimulus  to  seek  after 
the  Christian  temper,  find  in  it  a  reason  for  general 
negligence  1 

They  have  been  admitted  as  members  of  a 
church,  and  have  thus  received,  as  it  were,  a  cer- 
tificate of  personal  religion;  and,  instead  of  being 
anxious  from  that  moment  to  excel  in  every  virtue 
that  can  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour, 
they  sink  into  carelessness  and  lukewarmness.  A 
profession  of  religion,  unsupported  by  Christian 
love,  will  only  increase  our  guilt  here,  and  sink  us 
immeasurably  lower  in  the  bottomless  pit  hereafter. 
Woe,  eternal  woe,  will  be  upon  that  man  who 
bears  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  without  his  im- 
age. Woe,  eternal  woe,  will  be  upon  those  membeis 
of  our  churches,  who  are  content  to  find  their  way 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful,  without  adding  to 
their  character  the  lustre  of  this  sacred  virtue. 

Thus  have  we  shown  how  many  things  there  are, 
which,  though  good  in  themselves,  when  performed 
from  right  motives  and  in  connection  with  other 
parts  of  religion,  cannot,  in  the  absence  of  love,  be 
depended  upon  as  unequivocal  evidences  of  personal 
piety.  Let  us  beware  of  self-deception  in  this  aw- 
fully important  business:  for  it  will  be  dreadful  be- 
von'd  the  power  of  imagination  to  conceive  of,  to 
find  ourselves  the  next  moment  after  death,  amidst 
the  horrors  of  the  infernal  pit,  instead  of  the  felici- 
ties of  the  celestial  city.  Love  is  required  by  God, 
as  an  essential  part  of  true  religion;  and  the  total 
absence  of  it  as  necessarily  prevents  a  man  from 
being  a  true  Christian,  as  the  want  of  temperance 
or  purity.  Besides  this  is  the  temper  of  heaven  ; 
this  is  the  unvarving  state  of  mind  in  the  innumera- 
ble company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect ;  this  is  the  heart  of  Jesus,  the  media- 
tor of  the  new  covenant,  and  the  image  of  God  the 
Judge  of  all.  Without  this,  there  would  be  no 
meetness  for  the  society  of  Paradise,  no  fitness  for 
an  association  of  which  the  bond  of  fellowship  is 
love;  without  this  there  can  be  no  grace  here,  and 
therefore,  no  glory  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  TIIR    PROPERTIES    OP  CHRISTIAN   T.OVE  AS   STATED  BY 
THE   APOSTLE. 

Br  a  beautiful  personification,  the  apostle  has  de- 
scribed this  grace  under  the  figure  of  an  interesting 
female,  who,  like  an  angel  of  light,  lifts  her  cheru- 
bic form  and  smiling  countenance  amidst  the  child- 
ren of  men  ;  shedding,  as  she  passes  along,  a  heal- 
ing influence  on  the  wounds  of  society,  hushing  the- 


1G 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


notes  of  discord,  driving:  before  her  the  spirits  of 
mischief,  bringing  the  graces  in  her  train,  and  con- 
verting earth  into  a  resemblance  of  heaven.  Her 
charms  are  sufficient  to  captivate  every  heart,  if 
every  heart  were  as  it  should  be ;  and  her  influence 
such  as  every  mind  should  court.  "  Love  suffereth 
Jong,  and  is  kind  :  love  envieth  not :  love  vannteth 
not  itself ;  is  not  puffed  up;  doth  not  behave  itself 
unseemly  ;  seeketh  not  her  own  ;  is  not  easily  pro- 
voked ;  thinketh  no,  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity, 
but  rejoiceth  in  the'  truth ;  beareth  all  things,  be- 
lieveth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all 
things." 

1.  The  first  remark  which  I  make  on  these  pro- 
perties, is,  that  they  describe  such  expressions  of  our 
love  as  have  a  particular  reference  to  our  temper. 

By  the  temper,  we  mean  the  prevailing  spirit  and 
disposition  of  the  mind,  as  it  respects  the  irascible 
or  selfish  affections.  If  we  examine,  we  shall  find 
that  all  the  qualities  here  enumerated,  bear  on  these 
dispositions.  There  are  other  operations  and  mani- 
festations of  charity,  beside  those  which  are  here 
specified — such,  for  instance,  as  justice  and  chastity ; 
for  it  is  impossible  to  love  mankind,  and  violate  the 
rules  of  either  of  these  duties :  but  the  apostle  re- 
stricts his  specification  to  those  properties  of  it  which 
are  comprehended  in  the  word  temper.  Nothing, 
surely,  can  teach  more  clearly,  or  more  impressive- 
ly, the  great  truth, — that  religion  must  govern  the 
temper, — than  this  chapter.  It  is  strange,  but  true, 
that  many  seem  to  think  that  temper  is  that  part  of 
a  man's  self  and  conduct,  over  which  religion  has 
nc  legal  jurisdiction.  They  admit  their  obligations 
to  be  holy,  and  moral,  and  devout ;  but  they  do  not 
feel,  at  least  do  not  acknowledge,  that  it  is  their 
duty  to  be  meek,  gentle,  and  kind.  They  may  not 
affirm  so  much  in  words,  but  it  is  the  secret  and 
tacit  system  of  conduct  which  they  have  adopted. — 
Hence  it  is,  that  although  they  are  correct  in  their 
morals,  and  regular  in  their  attendance  on  the 
means  of  grace,  they  are  withal  so  apt  to  receive 
offence,  and  so  forward  to  give  it ;  they  are  either 
so  passionate,  or  so  sullen ;  so  implacable  or  re- 
vengeful ; — that  the  real  excellences  of  their  cha- 
racter are  lost  sight  of  in  the  deep  shadow  of  their 
infirmities  and  the  ways  of  godliness  are  spoken  ill 
of  on  their  account.  This  arises  from  their  not  be- 
ing sufficiently  convinced  of  the  evil  of  such  infirmi- 
ties ;  and  this  blindness  itself  is  the  consequence 
of  a  supposition,  that  the  removal  of  the  evil  is  phy- 
sically impossible.  "  Our  temper,"  say  they,  "  is 
as  much  a  part  of  ourselves,  as  the  color  of  our 
skins,  or  the  conformation  of  our  body  ;  it  is  natur- 
ally inherent  in  us,  and  we  cannot  help  it."  As 
long  as  this  is  the  conviction  of  the  judgment,  or 
the  admission  of  a  deceitful  heart,  it  is  almost  vain 
to  hope  for  a  reformation.  But  let  us  reason  with 
such  persons. 

It  must  be  admitted,  that  there  do  exist  constitu- 
tional tendencies  to  the  exercise  of  particular  pas- 
sions :  without  being  able  to  account  for  these  ef- 
fects, or  whether  the  cause  be  wholly  in  the  body  or 
partly  in  the  mind,  the  effects  are  too  obvious  to  be 
denied.  Nay,  these  constitutional  tendencies  are 
no  less  hereditary,  sometimes,  than  direct  physical 
disease.  One  man  is  naturally  propense  to  passion  ; 
another  to  sullenness ;  a  third  to  envy ;  a  fourth  to 
pride ;  all  this  is  indisputable.  But  these  tenden- 
cies are  not  uncontrollable :  they  are  impulses,  but 
not  constraints ;  incitements,  but  not  compulsions. 
It  would  subvert  the  whole  system  of  moral  obliga- 
tion, to  suppose  that  we  were  under  a  physical  ne- 
cessity of  sinning,  which  we  certainly  should  be,  if 
inherent  tendencies  were  beyond  the  power  of  moral 
restraint.  That  cannot  be  duty  which  a  man  could 
not  do  if  he  would  ;  nor  can  that  be  sin,  which  he 
cannot  avoid  by  any  exercise  of  disposition  or  will. 


If,  therefore,  we  cannot  help  indulging  revenge, 
envy,  pride,  unkindness,  they  are  no  sins :  and,  in 
this  case  would  such  vices  have  been  condemned, 
if  there  were  an  impossibility  in  the  way  of  avoid- 
ing theml  Certainly  not.  It  is  no  actual  sin  to 
have  the  liability  ;  the  guilt  consists  in  indulging  it. 

If  the  existence  of  constitutional  propensities  be 
an  excuse  for  their  indulgence,  the  licentious  man 
may  plead  it  in  justification  of  his  sensuality ;  for 
he  may  have  stronger  incitements  to  his  besetting 
sin,  than  many  others  who  run  not  to  the  same  ex- 
cess of  riot.  But  if  licentiousness  or  cruelty  cannot 
be  excused  on  this  ground,  why  should  anger,  re- 
venge, or  envy  1  Once  let  it  be  granted,  that  phy- 
sical tendency  is  an  excuse  for  any  kind  of  sinful 
indulgence,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  and  you  at  once 
overturn  the  whole  system  of  Christian  morals. 

Besides,  natural  propensities,  of  the  most  impe- 
tuous kinds,  have  been,  in  innumerable  instances, 
not  only  successfully  resisted,  but  almost  entirely 
vanquished.  We  have  known  persons,  who  were 
once  addicted  to  all  kinds  of  impure  gratifications, 
but  who  have  become  as  distinguished  for  chastiiy 
as  they  once  were  for  lewdness ;  drunkards  have 
become  sober;  men  as  furious  as  enraged  tigers, 
have  become  gentleness  itself.  It  is  said  of  that 
eminently  holy  and  useful  man,  Mr.  Fletcher,  of 
Madeley,  that  "  he  was  meek,  like  his  Master,  as 
well  as  lowly  in  heart.  Not  that  he  was  so  by  na- 
ture, but  a  man  of  strong  passions,  and  prone  to  an- 
ger in  particular  ;  insomuch  that  he  has  frequently 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  bathed  in  tears, 
imploring  victory  over  his  own  spirit.  And  he  did 
not  strive  in  vain.  He  did  obtain  f.he  victory  in  a 
very  eminent  degree.  Yea,  so  thoroughly  had 
grace  subdued  nature  ;  so  fully  was  he  renewed  in 
the  spirit  of  his  mind  ; — that  for  many  years  before 
his  death,  I  believe  he  was  never  observed  by  any 
one,  friend  or  foe,  to  be  out  of  temper  on  any  pro- 
vocation whatever.  The  testimony  that.  Bishop 
Burnet  bears  of  Archbishop  Leighton,  might  be 
borne  of,  him  with  equal  propriety.  After  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  Archbishop  for  many 
vears,  and  after  being  Avith  him  by  night  and  by 
day,  at  home  and  abroad,  in  public  and  in  private; 
I  must  say,  I  never  heard  an  idle  word  drop  from 
his  lips  ;  I  never  saw  him  in  any  temper,  in  which 
I  myself  would  not  have  wished  to  be  found  at 
death."  "What  a  character !  What  a  testimony  ! 
But  it  is  not  the  beauty,  the  inexpressible  moral 
loveliness  of  it  alone,  which  should  be  remarked, 
but  the  convincing  proof  which  it  furnishes,  that  a 
naturally  bad  temper  may  be  subdued.  Many  in- 
stances of  this  kind  have  existed,  which  accumulate 
accusation  and  reproach  upon  the  man  who  in- 
dulges in  a  sinful,  constitutional  tendency  of  any 
kind,  under  the  mistaken  idea,  that  it  is  not  only 
absolutely  invincible,  but  altogether  irresistible. 

That  every  thing  which  pertains  to  our  physical 
nature  will  remain  after  our  conversion,  is  true, 
for  grace  produces  no  change  in  the  bodily  organi- 
zation ;  and  that  occasional  ebullitions  of  inherent 
natural  temper  will  occur  in  our  renewed  state,  is 
allowed,  for  very  few  attain  to  Mr.  Fletcher's  emi- 
nence of  piety;  but  if  we  are  as  passionate  and  re- 
vengeful, as  proud  and  envious,  as  selfish  and  un- 
kind, as  we  were  before  our  supposed  conversion, 
we  mav  be  assured  that  it  is  but  a  supposed  conver- 
sion. It  is  nothing  that  we  go  regularly  to  worship 
— it  is  nothing  that  we  feel  under  sermons — it  is  no- 
thing that  we  have  holy  frames  and  feelings ;  for  a 
heart  under  the  predominant  influence  of  irascible 
passions,  can  no  more  have  undergone  the  change 
of  the  new  birth,  than  one  that  is  filled  with  a  pre- 
vailing lasciviousness :  and  where  the  heart  is  re- 
newed, and  the  badness  of  the  temper  is  not  con- 
stant, but  only  occasional—is  not  regnant,  but  only 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


17 


prominent, — it  is,  in  so  l'ar  as  it  prevails,  a  deduc- 
tion from  real  piety. 

True  it  is,  that  inherent  natural  tendency  will  re- 
quire more  vigorous  resistance  and  unsleeping  vigi- 
lance, more  laborious  effort,  more  painful  mortifica- 
tion, more  earnest  prayer,  on  the  part  of  those  who 
are  conscious  of  it,  than  is  necessary  on  theirs  in 
whom  it  does  not  exist.  It  is  not  uncommon  for 
such  persons  to  be  contented  with  a  few  feeble 
struggles,  and  then  to  flatter  themselves  with  the 
idea  that  there  is  more  grace  displayed  in  those 
efforts  than  in  the  conduct  of  others,  who,  beizig 
naturally  good  tempered,  are  never  exposed  to  meir 
temptations.  To  adorn  religion,  will  certain!}'  cost 
them  far  more  labor  than  it  does  those  of  a  better 
natural  temper;  just  as  a  man  afflicted  with  a  weak- 
ly constitution,  or  a  chronic  disease,  mus>t  take  more 
pains  with  himself  than  one  who  has  sound  health 
—and  he  will,  after  all,  look  more  sickly  than  the 
other ;  but  as  his  bodilv  malady  does  exist,  he  must 
give  himself  this  trouble,  or  he  cannot  rationally 
expect  the  least  share  of  health :  so  it  is  with  the 
soul,  if  the  disease  of  an  evil  temper  be  there,  im- 
mense and  unwearied  pains  must  be  taken  to  resist 
and  suppress  it.  This  is  ivhat  is  meant  by  our 
"  plucking  out  a  right  eve,  or  cutting  off  a  right 
hand  ;"  by  "  denyipg  ourselves  ;"  by  "  mortifying 
the  deeds  of  the  body;''  by  "the  spirit  struggling 
against  the  flesh;''  by  "  casting  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  which  doth  most  easily  beset  us."  The 
subjection  of  our  cemper  to  the  control  of  religion, 
is  a  thin°-  which  wust  be  done.  It  is  that  to  which 
we  must^applv,  as  to  a  matter  of  indispensable  ne- 
cessity ;  it  is  an  object  which  we  must  accomplish 
by  any  mortification  of  feeling,  and  by  any  expen- 
diture of  iabor.  The  virtues  which  we  are  about 
to  consider,  will  spring  up  in  no  soil  without  cul- 
ture ;  but  there  are  some  soils  peculiarly  unfriendly 
to  their  growth,  and  in  which  productions  of  an  op- 
posite kind  thrive  spontaneously,  and  grow  with 
frightful  luxuriance  :  with  these  greater  pains  must 
be  taken,  and  greater  patience  exercised,  till  at 
length  the  beautiful  imagery  of  the  prophet  shall  be 
realized — "  Instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the 
fir  tree,  and  instead  of  the  briar  shall  come  up  the 
myrtle  tree  ;  and  it  shall  be  to  the  Lord  for  a  name, 
for  an  everlasting  sign  that  shall  not  be  cut  off." 

But  for  effecting  such  a  transformation,  there  must 
be  a  degree  of  labor  and  painstaking,  which  very 
few  are  willing  to  endure:  "This  kind  goeth  not 
forth  but  by  prayer  and  fasting." 

To  obtain  this  victory  over  ourselves,  much  time 
must  be  spent  in  the  closet — much  communion  with 
God  must  be  maintained — much  strong  crying  with 
tears  must  be  poured  forth.  We  must  undergo  what 
the  apostle  calls,  by  a  term  very  appropriate,  as 
well  as  strikingly  descriptive,  a  "crucifixion;" — 
"  we  must  crucify  the  flesh  with  the  affections  and 
lusts  thereof;" — "we  must  keep,"  or  as  the  word 
signifies,  "  beat,  under  our  body;" — we  must  bring: 
our  mind,  from  time  to  time,  under  the  influence  of 
redeeming  grace;  we  must  ascend  the  hill  of  Cal- 
vary, and  gaze  upon  that  scene  of  love,  till  our  cold 
h'^nrts  melt,  our  hard  hearts  soften,  and  all  the  cruel 
selfishness  of  our  nature  relaxes  into  gentleness;  we 
must  make  all  the  doctines  of  the  gospel,  with  all 
the  motives  they  contain,  bear  upon  our  nature:  the 
example  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  must  be  con- 
templated, and  admired,  and  copied;  and  especial- 
ly, after  all,  must  we  breathe  forth  internal  longings 
for  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  without  whose 
aid  our  souls  will  no  more  yield  to  the  influence  of 
motives  than  the  polar  ice  will  melt  by  the  feeble 
beams  of  the  ?reat  northern  constellation.  We  must 
pray  for  the  Spirit,  lon<r  for  the  Spirit,  expect  the 
Spirit,  live,  walk,  struggle,  in  the  Spirit.  Thus  must 
40* 


we  set  ourselves  to  work  to  abtain  more  of  that  love, 
which  alone  can  subdue  our  evil  temper. 

2.  The  properties  here  enumerated  are  all,  included 
in  love,  and  must  all  be  sought  by  every  real  Chris- 
tian. 

The  general  disposition  includes  all  these  parti- 
cular and  distinct  operations,  and  opposes  all  these 
separate  evils;  it  is  as  much  opposed  to  envy  as  to 
revenge,  and  is  as  humble  as  it  is  kind.  Conse- 
quently, we  are  not  to  select  for  ourselves  such 
modes  of  its  operation  as  we  may  think  most  adapt- 
ed to  our  taste  and  to  our  circumstances — giving  to 
these  all  our  attention,  and  neglecting  the  rest.  One 
is  not  to  say,  "  I  am  most  inclined  to  kindness,  and 
I  shall  cherish  this  property,  which  I  find  to  be  more 
easy  and  pleasant  than  to  cultivate  humility  and 
meekness."  Another  is  not  to  say,  "  I  find  no  great 
difficulty  in  forgiving  injuries,  and  I  shall  practice 
this  :  but  as  for  envy,  I  am  so  propense  to  it,  that  I 
shall  give  up  all  attempts  to  eradicate  this  weed  from 
my  heart."  This  parcelling  out  of  the  disposition, 
arid  selecting  that  part  which  is  most  congenial  to 
our  constitutional  tendency,  will  not  do.  Yet  is  the 
attempt  made  by  many,  who,  to  appease,  in  some 
measure,  the  clamorous  importunity  of  their  con- 
science, and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  the  obliga- 
tions of  benevolence  as  a  whole,  thus  impose  upon 
themselves  with  a  supposed  attention  to  some  par- 
tial view  of  the  subject.  They  carry  on  a  wretched 
and  useless  attempt  to  balance  those  points  in  which 
they  succeed  against  those  in  which  they  fail:  their 
excellences  against  their  defects.  It  may  be  said, 
in  reference  to  this  law  of  our  duty,  as  well  as  to 
the  still  more  comprehensive  one,  that  "He  that  of- 
fendeth  but  in  one  point  is  guilty  of  all;"  for  that 
authority  which  saith,  "  Be  ye  kind,"  saith  also, 
"  Thou  shall  not  think  evil  of  thy  neighbor."  These 
amiable  properties  must  go  together;  the  general 
principle  which  comprises  them  must  be  taken  as  a 
whole.  It  is  one  and  indivisible,  and  as  such  must 
be  received  by  us.  "  Charity  is  the  bond  of  perfect- 
ness."  Like  the  band  round  the  sheaf,  it  holds  all 
the  separate  ears  together.  Instead,  therefore,  of 
allowing  ourselves  to  select,  we  must  open  our 
hearts  to  its  whole  and  undivided  influence;  and  if, 
indeed,  there  be  any  one  of  its  properties  in  which 
we  are  more  than  ordinarily  deficient,  to  that  one 
we  must  direct  a  still  greater  portion  of  our  at- 
tention. 

3.  These  properties  are  perfectly  homogeneous. — 
They  are  of  the  same  nature,  and  are,  therefore, 
helpful  to  each  other.  In  reality,  if  we  cultivate 
one,  we  are  preparing  the  way  for  others.  There  is 
no  contrariety  of  influence,  no  discordant  operation, 
no  clashing  demands.  When  we  are  rooting  up 
one  evil  by  love,  we  drag  up  others  with  it :  when 
we  subdue  pride,  we  weaken  our  susceptibility  of 
offence:  when  we  cherish  kindness,  we  impoverish 
selfishness.  This  is  an  immense  advantage  in  the 
cultivation  of  the  Christian  temper;  and  it  shows 
us  that  if  there  be  one  besetting  sinful  propensity  in 
the  heart,  it  draws  all  the  energy  of  the  mind  to  it- 
self, and  throws  a  dark  and  chilling:  shadow  over 
the  whole  soul.  The  subjugation  of  this  one  bad 
temper  will  weaken  many  others  that  depend  for 
existence  upon  its  support;  and  make  way  for  an 
opposite  excellence,  which  is  as  extensively  benefi- 
cial as  the  other  was  injurious.  This  is  a  powerful 
incentive  to  the  arduous  and  necessary  duty  of  self- 
improvement:  an  evil  disposition  eradicated,  is  a 
good  one  implanted  ;  and  one  good  one  implanted, 
is  a  way  made  for  others  to  follow. 

4.  As  these  properties,  while  they  are  separate  as 
toth  i  r  nature,  all  unite  in  a  com.mon  and  generic 
disposition,  our 'first  and  chief  attention  must  be  to 
/.'nil  which  is  the  common  principle.  These  tenpers 
are  so  many  modes  in  whicii  love  operates,  so  many 


18 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


streams  from  a  common  fountain,  so  many  branches 
from  the  same  root.  While,  therefore,  we  seek  to 
guide  the  separate  streams,  and  trim  the  different 
branches  aright,  our  care  must  be  exercised  chiefly 
in  reference  to  the  parent  source.  We  must  aim 
steadily,  and  labor  constantly,  at  the  increase  of 
love  itself.  We  must  do  every  thing  we  can  to 
strengthen  the  principle  of  benevolence  to  man.  In 
every  step  of  our  progress  through  the  treatise  be- 
fore us,  we  must  constantly  keep  in  mind  its  con- 
nection with  this  great  master  principle.  The  way 
to  abound  in  the  effects  is  to  increase  the  power  of 
the  cause. 

5.  We  are  to  recollect,  that  these  properties  are  to 
be  expected  only  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which 
love  itself  exists  in  the  heart. 

On  reading  this  chapter,  and  seeing  what  is  re- 
quired of  the  Christian,  and  comparing  it  with  the 
usual  conduct  of  religious  people,  we  l'eel  almost  in- 
voluntarily led  to  say,  "  If  this  be  love,  where  then, 
except  in  heaven,  is  it  to  be  found."  To  this  I  re- 
ply, the  apostle  does  not  say  that  every  man  who 
pretends  to  this  virtue  acts  thus:  nor  does  he  say 
that  every  one  who  possesses  it,  acts  thus  in  all  in- 
stances, but  that  love  itself  does  it.  This  is  the  way 
in  which  it  acts,  when  allowed  to  exert  its  own  en- 
ergies: if  it  were  suffered  to  have  its  full  scope,  and 
to  bear  sway  in  us  without  any  check,  this  would  be 
the  invariable  effect:  our  not  seeing,  therefore,  a 
perfect  exemplification  of  this  principle,  is  no  proof 
that  it  does  not  possess  these  properties,  but  only 
that  we  are  imperfectly  under  its  influence.  This 
branch  of  piety,  like  every  other,  may  be  possessed 
in  various  degrees;  and,  of  course,  it  is  only  in  pro- 
portion as  we  possess  the  disposition  that  we  shall 
manifest  its  operations.  This  should  prepare  us 
to  distinguish  between  the  utter  want  and  the  weak- 
ness of  love;  a  distinction  necessary  from  ourprone- 
ness  to  despondency  in  reference  to  ourselves,  and 
to  censoriousness  in  reference  to  our  neighbors. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    MEEKNESS    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  sufferelh  long — is  not  easily  provoked." 

I  class  these  two  together,  because  they  bear  a  near 
affinity  to  each  other.  The  word  in  the  original 
translated  "suffereth  long,"  signifies  "to  have  a 
long  mind,"  to  the  end  of  whose  patience,  provoca- 
tions cannot  easily  reach.  It  does  not  mean  patience 
in  reference  to  the  afflictions  which  come  from  God, 
but  to  the  injuries  and  provocations  which  come 
from  man — perhaps  the  most  correct  idea  which  we 
can  attach  to  it  is,  forbearance ;  a  disposition  which 
under  long  continued  offences  holds  back  anger, 
and  is  not  hasty  to  punish  or  to  revenge.  Its  kin- 
dred property,  here  classed  with  it,  is  nearly  allied 
to  it,  "  is  not  easily  provoked,"  or  "  is  not  exasperat- 
ed." The  word  signifies  a  violent  emotion  of  the 
mind,  a  paroxysm  of  anger;  so  that  the  distinction 
between  the  two  terms  appears  to  be  this :  the  pro- 
perty intended  by  the  latter  seems  to  be  the  power 
of  love  to  curb  our  wrath,  and  that  intended  by  the 
former  its  ability  to  repress  revenge. 

There  are  three  things  which  Christian  love,  in 
reference  to  the  irascible  passions,  will  prevent. 

1.  An  irritable  and  petulant  disposition.  There 
is  in  some  persons  an  excessive  liability  to  be  of- 
fended: a  morbid  sensibility,  which  is  kindled  to 
anger  by  the  least  possible  injury,  whether  that  in- 
jury be  intentional  or  unintentional.  They  are  all 
combustible,  and  ignite  by  a  spark.  A  word,  nay, 
a  look,  is  enough  to  inflame  them.  They  are  evec 
ready  to  quarrel  with  any,  or  every  body  ;  and  re- 


mind us  of  what  Cromwell  said  of  John  Lilburne, 
"  that  he  was  so  quarrelsome,  that  if  he  could  find 
nobody  else  to  quarrel  with,  John  wo'vld  quarrel 
with  Lilburne,  and  Lilburne  with  John."  The  whole 
soul  seems  one  entire  sensitiveness  of  offence.  In- 
stead of  "  suffering  long,"  they  do  not  suffer  at  all; 
and  instead  of  not  being  easily  provoked,  they  are 
provoked  by  any  thing,  and  sometimes  by  nothing. 
Love  will  prevent  all  this,  and  produce  a  disposi- 
tion the  very  reverse.  It  is  concerned  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others;  and  will  not  wantonly  afflict  them, 
and  render  them  wretched,  by  such  an  exhibition 
of  unlovely  and  unchristian  temper.  It  will  remove 
this  diseased  sensibility,  and  without  blunting  the 
natural  feelings,  will  calm  this  sinful  excitability. 
Many  things  it  \vill  not  see  or  hear — judging  them 
quite  beneath  its  dignity  to  notice ;  others  it  will 
pass  by,  as  not  of  sufficient  consequence  to  require 
explanation.  It  will  keep  a  strict  guard  over  its 
feelings,  holding  the  reign  with  a  tight  hand.  Its 
first  business  is  with  the  disposition  itself.  This  is 
important  for  us  to  notice;  for  if  we  indulge  the 
feeling  of  anger,  it  will  be  impossible  to  smother 
the  flame  in  our  bosom-  like  the  burning  materials 
of  a  volcano,  it  will  at  length  burst  out  in  fiery  erup- 
tions. Here,  then,  is  our  first  object:  to  gain  that 
forbearance  of  disposition  which  does  not  allow  it- 
self to  be  irritated  or  soured;  to  acquire  that  com- 
mand, not  only  over  our  words  and  actions,  but  over 
our  emotions,  which  shall  make  us  patient  and 
tranquil  amidst  insults  and  injuries;  which  shall 
keep  down  the  temperament  of  the  soul,  and  pre- 
serve the  greatest  coolness.  Irritability,  I  know, 
is  in  part  a  physical  quality  ;  but  it  is  in  our  power, 
by  God's  help,  to  calm  it.  Love  will  make  us  will- 
ing to  think  the  best  of  those  with  whom  we  have 
to  do;  it  will  disarm  us  of  that  suspicion  and  mis- 
trust, which  make  us  regard  every  body  as  intend- 
ing to  injure  us  ;  will  cause  us  to  find  out  pleas  for 
those  who  have  done  us  harm,  and  when  this  is  im- 
possible, will  lead  us  to  pity  their  weakness  or  for- 
give their  wickedness. 

What  an  enemy  to  himself  is  an  irritable  man  ! 
He  is  a  self-tormentor  of  the  worst  kind.  He  is 
scarcely  ever  at  peace.  His  bosom  is  always  in  a 
state  of  tumult.  To  him  the  calm  sunshine  of  the 
breast  is  unknown.  A  thousand  petty  vexations 
disturb  his  repose.  Unhappy  man.  even  though  he 
so  far  succeed,  as  to  restrain  the  agitations  of  his 
mind  from  bursting  out  into  passion,  yet  has  the 
burning  sense  of  torment  within.  Regard  to  his 
own  happiness,  as  well  as  to  the  happiness  of  others, 
calls  upon  him  to  cultivate  that  love,  which  shall 
allay  the  inflammatory  state  of  his  mind,  and  re- 
store a  soundness  which  will  not  be  thus  wounded 
by  every  touch. 

2.  The  next  thing  which  love  prevents,  is  immo- 
derate anger;  that  anger  which  the  apostle  has 
described  in  the  expression  we  are  now  elucidating, 
as  amounting  to  a  paroxysm  of  wrath  ;  or  which, 
in  ordinary  language,  we  call  "being  in  a  passion." 
It  would  be  to  oppose  both  reason  and  revelation, 
to  assert  that  all  anger  is  sin.  "  Be  ye  angry," 
saith  the  apostle,  "and  sin  not."  "A  violent  sup- 
pression of  the  natural  feelings  is  not,  perhaps,  the 
best  expedient  for  obviating  their  injurious  effects; 
and  though  nothing  requires  a  more  vigilant  re- 
straint than  the  emotion  of  anger,  the  uneasiness 
of  which  it  is  productive  is,  perhaps,  best  allayed 
by  its  natural  and  temperate  expression ;  not  to  say 
that  it  is  a  wise  provision  in  the  economy  of  nature, 
for  the  expression  of  injury  and  the  preservation 
of  the  peace  and  decorum  of  society."  A  wise  and 
temperate  expression  of  our  displeasure  against  in- 
juries or  offences,  is  by  no  means  incompatible  with 
Christian  love;  this  grace  intending  only  to  check 
those  furious  sallies  of  our  wrath,  which  are  tor- 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY, 


19 


meriting  to  ourselves  and  injurious  to  those  with 
whom  we  have  to  do.  Sinful  anger  is  lamentably 
common,  and  is  not  sufficiently  subdued  among  the 
professors  of  religion.  In  cases  of  offence,  they 
are  too  often  excited  to  criminal  degrees  of  passion ; 
their  countenance  is  flushed,  their  brow  lowers, 
their  eye  darts  indignant  flashes,  and  their  tongue 
pours  forth  loud  and  stormy  words  of  reviling  accu- 
sations. To  diminish  and  prevent  this  disposition, 
let  us  dwell  much  upon  the  evil  consequences  of  it. 

11  disturbs  our  peace,  and  interrupts  our  happiness ; 
and  this  is  an  evil  about  which  we  ought  not  to  be 
indifferent.  A  passionate  man  cannot  be  a  happy 
man;  he  is  the  victim  of  a  temper,  which,  like  a  ser- 
pent, dwells  in  his  bosom  to  sting  and  torment  him. 

It  destroys  the  comfort  of  those  with  whom  lie  has 
to  do  :  his  children  often  bear  the  fury  of  the  tem- 
pest; his  wife  has  her  cup  of  conjugal  felicity  em- 
bittered by  the  venom  ;  his  servants  tremble  as  at 
the  rage  of  a  tyrant;  and  those  with  whom  he 
transacts  the  business  of  this  life,  dread  the  gusts 
of  his  passion,  by  which  they  have  often  been  ren- 
dered uncomfortable.  He  is  a  common  disturber 
of  the  circle  in  which  he  moves. 

It  interrupts  his  enjoyment  of  religion,  brings 
guilt  upon  his  conscience,  and  unfits  him  for  the 
season  and  the  act  of  communion  with  God.  A 
beautiful  illustration  of  this  part  of  the  subject  may 
be  here  introduced  from  one  of  the  most  striking 
of  English  writers: — "Prayer  is  the  peace  of  our 
spirit,  the  sti'  less  of  our  thoughts,  the  evenness  of 
recollection,  -.ne  seat  of  meditation,  the  rest  of  our 
care*,  and  the  calm  of  our  tempest;  prayer  is  the 
issue  of  a  quiet  mind,  of  untroubled  thoughts;  it  is 
the  daughter  of  charity,  and  the  sister  of  meekness; 
and  he  that  prays  to  God  with  an  angry,  that  is, 
with  a  troubled  and  discomposed  spirit,  is  like  him 
that  retires  into  a  battle  to  meditate,  and  sets  up  his 
closet  in  the  out-quarters  of  an  army,  and  chooses 
a  frontier  garrison  to  be  wise  in.  Anger  is  a  per- 
fect alienation  of  the  mind  from  prayer,  and,  there- 
fore, is  contrary  to  that  attention  which  presents 
our  prayers  in  a  right  line  to  God.  For  so  have  I 
seen  a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and  soar- 
in?  upwards,  sin^in?  as  he  rises,  and  hopes  to  get 
to  heaven,  and  climb  above  the  clouds :  but  the  poor 
bird  was  beaten  back  with  the  loud  sighings  of  an 
eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made  irregular  and 
inconstant — descending  more  at.  every  l.reath  of  the 
tempest,  than  it  could  recover  by  the  libration  and 
frequent  weighing  of  its  wings;  till  the  little  crea- 
ture was  forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till 
the  storm  was  over,  and  then  it  made  a  prosperous 
flight,  and  did  rise  and  sing  as  if  it  had  learned 
music  and  motion  from  an  ansrel,  as  he  passed  some- 
times through  the  air  about  his  ministries  here  be- 
low. So  is  the  prayer  of  a  good  man:  when  his 
affairs  have  required  business,  and  his  business  was 
matter  of  discipline,  and  his  discipline  was  to  pass 
upon  a  sinning  person,  or  had  a  design  of  charity; 
his  duty  met  with  the  infirmities  of  a  man,  and  an- 
ger was  iis  instrument;  and  the  instrument  became 
stronger  than  the  prime  agent,  and  raised  a  tempest 
and  overruled  the  man;  and  then  his  prayer  was 
broken,  and  his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and  his 
words  wpnt  up  towards  a  cloud,  and  his  thoughts 
pulled  them  back  acrain,  and  made  them  without 
intention  :  and  the  good  man  si^hs  for  his  infirmity, 
but  must  be  content  to  los^  the  prayer;  and  he  must 
recover  it  when  his  amrer  is  removed,  and  his  spirit 
is  becalmed — made  even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus  and 
smooth  as  the  heart  of  God;  and  then  it  ascends  to 
heaven  upon  the  wings  of  the  holy  dove,  and  dwells 
with  God,  till  it  returns,  like  the  useful  bee,  laden 
with  a  blessing  and  the  dew  of  heaven."- 

♦Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor. 


Sinful  anger  dishonors  religion,  and  causes  the 
ways  cf  godliness  to  be  spoken  ill  of.  The  mists 
of  passion  envelope  religion  with  a  dense  medium, 
through  which  its  lustre  is  but  dimly  seen.  A  pas- 
sionate Christian  is  an  object  of  sport  to  the  pro- 
fane, a  butt  of  ridicule  to  fools,  whose  scorn  is  re- 
flected from  him  upon  piety  itself. 

But,  perhaps,  it  will  be  said,  "Tell  us  how  we 
may  cure  the  disposition  ;  its  existence  we  admit, 
and  its  evil  we  know  by  experience,  and  deplore." 
I  say,  then, 

Look  at  the  disposition  as  it  really  is,  attentively 
consider  its  evil  nature,  and  trace  its  mischievous 
consequences.  "  Anger  sets  the  house  on  fire,  and 
all  the  spirits  are  busy  upon  trouble,  and  intend 
propulsion  and  defence,  displeasure  and  revenue  ; 
it  is  a  short  madness,  and  an  eternal  enemy  to  dis- 
course, and  sober  counsels,  and  fair  conversation ; 
it  is  a  fever  in  the  heart,  and  a  calenture  in  the 
head,  and  a  fire  in  the  face,  and  a  sword  in  the 
hand,  and  a  fury  all  over.  It  hath  in  it  the  trouble 
of  sorrow,  and  the  heats  of  lust,  and  the  disease 
of  revenge,  and  the  bodings  of  a  fever,  and  the 
rashness  of  precipitancy,  and  the  disturbance  of 
persecution.  If  it  proceed  from  a  great  cause,  it 
turns  to  fury  ;  if  from  a  small  cause,  it  is  peevish- 
ness :  and  so  it  is  always  terrible  or  ridiculous.  It 
makes  a  man's  bodv  deformed  and  contemptible, 
the  voice  horrid,  the  eyes  cruel,  the  face  pale  or 
fiery,  the  gait  fierce.  It  is  neither  manly  nor  in- 
genuous, and  is  a  passion  fitter  for  flies  and  wasps 
than  for  persons  professing  nobleness  and  bounty. 
It  is  a  confluence  of  all  the  irregular  passions. — 
There  is  in  it  envy  and  scorn,  fear  and  sorrow, 
pride  and  prejudice,  rashness  and  inconsideration, 
rejoicing  in  evil,  and  a  desire  to  inflict  it."* 

Such  is  the  portraiture  of  this  disposition,  drawn 
by  the  hand  of  no  mean  artist.  Let  the  passionate 
man  look  at  the  picture,  and  learn  to  hate  it;  for, 
like  an  infuriated  serpent,  it  need  only  be  seen  to 
be  abhorred. 

Let  us  reject  ail  excuses  for  the  indulgence  of  it ; 
for  so  long  as  we  palliate  it,  we  shall  not  attempt  to 
mortify  it.  It  cannot  be  defended,  either  on  the 
ground  of  constitutional  tendency,  or  the  greatness 
of  the  provocation,  or  the  suddenness  of  the  offence, 
or  the  transient  duration  of  the  fit,  or  that  there  is 
less  evil  in  gusts  of  anger  than  in  seasons  of  sul- 
lenness:  no — nothing  can  justify  it:  and  if  we  are 
sincere  in  our  desires  to  control  it,  we  shall  admit 
that  it  is  indefensible  and  criminal,  and  condemn  it 
without  hesitation  or  extenuation. 

We  must  be  persuaded  that  it  is  possible  to  control 
it;  for  if  we  despair  of  victory,  we  shall  not  engage 
in  the  conflict.  Hope  of  success  is  essential  to  suc- 
cess itself. 

It  is  certain  that  by  using  right  means  a  hasty 
temper  may  be  subdued,  for  it  has  been  conquered 
in  very  many  instances.  It  is  said  of  Sourates, 
the  wisest  and  most  virtuous  of  heathen  sa^es,  that 
in  the  midst  of  domestic  vexations  and  public  dis- 
orders, he  maintained  such  an  undisturbed  serenity, 
that  he  was  never  seen  to  leave  his  own  house  or  re- 
turn to  it  with  a  ruffled  countenance.  If  on  any  oc- 
casion he  felt  a  propensity  to  anger,  he  checked  the 
rising  storm  by  lowering  the  tone  of  his  voice,  and 
resolutely  assuming  a  more  than  usual  gentleness 
of  aspect  and  manner.  He  not  only  refrained 
from  acts  of  revenge,  but  triumphed  over  his  ad- 
versaries, by  disregarding  the  insults  and  injuries 
they  offered  him.  This  was  more  remarkable,  as 
in  acquiring  this  dominion  over  his  passions,  he 
had  to  straggle  against  natural  propensities  which 
ran  in  an  opposite  direction.  ZoPHYMJS.an  eminent 
physiognomist,  declared  that  he  discovered  in  the 

*  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor. 


20 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


features  of  the  philosopher  evident  traces  of  many 
vicious  inclinations  :  the  friends  of  Socrates,  who 
were  present,  ridiculed  the  ignorance  of  this  pre- 
tender to  extraordinary  sagacity ;  but  the  sage  in- 
genuously acknowledged  the  penetration  of  Zophy- 
eus,  and  confessed  that  he  was  naturally  prone  to 
vice,  but  that  he  had  subdued  his  inclinations  by 
the  power  of  reason  and  philosophy.  Let  professing 
Christians  learn,  from  this  distinguished  heathen, 
that  it  is  possible  to  subdue  natural  temper,  however 
bad  and  however  violent  it  may  be. 

Make  its  cure  a  matter  of  desire.  What  we  ar- 
dently long  for,  we  shall  vigorously  pursue.  Con- 
fess your  sin  :  frankly  say,  "  I  am  indeed  too  irrita- 
ble, too  passionate,  too  revengeful.  I  see  the  sin- 
fulness of  indulging  such  a  temper;  I  am  disturbed 
and  disgraced  by  it ;  and  by  God's  help  I  will  sub- 
due it.  I  will  spare  no  pains,  shrink  from  no  sacri- 
fice, be  discouraged  by  no  defeat,  till  I  gain  the  vic- 
tory over  myself." 

Meditate  upon  the  patience  of  God,  who  bears 
with  your  innumerable  offences  against  Him,  and 
forgive  them  all.  Consider  the  example  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  meekly  "endured  the  contradiction  of 
sinners  against  himself;  and  amidst  ingratitude, 
insults,  and  provocations  of  the  basest  kind,  was 
mild  as  the  morning  sun  in  Autumn." 

Seek  to  acquire  a  habit  of  self-control — a  power 
over  your  feelings,  which  will  enable  you  to  be 
ever  on  your  guard,  and  to  repress  the  first  emotions 
of  passion.  If  possible,  seal  your  lips  in  silence 
when  the  storm  is  rising:  shut  up  your  anger  in 
your  own  bosom,  and,  like  fire  that  wants  air  and 
vent,  it  will  soon  expire.  Angry  words  often  prove 
a  fan  to  the  spark:  many  persons,  who  in  the  be- 
ginning are  but  slightly  displeased,  talk  themselves 
at  length  into  a  violent  passion.  Never  speak  till 
you  are  cool;  the  man  who  can  command  his  tongue, 
"will  find  no  difficulty  in  governing  his  spirit.  And 
when  you  do  speak,  let  it  be  in  meekness:  "a  soft 
answer  turneth  away  wrath."  When  you  see  others 
angry, let  it  be  an  admonition  to  you  to  be  cool ;  thus 
you  will  receive  the  furious  indiscretions  of  others 
like  a  stone  into  a  bed  of  moss,  where  it  will  lie 
quietly  without  rebounding. 

Stop  your  anger  in  the  beginning.  It  is  easier  to 
put  out  a  spark  than  a  conflagration.  It  would  be 
well  always  to  terminate  the  conversation,  and  quit 
the  company  of  an  individual,  when  anger  is  creep- 
ing in.  "  Go  from  the  presence  of  a  foolish  man, 
when  thou  perceivest  not  in  him  the  lips  of  know- 
ledge." 

Avoid  disputations,  which  often  engender  strifes; 
and  especially  avoid  them  in  reference  to  persons 
of  known  irritability.  Who  would  contend  with  a 
snake  or  a  hornet  1 

Brood  not  over  injuries ;  "  Else,"  says  Mr.  Bax- 
ter, "you  will  be  devils  to  yourselves,  tempt  your- 
selves when  you  have  no  others  to  tempt  you,  and 
make  your  solitude  as  dangerously  provoking  as 
company."* 

Beware  of  tale-bearers,  and  do  not  suffer  their  re- 
ports to  rouse  your  resentments. 

"  Be  not  inquisitive  into  the  affairs  of  other  men, 
nor  the  faults  of  thy  servants,  nor  the  mistakes  of 
thy  friends  ;  lest  thou  50  out  to  gather  sticks  to  kin- 
dle a  fire,  which  shall  burn  thine  own  house." 

Look  at  others  who  are  addicted  to  passion,  and 
see  how  unlovely  tliev  appear. 

Commission  some  faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 
to  watch  over  and  admonish  you. 

But  especially  mortify  pride  and  cultivate  humili- 
ty.— "Only  by  pride  cometh  contention."    "He 


♦Baxter's  Catholic  Directions;  from  which  vast 
fniid  of  practical  theology,  many  of  the  particulars 
oi  this  chapter  are  derived. 


that  is  of  a  proud  heart,  stirreth  up  strife."  Passion 
is  the  daughter  of  pride,  meekness  the  offspring  of 
humility.  Humility  is  the  best  cure  for  anger,  sul- 
lenness,  and  revenge.  He  that  thinks  much  of  him- 
self, will  think  much  of  every  little  offence  commit- 
ted against  him,  while  he  that  thinks  little  of  his 
own  importance,  will  think  lightly  of  what  is  done 
to  offend  him.  Every  irritable,  passionate,  or  re- 
vengeful person  is  certainly  a  proud  one,  and 
should  begin  the  cure  of  his  passion  by  the  removal 
of  his  pride. 

But  we  need  go  no  further  than  the  chapter  be- 
fore us,  for  an  antidote  to  anger.  Love  is  sufficient 
of  itself;  we  must  seek  to  have  more  of  this  hea- 
venly virtue.  Love  cannot  be  either  passionate  or 
revengeful.  Love  is  full  of  benevolence  and  good 
will,  and  therefore  cannot  allow  itself  to  indulge 
those  tempers  which  are  unfriendly  to  the  happi- 
ness of  mankind.  Let  us  seek  to  strengthen  this  pa- 
rent principle,  which  will  prevent  the  growth  of 
whatever  is  evil,  and  promote  the  advancement  of 
all  that  is  excellent. 

One  caution  may  here  be  suggested  for  the  en- 
couragement of  those  who  are  particularly  tried  with 
an  irritable  temper,  and  that  is — not  to  despond; 
if,  in  the  work  of  mortification,  they  meet  with 
many  defeats,  do  not  be  in  a  passion  with  your- 
selves, for  being  in  a  passion,  for  this  will  only  in- 
crease the  evil  you  are  anxious  to  destroy.  Go 
calmly,  yet  courageously,  to  the  conflict;  if  victori- 
ous be  not  elated,  if  defeated  be  not  disheartened. 
Often  you  will  have  to  mourn  your  failures,  and 
sometimes  be  ready  to  imagine  that  you  are  doomed 
to  the  hopeless  task  of  Sysiphus,  whose  stone  al- 
ways rolled  back  again,  when,  by  immense  labor, 
he  had  urged  it  nearly  to  the  summit  of  the  hill.  Do 
not  expect  an  easy  or  a  perfect  conquest.  Mourn 
your  defeats,  but  do  not  despair.  Many,  after  a  few 
unsuccessful  efforts,  give  up  the  cause,  and  abandon 
themselves  to  the  tyranny  of  their  passions.  In  this 
conflict,  unsuccessful  struggles  are  more  honorable 
than  unresisting  submission. 

3.  Love  will  of  course  prevent  revenge. 

Revenge  is  a  term  that  a  Christian  should  blot  out 
from  his  vocabulary  with  his  own  penitential  tears, 
or  with  the  drops  of  his  gratitude  for  the  pardon  he 
has  received  from  God.  There  is  no  passion  more 
hostile  to  the  very  genius  of  Christianity,  or  more 
frequently  forbidden  by  its  authority,  than  this  ;  and 
there  is  none  to  which  the  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture more  powerfully  excites  us.  The  volume  of 
history  is  stained,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
wiih  the  blood  which  has  been  shed  by  the  demon 
of  revenge.  Mankind,  in  every  age  and  country, 
have  groaned  under  the  misery  inflicted  by  this  rest- 
less and  cruel  spirit,  which  no  mischief  can  satisfy, 
no  suffering  appease.  Revenge  has  converted  men 
into  wild  beasts,  and  inspired  them  wiih  a  wish  to 
tear  each  other  to  pieces.  It  is  not  likely  that  such 
a  temper  as  this  would  meet  with  the  least  tolera- 
tion or  sanction  in  the  religion  of  the  meek  and 
lowly  Jesus,  whose  person  was  an  incarnation,  and 
whose  gospel  is  an  emanation,  of  love.  Revenge  is 
admitted  by  some  as  justifiable  to  a  certain  extent: 
by  the  reasoning  and  conduct  of  the  world,  the  prin- 
ciple is  allowed,  yea  honored,  and  only  condemned 
in  its  most  vicious  excess.  Wars,  duels,  railings, 
private  animosities,  that  do  not  infringe  on  the 
peace  of  society,  are  all  justified  on  this  ground. — 
Mankind  alter  the  golden  Vule,  and  do  unto  others, 
not  as  they  would  that  others  should  do,  but  as 
others  do  unto  them  in  a  way  of  evil;  and  this,  so 
far  from  being  blamed,  is  generally  applauded  as 
honorable  and  dignified.  In  the  estimate  of  the  peo- 
ple of  the  world,  the  man  who  refuses  to  resent  an  in- 
jury which  he  has  received,  is  a  poor  mean-spirited 
creature,  unworthy  to  associate  with  men  of  honor, 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY 


21 


But  whatever  may  be  the  maxims  of  the  world, 
revenge  is  certainly  forbidden  by  every  page  of  the 
word  of  God.  "  The  discretion  of  a  man  defer- 
reth  his  anger,  and  it  is  his  glory  to  pass  over  a 
transgression."  Private  revenge  was  certainly  for- 
bidden under  the  Old  Testament,  and  still  more  ex- 
plicitly under  the  New.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in 
spirit,"  said  our  Lord,  "  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  "  Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  shall  in- 
herit the  earth."  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been 
said,  An  eye  #for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth : 
but  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil.  Ye  have 
heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor,  and  hate  thine  enemy :  but  I  say  unto 
you,  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you, 
do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  anil  pray  for  them 
that  despitefully  use  you,  and  persecute  you  :  that 
you  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father,  which  is 
in  heaven."  The  same  sentiments  are  enjoined  by 
the  apostles. 

"  Recompense  to  no  man  evil  for  evil.  If  it  be 
possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably 
with  all  men.  Dearly  beloved,  avenge  not  your- 
selves, but  rather  give  place  unto  wrath  :  for  it  is 
written,  vengeance  is  mine:  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord.  Therefore,  if  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him; 
if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink;  for  in  so  doing  thou 
shalt  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head.  Be  not  over- 
come of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good."  These 
passages  are  decisive  upon  the  point,  that  revenge 
in  any  form,  or  in  any  measure,  is  forbidden  by  the 
Christian  religion. 

The  misfortune  of  many  is,  that  they  mistake  the 
meaning  of  the  term  revenge — or  rather  they  con- 
fine its  application  to  the  grosser,  more  mischievous, 
and  more  violent  expressions  of  wrath:  they  think 
that  nothing  is  revenge  but  cutting  or  maiming  the 
person,  openly  slandering  the  reputation,  or  wan- 
tonly injuring  the  property.  Such,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, are  fearful  ebullitions  of  this  destructive 
passion;  but  they  are  not.  the  only  ways  in  which  it 
expresses  itself.  There  are  a  thousand  petty  acts  of 
spite  and  ill-will,  by  which  a  revengeful  spirit  may 
operate.  If  we  refuse  to  speak  to  another  by  whom 
we  have  been  injured,  and  pass  him  with  silent  or 
manifest  scorn  ;  if  we  take  delight  in  talking  of  his 
failings,  and  in  lowering  him  in  the  opinion  of 
others  ;  if  we  show  ill  will  to  his  children  or  relations 
on  his  account:  if  we  watch  for  an  opportunity  to 
perform  some  little  act  of  annoyance  towards  him, 
and  feel  gratified  in  the  thought  that  we  have  given 
him  trouble  or  pain ; — all  this  is  done  in  a  spirit  of 
retaliation,  and  is  as  truly  though  not  so  dreadfully, 
the  actings  of  revenge,  as  if  we  proceeded  to  inflict 
bodily  injury.  The  spirit  of  revenge  simply  means 
returning  evil  for  evil,  and  taking  pleasure  in  doing 
so.  It  may  go  to  the  extremes  of  calumny  and  mur- 
der, or  may  confine  itself  to  the  infliction  of  minor 
wrongs;  but  if  we,  in  any  way,  resent  an  injury 
with  ill  will  towards  the  person  who  committed  it, 
this  is  revenge. 

A  question  will  here  arise,  whether,  according  to 
this  view,  we  are  not  forbidden  to  defend  our  per- 
sons, our  property,  and  our  reputation,  from  the  ag- 
gressions of  lawless  mischief?  Certainly  not.  If 
an  assassin  attempt  to  maim  or  to  murder  me,  I  am 
allowed  to  resist  the  attack,  even  to  extremity  ;  for 
this  is  not  avenging  an  evil,  but  an  effort  to  prevent 
one.  If  our  character  in  society  be  aspersed,  we 
must  endeavor,  by  peaceful  means  to  gain  an  apo- 
logy and  exculpation;  and  if  this  cannot  be  obtained, 
we  are  authorized  to  appeal  to  the  law:  for,  if  calum- 
ny were  not  punished,  society  could  not  exist.  If, 
however,  instead  of  appealing  to  the  law,  we  were  to 
calumniate  in  return  ;  if  we  were  to  inflict  bodily 
injury  on  the  aggressor,  to  take  delight  in  injuring, 
but  in  other  ways;— this  would  be  revenge  ;  but  to  j 


seek  the  protection  of  the  law,  without,  at  the  same 
time,  indulging  in  malice, — this  is  self-defence,  and 
the  defence  of  society.  If  we  are  injured,  or  are 
likely  to  be  injured,  in  our  property,  we  must  try, 
by  all  private  and  honorable  means,  to  prevent  the 
aggression;  be  willing  to  settle  the  affair  by  the  me- 
diation of  wise  and  impartial  men,  and  keep  our 
minds  free  from  anger,  ill-will,  and  malice,  towards 
the  aggressors:  and,  as  a  last  resource,  we  are  jus- 
tifiable in  submitting  the  cause,  if  it  cannot  be  set- 
tled by  any  other  means,  to  the  decision  of  a  court 
of  justice.  No  Christian  should  resort  to  the  tribu- 
nal of  public  justice  till  every  method  of  private  ad- 
justment has  failed. 

As  it  respects  the  propriety  of  Christians  going  to 
law  with  each  other,  the  testimony  of  the  apostle  is 
decisive.  "  Dare  any  of  you,  having  a  matter 
against  another,  to  goto  law  before  the  unjust,  and 
not  before  the  saints  1  Do  ye  not  know  that  the  sainU 
shall  judge  the  world  1  and  if  the  world  shall  be 
judged  by  you,  are  ye  unworthy  to  judge  the  small- 
est matters  1  Know  ye  not  that  we  shall  judge  an- 
gels 1  how  much  more  things  that  pertain  to  this 
life!  If  then  ye  have  judgments  of  things  pertaining 
to  this  life,  set  them  to  judge  who  are  least  esteemed 
in  the  church.  I  speak  to  your  shame.  Is  it  so, 
that  there  is  not  a  wise  man  among  you1?  no,  not 
one  that  shall  be  able  to  judge  between  his  bre- 
thren 1  But  brother  goeth  to  law  with  brother,  and 
that  before  the  unbelievers.  Now,  therefore,  there 
is  utterly  a  fault  among  you,  because  ye  go  to  law 
one  with  another.  Why  do  ye  not  rather  take 
wrong  1  why  do  ye  not  rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be 
defrauded]"  Men  professing  godliness,  especially 
members  of  the  same  religious  community,  ought, 
in  cases  of  difference  about  property  or  character, 
to  settle  all  their  disputes  by  the  mediation  of  their 
own  brethren  ;  and  if  either  party  decline  such  ar- 
bitration, he  must  be  accountable  for  all  the  scan- 
dal thrown  on  the  Christian  profession  by  the  legal 
measures  to  which  the  other  may  find  it  necessary 
to  resort  for  the  protection  of  his  rights.  In  this 
case,  the  guilt  of  infringing  the  apostolic  regulation 
lies  on  him  who  refuses  to  accede  to  this  Scriptural  . 
method  of  settling  the  differences  that  may  arise 
among  those  who  profess  to  be  the  disciples  of 
Christ.  Whatever  award  is  made,  in  the  case  of 
private  arbitration,  both  parties  should  abide  by  it; 
nor  must  the  individual  against  whom  the  decision 
is  given,  feel  any  ill-will,  or  cherish  any  revenge, 
towards  his  successful  competitor. 

The  law  of  love  requires  that  innumerable  minor 
offences  should  be  passed  over  without  being  no- 
ticed, or  suffered  to  disturb  our  peace  of  mind.  And 
those  which  we  find  it  necessary  to  have  explained, 
require  the  utmost  caution  and  delicacy.  In  these 
cases,  love  will  lead  us  to  the  offender,  in  the  spirit 
of  meekness,  to  ask,  not  to  demand — to  solicit,  in 
the  most  gentle  manner — an  explanation  of  the  in- 
jurious treatment.  In  a  great  majority  of  cases, 
this  line  of  conduct  would  stifle  the  animosity  while 
it  is  yet  a  spark.  If,  on  the  contrary,  we  permit 
ourselves  to  take  offence,  and  have  our  feelings 
wounded,  or  our  anger  roused  ;  if,  instead  of  mildly 
and  affectionately  expostulating,  and  seeking  recon- 
ciliation, we  brood  over  the  injury,  and  retire  in 
dissust,  to  indulge  in  sullenness,  or  to  watch  for  an 
opportunity  of  revenge  ; — this  is  being  "  easily  pro- 
voked," and  the  very  opposite  of  "  suffering  iong." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ON   THE    KINDNESS    OP   LOVE. 

"  Charity  is  kind." 

It  is  a  decisive  proof,  and  a  striking  display,  of  the 
excellence  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  it  enjoins 


22 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


not  only  the  loftier  and  more  rigid  excellences  of 
the  human  character,  but  those  also  which  are  deli- 
cately amiable  and  tender;  not  only  the  masculine 
virtues,  but  the  feminine  graces ;  in  short,  that  it 
not  only  prepares  its  possessor  to  be  a  patriot  on  the 
great  theatre  of  his  country,  or  a  spectacle  of  heroic 
martyrdom  to  God,  to  angels,  and  to  men, — but  a 
sympathising  friend  in  the  social  and  domestic  cir- 
cles. Love  can  either  expand  its  benevolence  to  the 
claims  of  the  whole  human  family,  or  concentrate 
its  emotions,  for  a  time,  in  one  individual  object  of 
pity,  or  affection.  "  Love  is  kind."  Kindness 
means  a  disposition  to  please — an  anxiety,  manifest- 
ed by  our  conduct,  to  promote  the  comfort  of  our 
species.  Pity  commiserates  their  sorrows,  mercy 
relieves  their  wants  and  mitigates  their  woes;  but 
kindness  is  a  general  attention  to  their  comfort.  It 
is  thus  described  and  distinguished  by  a  celebrated 
writer  on  English  synonymes.  "  The  terms  affec- 
tionate and  fond  characterize  feelings;  kind  is  an 
epithet  applied  to  outward  actions,  as  well  as  inward 
feelings;  a  disposition  is  affectionate  or  fond  ;  a  be- 
havior is  kind.  A  person  is  affectionate,  who  has 
the  object  of  his  regard  strongly  in  his  mind,  who 
participates  in  his  pleasures  and  in  his  pains,  and  is 
pleased  with  his  society.  A  person  is  kind,  who  ex- 
presses a  tender  sentiment,  or  does  any  service  in  a 
pleasant  manner.  Relatives  should  be  affectionate 
to  each  other  :  we  should  be  kind  to  all  who  stand 
in  need  of  our  kindness."  Kindness,  then,  appears 
to  be  an  affectionate  behavior.  This  is  what  the 
apostle  means,  when  he  admonishes  us  to  "  be  kind- 
ly affectioned  one  to  another." 

Let  us  view  the  kind  man  in  contrast  with  some 
other  characters. 

He  is  opposed  to  the  rigid,  severe,  and  censorious 
person,  who  will  make  no  allowance  for  the  infirmi- 
ties or  inexperience  of  others;  but  judges  harshly, 
reproves  sternly,  and  speaks  severely  of  all  who  do 
not  come  up  to  his  standard.  Kindness,  on  the  con- 
trary, makes  all  reasonable  allowances,  frames  the 
best  excuses  it  can,  consistently  with  truth  and  ho- 
liness ;  speaks  o/the  offender  in  away  of  mitiga- 
tion, and  to  him  in  a  way  of  compassion  ;  does  not 
publish  nor  exaggerate  his  faults,  and  endeavors  to 
find  out  some  redeeming  qualities  to  set  off  against 
his  failings. 

A  kind  man  is  opposed  to  a  proud  and  overbear- 
ing one.  The  latter  is  ever  seeking  an  opportunity 
to  di^plav  his  superiority,  and  make  you  feel  your 
infei  iority  ;  and  cares  not  how  much  your  feelings 
are  hurt  by  this  offensive  exhibition  of  his  conse- 
quence. Kindness,  if  conscious,  as  it  sometimes 
must  be,  of  its  superiority,  takes  care  that  those  who 
are  below  it  shall  not  feel  a  painful  sense  of  their 
inferiority.  Without  removing  the  distinctions  of 
social  life,  or  sacrificing  its  dignity,  it  will  conceal 
as  much  as  possible,  its  pre-eminence,  or  unite  it 
with  such  affability  as  shall  render  it  by  no  means 
unpleasant. 

Kindness  is  opposed  to  coldness  and  selfishness  of 
disposition.  There  are  persons  who,  though  neither 
cruel,  nor  injurious,  nor  really  hard-hearted,  are  yet 
so  cold,  and  distant,  and  retiring-,  and  repulsive, 
that  they  can  neither  be  approached  nor  moved. — 
They  look  upon  the  scenes  around  them  with  the 
fixed  and  beamless  eye,  the  chillness  and  acquies- 
cence, of  the  statue,  for  they  have  no  interest  in  the 
concerns  of  the  world.  But  kindness  is  the  visible 
expression  of  a  feeling  and  merciful  heart ;  it  is  the 
goings  forth  of  a  tender  and  susceptible  mind;  it 
claims  kindred  with  the  human  race;  it  is  nil  ear 
to  listen — all  heart  to  feel — all  eye  to  examine  and 
to  weep — all  hand  and  foot  to  relieve  ;  it  invites  the 
sufferer  with  kind  words,  and  sends  him  not  empty 
away. 
Kindness  is  opposed  to  a  vain  and  ostentatious 


liberality.  Some  will  be  charitable,  if  they  may 
have  spectators  of  their  good  deeds,  who  shall  go 
and  proclaim  their  alms:  thus  the  weaknesses  of 
human  nature  often  come  in  the  place  of  duty,  and 
supply  the  want  of  principle,  though  certainly  with- 
out any  advantage  to  their  possessor.  They  spoil 
the  action  by  their  mode  of  performing  it ;  for  they 
will,  in  the  most  indelicate  manner,  make  the  object 
of  their  bounty  feel  a  painful  sense  of  obligation: 
they  will  state  the  exact  amount,  almost  in  pecunia- 
ry value,  of  the  favors  they  have  conferred;  and 
then  go  away  and  give  such  publicity  to  their  doings, 
that  the  beneficiary  is  almost  every  where  sure  to 
hear  of  what  has  been  done  for  him. 

Kindness  will,  on  the  other  hand,  conceal,  as 
much  as  possible,  that  it  is  actually  conferring  a 
favor ;  will  do  every  thing  to  cause  it  to  descend 
lightly  upon  the  spirit  of  the  recipient;  and  would, 
if  circumstances  allowed,  gladly  extend  relief  from 
behind  a  veil  which  hides  the  giver,  and  does  every 
thing  to  prevent  the  sense  of  obligation  from  being 
either  painful  or  oppressive. 

Kindness  is  opposed  to  the  benevolence  of  partiali- 
ty,prejudice  and  caprice.  There  are  not  a  few  who 
are  lavish  in  their  fondness  towards  persons  of  their 
own  party,  or  upon  those  who  happen  to  be  their 
favorites  for  the  time  ;  but  for  any  beyond  their  own 
circle  of  partizans,  or  of  their  select  friends,  they 
have  none  of  the  charities  of  life — their  benevolent 
regards  are  purely  sectarian,  or  absolutely  capri- 
cious. But  kindness  is  a  clear  perr^nial  spring, 
rising  up  from  a  heart  replete  with  universal  philan- 
thropy, holding  on  its  way  unimpeded  Dy  prejudices 
or  partialities,  and  distributing  its  benefits  alike 
upon  all  that  it  meets  with  in  its  course. 

Having  thus  contrasted  kindness  with  some  cha- 
racteristics to  which  it  is  opposed,  let  us  now  con- 
sider the  manner  in  which  it  acts. 

It  expresses  itself  in  words  that  are  calculated  to 
please.  As  not  only  our  words,  but  the  tones  of  our 
voice,  are  indicative  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings, 
it  is  of  consequence  for  us  to  be  careful,  both  in 
vlwt  we  say,  and  how  we  say  it.  Half  the  quarrels 
which  disturb  the  peace  of  society  arise  from  un- 
kind words,  and  not  a  few  from  unkind  tones.  We 
should  sedulously  avoid  a  sour,  morose,  chiding 
mode  of  speech,  and  adopt  a  soothing,  conciliatory, 
and  affectionate  style  of  address.  A  surly  tone  is 
calculated  to  wound  or  offend,  and  love,  which  car- 
ries the  law  of  kindness  upon  its  lips,  will  conse- 
quently avoid  it.  A  snappish,  petulant,  scolding 
address,  is  in  the  highest  degree  repulsive  and  dis- 
sonant in  the  intercourse  of  society.  We  may  not 
have,  it  is  true,  the  music  of  sound  in  our  speech, 
but  it  is  our  own  fault  if  we  have  not  the  music  of 
love.  We  need  not  employ  grimace,  fawning  syco- 
phancy, hollow  and  unmeaning  compliment,  but  we 
may  be  courteous,  and  affectionate;  and  we  ought 
to  "let  our  speech  be  seasoned  with  salt,  that  it  may 
minister  grace  to  the  hearers."  Every  word,  and 
every  modulation  of  the  voice,  that  is  likely  to  of- 
fend, should  be  studiously  avoided,  and  w?7Zbeavord- 
ed  by  kindness,  which  extends,  also,  to  actions.  It 
is  anxious  not  to  give  offence  by  any  thing  which  it 
docs:  it  is  most  delicately  tender  in  reference  to  the 
feelings  of  its  object,  and  would  not  unnecessarily 
crush  the  wing  of  an  insect,  much  less  inflict  a 
wound  upon  a  rational  mind.  There  are  persons 
who.  in  a  spirit  of  selfish  independence,  care  not 
whom  they  please,  or  whom  they  offend ;  but  love 
is  as  anxious  not  to  offend,  as  it  is  solicitous  about 
its  own  gratification:  its  neighbor's  comfort  is  as 
dear  to  it  as  its  own  ;  it  calculates,  deliberates, 
weighs  the  tendency  of  actions,  and,  when  by  in- 
caution,  or  pure  misfortune,  it  has  occasioned  dis- 
tress, it  hastens,  by  every  practicable  means,  to  heal 
the  wound. 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


23 


Kindness  not  only  abstains  from  actual  injury, 
kut  it.  is  active  in  conferring  benefits — watches  for  an 
opportunity  to  please — is  ever  ready  to  afford  its  as- 
sistance when  appealed  to, — and  is  not  satisfied  un- 
less it  can  do  something  to  increase  the  general 
stock  of  comfort.  It  accommodates  itself  to  their 
habits,  partialities,  or  prejudices;  adapts  itself,  in 
things  indifferent  and  lawful,  to  their  modes  of  act- 
ing, and  does  not  wantonly  oppose  their  predilec- 
tions, when  such  resistance  would  occasion  them 
distress.  A  stiff,  uncomplying  behavior,  which  con- 
sults nothing  but  its  own  humor,  and  which  will 
not  sacrifice  the  least  punctilio  of  its  own  habits,  to 
give  pleasure,  has  not  a  particle  of  beneficence  about 
it.  Such  an  individual  is  like  a  person  in  a  crowd, 
who  will  walk  with  his  arms  stretched  out,  or  with 
annoying  weapons  in  his  hand. 

It  extends,  of  course,  to  little  things,  as  well  as  to 
great  ones.  The  happiness  or  misery  of  life  does 
not  consist  so  much  in  the  transport  of  joy,  or  the 
anguish  of  atrliction,  as  in  feelings  of  an  inferior 
kind — which,  though  less  violent,  are  more  frequent 
than  those  strong  emotions.  Hence  it  is  in  our 
power  to  make  others  miserable  in  life ;  not,  per- 
haps, by  deeds  of  cruelty  or  injustice,  which  we 
dare  not,  or  cannot  commit,  as  by  indulging  in  un- 
accommodating dispositions  towards  them — by  vex- 
ing them  with  acts  of  unkindness,  which  will  neither 
blast  our  reputation,  nor  put  in  peril  our  property, 
liberty  or  life  :  and  it  is  also  in  our  power  to  make 
them  happy,  not  so  much  by  signal  and  material 
services,  which  are  seldom  called  for  at  our  hands, 
as  by  the  inferior  offices  of  benevolence.  The  daily, 
and  almost  hourly  reciprocity  of  little  acts  of  good 
or  ill  will,  which  we  have  an  opportunity  of  per- 
forming, go  a  great  way  to  the  making  up  of  good 
or  bad  neighborhood.  There  are  those  who,  in  the 
greater  expressions  of  Christian  mercy,  are  really 
humane  ;  whose  benevolence  at  the  same  time  has 
not  learned  to  stoop  to  little  things:  they  are  com- 
passionate, but  they  want  kindness  :  they  would  re- 
lieve a  starving  beggar,  but  they  would  not  put 
themselves  in  ever  so  small  a  degree  out  of  their 
way,  to  accommodate,  in  trivial  matters,  a  near 
neighbor.  ■ 

Kindness  is  universal  in  its  objects.  We  have 
known  individuals  who  could  never  do  enough  for 
some  objects  of  their  regard,  but  who  are  by  no 
means  persons  of  diffusive  kindness;  and,  perhaps, 
if  we  examine,  we  shall  find  that  their  benevolence 
has  a  great  mixture  of  selfishness  in  it,  for  it  is  ex- 
ercised only  towards  those  from  whom  they  expect 
an  ample  return.  It  is  the  kindness  of  barter,  not 
of  charity :  it  is  so  much  of  their  comfort  put  out 
at  interest,  not  given  away  to  the  needy;  they  either 
have  had,  or  expect  to  have,  value  received  for  all 
they  do.  But  love  is  universal  in  its  aspect ;  it  is 
ever  ready  to  do  a  kind  office  for  any  one  that  either 
solicits  or  needs  its  assistance.  Its  language  is, 
"  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  wa- 
ters." It  has  a  kind  look,  word,  and  act,  for  every 
body.  Nor  are  its  enemies  denied  the  assistance  of 
its  efforts.  Such  is  the  generous  spirit  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  as  appears  from  the  passages  quoted 
in  a  preceding  chapter.  Such  is  the  refined,  the 
sublime  morality  of  the  New  Testament.  Yes, 
these  are  the  principles  on  which  kindness  acts  :  it 
extends  its  beneficence  to  the  very  man  that  has 
treated  it  with  contumely  and  scorn — with  cruelty, 
insult,  and  oppression.  This  is  its  duty  and  its  in- 
clination. In  imitation  of  the  dying  Saviour,  who 
gave  his  last  prayer  to  his  murderers,  it.  says,  "  Fa- 
ther, forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do!" 

What  a  fascinating  character  is  the  man  of  dis- 
tinguished kindness  !  he  is  invested  with  indescriba- 
ble loveliness :  he  may  not  have  the  glory  in  which 
the  patriot,  the  hero,  or  the  martyr  is  enshrined  ;  bi\t 


he  is  adorned  in  no  common  degree  with  the  beau- 
ties of  holiness.  He  carries  about  with  him  the 
majesty  of  goodness,  if  not  the  dominion  of  great- 
ness. The  light  of  his  countenance  is  the  warm 
sunshine,  t<*  which  the  spirits  of  grief  repair  from 
their  dark  retreats,  to  bask  in  its  glow  ;  and  his  gen- 
tle words  are  like  soft  melody  to  chase  away  the 
evil  thoughts  from  the  bosom  of  melancholy,  and  to 
hush  to  peace  the  troubled  reflections  of  the  distem- 
pered mind.  As  he  moves  along  his  career,  distri- 
buting the  unexpensive  but  efficient  expressions  of 
his  regards,  it  is  amidst  the  blessings  of  those  that 
are  ready  to  perish,  and  the  notes  of  the  widow's 
heart,  which  he  has  turned  to  joy.  When  he  comes 
unexpectedly  into  the  company  of  his  friends,  every 
countenance  puts  on  the  appearance  of  complacency, 
and  it  appears  as  if  a  good  genius  had  come  among 
them  to  bless  the  party;  as  he  looks  round  on  the 
circle,  with  a  smile  of  beneficence  that  has  found 
an  abiding  place  upon  his  brow,  he  presents  the 
brightest  resemblance  to  be  found  in  our  selfish 
world,  of  the  entrance  of  the  Saviour  among  his 
disciples,  when  he  said,  "  Peace  be  unto  you  !"  and 
breathed  upon  them  the  Holy  Ghost.  Although  he 
neither  seeks  nor  wishes  an  equivalent,  in  return 
for  his  many  acts  of  benevolence,  his  gentle  spirit 
receives  back,  in  a  full  tide,  the  streams  of  consola- 
tion which  have  ebbed  from  his  own  heart  to  fill  the 
empty  channels  of  his  neighbor's  happiness.  Who 
can  be  unkind  to  him,  who  is  kind  to  all  1  What 
heart  is  so  hard,  what  mind  is  so  cruel,  what  spirit 
is  so  diabolical,  as  to  wound  him,  who  never  ap- 
pears among  his  race  but  as  a  ministering  angel "? 
There  is  a  magic  in  his  tears,  to  melt  to  sympathy 
the  stubborn  soul  of  cruelty  itself,  which  has  a  tear 
for  no  one  else  ;  and  no  less  a  magic  in  his  smiles, 
so  far  to  relax  and  soften  the  hard  features  of  envy, 
as  to  reflect  for  a  moment  the  sunshine  of  his  joy. — 
While  he  lives,  every  man  is  his  admirer;  and 
when  he  dies,  every  man  is  his  mourner :  while  he 
is  on  earth,  his  name  has  a  home  in  every  heart; 
and  when  he  is  gone,  he  has  a  monument  in  every 
memory  : — and  this  is  the  description  of  his  charac- 
ter— the  record  of  his  praise  :  Love  is  kind  ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   CONTENTMENT    OP    LOVE. 

t:  Charily  envieth  not." 

Envy  is  that  passion,  which  causes  us  to  feel  un- 
easiness at  the  sight  of  another's  possessions  or  hap- 
piness, and  which  makes  us  dislike  him  on  that  ac- 
count. Of  all  the  base  passions,  this  is  the  basest. 
It  is  unmingled  malignity,  the  very  worst  and  bit- 
terest dregs  of  human  depravity;  the  most  direct 
contrariety  of  love.  Envy  is  either  general  or  spe- 
cial in  its  objects.  It  often  exists  in  the  mind  to 
such  an  extent,  that  its  subjects  seem  almost  in- 
stinctively opposed  to  excellence  and  to  happiness, 
wherever  they  see  them,  or  whenever  they  hear  of 
them.  They  may  not  regard  the  individuals  on 
whom  their  envious  glance  is  fixed  in  the  light  of 
competitors  or  rivals;  they  may  have  nothing  to 
hope  from  their  depression — nothing  to  fear  from 
their  elevation  ;  but  it  is  enough  to  awaken  their 
uneasiness  and  dislike,  to  know  that  they  are  in 
some  respects  superior.  They  cannot  bear  to  see 
excellence  or  happiness  in  any  one,  or  ever  to  hear 
the  language  of  commendation  or  praise.  They 
would  be^ar  the  universe  to  enrich  themselves, 
and  monopolize  all  possessions,  and  all  admiration; 
they  would  be  alone  in  the  world,  as  the  sole  occu- 
pants of  every  thing  valuable,  nnd  can  endure 
neither  a  superior  nor  an  equal.  This,  it  must  be 
allowed,  is  a  maturity  to  which  envy  rarely  attains, 


24 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


compared  with  its  more  special  and  limited  ope- 
ratiun. 
The  objects  of  envy  are  commonly  such  as  these. 

1.  Persons  who  are  nearly  mi  our  own  level.  In- 
dividuals who  are  either  much  above  us  in  station, 
or  much  below  us,  are  not  so  likely  to  excite  un- 
easiness and  dislike,  as  those  who  are  of  our  own 
standing,  or  approaching  to  it.  The  tradesman 
envies  not  the  nobleman,  but  some  fellow-trades- 
man: the  laurels  and  fame  of  the  hero  are  not  en- 
vied by  the  common  soldier,  but  by  some  officer  of 
his  own  rank. 

2.  Those  who  though  much  above  us,  occupy  a 
station  from  which  ice  have  been  cast  down,  are  likely 
to  be  regarded  by  us  with  an  evil  eye,  and  to  draw 
forth  our  dislike. 

3.  Competitors,  but  especially  some  single  rival 
for  wealth,  or  fame,  or  any  valuable  possession,  is  a 
powerful  temptation  to  this  sin.  It  is  extremely 
difficult  to  witness  their  success  and  superiority, 
and  feel  nothing  of  envy  towards  them. 

It  is  evident,  that  persons  descending  in  life  are 
much  exposed  to  this  vice :  and,  perhaps,  those 
still  more  so,  who  are  candidates  for  popular  ap- 
plause, whether  they  be  literary,  scientific,  military, 
or  professional  men.  "  Vanity,  or  a  thirst  after  ap- 
plause, is  the  most  unsocial  and  envious  of  the  pas- 
sions, avarice  itself  not  excepted.  The  reason  is 
plain.  Property  is  a  kind  of  good,  which  may  be 
more  easily  attained,  and  is  capable  of  more  minute 
subdivision,  than  fame.  In  the  pursuit  of  wealth, 
men  are  led,  by  an  attention  to  their  own  interest, 
to  promote  the  welfare  of  each  other :  their  advan- 
tages are  reciprocal ;  the  benefits  which  each  is 
anxious  to  acquire  for  himself,  he  reaps  in  the 
greatest  abundance  from  the  union  of  society.  The 
pursuits  of  vanity  are  quite  contrary.  The  portion 
of  time  and  attention  mankind  are  willing  to  spare 
from  their  avocations  and  pleasures,  to  devote  to 
the  admiration  of  each  other,  is  so  small,  that  every 
successful  adventurer  is  felt  to  have  impaired  the 
common  stock.  The  success  of  one,  is  the  disap- 
pointment of  multitudes  :  for  though  there  be  many 
rich,  many  virtuous,  many  wise  men,  fame  must 
necessarily  be  the  portion  of  but  few.  Hence  every 
vain  man  regarding  his  competitor  as  his  rival,  is 
strongly  tempted  to  rejoice  in  his  miscarriage,  and 
to  repine  at  his  success. 

There  is  not  any  kind  of  superiority,  however 
low  in  its  nature,  or  obscure  in  situation,  which  is 
not  found  to  be  sufficient  to  call  forth  the  ill-will 
and  hatred  of  some  inferior  or  disappointed  spec- 
tator. Children  and  rustics,  as  well  as  philoso- 
phers, warriors,  and  princes,  are  subject  to  its  in- 
fluence. Like  the  venomous  spider,  it  weaves  its 
web,  and  directs  its  deadly  glance,  in  the  cottages 
of  poverty,  the  mansions  of  affluence,  and  the  halls 
of  science.  It  is  the  epidemic  of  the  human  race, 
the  most  common  operation  of  human  depravity. 
The  apostle  seems  to  give  it  as  a  general  descrip- 
tion of  human  nature,  while  unrenewed  by  divine 
grace.  "  Living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful,  and 
hating  one  another."  The  whole  Gentile  world, 
before  the  coming  of  Christ,  is  described  as  having 
been  "full  of  envy."  "Envyin?s"  bear  a  high 
place  among  the  works  of  the  flesh;  and  on  the 
converts  from  paganism,  the  churches  of  believers, 
there  was  no  one  evil  of  which  the  prohibition  was 
more  frequently,  or  more  earnestly  enjoined,  than 
this :  and  the  apostle  James  tells  us,  that  it  is  still 
partially  inherent  in  every  man — "the  spirit  that 
dwelleth  in  us  lusteth  to  envy." 

But  let  us  now  contemplate  its  hatefdl  nature. 
It  is  a  vice  of  the  utmost  deformity  and  heinous- 
ness.  To  feel  uneasiness  at  another's  happiness,  or 
excellence,  and  to  dislike  him  on  that  account,  is  a 
sin  that  needs  no  analysis  to  prove  its  deadly  nature 


— no  dissection,  to  expose  its  corruption  ;  it  presents 
at  once,  to  the  most  superficial  observer,  a  frightful 
and  disgusting  appearance — a  kind  of  leprous  sur- 
face. It  stands  directly  opposed  to  the  nature  of 
God,  whose  love  delights  in  excellence  and  in  hap- 
piness, and  whose  grace  produces  both ;  and  by 
whom  this  sin  must  be  regarded  with  infinite  loath- 
ing and  abhorrence. 

It  is  a  secret  murmuring  against  the  appoint- 
ments of  heaven — an  incessant  quarrel  with  Provi- 
dence— an  accusation  preferred  against  the  wisdom, 
equity,  and  goodness  of  the  divine  administration. 
As  it  is  unlike  God,  so  it  is  the  image  of  Satan — 
being  the  disposition,  united  with  pride,  which  cast 
down  the  apostate  angels  from  their  seats  in  heaven, 
and  which  fills  and  fires  their  bosoms  in  the  bottom- 
less pit;  it  is  perfectly  the  state  of  hell,  and  unceas- 
ingly the  passion  of  devils,  who  despair  for  them- 
selves, and  envy  the  happiness  of  men  and  angels, 
yet  cannot  rejoice  either  in  the  good  or  the  evil 
they  witness,  although  they  endeavor  to  hinder  the 
good,  and  promote  the  evil,  with  all  the  restlessness 
of  malice,  and  the  devices  of  a  mighty  understand- 
ing. It  is  a  parent  crime,  and  its  progeny  are  as 
mischievous  and  as  deformed  as  itself:  for  malice, 
hatred,  falsehood,  slander,  are  its  ordinary  brood; 
and  not  unfrequently  murder:  for  when  carried  to 
excess,  there  is  scarcely  an  injury  within  its  reach 
which  it  would  not  inflict  upon  its  object.  It  can- 
not even  offer  the  excuses  for  itself  which  many 
vices  sometimes  bring  forward  :  anger  pleads  the 
provocation  it  has  received  ;  but  envy  has  received 
no  offence,  except  the  well-being  of  another  be  an 
insult;  lust  and  intemperance  plead  the  gratifica- 
tion which  their  objects  yield,  and  robbery  holds  up 
its  gain ;  but  envy  gains  nothing  but  misery,  and 
converts  the  happiness,  of  which  it  is  the  witness, 
into  wormwood  and  gall  for  its  own  cup,  and 
transvenoms  the  honey  of  another  man's  comfort 
into  the  poison  of  asps  for  its  own  bosom :  it  is  a 
source  of  eternal  vexation — an  instrument  of  self- 
torment — a  rottenness  in  the  bones — a  burning  ul- 
ceration of  the  soul — a  crime,  which,  partaking  of 
the  guilt,  partakes  as  largely  of  the  misery  of  hell. 

Such  is  envy ;  but  who  can  describe  it  accurately, 
or  do  it  justice  1  If  we  look  for  it  as  embodied  in 
living  characters,  we  shall  find  it  in  Cain,  the  proto- 
murderer,  who  slew  his  brother  at  the  instigation 
of  this  vice.  We  shall  find  it  in  the  dark,  and 
gloomy,  and  revengeful  spirit  of  Saul,  who,  under 
the  influence  of  envy,  plotted  for  years  the  slaughter 
of  David.  We  shall  find  it  in  the  king  of  Israel, 
when  he  pined  for  the  vineyard  of  Naboth,  and 
shed  his  blood  to  gain  it.  Yea,  it  was  envy  that 
perpetrated  that  most  atrocious  crime,  ever  planned 
in  hell  or  executed  on  earth,  on  which  the  sun  re- 
fused to  look,  and  at  which  nature  gave  signs  of 
abhorrence  by  the  rending  of  the  rocks ;  I  mean 
the  crucifixion  of  Christ :  for  the  evangelist  tells 
us,  that  for  envy,  the  Jews  delivered  our  Lord. 

Bishop  Hall  has  given  us  a  very  striking  por- 
traiture of  the  envious  man,  which  I  shall  here  in- 
troduce : — "  He  feeds  on  other's  evils  ;  and  hath  no 
disease  but  his  neighbor's  welfare :  whatsoever  God 
does  for  him,  he  cannot  be  happy  with  company; 
and  if  he  were  put  to  choose  whether  he  would 
rather  have  equals  in  a  common  felicity,  or  supe- 
riors in  misery,  he  would  demur  upon  the  election 
His  eye  casts  out.  too  much,  and  never  returns, 
home,  but  to  make  comparisons  with  another'^ 
good.  He  is  an  ill  prizer  of  foreign  commodity- 
worse  of  his  own ;  for  that  he  rates  too  high — this 
undervalues.  You  shall  have  him  ever  inquiring 
into  the  estates  of  his  equals  and  betters,  wherein 
he  is  not  more  desirous  to  hear  all,  than  loath  to 
hear  any  thing  over  good ;  and  if  just  report  relate 
aught  better  than  he  would,  he  redoubles  the  ques- 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


25 


tion,  as  being  hard  to  believe  what  he  lilies  not; 
and  hopes  yet,  if  that  be  averred  again  to  his  grief, 
that  there  is  somewhat  concealed  in  the  relation, 
which,  if  it  were  known,  wo.  Id  argue  the  com- 
mended party  miserable,  and  blemish  him  with  se- 
cret shame.  He  is  ready  to  quarrel  with  God,  be- 
cause the  next  field  is  fairer  grown;  and  angrily 
calculates  his  cost,  and  time,  and  tillage.  Whom 
he  dares  not  openly  backbite,  nor  wound  with  a 
direct  censure,  he  strikes  smoothly  with  an  over 
cold  praise;  and  when  he  sees  that  he  must  either 
maliciously  oppugn  the  just  praise  of  another, 
(which  were  unsafe,)  or  approve  it  by  assent,  he 
yieldeth  ;  but  shows,  withal,  that  his  means  were 
such,  both  by  nature  and  education,  that  he  could 
not,  without  much  neglect,  be  less  commendable  : 
so  his  happiness  shall  be  made  the  color  of  detrac- 
tion. When  a  wholesome  law  is  propounded,  he 
crosseth  it  either  by  open  or  close  opposition — not 
for  any  incommodity  or  inexpedience,  but  because 
it  proceedeth  from  any  mouth  but  his  own  ;  and  it 
must  be  a  case  rarely  plausible  that  will  not  admit 
some  probable  contradiction.  When  his  equal 
should  rise  to  honor,  he  striveth  against  it  unseen, 
and  rather  with  much  cost  suborneth  great  adver- 
saries ;  and  when  he  sees  his  resistance  vain,  he 
can  give  a  hollow  gratulation  in  pretence;  but  in 
secret  disparageth  that  advancement. :  either  the 
man  is  unfit  for  the  place,  or  the  place  for  the  man; 
or,  if  fit,  yet  less  gainful,  or  more  common  than 
opinion  :  whereto  he  adds,  that  himself  might  have 
had  the  same  dignity  upon  better  terms,  and  refused 
it.  He  is  witty  in  devising  suggestions  to  bring  his 
rival  out  of  love  into  suspicion  ;  if  he  be  courteous, 
he  is  seditiously  popular;  if  bountiful,  he  binds 
over  his  clients  to  faction ;  if  successful  in  war,  he 
is  dangerous  in  peace;  if  wealthy,  he  lays  up  for  a 
day;  if  powerful,  nothing  wants  but  opportunity 
for  rebellion ;  his  submission  is  ambitious  hypo- 
crisy; his  religion,  politic  insinuation; — no  action 
is  safe  from  an  envious  construction.  When  he  re- 
ceives a  good  report  of  him  whom  he  emulates,  he 
saith,  Fame  is  partial,  and  covers  mischiefs;  and 
pleaseth  himself  with  hope  to  find  it  false:  and  if 
ill  will  hath  dispersed  a  more  spiteful  narration,  he 
lays  hold  on  that  against  all  witnesses,  and  broach- 
eth  that  rumor  for  truth,  because  worst;  and  when 
he  sees  him  perfectly  miserable,  he  can  at  once 
pity  him  and  rejoice.  What  himself  cannot  do, 
others  shall  not :  he  hath  gained  well,  if  he  have 
hindered  the  success  of  what  he  would  have  done 
and  could  not.  He  conceals  his  best  skill,  not  so 
as  it  may  not  be  known  that  he  knows  it,  but  so  as 
it  may  not  be  learned,  because  he  would  have  the 
world  miss  him.  He  attained  to  a  sovereign  medi- 
cine by  the  secret  legacy  of  a  dying  empiric, 
whereof  he  will  leave  no  heir,  lest  the  praise 
should  be  divided.  Finally,  he  is  an  enemy  to 
God's  favors,  if  they  fall  beside  himself;  the  best 
nurse  of  ill  fame;  a  man  of  the  worst  diet,  for  he 
consumes  himself,  and  delights  in  pining;  a  thorn- 
hedge  covered  with  nettles;  a  peevish  interpreter 
of  good  things;  and  no  other  than  a  lean  and  pale 
carcass  quickened  with  a  fiend." 

How  hateful,  then,  is  this  crime;  and  although 
we  may  not  be  in  danger  of  carrying  it  to  the  excess 
here  stated,  yet  we  should  ever  strive  against  iis 
least  and  lowest  degrees.  The  means  of  opposing 
and  mortifying  it  are  man  v. 

Let  us  vcn/  seriously  meditate  on  its  evil  nature. 
A  steady  contemplation  of  its  deformity  and  demon- 
like  countenance,  is  calculated  to  excite  disgust,  and 
to  produce  abhorrence.  Many  evils,  and  this  anion? 
the  number,  are  too  much  indulged,  because  they 
are  too  little  contemplated.  The  more  we  meditate 
upon  the  heinousness  of  envy,  the  more  we  shall  be 
convinced  of  the  utter  unsuitableness  of  such  a  tem- 


per as  this  to  be  the  inmate  of  a  Christian's  bosom: 
it  is  like  a  fiend  inhabiting  the  temple  of  the  Lord. 
We  must  next  form  a  deliberate  resolution  for  its 
mortification :  we  must  stand  prepared  to  take  the 
greatest  pains,  to  maintain  the  most  determined  ef- 
forts, for  the  riddance  of  our  hearts  from  so  hateful 
a  disposition.  Let  us  next  consider,  that  the  cir- 
cumstances which  excite  our  envy  are  among  the 
arrangements  of  a  wise  Providence ;  and  that  to  dis- 
like another  on  account  of  his  excellence,  or  happi- 
ness, is  a  crime  of  no  less  magnitude  than  a  wish  to 
oppose  and  subvert  the  dispensations  of  heaven. — 
Let  us  remember,  that  if  others  have  more  than  our- 
selves, Ave  have  infinitely  more  than  we  deserve  ;  a 
deliberate  and  frequent  consideration  of  our  numer- 
ous and  aggravated  sins,  with  our  deliverance  from 
their  consequences,  together  with  a  survey  of  our 
mercies,  and  hopes,  as  Christians,  would  very  pow- 
erfully help  us  in  the  great  business  of  mortifying 
envy ;  for  the  chief  difference  between  man  and 
man,  as  to  real  happiness,  lies  in  spiritual  distinc- 
tions; and  if  we  have  these,  the  absence  of  any 
thing  else  is  matter  of  little  consequence.  It  may 
not  be  amiss,  also,  to  consider,  how  comparatively 
small  is  the  amount  of  happiness  derived  by  the  ob- 
ject of  our  envy,  from  those  possessions  on  the 
ground  of  which  we  dislike  him;  and  how  soon, 
could  we  transfer  them  to  ourselves,  they  would 
cease  to  impart  any  strong  gratification  to  us.  We 
always  act  under  a  delusion,  when  we  indulge  this 
hateful  passion :  its  objects  are  seen  through  a  mag- 
nifying medium  of  very  high  power.  Tiie  circum- 
stances which  excite  our  envy,  have  their  attendant 
evils;  evils  which,  though  concealed  from  general 
observation,  are  well  known  to  the  possessor  of 
them.  We  should  labor  to  be  content  with  such 
things  as  we  have:  contentment  is  the  secret  of 
happiness,  whether  we  have  much  or  little.  The 
man  who  makes  up  his  mind  to  enjoy  what  he 
has,  is  quite  as  happy  as  he  who  possesses  twice  as 
much. 

But  still  the  great  thing  is,  to  endeavor,  by  God's 
gracious  help,  to  increase  in  love.  Our  envy  will 
then  as  certainly  diminish,  as  darkness  retires  be- 
fore the  entrance  of  light,  or  cold  before  the  power 
of  heat.  Love  and  envy  are  the  very  antipodes  of 
each  other;  the  former  delights  in  the  happiness  of 
others,  the  latter  is  made  miserable  by  it.  Let  us 
endeavor  to  cultivate  this  disposition,  and  to  delight 
in  witnessing  and  diffusing  blessedness.  This  is 
what  the  apostle  meant,  when  he  said,  "  Rejoice 
with  those  that  do  rejoice."  What  a  beautifying, 
and  even  sublime,  temper  is  that,  which  leads  its 
possessor  to  find  consolation,  amidst  its  own  straits, 
privations,  and  difficulties,  in  contemplating  the 
possessions  and  the  comforts  of  those  around  him  ! 
What  relief  would  such  e\e\  :%;ed  virtue  bring  t'j  the 
mourner,  when  he  could  turn  his  own  darkened  orb 
toward  the  illumination  cf  his  neighbor's  prosperi- 
ty !  Happv  the  man  who  can  thus  borrow  the  joys 
of  others  when  he  has  none,  or  few,  of  his  own ;  and 
from  the  wilderness  of  his  own  situation,  enjoy  the 
beautiful  prospect  of  his  friend's  domain.  Difficult 
and  rare  as  such  a  temper  is,  it  is  that  which  is  the 
subject  of  the  apostle's  description,  in  the  chapter 
we  are  considering,  and  which  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  Christian  to  cultivate.  Hard,  indeed,  is  the 
savins:,  and  few  there  are  who  can  bear  it,  but  it  is 
assuredly  the  lesson  which  Christ  teaches  his  disci- 
ples, and  which  those  disciples  must  all  endeavor  to 
learn.  Much  mav  be  done  by  effort.  Let  us  deter- 
mine, by  God's  help,  to  acquire  it;  let  us  make  the 
attempt,  and  let  us  only  persevere,  notwithstanding 
many  defeats  and  many  discouragements,  and  it  is 
astonishing  what  may  be  done.  But  this  goeth  not 
forth  but  by  fasting  and  praver.  Love  cannot  be 
cultivated,  nor  envy  destroyed,  in  our  hearts,  but  by 


26 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


.he  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  may  as  well  try 
to  pull  up  by  the  roots  the  oak  of  a  century's  growth, 
or  overturn  a  mountain,  by  our  own  strength,  as  to 
eradicate  the  vice  of  envy  from  our  hearts,  without 
the  aid  of  God's  own  Spirit;  that  aid  is  promised  to 
fervent  and  persevering  prayer,  and  if  we  have  it 
not,  the  fault  is  our  own. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   HUMILITY    OF   LOVE. 

''  Cliarity  is  not  puffed  up — vaunteth  not  itself." 

The  apostle's  meaning,  in  this  part  of  his  descrip- 
tion, evidently  is,  that  love  has  not  a  high  and  over- 
weening conceit  of  its  own  possessions  and  acquire- 
ments, and  does  not  ostentatiously  boast  of  what 
it  is,  has  done,  can  do,  or  intends  to  do.  It  is  op- 
posed to  pride  and  vanity,  and  is  connected  with 
true  humility. 

Pride  signifies  such  an  exalted  idea  of  ourselves, 
as  leads  to  self-esteem,  and  to  contempt  of  others.  It 
is  self-admiration — self-doating.  It  differs  from  va- 
nity thus:  pride  causes  us  to  value  ourselves;  vanity 
makes  us  anxious  for  applause.  Pride  renders  a 
man  odious;  vanity  makes  him  ridiculous.  Love  is 
equally  opposed  to  both. 

Pride  is  the  sin  which  laid  the  moral  universe  in 
ruins.  It  was  this  that  impelled  Satan  and  his  con- 
federates to  a  mad  "  defiance  of  the  Omnipotent  to 
arms,"  for  which  they  were  driven  from  heaven, 
and  taught,  by  their  better  experience,  that  "  God 
resisteth  the  proud."  Banished  from  the  world  of 
celestials,  pride  alighted  on  our  globe,  in  its  way  to 
hell,  and  brought  destruction  in  its  train.  Propa- 
gated from  our  common  and  fallen  parent  with  our 
species,  it  is  the  original  sin — the  inherent  corrup- 
tion of  our  nature.  It  spreads  over  humanity,  with 
the  contagious  violence,  the  loathsome  appearance 
of  a  moral  leprosy,  raging  alike  through  the  palace 
and  the  cottage,  and  infecting  equally  the  prince 
and  the  peasant. 

The  grounds  of  pride  are  various:  whatever  con- 
stitutes a  distinction  between  man  and  man,  is  the 
occasion  of  this  hateful  disposition.  It  is  a  vice  that 
does  not  dwell  exclusively  in  kings'  houses,  wear 
only  soft  raiment,  and  feed  every  day  upon  titles, 
fame,  or  affluence:  it  accommodates  itself  to  our 
circumstances,  and  adapts  itself  to  our  distinctions, 
of  whatever  kind  they  be.  The  usual  grounds  of 
pride  are  the  following: 

Wealth.  Some  value  themselves  on  account  of 
their  fortune,  look  down  with  contempt  on  those  be- 
low them,  and  exact  obsequiousness  towards  them- 
selves, and  deference  .'or  their  opinions,  according 
to  the  thousands  of  money  or  of  acres  which  they 
possess.  Others  are  proud  of  their  talents,  either  na- 
tural or  acquired.  The  brilliancy  of  their  genius, 
the  extent  of  their  learning,  the  splendor  of  their 
imagination,  the  acuteness  of  their  understanding, 
their  power  to  argue,  or  declaim,  form  the  object  of 
self-esteem,  and  the  reasons  of  that  disdain  which 
they  pour  upon  all  who  are  inferior  to  them  in  men- 
tal endowments.  But  these  things  are  not  so  com- 
mon in  the  church  of  God,  as  those  which  Ave  now 
mention. 

Ecclesiastical  connections  form,  in  many  cases,  the 
occasion  of  pride.  This  was  exemplified  in  the 
Jews,  who  boasted  that  they  were  the  children  of 
Abraham,  and  worshipped  in  the  temple  of  the 
Lord.  Their  self-admiration,  as  the  members  of 
the  only  true  church,  and  as  the  covenant  people  of 
God,  was  insufferably  disgusting.  In  this  feature 
of  their  character,  they  are  too  often  imitated  in 
modern  times.    Whatever  leads  us  to  think  highly 


of  ourselves  in  matters  of  religion,  and  to  despise 
others,  whether  it  be  the  distinctions  of  earthly 
greatness,  and  practice  of  religious  duties,  or  the 
independence  of  our  mode  of  thinking,  is  opposed 
to  the  spirit  of  Christian  charity. 

Superior  light  on  the  subject  of  revealed  truth  is 
no  unusual  occasion  of  pride.  The  Arminian  Pha- 
risee dwells  with  fondness  on  the  goodness  of  his 
heart;  the  Antinomian,  with  equal  haughtiness,  va- 
lues himself  on  the  clearness  of  his  head;  and  the 
Socinian,  as  far  from  humility  as  either  of  them,  is 
inflated  with  a  conceit  of  the  strength  of  his  reason, 
and  its  elevation  above  vulgar  prejudices:  while  not 
a  few  moderate  Calvinists  regard  with  complacency 
their  sagacity  in  discovering  the  happy  medium. — 
As  men  are  more  proud  of  their  understanding  than 
of  their  disposition,  it  is  very  probable  that  religious 
opinions  are  more  frequently  the  cause  of  conceit 
and  self-importance,  than  any  thing  else  which 
could  be  mentioned.  "It  is  knowledge,"  says  the 
apostle.  "  that  puffeth  up."  We  are  the  men,  and 
wisdom  will  die  with  us,  is  the  temper  of  multi- 
tudes. 

Religious  gifts  are  sometimes  the  ground  of  self- 
admiration.  Fluency  and  fervor  in  extempore  pray- 
er, ability  to  converse  on  doctrinal  subjects,  espe- 
cially if  accompanied  by  a  ready  utterance  in  pub- 
lic, have  all,  through  the  influence  of  Satan  and  the 
depravity  of  our  nature,  led  to  the  disposition  we 
are  now  condemning.  None  are  in  more  danger 
of  this  than  the  ministers  of  religion  :  it  is  the  beset- 
ting sin  of  their  office.  There  is  no  one  gift  which 
offers  so  strong  a  temptation  both  to  vanity  and  to 
pride,  as  that  of  public  speaking.  If  the  orator  real- 
ly excel  and  is  successful,  he  is  the  immediate  spec- 
tator of  his  success,  and  has  not  even  to  wait  till  he 
has  finished  his  discourse ;  for  although  the  deco- 
rum of  public  worship  will  not  allow  of  audible  to- 
kens of  applause,  it  does  of  visible  ones:  the  look  of 
interest,  the  tear  of  penitence,  or  of  sympathy,  the 
smile  of  joy,  the  deep  impression  on  the  mind,  the 
death-like  stillness,  cannot  be  concealed  :  all  seems 
like  a  tribute,  of  admiration  to  the  presiding  spirit 
of  the  scene;  and  then  the  applause  which  is  con- 
veyed to  his  ear,  after  all  the  silent  plaudits  which 
have  reached  his  eye,  is  equally  calculated  to  puff 
him  up  with  pride.  No  men  are  more  in  danger  of 
this  sin,  than  the  ministers  of  the  gospel:  none 
should  watch  more  sleeplessly  against  it. 

Deep  religious  experience  has  often  been  followed 
by  the  same  effect,  in  those  cases  where  it  has  been 
remarkably  enjoyed.  The  methods  of  divine  grace, 
though  marked  by  a  uniformity  sufficient  to  pre- 
serve that  likeness  of  character,  which  is  essential 
to  the  unity  of  the  spirit  and  the  sympathies  of  the 
church,  are  still  distinguished  by  a  vast  variety  of 
minor  peculiarities.  The  convictions  of  sin  in 
some  minds  are  deeper,  the  apprehensions  of  Divine 
wrath  are  more  appalling,  the  transition  from  the 
poignant  compunction  of  repentance  bordering  on 
despair,  to  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  more  slow 
and  more  awful,  the  subsequent  repose  more  settled, 
and  the  joy  more  unmingled  with  the  gloom  of  dis- 
tressing fears,  than  is  experienced  by  the  generality 
of  their  brethren.  Such  persons  are  looked  up  to 
as  professors  of  religion,  whose  religious  history 
has  been  remarkable,  as  vessels  of  mercy  on  which 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  has  bestowed  peculiar  pains, 
and  which  are  eminently  fitted  for  the  master's  use. 
They  are  regarded  as  having  a  peculiar  sanctity 
about  them ;  and  hence  they  are  in  danger  of  fall- 
ing under  the  temptation  to'which  they  are  exposed, 
and  of  being  proud  of  their  experience.  They 
look  down  from  what  they  suppose  to  be  their  lofty 
elevation,  if  not  with  disdain  yet  with  suspicion,  or 
with  pity  upon  those  whose  way  has  not  been  in 
their  track.     Their  seasons  of  elevated  communion 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY 


27 


with  God,  of  holy  enlargement  of  soul,  are  some- 
times followed  with  this  tendency.  Paul  was  never 
more  in  danger  of  losing  his  humility,  than  when 
he  was  jusl  returned  from  gazing  upon  the  celestial 
throne. 

Zeal,  whether  it  be  felt  in  the  cause  of  humanity 
or  of  piety,  has  frequently  produced  pride.  This 
was  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  case  of  the  Phari- 
see: "God,  I  thank  thee, "said  this  inflated  devotee, 
"that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are,  extortioners,  un- 
just, adulterers,  or  even  as  this  publican :  I  fast 
twice  in  the  week — I  give  tithes  of  all  that  I  pos- 
sess!'' Where  a  natural  liberality  of  mind,  or  re- 
ligious principle,  has  led  men  lo  lavish  their  pro- 
perty, or  their  influence,  or  their  time,  upon  bene- 
volent institutions,  they  have  too  often  returned 
from  the  scene  of  public  activity,  to  indulge  in  pri- 
vate and  personal  admiration.  They  have  read 
with  peculiar  delight  the  reports  in  which  their 
munificence  is  recorded,  and  have  assigned  to  them- 
selves a  high  place  in  the  roll  of  public  benefactors. 

On  all  these  grounds  does  pride  exalt  itself;  but 
love  is  no  less  opposed  to  vanity  than  it  is  to  pride — 
"it  vauntelh  not  itself."  It  does  not  boast  of,  or 
ostentatiously  display,  its  possessions,  acquirements, 
or  operations.  A  disposition  to  boast,  and  to  attract 
attention,  is  a  common  foible.  We  see  this  among 
the  people  of  the  world,  in  reference  to  their  pro- 
perty, their  learning,  their  connections,  their  influ- 
ence. They  are  afraid  the  public  should  underrate 
them;  forgetting  that  they  pay  a  poor  compliment 
to  their  importance,  when  they  thus  think  it  neces- 
sary to  proclaim  it  in  order  lo  its  being  known.  If 
indeed  they  are  what  they  wish  to  make  us  believe 
they  are,  the  fact  would  be  obvious  without  this 
method  of  publishing  it  in  every  company.  Puff- 
ing is  always  suspicious,  or  superfluous;  for  real 
greatness  no  more  needs  a  crier  than  the  sun. 

But  it  is  more  particularly  in  reference  to  reli- 
gious matters  that  this  observation  of  the  apostle 
applies.  We  should  not  appear  eager  to  display 
our  gifts,  nor  should  we  vaunt  of  our  religious  ex- 
perience. The  manner  in  which  some  good  but 
weak  people  talk  of  their  pious  conflicts,  is  indeed 
intolerably  offensive.  No  matter  who  is  present, 
pious  or  profane,  scorner  or  believer,  they  parade 
all  their  seasons  of  despondency  or  of  rapture; 
they  tell  you  how  they  struggled  with  the  great  ene- 
my of  souls, and  overcome  him  ;  how  they  wrestled 
with  God,  and  had  power  to  prevail ;  and  that  you 
may  have  as  exalted  an  opinion  of  their  humility) 
as  of  their  enjoyment,  they  tell  you  in  the  utter  vio- 
lation of  all  propriety,  and  almost  of  decency,  what 
temptations  they  have  encountered — what  hair- 
breadth  escapes  they  have  had  from  the  commission 
of  sin.  Their  motive  is  obvious;  all  this  vaunting 
is  to  impress  you  with  the  idea  that  they  are  no  or- 
dinary Christians.  Who  can  wonder  that  all  reli- 
gious conversation  should  have  been  branded  with 
the  epithets  of  whining  cant  and  disgusting  hypo- 
crisy, 'vhen  the  injudicious  and  nauseating  effusions 
of  such  'alkers  are  regarded  as  a  fair  sample  of  it  ? 

Too  common  is  it  to  make  the  externals  of  reli- 
gion the  subject  of  vain-glorious  boasting.  How 
long  can  you  be  in  the  company  of  some  Christians 
without  hearing  of  their  splendid  place  of  worship, 
and  its  vast  superiority  over  all  the  rest  in  the  town  1 
They  establish  the  most  insulting  and  degrading 
comparisons  between  their  minister  and  his  brethren 
in  the  neighborhood:  none  so  eloquent,  none  so 
able;  none  so  successful,  as  he.  Notwithstanding 
your  attachment  to  tin;  pastor  under  whose  minis- 
try you  sit  with  pleasure  and  profit,  you  are  con- 
aemned  to  hear  him  dishonored  and  degraded  by 
one  of  these  gasconading  professors,  who  is  as  des- 
titute of  good  manners  as  he  is  of  good  feeling. 


And  what  a  propensity  is  there  in  the  present 
age,  to  display,  and  parade,  and  boasting,  in  refer- 
ence to  religious  zeal  I  This  is  one  of  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  day  in  which  we  live,  and  a  compliance 
with  the  temptation  one  of  its  vices.  We  have  at 
length  arrived  at  an  era  of  the  Christian  church, 
when  all  the  denominations  into  which  it  is  divided, 
and  all  the  congregations  into  which  it  is  sub- 
divided, have  their  public  religious  institutions  for 
the  diffusion  of  divine  truth.  These  institutions 
cannot  be  supported  without  property;  and  the  pro- 
perty that  is  contributed  for  their  support,  must  be 
matter  of  general  notoriety.  Like  the  tributary 
streams  flowing  into  a  great  river,  or  like  great 
rivers  flowing  into  the  sea,  the  contributions  of  as- 
sociated congregations  or  communities,  make  up 
the  general  fund:  but,  unlike  the  tributary  streams 
which  flow  silently  to  form  the  mighty  mass  of  wa- 
ters, without  requiring  the  ocean  to  publish  to  the 
universe  the  amount  of  each  separate  quota,  the 
offerings  of  the  different  religious  bodies,  must  be 
announced,  to  the  uttermost  farthing,  before  the 
world.  This  perhaps,  is  necessary,  that  the  con- 
tributors may  know  that  their  bounty  has  not  been 
stopped  and  swallowed  up  in  its  course,  but  has 
reached  its  destined  receptacle:  and  such  is  the 
weakness  of  our  principles,  and  the  strength  of  our 
imperfections,  that  this  publicity  to  a  certain  extent, 
seems  necessary  to  stimulate  our  languid  zeal.  But 
it  has  given  opportunity,  and  that  opportunity  has 
been  eagerly  embraced,  to  establish  a  system  of  un- 
hallowed vanity  between  the  different  denomina- 
tions and  the  various  congregations  into  which  the 
Christian  church  is  divided.  Who  can  have  heard 
the  speeches,  read  the  reports,  and  witnessed  the 
proceedings  of  many  of  our  public  meetings,  con- 
vened for  the  support  of  missionary  societies,  with- 
out being  grieved  at  the  strange  fire,  and  diseased 
offerings,  which  have  been  brought  to  the  altar  of 
the  Lord  1  The  object  of  the  meeting  was  good, 
for  it  was  the  destruction  of  an  idolatry  as  insult- 
ing to  Jehovah  as  that  which  Jehu  destroyed  ;  but 
like  the  king  of  Israel,  hundreds  of  voices  exclaim- 
ed in  concert,  "Come,  see  our  zeal  for  the  Lord!" 
The  image  of  jealousy  was  lifted  up  in  the  temple 
of  Jehovah ;  adulatory  speakers  chaunted  its  praises, 
in  compliments  upon  the  liberality  of  the  worship- 
pers ;  the  multitude  responded  in  shouts  of  applause 
to  the  tribute  paid  to  their  zeal ;  the  praise  of  God 
was  drowned  amidst  the  praise  of  men;  and  the 
crowd  dispersed,  in  love  with  the  cause,  it  is  true, 
but  more  for  their  own  .sakes,  than  for  the  sake  of 
God,  or  of  the  heathen  world. 

Difficult  indeed  it  is,  with  such  hearts  as  ours,  to 
do  any  thing  entirely  pure  from  all  admixture  of  a 
sinful  nature;  but  when  we  take  pains  to  make  our 
zeal  known  ;  when  we  employ  effort  to  draw  public 
attention  upon  us;  when  we  wish  and  design  to 
make  ourselves  talked  of  as  a  most  extraordinary, 
liberal,  and  active  people;  when  we  listen  for 
praises,  and  are  disappointed  if  they  do  not  come 
in  the  measure  we  expected,  and  feast  upon  them 
if  they  are  presented  ;  when  we  look  with  envy  on 
those  who  have  outstripped  us,  and  find  no  pleasure 
in  any  future  efforts,  because  we  cannot  be  first; 
when  we  look  with  jealousy  on  those  who  are  ap- 
proaching our  level,  and  feel  a  new  stimulus,  not 
from  a  fresh  perception  of  the  excellence  of  the 
object,  but  from  a  fear  that  we  shall  be  eclipsed  in 
public  estimation ;  when  we  talk  of  our  fellow 
workers,  or  to  them,  with  disdain  of  their  efforts, 
and  with  arrogant  ostentation  of  our  own; — then, 
indeed,  have  we  employed  the  cause  onlv  as  a  pe- 
destal on  which  to  exalt  ourselves  ;  in  pulling  down 
one  kind  of  idolatry,  we  have  set  up  another,  and 
rendered  our  contributions  nothing  better  than  a 
costly  sacrifice  to  our  own  vanity.    All  this  is  a 


J8 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


want  of  that  Christian  love  which  "  vaunteth  not 
itself,  and  is  not  puffed  up." 

True  zeal  is  modest  and  retiring;  it  is  not  like 
the  scentless  sunflower,  which  spreads  its  gaudy 
petals  to  the  light  of  heaven,  and  turns  its  face  to 
the  orb  of  day  through  his  course,  as  if  determined 
to  be  seen ;  but  like  the  modest  violet,  it  hides  itself 
in  the  bank,  and  sends  forth  its  fragrance  from  its 
deep  retirement.  It  employs  no  trumpeter,  it  un- 
furls no  banner,  like  the  hypocrite;  but  while  con- 
ferring the  most  substantial  benefits,  it  would,  if  it 
were  possible,  be  like  the  angels  who,  while  minis- 
tering to  the  heirs  of  salvation,  are  unseen  and  un- 
knovvn,  by  the  objects  of  their  benevolent  attention. 

Observe  the  manner  in  which  love  operates  to 
the  destruction  of  this  evil.  Love,  as  we  have  al- 
ready had  frequent  occasion  to  remark,  is  a  desire 
to  promote  the  happiness  of  those  around  us;  but 
proud  and  vain  persons  tend  materially  to  impair 
this  happiness.  They  generally  excite  disgust,  fre- 
quently offer  insult,  and  sometimes  inflict  pain. — 
Their  object  is  to  impress  you  with  a  degrading 
sense  of  inferiority,  and  thus  to  wound  and  mortify 
your  feelings.  Caring  little  for  your  peace,  they 
pursue  a  career  of  contumely  and  scorn,  dreaded 
by  the  weak  and  despised  by  the  wise.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  be  happy  in  their  society;  for  if  you  oppose 
them,  you  are  insulted — if  you  submit  to  them,  you 
are  degraded. 

Love  is  essentially  and  unalterably  attended  with 
humility;  humility  is  the  garment  with  which  it  is 
clothed,  its  inseparable  and  invariable  costume.  By 
humility,  we  do  not  intend  the  servility  which 
crouches,  or  the  meanness  that  creeps,  or  the  syco- 
phancy which  fawns;  but  a  disposition  to  think 
lowly  of  our  attainments,  a  tendency  to  dwell  upon 
our  defects,  rather  than  our  excellences,  an  appre- 
hension of  our  inferiority  compared  with  those 
around  us,  with  what  we  ought  to  be,  and  what  we 
might  be.  It  is  always  attended  with  that  modest 
deportment,  which  neither  boasts  of  itself,  nor  seeks 
to  depreciate  any  one ;  humility  is  the  inward  feel- 
ing of  lowliness — modesty  is  the  outward  expres- 
sion of  it;  humility  leads  a  man  to  feel  that  he  de- 
serves little — modesty  leads  him  to  demand  little. 

"  The  ancient  sages,  amidst  all  their  panegyrics 
upon  virtue,  and  inquiries  into  the  elements  of  moral 
excellence,  not  only  valued  humility  at  an  exceed- 
ingly low  estimate,  but  reckoned  it  a  quality  so  con- 
temptible, as  to  neutralize  the  other  properties  which 
went,  in  their  estimation,  to  the  composition  of  a 
truly  noble  and  exalted  character.  These  senti- 
ments have  been  adopted,  in  modern  times,  by  the 
great  majority  both  of  the  vulgar  and  of  the  philo- 
sophers, differing  from  their  predecessors  chiefly  in 
this  circumstance,— the  more  complete  absence  of 
that  humility  and  modesty  which  would  have  adorn- 
ed them,  and  in  their  determined  and  obstinate  re- 
jection of  that  true  standard  of  character,  after 
which  the  ancients  so  eagerly  sought.  By  the 
louchstone  which  Christianity  applies  to  the  human 
character,  it  is  found  that  pride  and  independence, 
which  the  world  falsely  dignifies  with  the  epithet 
honorable,  are  really  base  alloy;  and  that  of  every 
character  formed  upon  proper  principles,  and  pos- 
sessed of  genuine  worth,  humility  is  at  once  a  dis- 
tinguishing feature  and  the  richest  ornament.  And 
on  this  subject,  as  on  every  other,  Christianity  ac- 
cords with  the  sentiments  of  right  reason — that  it 
is  unquestionably  the  duty  of  every  intelligent  (es- 
pecially every  imperfect)  creature  to  be  humble; 
for  they  have  nothing  which  they  have  not  receiv- 
ed, and  are  indebted,  in  every  movement  they  make, 
to  an  agency  infinitely  superior  to  their  own." 

Now,  as  divine  revelation  is  the  only  system 
which,  either  in  ancient  or  in  modern  times,  assigns 
o  humility  the  rank  of  a  virtue,  or  makes  provision 


for  its  cultivation  this  in  an  eminent  degree  does 
both.  It  assigns  to  it  the  highest  place,  and  a  sort 
of  pre-eminence  among  the  graces  of  piety ;  bestows 
upon  it  the  greatest  commendations,  enforces  it  by 
the  most  powerful  motives,  encourages  it  by  the 
richest  promises,  draws  it  into  exercise  by  the  most 
splendid  examples,  and  represents  it  as  the  brightest 
jewel  in  the  Christian's  crown.  Every  thing  in 
the  word  of  God  is  calculated  to  humble  us;  the 
description  which  it  contains  of  the  divine  charac- 
ter, combining  an  infinitude  of  greatness,  goodness, 
and  glory,  compared  with  which  the  loftiest  being  is 
an  insignificant  atom,  and  the  purest  heart  as  de- 
pravity itself;  the  view  it  gives  us  of  innumerable 
orders  of  created  intelligences,  all  above  man,  in 
the  date  of  their  existence,  the  capacity  of  their 
minds,  and  the  elevation  of  their  virtue;  the  ac- 
count it  preserves  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  per- 
fection of  man  in  his  pristine  innocence,  and  the 
discovery  which  it  thus  furnishes  of  the  height  from 
which  he  has  fallen,  and  the  contrast  it  thus  draws 
between  his  present  and  his  former  nature;  the  de- 
claration it  makes  of  the  purity  of  the  eternal  law. 
and  the  immeasurable  depth  at  which  we  are  thus 
seen  to  lie  beneath  our  obligations;  the  history  it 
exhibits  of  the  circumstances  of  man's  fall,  of  the 
progress  of  his  sin,  and  of  the  numberless  and  aw- 
ful obliquities  of  his  corruptions;  the  characteristics 
it  affixes  to  his  situation  as  a  sinner,  a  rebel,  an 
enemy  of  God,  a  child  of  wrath,  an  heir  of  perdi- 
tion ;  the  method  it  presents,  by  which  he  is  re- 
deemed from  sin  and  hell, —  a  scheme  which  he  nei- 
ther invented,  nor  thought  of,  nor  aided,  but  which 
is  a  plan  of  grace,  from  first  to  last,  even  the  grace 
of  God,  manifested  in  and  through  the  propitiation 
of  Christ — a  plan,  which,  in  all  its  parts,  and  in  all 
its  bearings,  seems  expressly  devised  to  exclude 
boasting;  the  means  by  which  it  asserts  that  the  re- 
novation and  sanctification  of  the  human  heart  are 
carried  on,  and  its  security  to  eternal  life,  esta- 
blished even  by  the  effectual  operation  of  a  divine 
agency;  the  sovereignty  which  it  proclaims  as  re- 
gulating the  dispensation  of  celestial  mercy;  the  ex- 
ample which  it  holds  forth  of  the  astonishing  lowli- 
ness and  self-abasement  of  others,  so  far  superior  to 
man  in  their  mental  and  moral  natures,  such  as  the 
profound  abasement  of  tb.3  angelic  race,  but  espe- 
cially the  unparalleled  humiliation  of  him,  who, 
though  he  was  in  the  form  of  God,  was  found  in  the 
form  of  a  servant ; — these  considerations,  which  are 
all  drawn  from  the  Scriptures,  supply  incentives  to 
humility,  which  demonstrate,  upon  Christian  prin- 
ciples, that  pride  is  the  most  unreasonable,  as  well  as 
the  most  unrighteous  thing  in  the  universe.  Pride 
is  opposed,  and  humility  is  supported,  by  every  pos- 
sible view  that  we  can  take  of  divine  revelation. — 
An  acquaintance  with  these  great  principles  of  in- 
spired truth,  at  least  an  experimental  knowledge 
of  them,  will  bringdown  the  loftiness  of  men's  looks, 
and  silence  the  tongue  of  arrogant  boasting.  Surely, 
surely,  he  that  is  conversant  with  these  things,  will 
see  little  cause  for  self-valuation,  as  Mr.  Hume  calls 
pride,  or  for  that  self-publication,  which  is  the  es- 
sence of  vanity. 

While  every  true-hearted  Christian  is  thankful 
that  the  Son  of  God  stooped  so  low  for  his  salvation, 
he  will  rejoice  that  his  state  of  humiliation  is  past. 
"  If  ye  loved  me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  said,  I 
go  linto  the  Father."  The  eclipse  is  over,  the  sun 
has  resumed  its  original  brightness,  and  the  hea- 
venly world  is  illuminated  with  his  rays.  That 
man,  in  whom  was  no  form  nor  comeliness  for 
which  he  should  be  desired,  sits  upon  the  throne  of 
the  universe,  wearing  a  crown  of  immortal  glory, 
and  is  adored  by  angels  and  by  men.  His  humility 
has  conducted  to  honor;  his  sorrow  has  terminated 
in  unspeakable  joy.    "  His  glory  is  great  in  thy  sal- 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


39 


vation  ;  honor  ami  majesty  hast  ihou  laid  upon  him  ; 
tor  thou  hast  made  him  most  blessed  tor  ever;  thou 
hast  made  him  exceeding  glad  with  thy  counte- 
nance. "  Similar  shall  be  the  result  in  the  case  of 
those  who  follow  his  steps,  and  tread  the  lowly  path 
in  which  he  has  commanded  them  to  walk.  The 
cro^'n  of  glory  is  reserved  for  the  humble,  but 
shame  shall  be  the  reward  of  the  pioud.  "  Blessed 
are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

There  is  no  operation  of  Christian  love  more 
beautiful,  none  more  scarce,  than  this  ;  let  profess- 
ing Christians  set  themselves  to  work  with  their 
own  proud  hearts,  and  their  own  boasting  tongues, 
remembering  that  they  who  sink  the  lowest  in  hu- 
mility in  this  world,  shall  assuredly  rise  the  highest 
in  honor  in  the  world  to  come. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   DECORUM    OF    LOVE. 

"  Charity  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly." 

A  station  for  every  person,  and  every  person  in  his 
station ;  a  time  for  every  thing,  and  every  thing  in 
its  time ;  a  manner  for  every  thing,  and  every  thing 
in  its  manner ; — is  a  compendious  and  admirable 
rule   for  human  conduct,  and  seems  to  approach 
very  nearly  to  the  property  of  charity,  which  we 
are  now  to  consider.     There  is  some  difficulty  in 
ascertaining  the  precise  idea  which  the  apostle  in- 
tended by  the  original  term.    Perhaps  the  most  cor- 
rect rendering  is  "  indecorously,"  "  unbecomingly," 
i.  e.  unsuitably  to  our  sex,  rank,  age,  or  circumstan- 
ces.    Love  leads  a  man  to  know  his  place  and  to 
keep  it ;  and  prevents  all  those  deviations  which  by 
disarranging  the  order,  disturb  the  comfort,  of  soci- 
ety.    This  is  so  general  and  comprehensive  a  rule, 
that  it  would  admit  of  application  to  all  the  various 
distinctions  which  exist  in  life.     It   is   absolutely 
universal,  and  binds  with  equal  force  the  monarch 
and  the  peasant,  and  all  the  numerous  intermediate 
ranks.     It  imposes  a  consistency  between  a  man's 
station  and  his  conduct  viewed  in  the  light  of  Chris- 
t.anity.     It  says  to  every  man,  "Consider  your  cir- 
cumstances,  and  fulfil   every  just  expectation   to 
which  they  give  rise."     By  the  common  consent  of 
mankind,  there  is  a  certain  line  of  conduct  which 
belongs  to  every  relation  in  life,  and  which  cannot 
perhaps,  be  better  expressed  than  by  the  word  "  be- 
comingness ;"  and  which  may  be  called  the  sym- 
metry of  the  body  politic.     We  may  select  a  few 
of  the  more  prominent  distinctions  of  society,  and 
see  how  love  preserves  them  without  giving  offence. 
The  distinction  of  male  and  female  is  to  be  sup- 
ported by  all  propriety  of  conduct.     On  the  part  of 
the  man,  if  he  be  single,  all  trifling  with  the  affec- 
tions, all  familiarity  with  the  person,  all  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  weakness  of  the  other  sex,  is  expli- 
citly forbidden  ;  as  is  all  neglect,  oppression,  and  un- 
kindness   towards   his  wife,   if  he  be   married. — 
What  a  horrid  unseemliness  is  it  on  the  part  of  a 
husband,  to  become  either  the  slave  or  the  tyrant  of 
his  wife;  either  in  pitiful  weakness  to  abdicate  the 
throne  of  domestic  government,  or  to  make  her  a 
crouching  vassal,  trembling  in  its  shadow ;  and  how 
disgusting  a  spectacle  is  it  to  see  a  husband  aban- 
doning the  society  of  his  wife  for  the  company  of 
other  females,  and  flirting,  though,  perhaps,  with  no 
criminal  intention,  with  either  single  or  married 
women.     On  the  other  hand,  how  unseemly  in  mar- 
ried women,  is  a  bold  obtrusiveness  of  manner,  an 
impudent  forwardness  of  address,  a  clamorous  and 
monopolizing  train  of  conversation,  an  evident  at- 
tempt to  attract  the  attention  of  the  other  sex.    Mo- 
desty is  the  brightest  ornament  of  the  female  cha- 


racter— its  very  becomingness.  And  women  if  mar- 
ried, should  be  stayers  at  home,  and  not  gos.-i[  s 
abroad;  should  look  well  to  the  ways  of  their  house- 
hold, and  preside  over  its  affairs  in  the  meekness  of 
wisdom;  lor  domestic  indolence  and  neglect  is,  in  a 
wife  and  mother,  most  unseemly:  nor  is  it  less  of- 
fensive to  see  the  female  head  01  a  family  usurping 
the  seat  of  government,  and  reducing  her  husband 
to  the  rank  of  mere  prime  minister  to  the  queen. — 
Women  never  act  more  unseemly  than  when  they 
become  busy  meddling  partiz.ms,  either  in  politics 
or  church  affairs.  Nothing  can  be  more  offensive 
than  to  see  a  female  busy-body  running  from  house 
to  house  to  raise  a  party,  and  to  influence  an  eccle- 
siastical decision  ;  forgetting  that  her  place  is  home, 
and  her  duty  to  learn  in  silence  of  her  husband. — 
Whatever  admiration  has  been  bestowed  on  the  he- 
roic females  of  Sparta,  who  fought  by  the  side  of 
their  husbands,  no  such  eulogy  can  be  offered  to 
ecclesiastical  heroines,  whose  martial  ardor  leads 
them  into  the  arena  of  church  contentions.  Chris- 
tian charity  would  repress  all  this  unmeet,  indeco- 
rous zeal. 

Parents  and  guardians  will  be  guarded  by  love, 
if  they  yield  to  its  influence,  from  all  unbecoming 
conduct.  Fathers  will  neither  be  tyrannical  nor  too 
indulgent;  will  neither  govern  their  children  as 
slaves,  with  a  rod  of  iron, nor,  relaxingall  discipline, 
throw  the  reins  into  their  hands:  for  how  incongru- 
ous is  tyranny  with  a  relation  that  implies  the  ten- 
derest  affection ;  and  how  unseemly  is  a  cessation 
of  rule  in  one  who  is  invested  by  heaven  with  a  sa- 
cred authority.  Becomingness  on  the  part  of  chil- 
dren, requires  the  most  prompt  and  willing  obedi- 
ence, the  most  genuine  and  manifest  affection,  the 
most  respectfuf  and  humble  demeanor,  towards  pa- 
rents, with  the  most  anxious,  and  ingenuous  endea- 
vors to  promote  their  happiness.  Every  thing  ap- 
proaching to  improper  familiarity,  much  more  to 
rertness,  most  of  all  to  refractoriness  of  manner,  in 
a  child  towards  a  parent,  is  unbecoming  in  the  last 
degree.  In  those  cases  where  the  high  moral  and 
intellectual  qualities  of  parents  are  such  as  almost 
to  command  the  exercise  of  filial  piety  from  chil- 
dren, there  is  no  difficulty  in  rendering  it ;  but  where 
these  qualities  are  not  possessed,  there  is  greater 
danger  of  young  persons  forgetting  what  is  due  to 
the  parental  relation,  and  acting  very  improperly  to- 
wards those  who,  whatever  may  be  their  faults  are 
still  their  parents.  It  is  excessively  unbecoming  to 
hear  children  of  any  age,  however  matured  or  ad- 
vanced, exposing,  perhaps  ridiculing,  their  parents' 
infirmities,  treating  their  opinions  with  scorn,  and 
reproving  or  upbraiding  them  to  their  face.  Let  all 
young  people  recollect,  that  whatever  may  be  the 
character  of  a  parent, 

"A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 
The  holiest  thing  alive." 

In  the  distinction  of  superiors  and  inferiors,  it  is 
very  easy  to  see  what  kind  of  conduct  is  seemly,  and 
what  is  unsuitable.  To  the  former  it  will  prohibit 
all  improper  familiarity;  for  this  generates  con- 
tempt, and  at  the  same  time,  all  pride  and  hauteur, 
together  with  all  insulting  condescension.  Inferiors 
are  most  tenderly  alive,  most  keenly  susceptible,  to 
all  real  or  supposed  slights  from  those  above  them; 
and  the  feelings  excited  by  such  treatment  are  of 
the  most  painful  kind.  Pride  is  the  most  cruel  of 
the  passions,  being  utterly  reckless  of  the  wounds 
which  it  inflicts,  the  groans  which  it  extorts,  or  the 
tears  which  it  causes  to  flow.  Even  in  its  mildest 
exercise,  by  a  look  of  scorn,  by  a  word  of  insult,  it 
often  transfixes  a  barbed  arrow  in  the  breast  of  an 
inferior;  while,  by  its  deliberate  and  persevering 
scheme  of  mortification,  it  remorselessly  crucifies 


30 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


the  object  of  its  contempt.  O  how  unbecoming  to 
employ  superiority  only  as  an  eminence  from 
whence,  as,  with  a  sort  of  vulture  ferocity,  we  might 
pounce  with  greater  force  on  a  victim  below.  Dig- 
nified affability  is  the  becomingness  of  superiority, 
which,  while  it  does  not  remove  the  line  of  distinc- 
tion, does  not  render  it  painfully  visible.  Love  will 
make  w  cautious  not  to  wound  the  feelings  of  others 
by  talking  to  them  of  our  superiority,  or  by  making 
them  in  any  way  feel  it.  On  the  part  of  inferiors,  it 
will  prevent  all  encroaching  familiarity,  all  presum- 
ing upon  manifested  kindness,  all  attempt,  or  even 
wish,  to  level  the  distinctions  of  society,  all  rude, 
uncourteous,  uncivil  demeanor.  Some  persons  seem 
to  act  as  if  religion  removed  the  obligations  to  civil- 
ity, declared  war  with  courtesy,  and  involved  a 
man  in  hostility  with  whatever  things  are  lovely. — 
Incivility  or  rudeness,  manifested  by  the  poor  to  the 
rich,  by  servants  to  masters,  or  by  the  illiterate  to 
the  weil-informed,  is  unfriendly  to  the  peace  and 
I  order  of  society,  and,  therefore,  contrary  to 
Christian  charily. 

Age  and  youth  are  also  distinctions  requiring  a 
suitable  or  becoming  line  of  conduct.  Levity,  pue- 
rility, and  folly,  are  among  the  qualities  which 
would  be  indecorous  in  the  former;  while  obtrusive- 
Bess,  forwardness,  loquaciousness,  and  pertinacity, 
would  be  unseemly  in  the  lalter:  age,  to  be  lovely, 
should  treat  youth  with  kindness  and  forbearance; 
while  youth  should  treat  age  with  reverence,  re- 
spect, and  deference. 

These  distinctions,  when  carried  into  the  church, 
where  they  exist  as  well  as  in  the  world,  should  be 
maintained  under  the  most  powerful  influence  of 
the  holy  disposition  which  we  are  now  illustrating. 
This  will  teach  us  with  all  candor  and  impartiality 
to  judge  of  our  station,  and  to  adorn  it  with  actions 
that  are  suitable  to  it.  Any  thing  unbecoming  is 
sure  to  give  offence,  and  to  produce  discomfort. — 
Whether  our  rank  be  high  or  low,  we  cannot  vio- 
late the  rule  which  prescribes  its  duties  without  oc- 
casioning pain. 

Men  are  united  in  society  like  the  organs  and 
limbs  in  the  human  body;  and  no  one,  in  either 
case,  can  be  put  out  of  its  place  without  producing 
uneasiness  in  the  rest.  The  object  of  love  is  to  keep 
all  in  their  proper  places,  and  thus  to  promote  the 
well-being  of  the  whole. 

There  is  another  sense  which  this  expression  will 
bear,  and  that  is,  love  does  not  allow  its  possessor  to 
act  unworthy  of  his  profession  as  a  disciple  of  Christ. 
Consistency  is  beauty ;  and  the  want  of  which,  what- 
ever excellences  may  exist,  is  deformity.  The 
brightest  displays  of  moral  worth  in  some  things,  is 
associated  with  obvious  and  great  improprieties  in 
others,  lose  all  their  attraction  and  power  to  edify  or 
delight,  and  are  the  occasion  of  pain  instead  of  plea- 
Mi,  e  to  the  spectator.  The  rule  which  the  apostle  has 
laid  down  is  particularly  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
US  all  :  "  Whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever 
things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and 
if  there  be  any  praise,  think  of  these  things."  It  is 
not  enough  for  us  to  acknowledge,  practically,  the 
claims  of  truth,  purity,  and  justice;  but  we  must 
also  meet  and  answer  every  expectation  which  our 
profession  and  our  principles  have  raised.  What- 
ever is  generally  esteemed  to  be  lovely — whatever 
is  usually  spoken  of  as  excellent — whatever  it  be  to 
which  by  general  consent,  we  attach  the  idea  of  the 
fair,  and  the  honorable,  and  the  praiseworthy— that 
must  a  follower  of  Christ  consider  to  be  the  matter 
of  his  duty.  There  is  nothing  good  in  itself,  or  ad- 
vantageous to  others— nothing  that  is  calculated  to 
edify  by  the  power  of  example,  or  to  bless  in  the 
way  of  direct  energy  and  influence— nothing  that  is 
calculated  to  give  pleasure,  or  to  remove  distress; 
but  what  is  implied  in  the  very  nature  of  t:ue  piety. 


Religion  is  the  likeness  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man 
ami  a  C In  i  tian  is  truly  an  imitator  of  God  :  hence 
he  is  called  "  to  walk  worthy  of  God," — to  act  as 
becometh  one  who  professes  to  bear  the  divine  im- 
age. Let  any  one  contemplate  the  moral  attributes 
of  the  Deity,  and  think  what  that  man  ought  to  be 
who  professes  to  give  to  the  world  a  living  minia- 
(ure  repret  entation  of  this  infinitely  glorious  Being. 
On  the  ground  of  consistency,  he  should  be  blame- 
less and  ha  unless  ;  a  follower  only  of  that  which  is 
good  ;  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation  and  god- 
liness; a  beautiful  specimen  of  whatsoever  is  noble, 
dignified,  generous,  and  useful.  The  world  take  us 
at  our  woid;  they  accept  our  profession  as  the  rule 
of  their  expectation;  and  although  they  often  look 
for  too  much,  considering  the  present  imperfect  state 
of  human  nature,  yet,  to  a  certain  extent,  their  de- 
mands are  authorized  by  our  own  declarations. — 
What,  in  reason,  may  not  be  looked  for  from  one 
who  professes  to  have  received  the  word  of  Christ, 
the  temper  of  heaven,  the  impress  of  eternity,  the 
nature  of  God  1  Hence,  the  least  deviations  from 
rectitude  are  apparent  in  those  who  say  such  things; 
the  least  specks  of  imperfection  are  conspicuous  on 
so  bright  a  ground ;  faults  stand  out  in  bold  relief 
and  obtrusive  prominence,  on  such  a  basement. — 
Our  profession  invites  the  eye  of  scrutiny:  we  are 
not  suffered  to  pass  the  ordeal  of  public  opinion 
without  the  most  rigid  scrutiny;  we  are  brought 
out  from  obscurity,  and  held  up  to  be  examined  in 
the  light  of  the  sun.  Failings,  which  would  escape 
detection  in  others,  are  quickly  discerned  and  loud- 
ly proclaimed  in  us:  and  it  is,  therefore,  of  immense 
consequence  that  we  should  take  care  what  manner 
of  persons  we  are.  Without  consistency,  even  our 
e;ood  wiil  be  evil  spoken  of:  the  least  violation  of 
this  rule  will  attach  suspicion  to  the  most  distin- 
guished virtues,  and  bring  discredit  on  the  best  of 
our  actions. 

A  want  of  consistency  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of 
love  in  various  ways.  By  exciting  a  prejudice 
against  religion,  it  does  harm  to  the  souls  of  men:  it 
makes  them  satisfied  with  their  state  as  unconvert- 
ed persons,  by  leading  them  to  consider  every  pro- 
fessor of  a  more  serious  regard  to  religion,  as  a  hy- 
pocrite. It  is  very  true  that  this  is  unfair;  that  it 
is  attending  more  to  exceptions  than  the  general 
rule;  that  it  is  giving  credence  to  little  things,  and 
suffering  them  to  have  an  influence  which  are  de- 
nied to  the  greater  and  more  prevailing  parts  of 
their  character :  but  as  this  is  their  way,  it  makes 
every  departure  from  consistency  on  our  part,  not 
only  sinful   but    injurious — not  only  guilty  in  the 

i  "lit  of  God,  but  cruel  towards  man.  The  minor 
faults  of  Christians  do  more  harm,  in  the  way  of 
hardening  the  hearts  of  sinners,  than  the  greatest 
excesses  of  the  openly  wicked  ;  for  this  reason,  that 
nothing  else  is  expected  from  the  latter.  Their  con- 
duct excites  no  surprise,  produces  no  disappoint 
ment.  We  have  not  been  sufficiently  au<are  of  this, 
we  have  confined  our  attention  too  exclusively  to  the 
avoidance  of  open  immorality—  we  have  not  direct- 
ed our  solicitude  enough  to  "  the  whatsoever  things 
are  lovely  and  of  good  report."  To  the  question, 
"  What  do  ye  more  than  others  V  we  have  thought 
it  enough  to  answer,  "  We  are  more  pure,  more 
true,  more  devotional,  more  zealous,"  without  being 
careful  to  be  more  dignified,  more  honorable,  more 
generous,  in  all  things.  Little  things  have  been 
forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  great  ones:  secret 
faults  have  been  lost  sight  of  in  the  abhorrence  of 
presumptuous  sins. 

A  want  of  becomingness  is  a  violation  of  the  law 
of  love  in  another  way  :  it  excites  a  prejudice  against 
our  brethren,  and  involves  them  in  our  failings. — 
By  such  conduct  we  bring  suspicion  upon  others, 
and  thus  subject  them  to  much  undeserved  obloquy. 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


31 


The  world  deals  unfairly  with  us  we  admit,  not  only 
in  making  us  thus  answerable  for  the  conduct  oi 
each  other,  but  also  in  imputing  only  our  failings ; 
for  however  splendid  and  remarkable  may  be  the 
Christian  excellences  that  any  of  our  number  pos- 
sess, however  brilliant  the  example  oi  a  rare  and 
eminent  believer  may  be,  they  do  not  let  his  bright- 
ness fall  upon  the  rest — he  is  alone  in  bis  glory,  but 
sins  are  generally  made  imputable,  and  the  shadow 
of  one  transgression  is  made  to  itretch,  perhaps, 
over  a  whole  community.  What  an  argument  is 
this  with  us  all  for  consistency ;  for  what  cruelty  is 
it  to  our  brethren  to  involve  them  by  our  inconsist- 
encies in  unmerited  reproach! 

Besides,  what  a  grief  of  mind  is  the  unwort&iness 
of  one  member,  to  all  wh*  are  associated  with  him  in 
the  fellowship  cf  the  gospel.  When  a  member  of  a 
church  has  acted  unbecomingly,  and  caused  the 
wavs  of  gpdliness  to  he  spoken  ill  of,  what  a  wound 
has  bee* inflicted  on  the  body;  for  if  one  member 

suffer  "i  his  reputation,  all  the  rest  must,  so  far  as 
iln'i.  peat  b  is  concerned,  suffer  with  him.  This  is 
one  of  .'ne  finest  displays  of  Christian  sympathy — 
one  oi  the  purest  exhibitions  of  love, — of  love  to 
God,  to  Christ,  to  man,  to  holiness.  Ti.e  miscon- 
duct of  their  erring  brother  has  occasioned  no  loss 
to  them  of  worldly  substance,  or  bodily  ease,  or  so- 
cial comfort;  but  it  has  dishonored  Christ,  has  in- 
jured, in  public  estimation,  the  run,.'  of  religion, 
and  this  has  touched  thetenderest  chord  of  the  re- 
newed heart.  What  affliction  has  sometimes  been 
circulated  through  a  whole  society  by  the  unbecom- 
ing behavior  of  a  single  member :  the  apostle  has 
given  a  very  striking  proof  of  this,  in  his  represent- 
■  i  i  ii.'  feelings  of  the  Corinthian  Church,  alter 
they  had  taken  a  right  view  of  the  delinquency  of 
the  incestuous  person.  "  For  behold  this  self-same 
thing,  that  ye  sorrowed  after  a  godly  sort,  what 
carefulness  it  wrought  in  you,  yea,  what  clearing 
of  yourselves,  yea,  what  fervent  indignation,  yea, 
what  fear,  yea,  what  vehement  desire,  yea,  what 
zeal,  yea,  what  revenge!"  This  is  only  a  counter- 
part of  a  hat  often  happens  now,  and  shows  that  un- 
becomingness  is  a  most  flagrant  offence  against  the 
rule  of  <  Ihristian  love. 

TJnbecomingness  may  be  considered  also  not  only 
in  a  general  point  of  view,  but  as  Inn-inn  a  refer- 
ence to  our  conduct  towards  our  bretiirk.n,  and  may 
mean  any  thing  unsuitable  to,  or  out  of  character 
with,  our  profession  as  church  members. 

Improper  treatment  of  the  Pastor,  is  obviously  a 
want  of  the  decorum  of  love.  If  his  oliiec  be  dises- 
I.  and  his  Scriptural  authority  resisted;  if 
attempts  be  made  to  lower  him  in  the  opinion  of  the 
church,  and  to  deprive  him  of  the  rule  with  which 
he  is  invested  by  the  I  iord  Jesus  ( Ihrisl ;  if  his  opi- 
nion is  treated  with  disrespect,  and  his  just,  influ- 
ence over  the  feelings  of  his  flock  be  undermined; 
if  he  be  rudely  and  impertinently  addressed;  if  he 
be  unnecessarily  opposed  in  his  schemes  for  public 
or  private  usefulness;  if  his  sermons  be  despised  or 
neglected,  and  his  ecclesiastical  administration 
treated  with  suspicion  or  contempt ;  if  his  temporal 
support  be  scantily  or  grudgingly  afforded;  if  his 
comfort  be  not  carefully  consulted  and  assiduon  ly 
built  up:  there  is  a  flagrant  unbecomingness  on  the 
pari  of  church  members  who  are  enjoined  "  to  obey 
them  that  have  the  rule  over  them,"  "to  esteem 
Ihem  very  highly  in  love  for  their  works'  sake," 
"  and  to  b  ild  ;uch  in  reputation." 

I,u  i ,.,'  power  grnd  an  ambitious  desire  of  prepon 
dcrali a  •  mfl/uena ,  i  i  manife  itly  unbecoming  in  one 
who  acknowledges  himself  the  member  of  a  society 
where  all  are  equals,  and  all  are  the  servant  ;  of  B 
master  who  has  thus  addressed  his  disciples — "  Ye 
know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  do- 
minion over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exercise 


authority  upon  them;  but  it  shall  not  be  so  among 
you;  but  whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister;  and  whosoever  will  be  chief 
anion/  you,  let  him  be  your  servant.  Even  as  the 
Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  t^ 
minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 
A  love  of  power  3eems  almost  inherent  in  the  hu 
man  bosom,  and  is  an  operation  of  that  selfishness 
which  enters  so  deeply  into  the  essence  of  original 
sin.  Nothing  can  be  more  opposed  to  love  than  this. 
Ambition,  in  its  progress  through  its  bustling  and 
violent  career,  is  the  most  unsocial  and  uncharita- 
ble passion  that  can  exist.  The  furies  are  its  allies, 
and  it  tramples  down  in  its  course  all  the  chanties 
and  courtesies  of  life.  When  this  disposition  has 
taken  full  possession  of  the  heart,  there  is  no  cruelty 
which  it  will  hesitate  to  inflict,  no  desolation  of 
which  it  will  scruple  to  be  the  cause.  The  lesser 
exhibitions  of  this  vice,  and  its  more  moderated  en- 
ergies, will  still  be  attended  with  some  proofs  of  its 
mi,  iocial  nature.  Let  a  man  once  desire  to  be  pre- 
eminent and  predominant,  as  it  respects  influence 
or  power,  and  he  will  not  be  very  regardless  of  the 
feelings  of  those  whom  he  desires  to  subjugate.  It 
is  much  to  be  deplored,  that  the  Christian  church 
should  ever  be  the  held  where  rival  candidates  for 
power,  struggle  for  superiority;  yet  how  often  has 
this  been  seen  to  be  the  case,  not  merely  in  the  con- 
clave where  aspiring  cardinals  have  put  in  motion 
all  their  artifice,  and  finesse,  and  duplicity,  to  gain 
the  tiara;  not  merely  amongst  mitred  prelates  for 
a  higher  seat  on  the  episcopal  bench; — no;  but 
amongst  the  lay  brethren  of  the  church.  How 
anxious  and  restless  have  they  sometimes  appeared, 
to  be  leading  men,  influential  members,  the  oracle 
of  the  minister,  and  I  he  ruling  elders  of  the  church. 
They  must  not  only  be  consulted  in  every  thing,  but 
consulted  first.  Every  plan  must  emanate  from 
them,  or  else  be  approved  by  them  before  it  is  sub- 
mitted to  the  rest.  The  apostle  has  drawn  their 
picture  to  the  life,  where  he  saith — "  I  wrote  unto 
the  church;  but  I  Hot  reph.es,  who  loveth  to  have 
the  pre-eminence  anion:'  them,  receivelh  us  not. — 
Wherefore,  if  I  come,'  I  wil  remember  his  deeds 
which  he  doeth,  prating  against  us  with  malicious 
words;  and  not  content  therewith,  neither  doth  he 
himself  receive  the  brethren,  and  forbiddeth  thou 
that  would,  and  casteth  them  out  of  the  church."*— 
Such  an  individual  must  be  a  source  of  discomfort 
to  his  brethren  in  communion.  There  may  be  no 
competitor  with  him  for  the  sceptre  who  regards 
him  with  envy,  but  the  whole  community  are  griev- 
ed and  offended  with  his  unlovely  and  encroaching 
disposition. 

There  are  cases,  it  is  admitted,  in  which  age,  ex- 
perience, wisdom,  benevolence,  and  activity,  are  so 
beautifully  combined  in  an  individual,  as  to  place 
him,  more  by  general  consent,  than  by  his  own 
efforts,  above  all  his  brethren  in  influence.  When 
he  openeth  bis  mouth  in  wisdom,  all  are  silent ;  and 
the  pastor  hearkens  with  the  rest  in  respectful  de- 
ference to  his  opinion.  No  one  would  think'  of  pro- 
posit)'-;  any  scheme  till  he  had  been  consulted,  and 
his  disapproval,  mildly  expressed,  would  be  thought 
a  sufficient  reason  for  laying  it  aside.  lie  has 
power,  but  it  has  come  to  him  without  his  seeking 

it,  and  it  is  employed  not  to  exalt  himself,  but  to 
benefit  the  church.     T lis  sway  is  the  influence  of 

love;    and    all  that   influence  is  employed  by  him, 
not  to  raise'  himself  into  a  rival  with   his  pastor  for 

*  '.1  John  9, 10.— It  is  pretty  evident  to  me  that  Dio- 
trephes  was  a  minister ;  but  the  features  of  his  pic- 
ture apply  with  equal  force  to  an  ambitious  and  as- 
piring layman,  whose  lust  of  power  is  still  more 
censurable,  as  it  has  not  even  the  basis  of  office  to 
rest  upon. 


32 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


the  upper  seal  in  the  church,  but  to  support  the  au- 
thority and  dignity  of  the  pastoral  office.  Such  men 
•we  have  sometimes  seen  in  our  communities,  and 
they  have  been  a  blessing  to  the  people,  and  a  com- 
fort to  the  minister.  If  any  individuals  could  have 
been  found  in  the  circle  where  they  moved,  so  flip- 
pant and  so  forward  as  to  treat  them  with  the  least 
degree  of  disrespect,  every  one  besides  would  have 
been  loud  in  the  expression  of  their  disapprobation 
of  such  an  act  of  censurable  indecorum. 

Unseemliness  in  the  conduct  of  a  church  member 
towards  his  brethren,  applies  to  all  that  is  rude,  un- 
mannerly, or  uncivil.  "  No  ill-bred  man,"  says  Dr. 
Adam  Clarke,  in  his  comments  on  this  word,  "  or 
what  is  commonly  termed  rude  or  unmannerly,  is  a 
Christian" — certainly  not  a  consistent  one.  "  A 
man  may  have  a  natural  bluntness,  or  be  a  clown, 
and  yet  there  may  be  nothing  boorish,  or  hoggish  in 
his  manner.  I  must  apologize  for  using  such  words, 
but  they  best  express  the  evil  against  which  I  wish 
both  powerfully  and  successfully  to  declaim.  I 
never  wish  to  meet  with  those  who  affect  to  be  called 
'  blunt  honest  men  ;'  who  feel  themselves  above  all 
the  forms  of  civility  and  respect,  and  care  not  how 
many  they  put  to  pain — how  many  they  displease. 
But  let  me  not  be  misunderstood  :  I  do  not  contend 
for  ridiculous  ceremonies,  and  hollow  compliments: 
there  is  surely  a  medium ;  and  a  sensible  Christian 
man  will  not  be  long  at  a  loss  to  find  it  out.  Even 
that  people  who  profess  to  be  above  all  worldly 
forms,  and  are  generally  stiff  enough,  yet  are  rarely 
found  to  be  rude,  uncivil,  or  ill-bred."  There  is 
much  good  sense  in  these  remarks,  that  deserves 
the  attention  of  all  professing  Christians  who  have 
the  credit  of  religion  and  the  comfort  of  their  bre- 
thren at  heart.  It  is  inconceivable  what  a  great  de- 
gree of  unnecessary  distress  is  occasioned  by  a  dis- 
regard of  this  rule  ;  and  how  many  hearts  are  con- 
tinually bleeding,  from  the  wounds  inflicted  by  in- 
civility and  rudeness.  We  should  be  careful  to 
avoid  this ;  for  religion  gives  no  man  a  release  from 
the  courtesies  of  life.  In  our  private  intercourse 
with  our  brethren,  we  should  be  anxious  to  give  no 
offence.  If  we  feel  it  our  duty  at  any  time,  as  we 
may,  and  ought  to  expostulate  with  a  brother  on 
the  impropriety  of  his  conduct,  we  should  be  most 
studiously  cautious  to  abstain  from  all  appearance 
of  what  is  impertinently  officious,  or  offensively 
blunt.  Reproof,  or  even  expostulation,  is  rarely 
palatable,  even  when  administered  with  the  honied 
sweetness  of  Christian  kindness ;  but  it  is  worm- 
wood and  gall  when  mingled  up  with  uncourteous- 
ness,  and  will  generally  be  rejected  with  disdain  and 
disgust.  We  must  never  think  of  acting  the  part 
of  a  reprover,  till  we  have  put  on  humility  as  a  gar- 
ment, and  taken  up  the  law  of  kindness  in  our  lips. 
Nothing  is  more  likely  to  lead  to  incivility,  than 
repeated  and  vexatious  interruptions,  when  engaged 
in  some  interesting  or  important  business,  or  requir- 
ed to  comply  with  unreasonable  requests.  I  have 
known  cases  in  which,  when  application  has  been 
made  for  what  the  applicant  thought  to  be  a  very 
reasonable  matter,  his  request  has  been  treated  with 
such  scorn,  and  denied  with  such  abruptness  and 
coarseness  of  manner,  as  to  send  him  home  with  an 
arrow  in  his  heart ;  when  a  few  moments  spent  in 
explanation,  or  a  denial  given  in  kind  and  respect- 
ful language,  would  have  completely  satisfied  him. 
It  is  admitted  that  it  is  somewhat  trying,  and  it  is  a 
trial  of  very  common  occurrence  in  the  present 
day,  to  be  called  from  important  occupations  to  lis- 
ten to  lales  of  woe,  or  read  the  statement  of  want,  or 
answer  the  inquiries  of  ignorance  :  but  still  we  must 
not  be,  ought  not  to  be,  rude.  Sudden  interruptions 
are  apt  to  throw  a  man  off  his  guard  :  he  has  scarce- 
ly time  to  call  into  exercise  his  principles,  before 
his  passions  are  up  and  busy.    It  is  said  of  Mr.  Ro- 


maine,  that  he  was  one  day  called  upon  by  a  poor 
woman  in  distress  of  soul,  for  the  purpose  of  gain- 
ing instruction  and  consolation.  The  good  man 
was  busy  in  his  study;  and  on  being  informed  that 
a  poor  woman  wanted  to  converse  with  him  below, 
exclaimed,  with  great  incivility  of  manner,  "  Tell 
her  I  cannot  attend  to  her."  The  humble  applicant, 
who  was  within  hearing  of  the  reception  her  case 
had  met  with,  said,  "  An,  Sir  !  your  master  would 
not  have  treated  thus  a  burdened  penitent  who  came 
to  him  for  mercy."  "No,  no,"  replied  the  good 
man,  softened  by  an  appeal  which  his  heart  could 
not  resist,  "he  would  not-,  come  in,  come  in  !" — 
Toe,  too  often  has  the  same  petulant  indecorum 
been  manifested  by  others,  without  being  accom- 
panied by  the  same  reparation :  they  have  pierced 
the  heart  and  left  the  wound  to  fester :  the  petition- 
ers have  carried  away  from  their  door  their  misery, 
not  only  unrelieved  but  greatly  aggravated.  But 
there  is  a  peculiar  sensitiveness  on  the  subject  of 
pecuniary  contributions  in  some  persons ;  to  ask  for 
them  is  an  offence,  which  they  pay  back  in  insult.* 
They  are  the  Nabals  of  the  church — if,  iruVed,  the 
church  could  have  a  Nabal.  What  can  be  more 
unseemly  than  words  which  would  disgrace  a  man, 
dropping, — dropping  !  no  flowing  in  a  stream,— 
from  the  lips  of  a  professing  Christian. 

Unbecoming  rudeness  should  be  most  sedulously 
avoided  in  our  public  intercourse  with  the  church, 
and  in  our  social  circles,  when  meeting  as  brethren. 
Every  thing  of  flat  contradiction,  of  unwarrantable 
suspicion  concerning  the  truth  of  a  statement ;  all 
seeming  contempt  for  the  opinion  of  others  ;  all  at- 
tempts to  interrupt  or  bear  down,  by  clamor  and 
vehemence,  those  with  whom  we  may  be  engaged 
in  discussion,  should  be  very  anxiously  abstained 
from.  It  is  truly  painful  to  observe  what  an  utter 
disregard  for  the  feelings  of  their  brethren  is  often 
manifested  by  some  ardent  sticklers  for  their  own 
opinions  and  plans.  But  is  not  civility  a  Christian 
grace  1  Did  not  the  apostle  say,  Be  courteous  1 — 
Why  should  that  which  is  considered  by  the  world 
as  a  rich  decoration  of  character,  as  softening  and 
embellishing  the  intercourse  of  society,  and  as  so 


*  I  must  here  specify  the  applications  which  are 
so  frequent  in  the  present  day  for  the  support  of 
churches  and  public  institutions.  I  am  aware  that 
the  bells  and  knockers  of  some  persons'  doors  are 
rarely  silent  long  together,  or  their  parlors  and 
counting-houses  rarely  free  from  "  beggars"  a  sin- 
gle hour  of  any  day  :  I  am  also  aware  how  trying 
it  is  to  be  called  away  from  occupations  of  import- 
ance to  attend  to  such  cases  ;  but  even  this  does  not 
justify  a  man  for  going  into  a  passion  at  the  sight 
of  a  red  book  and  a  black  coat,  and  almost  ordering 
the  bearer  off  the  premises  as  an  impostor  or  va- 
grant. Let  such  persons  ask,  whether  it  is  not 
misery  enough  to  pace  the  streets  of  a  city  or  large 
town,  and  at  the  end  of  a  long  day's  weary  pilgrim- 
age, have  to  count  up  far  more  "  negatives"  than 
pounds'?  I  have  never  known  by  experience,  but  I 
have  heard  by  reports,  the  sorrows  of  beggars  ;  and 
from  regard  to  common  humanity,  as  well  as  from 
a  wish  to  save  the  ministerial  character  from  degra- 
dation, I  do  most  ardently  desire  some  scheme,  in 
place  of  the  present  mode  of  raising  money  from 
rich  Christians,  to  help  the  necessities  of  their  poor- 
er brethren.  But  till  that  scheme  shall  be  devised — 
and  I  am  afraid  the  time  is  far  distant  which  shall 
produce  it, — let  me  plead  for  civility  towards  those 
who  are  still  doomed  to  bear  the  yoke  of  bondage, 
"  Forasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  brethren  ye  did  it  unto  me."  So  says 
Christ  of  his  brethren,  and  says  it  in  reference  both 
to  benefits  and  neglects.  When  popular  men  travel 
from  place  to  place,  many  houses  are  open  to  re- 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


33 


important  and  necessary  as  to  be  placed  under  the 
guardianship  of  what  is  called  the  law  of  honor,  and 
to  be  avenged,  for  the  slightest  viols'ion  of  it,  by  the 
punishment  of  death  ;— why  shou.'d  this  ever  be  con- 
sidered as  of  little  moment  in  'he  business  of  reli- 
gion and  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful  1  U  rudeness 
be  considered  as  a  blemish  upon  talents,  rank,  lame, 
must  it  not  be  viewed  s&o  as  a  blot  and  delormity 
upon  piety  1  Most  certainly  it  is  regarded  as  such 
by  charity,  whose  anxiety  to  do  whatever  would 
give  pleasure,  an*  to  avoid  whatever  would  occa- 
sion distress,  is  aot  greater  than  its  delicate  percep- 
tion of  every  thing  That  will  contribute  to  this  end. 

We  see  ir'  'his  subject  the  wonderful  excellence 
of  Christen ity,  as  a  code  of  morals,  a  rule  of  con- 
duct ard  a  body  of  principles;  for  in  addition  to 
speckc  laws,  intended  to  operate  in  the  production 
of  certain  virtues,  and  the  prevention  of  certain 
voes,  it  has  general  and  comprehensive  precepts, 
japable  of  universal  application,  of  so  plain  a  na- 
ture as  to  be  understood  by  the  dullest  intellect,  and 
possessing,  at  the  same  time,  a  kind  of  beauty, 
which  gives  them  an  interest  in  every  heart;  so 
that  if  in  the  specialities  of  Christian  morals,  pro- 
perly so  called,  any  case  should  be  overlooked,  or 
any  situation  should  not  be  reached — any  distinction 
between  virtue  and  vice  should  be  so  minute  as  to 
be  imperceptible — any  delicacy  of  character  so  re- 
fined as  not  to  be  taken  into  the  account — here  is 
something  to  supply  the  defect,  and  render  the  law 
of  God  perfect  for  converting  the  soul.  Love  does 
not  act.  unbecomingly ;  and  who  is  so  ignorant,  if 
he  would  but  consult  his  conscience,  as  not  to  know 
what  would  be  thought  by  others  unbecoming  in 
himself? 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    DISINTERESTEDNESS    OP    LOVE. 

"  Charity  seekelk  not  her  own." 

If  it  were  required  to  give  a  brief  and  summary 
description  of  man's  original  apostacy,  we  might 


ceive  them — many  tables  spread  to  entertain  them. 
They  meet  with  no  rudeness,  no  unkindness.  But 
this  is  for  their  own  sakes.  Our  regard  for  Christ 
is  proved  by  our  conduct  to  the  least,  not  to  the  great- 
est, of  his  brethren.  And  are  the  great  ministers 
free  from  all  blame  in  reference  to  their  conduct  to- 
wards their  humble  brethren  1  They  are  glad  to 
entertain  the  popular  favorites  of  the  day — the  men 
of  name  or  talents ;  but  how  do  they  behave  to  the 

"Multi  prseterea  quos  famaobscura  recondif?" 

Do  they  not  order  these  to  be  sent  away  from  their 
•loor  without  an  audience,  or  keep  them  long  wait- 
ing for  an  interview,  and  then  dismiss  the  good  man, 
sorrowfully  exclaiming,  "  Am  I  not  thy  brother!" 
Whilst  we  cheerfully  accord  the  sentiments  ex- 
pressed in  the  above  note,  we  still  think  there  is 
need  for  the  exercise  of  Christian  Charity  on  the 
part  of  those,  who  make  applications  for  aid.  For- 
getting that  the  benevolent  are  frequently  called 
upon,  and  that  they  have  a  right  to  regulate  their 
subscriptions  ;  agents  are  strongly  tempted  to  ques- 
tion the  liberality  of,  and  to  impute  wrong  motives 
to  those,  who  do  not  contribute  as  largely  as  was 
anticipated.  Whilst  there  are  causes  justly  claim- 
ing the  aid  of  the  benevolent  in  our  cities;  still 
there  is  a  radical  evil  in  the  custom  so  prevalent  in 
this  day,  of  hastening  to  the  cities  to  build  churches 
in  the  country.  As  a  general  fact  it  will  be  found 
true,  that  communities'  are  able  by  proper  effort 
and  hue  economy  to  provide  suitable  houses  of  wor- 
ship for  themselves. — Am.  Ed. 
Number  4 1 


say,  that  it  was  his  departure  from  God — the  foun- 
tain of  his  happiness,  and  the  end  of  his  existence — 
and  retiring  into  himself  as  the  ultimate  end  of  all 
his  actions :  and  if  it  were  also  asked,  what  is  the 
essence  of  his  sin,  the  sum  of  his  moral  depravity, 
we  might  say,  to  love  himself  supremely,  to  seek 
himself  finally  and  exclusively,  to  make  self,  in 
one  shape  or  another,  the  centre  to  which  all  his 
busy  thoughts,  anxious  cares,  and  diligent  pursuits 
constantly  tend.  Self-love  is  the  most  active  and 
reigning  principle  in  fallen  nature;  self  is  the  great 
idol  which  mankind  are  naturally  disposed  to  wor- 
ship; and  selfishness  the  grand  interest  to  which 
they  are  devotedly  attached.  But  the  grace  of  God, 
when  it  renews  the  heart,  so  corrects  and  subdues 
this  disposition,  that  it  is  no  longer  the  ascendant 
of  the  mind;  and  plants  in  the  human  bosom  the 
principle  of  benevolence — a  principle  which,  as  it 
leads  us  to  love  God  supremely,  and  our  neighbor 
as  ourselves,  is  the  direct  contrary  of  selfishness. 

Believing  that  the  perfection  of  virtue  lies  in  dis- 
interested love,  it  follows,  that  the  nearer  we  ap- 
proach to  this  state  of  mind,  the  nearer  we  come  to 
sinless  moral  excellence.  This  is  the  temper  of  the 
innumerable  company  of  angels — of  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect.  It  has  been  argued,  that 
we  take  delight  in  the  happiness  of  others,  because 
their  happiness  increases  our  own  :  but  the  circum- 
stance of  our  happiness  being  increased  by  pro- 
moting theirs,  is  itself  a  convincing  proof  of  the 
existence  and  exercise  of  an  antecedent  good  will 
towards  them.  Our  felicity  is  raised  by  theirs. 
Why  1 — because  we  love  them.  Why  am  I  made 
unhappy,  by  the  sight  of  another's  woe  1 — because  I 
have  good  will  to  the  subject  of  distress.  It  is  true 
I  am  gratified  by  relieving  him,  and  my  comfort 
would  be  disturbed  if  I  did  not;  but  what  is  the 
origin  of  these  feelings'? — certainly  a  previous  good 
will  towards  them.  It  is  not  affirmed,  that  all  pity 
proceeds  from  holy  love;  but  that  where  love  does 
exist,  and  in  the  proportion  in  which  it  exists,  it  is 
disinterested,  and  is  distinguished  from  selfishness. 
It  may  be  proper  here  to  distinguish  between  self- 
love  and  selfishness ;  not  that  they  are  essentially 
different,  but  only  in  the  use  of  the  terms  as  they 
are  employed  in  common  discourse. 

By  selfishness,  we  mean  such  a  regard  to  our 
own  things,  as  is  inconsistent  with,  and  destructive 
of,  a  right  regard  to  the  things  of  others:  whereas 
by  self-love,  we  mean  nothing  more  than  that  atten- 
tion to  our  own  affairs  which  we  owe  to  ourselves 
as  part  of  universal  being.  Selfishness  means  the 
neglect  or  injury  of  others,  in  order  to  concentrate 
our  views,  and  desires,  and  pursuits  in  ourselves; 
while  self-love  means  only  that  proper  and  due  re- 
gard to  our  own  interests  which  we  may  pay,  with- 
out the  neglect  or  injury  of  our  neighbor. 

Self-love,  when  exercised  in  connection  with,  and 
subordinate  to,  good  will  to  mankind,  as  it  may  be, 
is  not  only  consistent  with  virtue,  but  is  a  part  of  it ; 
but  when  not  thus  connected,  it  degenerates  into 
selfishness. 

Selfishness  leads  men  to  seek  their  own  interests 
in  opposition  to  the  interests  of  others.  Multitudes 
care  not  whom  they  oppress,  so  as  they  can  esta- 
blish their  own  power;  whom  they  vilify  and  de- 
grade, so  as  they  can  increase  their  own  lame; 
whom  they  impoverish,  so  as  they  can  accumulate 
their  own  wealth;  whom  they  distress,  so  as  they 
can  augment  their  own  comforts.  This  is  the 
worst  and  most  cruel  operation  of  selfishness.  It  is 
the  same  propensity,  only  sharpened,  and  guided, 
and  rendered  the  more  mischievous,  by  the  aid  of 
reason,  as  that  which  exists  in  the  vulture  and  the 
tiger,  and  which  gorges  itsell  to  repletion,  deaf  to 
the  piercing  cries  of  the  helpless  victim  which 
struggles  in  its  talons. 


"I 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


Intent  only  on  gratification,  it  riots  amidst  mi- 
sery, if  by  this  means  it  can  aggrandize  itself. 
Looking  on  the  possessions  of  those  around  only 
with  an  envious  eye,  it  is  solicitous  that  they  may 
be  appropiiated  in  some  way  to  itself.  This  is  a 
horrible  and  truly  infernal  disposition;  for  it  would 
reign  with  a  kind  of  universal  despotism,  would 
subdue  all  into  vassalage,  and  suffer  nothing  to  ex- 
ist, but  what  was  tributary  to  its  own  comfort. 

Selfishness  sometimes  causes  its  subjects  only  to 
neglect  the  things  of  others.  They  do  not  oppress, 
or  injure,  or  despoil;  they  are  neither  robbers  nor 
calumniators  ;  but  they  are  so  engrossed  by  self-in- 
terest, and  so  absorbed  in  self-gratification,  as  to  be 
utterly  regardless  of  the  miseries  or  comfort  of 
which  they  cannot  but  be  the  spectators.  They 
have  no  sympathies,  no  benevolent  sensibilities; 
they  have  cut  themselves  off  from  their  species, 
and  care  nothing  for  the  happiness  of  any  of  their 
neighbors.  Their  highest  boast  and  attainment  in 
virme  is,  to  wrong  none:  their  idea  of  excellence 
is  purely  of  a  negative  kind  ;  to  dispel  sorrow,  to 
relieve  want,  to  diffuse  gladness,  especially  to  make 
sacrifices;  to  do  this,  is  an  effort  which  they  have 
never  tried,  and  which  they  have  no  inclination  to 
try.  The  world  might  perish,  if  the  desolation  did 
not  reach  them.  Miserable  and  guilty  creatures, 
they  forget  that  they  will  be  punished  for  not  doing 
good,  as  well  as  for  doing  evil.  The  unprofitable 
servant  was  condemned;  and  the  wicked  are  repre- 
sented, at  the  last  day,  as  doomed  to  hell,  not  for  in- 
flicting sorrow,  but  for  not  relieving  it. 

A  man  is  guilty  of  selfishness,  if  he  seeks  his 
own  things  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  regard  he 
pays  to  the  things  of  others. 

If,  from  a  regard  to  our  reputation,  we  cannot 
live  in  the  total  neglect  of  those  around  us,  and,  in 
deference  either  to  public  opinion,  or  to  the  remon- 
strances of  our  consciences,  we  are  compelled  to 
yield  something  to  the  claims  of  the  public  ;  yet,  at 
the  same  time,  our  concessions  may  be  so  measured 
in  quantity,  and  made  with  such  reluctance  and  ill 
will,  that  our  predominant  selfishness  may  be  as 
clearly  manifested  by  what  we  give,  as  by  what  we 
withhold.  That  which  we  call  our  liberality,  ma- 
nifests, in  this  case,  our  avarice ;  that  which  we 
denominate  generosity,  demonstrates  our  sinful  self- 
love. 

Selfishness  sometimes  seeks  its  own,  under  the 
pretence  and  profession  of  promoting  the  happiness 
of  others.  Where  the  ruling  passion  of  the  heart 
is  the  love  of  applause,  large  sacrifices  of  wealth, 
and  time,  and  ease,  and  feeling,  will  be  readily 
made  for  fame ;  and  where  men  have  objects  to 
gain,  which  require  kindness,  conciliation,  and  at- 
tention, nothing  in  this  way  is  too  much  to  be  done, 
to  accomplish  their  purpose.  This  is  a  disgusting 
operation  of  this  very  disgusting  temper,  when  all 
its  seeming  good  will  is  but  an  efflux  of  kindness, 
which  is  to  flow  back  again,  in  full  tide,  into  the  re- 
ceptacle of  self.  Many  are  the  detestable  traders, 
whose  generosity  is  only  a  barter  for  something  in 
return.  How  much  of  the  seeming  goodness  of 
human  nature,  of  the  sympathy  with  human  woe, 
of  the  pity  for  want,  of  the  anxiety  for  the  comfort 
of  wretchedness,  which  passes  current  for  virtue 
among  mankind,  is  nothing  better  than  a  counterfeit 
imitation  of  benevolence — is  known  only  to  that 
God  whose  omniscient  eye  traces  the  secret  work- 
ings of  our  depravity  through  all  the  labyrinths  of 
a  deceitful  heart. 

But  notice  now  the  siibjects,  in  reference  to  which 
selfishness  is  indulged. 

Property  is  the  first.  It  shows  itself  in  an  anxiety 
to  obtain  wealth,  and  an  unwillingness  to  part  with 
.t ;  a  disposition  greedy  as  the  sea,  and  barren  as 
the  shore.    You  will  see  some  men  so  excessively 


eager  to  get  profit,  that  they  are  ever  watching  to 
take  undue  advantage,  and  so  keen-eyed  in  looking 
after  their  own,  that  they  need  be  closely  inspected, 
to  prevent  them  £r0m  taking  more  than' their  own: 
tor  a  man  who  is  prevailingly  selfish,  can  hardly  be 
honest.  And  what  iney  gain,  they  keep:  neither 
the  cause  of  humanity,  nor  0f  religion,  can  extort 
money  irom  tfiem,  except  now  and  then,  to  get  rid 
of  an  importune  suitor,  01  to  prevent  their  repu- 
tation from  being  utterly  ruint4 

It  is  sometimes  exercised,  m  reference  to  opinion. 
Some  will  not  bear  cowradiclior.-   they  must  be 
listened  to  as  sages  ;  to  question  whVt  they  say  is  to 
insult  them,  and  is  sure  to  bring  do vn  upon  the 
presumptuous  skeptic  their  contempt  or  t^eir  frown. 
They  will  scarcely  allow  any  one  to  s^ak  but 
themselves ;  they  must  be  the  oracle  of  eveVr  com- 
pany and  the  director  of  every  affair,  or  they  Hire 
in  disgust,  and  refuse  to  act  at  all.     In  the  concerns 
of  our  churches,  this  is  often  seen  and  felt.    Whin- 
is  it  but  pure  selfishness,  that  leads  any  one  to  wish 
that  Ac  should  dictate  to  the  rest;   that,  his  opinion 
should  be  law;  and  his  wishes  be  consulted  and 
obeyed1?     This  is  not  love;  no,  love  gives  up  her 
own,  where  conscience  does  not  interfere  to  forbid 
it,  and  meekly  and  quietly  resigns  its  wishes  to  in- 
crease peace  and  promote  harmony :  its  object  is 
the  public  good,  and  its  law  is  the  best  means  of 
promoting  the  general  welfare.     If  in  the  inter- 
course of  life,  or  the  affairs  of  a  church,  every  in- 
dividual determined  to  consult  only  his  own  views 
and  wishes,  society  would  be  dissolved,  and  its  se- 
parate parts  embroiled  in  a  state  of  mutual  conflict. 
In  the  various  discussions  which  come  before  a  pub- 
lic body,  Selfishness  says,  "  I  am  sure  my  opinion  is 
correct;  and  I  will,  if  possible,  have  my  way."  but 
the  language  of  Love  is,  "  I  have  stated  my  opinion 
and  my  wishes  ;  if  the  former  does  not  carry  con- 
viction, I  by  no  means  wish  it  to  be  adopted,  nor 
my  desires  to  be  gratified,  I  am  anxious  for  the 
comfort  of  my  brethren,  and  I  yield  my  wishes  to 
theirs." 

Some  persons  have  acquired  habits  in  their  general 
conduct,  which  are  exceedingly  annoying  to  others; 
they  have  sources  of  personal  gratification,  pecu- 
liarities of  humor,  in  which  it  is  impossible  to  in- 
dulge, without  greatly  incommoding  those  around 
them  :  but  so  detestably  selfish  is  their  disposition, 
at  least  with  regard  to  these  practices,  that  let  who 
will  be  disturbed,  offended,  or  put  to  serious  incon- 
venience, they  will  not  forego,  in  the  least  degree, 
their  accustomed  indulgence.  When  the  unfor- 
tunate sufferers  were  expiring  in  the  Black  Hole  at 
Calcutta,  and  entreated  the  sentinels  to  represent 
their  agonizing  and  fatal  condition  to  the  tyrant 
who  had  imprisoned  them,  the  guards  answered, 
"  No ;  he  is  enjoying  his  repose,  and  it  will  be  cer- 
tain death  to  us  if  we  disturb  him,  even  for  your 
relief."  And  what  better  in  principle,  though  cer- 
tainly a  less  degree  of  its  operation,  is  thatregard 
to  their  appetite,  ease,  or  humor,  which  many  in- 
dulge to  the  annoyance  of  their  neighbors,  and 
which  they  indulge  against  the  remonstrances  of 
those  who  suffer  1  In  short,  that  regard  to  our 
comfort  which  leads  us  to  neglect  or  sacrifice  the 
felicity  of  another,  let  the  object  to  which  it  is  di- 
rected be  what  it  may,  is  the  selfishness  which 
kindness  opposes  and  destroys. 

This  hateful  disposition  has  contrived  to  conceal 
itself  under  many  false  names  and  disguises,  and 
thus  to  find  protection  from  much  of  the  obloquy 
which  it  deserves,  and  which  would  otherwise  be 
more  unsparingly  heaped  upon  it. 

The  plea  of  frugality,  or  a  just  regard  to  the 
claims  of  a  family,  has  often  been  urged  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  selfishness  of  avarice.  A  man  cer- 
tainly must  take  care  of  his  own,  but  not  to  the  in- 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


jury,  or  even  to  the  neglect,  of  all  besides.  "  I  have 
no  more,"  it  is  often  said,  "  than  I  want  for  my 
style  of  living ;  and  that  style  I  ihink  necessary  for 
my  rank  in  life.  1  spend  all  I  get  upon  my  family, 
and  hoard  nothing;  how,  then,  can  I  be  selfish  V 
Mistaken  mortal !  do  you  forget  that  a  man's  fa- 
mily, is  himself  multiplied — himself  reflected. — 
Selfish !  yes,  you  are  detestably  so,  if  you  spend  all 
upon  yourself  and  family,  however  lavish  and  un- 
sparing you  may  be  to  them. 

No  expression,  no  sentiment,  has  ever  been  more 
abused  than  that  of  the  apostle — "  Do  all  to  Ike  glory 
of  God."  It  has  been  employed  to  disguise  the  most 
improper  motives,  and  never  more  frequently,  nor 
more  profanely  employed,  than  when  it  has  been 
used  to  give  a  character  of  religious  zeal  to  actions 
which  every  eye  could  discern  originated  in  an  un- 
mixed selfishness.  It  is  to  be  feared,  that  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  disclosed,  it  will  be 
found  that,  while  much  has  been  professedly  done 
for  the  glory  of  God  in  the  affairs  of  religion,  pure 
zeal  for  God's  glory  is  a  very  rare  thing.  Certain 
it  is,  that  much  of  what  has  been  carried  on  under 
the  authority  of  this  truly  sublime  phrase,  has  ema- 
nated from  a  far  less  hallowed  principle.  The  gos- 
pel has  been  preached  by  ministers;  places  of  wor- 
ship have  been  built  by  hearers;  distant  lands  have 
been  visited  by  missionaries;  yea,  imprisonment 
and  death  may  have  been  sought  by  martyrs,  in  some 
cases,  not  from  pure  zeal  for  God's  glory,  but  under 
the  influence  of  selfishness.  All  sorts  of  artful  prac- 
tices have  been  supported,  all  kinds  of  stormy  pas- 
sions have  been  indulged,  all  kinds  of  injuries  have 
been  inflicted,  under  the  pretence  of  glorifying 
God;  but  which,  in  fact,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  this 
disposition.  When  a  man  is  identified  with  a  party, 
that  party  is  himself,  and  what  he  does  for  the  one, 
he  does  for  the  other. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  many  of  those 
actions  which  are  performed  on  the  professed  ground 
of  regard  for  the  public  good.  Pure  patriotism  is  a 
scarce  virtue,  and  is  found  but  rarely  in  the  breasts 
of  those  who  are  loudest  in  their  praises  and  pro- 
fessions of  it.  Many  a  noisy  and  self-eulogized  pa- 
triot— many  a  zealous  supporter  of  public  institu- 
tions— many  an  active  reformer  of  popular  errors — 
many  a  liberal  contributor  to  humane  or  religious 
societies — could  their  motives  be  exposed,  would  be 
found  to  act  from  no  higher  aims  than  to  get  a  name 
for  themselves,  and  to  be  praised  by  their  fellow- 
creatures. 

Some  indulge  this  disposition  under  the  pretext 
of  regard  for  Ike  truth.  Attaching  an  overweening 
importance  to  their  own  opinions,  as  if  they  possessed 
the  attribute  of  infallibility,  overbearing  in  debate, 
impatient  of  contradiction,  determined  to  crush  the 
opinions  and  resist  the  influence  of  those  who  are 
opposed  to  theirs — they  quiet  their  conscience,  and 
silence  the  voice  of  remonstrance,  with  the  plea  that 
their  vehemence  is  pure  zeal  for  the  interests  of 
truth.  They  should  be  less  anxious,  they  say,  if  it 
were  their  personal  interest  at  stake ;  but  they  have 
a  right  to  be  earnest,  yea,  even  contentious,  in  de- 
fence of  the  faith.  But  they  know  not  themselves, 
or  they  would  discern  that  their  conduct  springs 
from  a  proud,  imperious,  and  selfish  spirit. 

It  is  time  to  contemplate  the  evil  of  selfishness. — 
It  is  a  direct  opposition  to  the  divine  benevolence, 
and  is  contrary  to  the  habitual  temper  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  "  who  pleased  not  himself."  It  is  the 
cause  of  all  sin,  the  opposite  of  all  holiness  and  vir- 
tue: it  is  the  source  of  innumerable  other  sins,  and 
is  placed  by  the  apostle  as  the  head  and  leader  of 
the  eighteen  vices  which  he  enumerates  as  the 
marks  of  perilous  times,  "  Men  shall  be  lovers  of 
themselves."  This  was  the  sin  which  introduced 
all  guilt  and  misery  into  the  world;  for  the  first 


transgression,  by  which  Adam  fell  from  innocence, 
and  by  which  his  posterity  fell  with  him,  was  an 
effort  to  raise  himself  into  a  state  of  independence; 
by  selfishness,  he  laid  the  world  under  the  burden  of 
the  divine  condemnation.  It  is  a  rejection  of  all 
the  claims,  and  an  opposition  to  all  the  ends  and  in- 
terests, of  society;  for  if  all  persons  were  under  the 
influence  of  predominant  selfishness,  society  could 
scarcely  exist:  let  each  one  covet  and  grasp  his 
own,  to  the  injury  or  neglect  of  the  rest,  and  the 
world  becomes  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  where  each  ra- 
vins for  his  prey,  and  all  worry  one  another.  This 
disposition  defeats  its  own  end.  God  has  endowed 
us  with  social  affections,  in  the  indulgence  of  which 
there  is  real  pleasure;  the  exercise  of  kindness  and 
the  enjoyment  of  delight  are  inseparable.  "  If  there 
be  any  comfort  of  love,"  says  the  apostle  :  by  which 
he  implied,  in  the  strongest  manner,  that  there  is 
great  comfort  in  it ;  and,  of  course,  in  proportion  as 
we  extend  the  range  anil  multiply  the  objects  of  our 
love,  we  extend  the  range  and  multiply  the  sources 
of  our  happiness.  He  that  loves  only  himself,  has 
only  one  joy ;  he  that  loves  his  neighbors,  has  many. 
To  rejoice  in  the  happiness  of  others,  is  to  make  it 
our  own  :  to  produce  it,  is  to  make  it  more  than  our 
own.  Lord  Bacon  has  justly  remarked,  that  out- 
sorrows  are  lessened,  and  our  felicities  multiplied, 
by  communication.  Mankind  had  been  laboring 
for  ages  under  the  grossest  mistake  as  to  happiness, 
imagining  that  it  arose  from  receiving;  an  error 
which  our  Lord  corrects,  by  saying,  "That  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive."  A  selfish 
man  who  accumulates  property,  but  diffuses  not,  re- 
sembles not  the  perennial  fountain,  sending  forth 
fertilizing  streams;  but  the  stagnant  pool,  into 
which  whatever  flows  remains  there,  and  whatever 
remains,  corrupts:  miser  is  his  name,  and  misera- 
ble he  is  in  disposition.  Selfishness  often  brings  a 
terrible  retribution  in  this  world:  the  tears  of  its 
wretched  subject  fall  unpitied;  and  he  finds,  in  the 
gloomy  hour  of  his  want  or  his  woe,  that  he  who  de- 
termines to  be  alone  in  his  fulness,  will  generally 
be  left  to  himself  in  his  sorrows:  and  that  he  who, 
in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  drives  every  one  from 
him  by  the  unkindness  of  his  disposition,  will  find, 
in  the  season  of  his  adversity,  that  they  are  too  far 
off*  to  hear  his  cries  for  assistance. 

This  is  not  an  incurable  temper :  but  is  a  dis- 
ease that  requires  immediate  and  diligent  attention. 
Where  it  not  only  exists  but  predominates,  the 
spring  of  human  action  must  be  renewed  by  rege- 
neration, and  we  must  have  that  new  heart,  which 
is  brought  to  love  God  supremely,  and  our  neighbor 
as  ourselves.  We  must  meditate  often  upon  the 
deep  criminality  of  this  disposition,  and  look  upon 
it  in  all  its  deformity,  till  we  hate  it:  being  careful 
in  order  to  this,  to  strip  it  of  all  the  disguises  which 
the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart  has  thrown  over  it. — 
We  must  abound  in  contemplation  of  the  character 
of  God,  as  infinite  in  love,  and  of  Jesus  Christ,  a3 
an  incarnation  of  pure  disinterested  affection.  We 
must  exercise  great  mortification,  laboring  to  the 
uttermost  to  subdue",  and  if  possible  to  eradicate, 
this  vile  disposition;  and  repeating  this  again  and 
again,  till  we  begin  to  taste  the  pleasure,  and  to  feel 
the  habit  of,  kindness:  at  the  same  time  praying 
earnestly  for  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  as- 
sist us  in  the  mighty  work  of  vanquishing  a  selfish 
temper. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TUB    UNSl'SPtClOUSNF.SS    OF    LOVE. 

"Charity  thiriketh  no  evil" 

There  are  two  senses  which  may  be  attached  to 
this  beautiful  description  of  love. 


36 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


I.  It  does  not  devise  evil.  What  a  horrible  demon- 
dke  disposition  has  the  Psalmist  ascribed  to  the  in- 
dividual who  has  no  tear  of  God  before  his  eyes  !— 
"  He  hath  left  off  to  be  wise  and  to  do  good  ;  he  de- 
viseth  mischief  upon  his  bed."  Such  is  the  delinea- 
tion given  by  the' inspired  writer  of  the  character 
of  some  wretched  men  ;  and  the  original  is  often  to 
be  found.  They  are  perpetually  scheming  to  do  in- 
jury ;  even  their  hours  of  rest  are  devoted  to  the  im- 
pulses of  a  wicked  heart,  and  they  sleep  not  except 
they  have  done  mischief.  Instead  of  communing 
with  God  upon  their  bed,  this  is  to  commune  with 
the  devil,  and  to  hold  nightly  conference  with  him 
who  goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom 
he  may  devour.  But  without  going  to  the  extent  of 
those  who  live  by  plunder,  extortion,  or  oppression, 
and  who,  as  the  wolves  and  tigers  of  society,  are 
ever  prowling  about  for  their  prey,  there  are  many 
who  maintain  a  tolerably  respectable  character,  but 
are  still  far  too  busy  in  devising  evil ;  this  may  arise 
from  various  motives,  to  all  of  which  Christian  love 
stands  firmly  opposed. 

Desire  of  gain  may  lead  them  to  devise  means  by 
which  they  may  injure  a  more  prosperous  neigh- 
bor, a  more  thriving  tradesman,  than  themselves. — 
They  cannot  endure  to  witness  his  success,  and 
leave  no  effort  untried  to  hinder  it.  They  are  in- 
ventive in  the  way  of  insinuation,  inuendo,  or  ex- 
plicit declaration,"  to  check  the  tide  of  his  good  for- 
tune, and  are  ever  scheming  to  circumvent  and  in- 
jure him.  Or  they  may  be  moved  by  envy,  to  de- 
vise means  for  blasting  the  reputation  of  a  popular 
rival,  or  at  least  to  render  him  less  a  favorite  with 
the  public.  Revenge  is  ever  busy  in  laying  plans  to 
injnre  its  object;  it  broods  in  wrathful  silence  over 
the  real  or  supposed  injury,  and  looks  round  on 
every  side  for  the  opportunity  and  the  means  of  full 
retaliation.  A  love  of  sporting  with  the  fears  of  the 
tiinid  and  the  weak  has  led  some  to  delight  in  find- 
ing means  for  exciting  their  alarms:  they  do  not  de- 
sire to  inflict  pain  so  much  from  a  malignity  of  dis- 
position .as  from  a  wanton  pleasure  in  raising  a 
joke.  Such  jests  as  occasion  distress,  are,  whatever 
may  be  pretended  by  their  authors,  a  kind  of  devil's 
play,  who  can  never  relax  from  the  work  of  tor- 
menting, except  it  be  to  occasion  lighter  pains,  and 
whose  very  sport  is  the  infliction  of  misery.  It  is 
dreadful  that  the  human  intellect  should  ever  be 
employed  in  devising  evil;  and  yet,  passing  by  the 
cabinets  of  statesmen,  where  hostile  and  unprinci- 
pled aggressions  are  so  often  planned  against  a 
weaker  state  ;  and  the  closets  of  monarchs,  where 
schemes  which  are  to  entail  the  horrors  of  war 
upon  millions  are  contrived  without  compunction  ; 
and  the  slave-merchant's  cabin,  where  the  details 
are  arranged  for  burning  peaceful  villages,  and 
dragging  into  captivity  their  unoffending  inhabit- 
ants ;  and  the  robber's  cave,  the  murderer's  cham- 
ber, and  the  swindler's  retreat:  passing  by  these 
haunts  of  demons,  where  the  master-spirits  of  mis- 
chief hold  their  conclave,  and  digest  their  dark  and 
horrid  purposes ;  what  a  prodigious  movement  of 
mind  is  perpetually  going  on  among  the  subalterns! 
What  a  frightful  portion  of  every  day's  employ- 
ment of  the  mental  and  bodily  energies,  all  over  the 
globe,  is  seen  by  the  eye  of  Omniscience,  directed 
by  the  parent  of  evil,  who  is  ever  going  about  to  do 
evil;  so  that  a  great  part  of  mankind  seem  to  have 
no  other  prototype  but  the  scorpions  which  John  saw 
rising  out  of  the  bottomless  pit,  armed  both  with 
teeih  and  stings! 

To  all  these  persons,  and  to  all  this  their  conduct, 
love  is  diametrically  opposed.  It  thinketh  not  evil, 
but  good;  it  deviseth  to  communicate  pleasure,  not 
pain.  It  shrinks  back  with  instinctive  abhorrence 
from  inflicting  a  moment's  suffering,  in  bo^v  or 
in  mind.    "Love  worketh  no  ill  to  its  neighbor," 


but  employs  all  its  counsels  and  its  cares  for  his  be- 
nefit. Like  a  good  spirit  it  is  ever  opposing  the  ad- 
vice, and  counteracting  the  influence  of  envy,  re- 
venge, or  avarice.  It  would  make  the  miserable 
happy,  and  the  happy  still  happier.  It  retires  into 
the  closet,  to  project  schemes  for  blessing  man- 
kind, and  then  goes  out  into  the  crowded  regions  of 
want  and  wretchedness,  to  execute  them:  it  devi- 
seth good  on  its  bed,  and  riseth  in  the  morning  to 
fulfil  the  plans  of  mercy  with  which  it  had  sunk  to 
rest.     "  Love  thinketh  no  evil." 

II.  But  probably  the  apostle  meant,  that  it  does 
not  impute  evil.  Lovely  charity  !  the  farther  we  go, 
the  more  we  discover  thy  charms :  thy  beauty  is 
such,  that  it  is  seen  the  more,  the  more  closely  it  is 
inspected;  and  thy  excellence  such,  that  it  never 
ceases  to  grow  upon  acquaintance.  Thou  art  not  in 
haste  to  criminate  as  if  it  were  thy  delight  to  prove 
men  wicked  :  but  art  willing  to  impute  a  good  mo- 
tive to  men's  actions,  till  a  bad  one  is  clearly  de- 
monstrated. 

It  is  proper,  however,  to  remark  here,  that  love 
is  not  quite  blind :  it  is  not,  as  we  have  already  said, 
virtue  in  its  dotage — having  lost  its  power  of  dis- 
crimination between  good  and  evil ;  nor  is  if  holi- 
ness in  its  childhood,  which,  with  puerile  simplicity, 
believes  every  thing  that  is  told  it,  and  that  it  is  im- 
posed upon  by  every  pretender.  No;  it  is  moral  ex- 
cellence in  the  maturity  of  all  its  faculties — in  the 
possession  of  all  its  manly  strength.  Like  the  judge 
upon  the  bench,  penetrating,  yet  not  censorious, 
holding  the  balance  with  an  even  hand,  acting  as 
counsel  for  the  prisoner,  rather  leaning  to  the  side 
of  the  accused  than  to  that  of  the  accuser,  and  hold- 
ing him  innocent  till  he  is  proved  to  be  guilty. 

There  are  some  persons  of  a  peculiarly  suspicious 
temper,  who  look  with  a  distrustful  eye  upon  every 
body  and  upon  every  action.  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
world  were  in  a  conspiracy  against  them,  and  that 
every  one  who  approached  them  came  with  a  pur- 
pose of  mischief.  They  invert  the  proper  order  of 
things;  and  instead  of  imputing  a  good  motive  till 
the  bad  one  is  proved,  impute  a  bad  one  till  the  good 
one  is  made  apparent ;  and  so  extremely  skeptical 
are  they  on  the  subject  of  moral  evidence,  that  what 
comes  with  the  force  of  demonstration  to  the  rest  of 
mankind,  in  the  way  of  establishing  the  propriety 
of  an  action,  scarcely  amounts,  in  their  view  to  pro- 
bability. Those  who  suspect  every  body,  are  gene- 
rally to  be  suspected  themselves.  Their  knowledge 
of  human  nature  has  been  obtained  at  home,  and 
their  fears  in  reference  to  their  neighbors  are  the 
reflected  images  of  their  own  disposition.  Bui 
without  going  to  this  length,  we  are  all  too  apt  to 
impute  evil  to  others. 

1.  We  are  too  forward  to  suspect  the  piety  of  our 
neighbors,  and  to  ascribe,  if  not  direct  hypocrisy, 
yet  ignorance,  or  presumption,  as  the  ground  of 
their  profession.  Upon  some  very  questionable,  or 
imperfect  evidence — upon  some  casual  expression, 
or  some  doubtful  action — we  pronounce  an  indivi- 
dual to  be  a  self-deceiver  or  a  hypocrite.  There  is 
far  too  much  proneness  to  this  in  the  religious 
world;  too  much  haste  in  excluding  each  other  from 
the  body  of  Christ;  too  much  precipitancy  in  cut- 
ting each  other  off  from  the  immunities  of  the 
Christian  church.  To  decide  infallibly  upon  cha- 
racter, is  not  only  the  prerogative  of  the  Deity,  but 
requires  his  attributes.  There  may  be  some  grains 
of  wheat  hid  among  the  chaff,  which  we  may  be  at 
a  loss  to  discover.  We  must  be  careful  how  we  set 
up  our  views  or  our  experience,  as  the  test  of  cha- 
racter, so  as  to  condemn  all  who  do  not  come  up  to 
our  standard.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  unchristianize 
i  any  one,  and  it  should  be  done  only  upon  the  clear- 
|  est  evidence  of  his  being  in  an  unconverted  state. — 
I  Without  being  accused  with  lax  or  latiludinarian 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


37 


and  experience  arc  quite  sufficient,  ij ice  would  be 
guided  by  them,  to  correct.  Plow  often,  how  very 
often,  have  we  found  ourselves  mistaken  in  this 
matter  !  How  frequently  has  subsequent  evidence 
shown  us  our  error  in  imputing  a  bad  motive  to  an 
action,  which,  at  the  time,  to  say  the  worst  of  it, 
was  only  of  a  doubtful  character !  We  have  discover- 
ed that,  to  have  originated  in  accident,  which  we 
once  thought  to  have  been  the  result  of  design;  and 
have  found  that,  to  have  proceeded  from  ignorance, 
which  we  had  hastily  set  down  to  malice.  How 
many  times,  have  we  blushed  and  grieved  over  our 
precipitancy,  and  yet  in  opposition  to  our  experi- 
ence and  to  our  resolutions,  we  still  go  on  to  think 
evil. 

But  "  love  thinketh  no  evil:"  this  divine  virtue 
delights  to  speak  well  and  think  well  of  others: 
she  talks  of  their  good  actions,  and  says  little  or  no- 
thing, except  when  necessity  compels  her,  of  their 
bad  ones.  She  holds  her  judgment  m  abeyance  as 
to  motives,  till  they  are  perfectly  apparent.  She 
does  not  look  round  for  evidence  to  prove  an  evil 
design,  but  hopes  that  what  is  doubtful  will,  by  far- 
ther light,  appear  to  be  correct;  she  imputes  not 
evil,  so  long  as  good  is  propable;  she  leans  to  the 
side  of  candor  rather  than  to  that  of  severity ;  she 
makes  every  allowance  that  truth  will  permit ;  looks 
at  all  the  circumstances  which  can  be  pleaded  in 
mitigation  ;  sutlers  not  her  opinions  to  be  formed  till 
she  has  had  opportunity  to  escape  from  the  mist  of 
passion,  and  to  cool  from  the  wrath  of  contention. 
Love  desires  the  happiness  of  others;  and  how  can 
she  be  in  haste  to  think  evil  of  them  1 

If  it  be  asked,  Do  all  good  men  act  thus  1  I 
again  reply,  They  act  thus  just  in  proportion  as  they 
are  under  the  influence  of  Christian  charity.  The 
apostle  does  not  say  that  every  man  who  is  possessed 
of  charity  does  so,  but  that  charity  itself  thinketh  no 
evil:  and  therefore  implies  that  every  good  man 
will  act  thus  in  the  same  degree  in  which  he  sub- 
mits to  the  influence  of  this  virtue.  Divine  grace  ! 
hasten  thy  universal  reign  on  earth,  and  put  an  end 
to  those  evil  surmisings  by  which  the  comfort  of 
mankind  and  the  fellowship  of  the  saints  are  so 
much  disturbed ! 


views,  I  may  observe  that  we  should  make  great  al- 
lowance for  the  force  of  education,  for  peculiar  ha- 
bits acquired  in  circumstances  different  from  our 
own,  and  for  a  phraseology  learnt  among  those 
whose  views  are  but  imperfect.  To  impute  to  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion  the  sin  of  hypocrisy,  or  mere  for- 
mality, and  to  deny  the  reality  of  his  religion  alto- 
gether, is  too  serious  a  thing  for  such -short-sighted 
creatures  as  we  are,  except  in  cases  which  are  ab- 
solutely indisputable. 

2.  We  are  too  prone  to  impute  bad  motives  in  re- 
ference to  particular  actions.  Sometimes,  where  the 
action  is  good,  we  ascribe  it  to  some  sinister  or  self- 
ish inducement  operating  in  the  mind  of  him  by 
whom  it  is  performed.  This  is  not  unfrequenlly 
done  where  we  have  no  contention  with  the  indi- 
vidual, and  the  imputation  is  merely  the  effect  of 
envy ;  but  it  is  more  frequently  done  in  cases  where 
we  have  personal  dislike.  When  the  action  is  of  a 
doubtful  nature,  how  apt  are  we  to  lose  sight  of  all 
the  evidence  which  may  be  advanced  in  favor  of 
its  being  done  from  a  good  motive,  and  with  far 
less  probability  decide  that  the  motive  is  bad.  If  we 
are  the  object  of  the  action,  we  too  commonly  con- 
clude instantly,  and  almost  against  evidence,  that  a 
bad  motive  dictated  it.  Although  the  circumstance 
is  at  worst  equivocal,  and  admits  of  a  two-fold  in- 
terpretation, we  promptly  determine  that  an  insult 
or  an  injury  was  intended,  when  every  one  but  our- 
selves clearly  discerns  that  no  such  design  can  be 
fairly  imputed.  A  person  passes  us  in  the  street 
without  speaking,  and  we  immediately  believe  that 
it  was  an  act  of  intentional  insult — forgetting  that 
it  is  probable  he  did  not  see  us,  or  was  so  immersed 
in  thought  as  not  to  recognize  us.  A  general  re- 
mark is  made  in  conversation,  which  we  suppose 
with  no  other  evidence  than  its  applicability  to  us, 
was  intended  to  expose  us  before  the  company, 
when,  perhaps  the  individual  who  made  it  had  no 
more  reference  to  us  than  to  a  man  on  the  other 
side  of  the  globe.  A  thousand  cases  might  be  men- 
tioned, and  in  which,  of  two  motives  that  may  be 
imputed,  we  choose  the  evil  one.  If  a  person  has 
previously  injured  us,  we  are  peculiarly  propense  to 
this  unchristian  practice  of  thinking  evil  of  him. — 
We  can  scarcely  allow  ourselves  to  believe  that  he 
can  do  any  thing  relating  to  us,  but  from  an  impro- 
per inducement ;  we  suspect  all  his  words  and  all  his 
actions ;  nor  is  the  propensity  less  strong  in  those 
cases  where  we  have  been  the  aggressors;  we  then 
set  down  every  thing  done  by  the  injured  person  to 
the  influence  of  revenge. 

The  evil  of  such  a  disposition  is  manifest.  It  is  ex- 
plicitly and  frequently  prohibited  in  God's  word. — 
This  is  the  censoriousness  forbidden  by  our  Lord, 
where  he  says,  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  ;" 
and  which  is  condemned  by  Paul,  where  he  says, 
"Judge  nothing  before  the  time  until  the  Lord 
come,  who  will  both  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things 
of  darkness,  and  will  make  manifest  the  counsels  of 
the  hearts."  James  commands  us  "Not  to  speak 
evil  one  of  another;  for  he  that  speaketh  evil  of  his 
brother,  judgeth  his  brother."  "  Evil  surmisings" 
are  placed  by  the  apostle  among  the  sins  which  op- 
pose the  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

II  is  an  invasion  of  the  prerogative  of  Deity,  who 
alone  can  search  the  heart,  and  read,  the  motives  of  the 
breast.  It  is  injurious  to  the  character  of  our  bre- 
thren, and  disturbs  the  peace  of  society.  Half  of  the 
broils  which  arise  in  the  world,  and  of  the  schisms 
which  spring  up  in  the  church,  maybe  traced  to 
this  wicked  propensity  of  "thinking  evil;"  for  if 
men  think  evil,  it  is  an  easy  step  to  speak  evil,  and 
then  to  do  evil :  so  that  the  origin  of  many  quarrels 
will  be  found  in  the  false  impressions  of  a  suspicious 
mind — the  misapprehension  of  a  censorious  judg- 
ment.   It  is  a  disposition  vjhich  our  own  observation 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   JOT    OF     LOVE. 


"  Charily  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  bid  rcjoiceth  in, 
the  truth." 

Keeping  up  the  personification  of  love  as  presented 
by  the  apostle,  we  may  observe  that  it  has  its  joys 
and  its  sorrows;  and  its  smiles  and  its  tears  are  the 
expressions  of  good  will — the  tokens  of  benevolence. 
We  are  first  told  in  what  it  does  not  take  compla- 
cency— "  It  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity." 

Sin  is,  in  itself,  an  evil  of  enormous  magnitude. 
As  committed  against  a  Being  whom  we  are  under 
infinite  obligation  to  love,  and  serve,  and  glorify,  it 
must  partake  of  infinite  degrees  of  demerit.  It  is  a 
violation  of  that  law  which,  as  an  emanation  from 
the  perfection  of  the  Deity,  is  itself  perfect  and  well 
deserves  the  eulogium  pronounced  upon  it  by  the 
apostle,  when  he  declares  it  to  be  "holy,  and  just, 
and  good."  As  this  is  the  rule  of  government  to  the 
moral  universe,  and  intended  to  preserve  its  order, 
dependence  and  harmony;  sin,  by  opposing  i!s  au- 
thority, disturbs  this  order,  breaks  this  dependence, 
and  seeks  to  introduce  the  reign  of  confusion  and 
misery.  None,  but  the  infinite  mind,  is  competent 
to  calculate  the  mischief  which  is  likely  to  be  pro- 
duced by  a  sinsle  act  of  sin,  if  left  to  itself  without 
a  remedy,  or  without  a  punishment.  We  have  only 
to  see  what  sin  has  done,  to  judge  of  its  most  pvil 
and  hateful  nature.    All  the  misery  which  '.diher  is 


38 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


or  ever  will  be  on  earth,  or  in  hell,  is  the  result  of 
sin.  It  is  the  greatest  evil — the  only  evil  in  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  the  opposite,  and  the  enemy  to  God  ; 
the  contrast  to  all  that  is  pure  and  glorious  in  his 
divine  attributes,  and  ineffably  beautiful  perfections; 
and,  as  such,  it  is  that  which  he  cannot  but  hate 
with  a  perfect  hatred.  It  is  not  merely  the  opposite 
of  his  nature,  but  the  opponent  of  his  government — 
the  rebel  principle  that  disputes  with  him  for  his 
seat  of  majesty  and  the  dominion  of  the  universe, 
saying  to  him,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no  far- 
ther;" seeking  to  cast  him  down  from  the  throne 
which  he  hath  prepared  in  the  heavens,  and  to  rise, 
with  impious  usurpation,  into  the  holy  place  of  the 
high  and  lofty  one.  Sin  would  thus  stop  the  foun- 
tain <-f  life  and  blessedness,  by  ending  the  reign  of 
infinite  beneficence  ;  and  is,  therefore,  the  enemy  of 
every  thing  that  constitutes  the  felicity  of  the  vari- 
ous orders  of  rational  existence.  The  happiness  of 
angels  and  archangels,  of  cherubim  and  seraphim, 
and  of  the  spirits  made  perfect  above  as  well  as  of 
those  who  are  renewed  by  the  grace  of  God  on 
earth,  arises  from  holiness  ;  separate  and  apart  from 
holiness,  there  can  be  no  happiness  for  an  intellec- 
tual being.  Now  sin  is  the  contrary  of  holiness,  and 
thus  the  enemy  of  happiness.  How,  then,  can  love 
delight  in  iniquity  7  If  it  wills  the  felicity  of  ra- 
tional beings,  it  must  hate  that  which  directly  resists 
and  extinguishes  it. 

And  as  it  cannot  delight  in  sin  in  the  abstract,  so 
neither  can  it  take  pleasure  in  committing  it:  for 
whoever  commits  it,  in  so  far  approves  of  it,  up- 
holds its  dominion,  extends  its  reign,  diffuses  its 
mischief,  and  does  all  he  can  to  recommend  it.  If 
his  transgression  be  a  common  one,  he  gives  the 
patronage  of  his  example  to  all  of  the  same  kind; 
and  if  it  be  a  new  one,  he  becomes  an  inventor  and 
propagator  upon  earth  of  a  fresh  curse  and  tor- 
mentor. That  many  do  delight  in  committing  ini- 
quity cannot  be  doubted;  they  follow  it  with  greedi- 
ness, and  drink  it  in  as  the  thirsty  ox  drinketh  in 
water.  The  Scripture  speaks  of  the  joys  of  fools, 
and  of  the  pleasures  of  sin.  Horrid  as  is  the  asso- 
ciation, between  sin  and  gratification,  it  certainly 
exists.  Some  men  have  gone  so  far  as  to  be  self- 
murderers,  but  who  ever  took  pleasure  in  the  act  of 
destroying  themselves  7  Who  ever  drank  the  poi- 
son, as  he  would  wine,  with  a  merry  heart  7  Who 
ever  dallied  in  sportive  pleasure  with  the  pistol  or 
the  dagger,  or  wound  the  cord  in  jocularity  round 
his  throat  before  he  strangled  himself  with  it  7 
Who  ever  went  skipping  with  a  light  fantastic  step 
to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  or  to  the  brink  of  the 
river,  from  which  he  was  about  to  plunge  into  eter- 
nity 7  And  yet  sinners  do  all  this,  in  reference  to 
their  souls.  They  commit  self-murder,  the  murder 
of  their  immortal  spirits,  to  the  song  of  the  drunk- 
ard, the  noise  of  music,  the  smile  of  a  harlot,  and 
the  laugh  of  the  fool.  They  sin,  and  not  only  so, 
but  delight  in  iniquity.     So  does  not  charity. 

Nor  can  it  delight  in  the  sins  of  others.  It  cannot 
do  as  fools  do,  "  make  a  mock  of  sin."  It  is  most 
horrid  to  find  pastime  and  sport  in  those  acts  of 
transgression  by  which  men  ruin  their  souls.  Some 
laugh  at  the  reeling  gait,  and  idiot  looks,  and  ma- 
niac, gestures,  of  the  drunkard,  whom,  perhaps, 
they  have  first  led  on  to  intoxication,  to  afford  them 
merriment ;  or  they  are  diverted  by  the  oaths  of 
the  swearer,  whose  malice  and  revenge  are  at  work 
to  invent  new  forms  of  profanity  ;  or  they  are  made 
merry  by  the  mischief  with  which  the  persecutors 
of  the  righteous  often  oppose  and  interrupt  the  so- 
lemnity of  worship;  or  they  attack,  with  raillery 
and  scorn,  the  tender  consciences  of  the  saints,  and 
loudly  applaud  the  wit  which  aims  its  sharpened 
arrows  against  religion.  But  love  weeps  over  sin, 
as  that  which  brings  the  greatest  miserv.    ".TTor 


sin  is  the  greatest  and  highest  infelicity  of  the  crea- 
ture, depraves  the  soul  within  itself,  vitiates  its 
powers,  deforms  its  beauty,  extinguishes  its  light, 
corrupts  its  purity,  darkens  its  glory,  disturbs  its 
tranquillity  and  peace,  violates  its  harmonious  joy- 
ful state  and  order,  and  destroys  its  very  life.  It 
disafiects  it  to  God,  severs  it  from  him,  engages  his 
justice  and  influences  his  wrath  against  it.  What ! 
to  rejoice  in  sin,  that  despites  the  Creator,  and  hath 
wrought  such  tragedies  in  the  creation! — that  turn- 
ed angels  out  of  heaven,  man  out  of  paradise  ! — that 
hath  made  the  blessed  God  so  much  a  stranger  to 
our  world  ;  broken  off  the  intercourse  in  so  great  a 
part,  between  heaven  and  earth ;  obstructed  the 
pleasant  commerce  which  had  otherwise  probably 
been  between  angels  and  men;  so  vilely  debased 
the  nature  of  man,  and  provoked  the  displeasure 
of  his  Maker  towards  him ! — that  once  overwhelm- 
ed the  world  with  a  deluge  of  water,  and  will  again 
ruin  it  by  a  destructive  fire!  To  rejoice  in  so  hate- 
ful a  thing  as  sin,  is  to  do  that  mad  part,  to  cast 
about  firebrands,  arrows  and  death,  and  say,  "Am 
I  not  in  sport  7"— it  is  to  be  glad  that  such  an  one  is 
turning  a  man  into  a  devil !  a  reasonable,  immortal 
soul,  capable  of  heaven,  into  a  fiend  of  hell ! — to  be 
glad  thai  such  a  soul  is  tearing  itself  off  from  God, 
is  blasting  its  own  eternal  hopes,  and  destroying  all 
its  possibilities  of  a  future  well  being.  Blessed 
God !  how  opposite  a  thing  is  this  to  charity — the 
offspring  of  God!  The  birth  of  heaven,  as  it  is 
here  below,  among  mortals;  the  beauty  and  glory 
of  it,  as  it  is  there  above,  in  its  natural  seal.  The 
eternal  bond  of  living  union  among  the  blessed 
spirits  that  inhabit  there,  and  which  would  make 
our  world,  did  it  universally  obtain  here,  another 
heaven."* 

No:  it  is  the  sport  of  devils,  not  of  men  who  feci 
the  influence  of  love,  to  delight  in  sin.  We  justly 
condemn  the  cruelty  of  the  Romans,  in  glutting 
their  eyes  with  the  scenes  of  the  amphitheatre, 
where  the  gladiators  were  torn  in  pieces  by  the 
fangs  of  lions  and  tigers;  but  theirs  was  innocent 
recreation,  compared  Avith  that  of  the  perverted 
and  wicked  mind,  which  can  be  gratified  by  seeing 
an  immortal  creature  ruining  and  damning  his 
most  precious  soul.  Go,  laugh  at  the  agonies  of 
the  wretched  man  tortured  upon  the  rack,  and 
make  merry  with  his  distorted  features,  and  strange 
and  hideous  cries; — go,  laugh  at  the  convulsive 
throes  of  the  epileptic;— go  to  the  field  of  battle,  and 
mock  the  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying; — all 
this  is  more  humane  and  ineiciful  than  delighting 
in  sin.  Could  we  look  down  upon  the  burning  lake, 
and  see  there  how  the  miserable  ghosts  are  tossed 
upon  the  billows  of  the  burning  deep,  and  hear 
their  dreadful  exclamations, — "  Who  can  dwell 
with  devouring  fire  7  Who  can  dwell  with  ever- 
lasting burnings  7" — should  we,  then,  divert  our- 
selves with  sin  7  Charity  does  thus  look  upon  their 
miserv,  so  far  as  her  imagination  goes,  and  feels  a 
cold  horror  and  a  shivering  dread.  She  mourns 
over  sin  wheresoever  she  sees  it,  and  weeps  for 
those  who  never  weep  for  themselves.  This  is  her 
declaration,  as  she  looks  around  upon  the  sins  of 
mankind — "  Rivers  of  waters  run  down  mine  eyes, 
because  they  keep  not  thy  law." 

Love  cannot  delight  in  the  misconduct  of  an  ene- 
my or  a  rival.  This,  perhaps,  is  the  precise  mean- 
ing of  the  apostle,  in  the  expression  we  are  now 
illustrating.  Few  of  us  are  without  some  one  or 
more  who  are  considered  by  us,  or  who  consider 
themselves  in  the  character  of  an  opponent,  or  a 
competitor ;  and  in  such  cases  there  is  great  dan- 
ger of  our  being  pleased  with  their  moral  failures. 

*  Howe  on  "  Charity  in  Reference  to  other  Men's 
Sins  ■" 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY 


39 


It  is  not  often  that  any,  except  those  who  are  more 
than  ordinarily  depraved,  will  allow  themselves  to 
go  so  far  as  to  tempt  an  enemy  to  sin,  in  order  to 
gain  the  advantage  over  him.  Yet  there  are  some 
such,  who  will  lay  snares  for  his  feet,  and  watch 
with  eager  hope  for  his  halting:  and  when  unable 
to  accomplish  this  by  their  own  personal  exertions, 
will  not  scruple  to  engage  accomplices  in  the  work. 
Weaker  and  junior  agents,  who  probably  may  know 
nothing,  or  know  but  little  of  the  purpose  for  which 
they  are  employed,  may  be  drawn  by  the  master- 
spirit of  mischief  into  the  confederacy,  and  be  made 
the  instrument  of  tempting  an  immortal  creature 
to  sin  against  God,  and  ruin  his  own  soul.  This  is 
the  climax  of  revenge,  the  highest  pitch  of  wicked- 
ness, and  the  greatest  refinement  of  human  malice. 
It  is  to  extend  the  mischief  of  revenge  to  another 
world;  to  call  in  the  aid  of  devils,  and  the  quench- 
less fire,  to  supply  the  defects  of  our  ability  to  inflict 
misery  in  proportion  to  our  wishes;  and  to  perpetu- 
ate our  ill  will  through  eternity.  To  tempt  men 
to  sin  against  God,  with  a  view  to  serve  ourselves 
by  degrading  them  before  the  world,  unites  much 
of  the  malevolence  of  a  devil,  with  as  much  of  his 
ingenuity. 

But  if  we  cannot  go  to  such  a  length  as  to  tempt 
an  opponent  or  rival  to  sin,  yet,  if  ice  feel  a  delight 
in  seeing  him  fall  by  other  means;  if  we  indulge  a 
secret  complacency  in  beholding  him  rendering 
himself  vile,  blasting  his  reputation,  destroying  his 
popularity,  and  ruining  his  cause ;  if  we  inwardly 
exclaim, ':  Ah  !  so  would  I  have  it — now  he  has  done 
for  himself — it  is  all  over  with  him — this  is  just  what 
I  wished  and  wanted;" — we  delight  in  iniquity. — 
And,  oh,  how  inexpressibly  dreadful  to  be  seen 
with  a  smiling  countenance,  or  an  aspect  which,  if 
it  relax  not  into  a  smile,  is  sufficiently  indicative 
of  the  joyful  state  of  the  heart,  to  run  with  eager- 
ness to  proclaim  the  intelligence  of  the  victory  we 
have  gained  by  that  act  of  another  which  endan- 
gers his  salvation  :  how  contrary  all  this  to  the  cha- 
rity which  delights  in  happiness! 

Perhaps  we  only  go  so  far  as  to  be  pleased  that  the 
object  of  our  dislike  has  been  himself  injured  in  a 
way  similar  to  that  in  which  he  has  injured  us.  Al- 
though we  may  not  allow  ourselves  to  inflict  any 
direct  injury  in  the  way  of  revenge,  nor  to  engage 
others  to  do  it  for  us,  yet  if  we  see  him  ill-treated 
by  another  person  and  rejoice;  if  we  exclaim,  "I 
do  not  pity  him,  he  has  deserved  it  all  for  his  be- 
havior to  me,  I  am  glad  he  has  been  taught  how 
to  behave  to  his  neighbor ;" — this  is  contrary  to  the 
law  of  love — it  is  a  complacency  in  sin.  Nor  is 
the  case  altered,  if  our  joy  be  professedly  felt  on 
account  of  the  consequences  which  the  sin  has 
brought  upon  him.  We  may  sometimes  attempt  to 
deceive  ourselves,  by  the  supposition  that  we  do  not 
rejoice  in  the  iniquity  that  is  committed,  but  only 
because  it  has  been  succeeded  by  those  fruits  which 
the  misconduct  has  merited.  We  interpret  it  into 
a  proof  that  God  lias  taken  up  the  cause  of  injured 
innocence,  and  avenged  us  of  our  adversary. 

There  are  many  circumstances  and  situations 
which  more  particularly  expose  us  to  the  violation 
of  this  law  of  charity.  In  the  case  of  two  different 
denominations  in  religion,  or  two  congregations  of 
the  same  party  in  a  town,  between  whom  a  misun- 
derstanding and  schism  have  been  permitted  to  grow 
up  and  to  operate,  there  is  imminent  danger  of  this 
unchristian  spirit.  Alas,  alas  !  that  the  bosoms  of 
men  should  be  liable  to  such  sentiments!  Oh! 
shame,  deep  and  lasting  shame,  upon  some  profess- 
ing  Christians,  "that  such  unhallowed  emotions 
should  ever  be  excited  in  their  bosoms!"  "  Tell  it 
not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon, 
lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoice — lest 
the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumoh."    Let 


it  not  be  known  that  the  bad  passions  of  the  human 
neart  build  their  nests,  like  obscure  birds,  round 
the  altar  of  the  Lord;  or,  like  poisonous  weeds,  en- 
twine their  baleful  tendrils  round  the  pillars  of  his 
house.  We  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  any  good  man 
can  rejoice  in  the  open  immorality  and  vice  of  an 
opponent;  but  are  there  not  many,  in  all  large  com- 
munities, who,  though  of  Israel  in  one  sense,  belong 
not  to  it  in  reality  1  And  where  the  failure  does 
not  proceed  to  the  length  of  a  more  awful  delin- 
quency, but  consists  merely  of  some  minor  breaches 
of  the  law  of  propriety,  are  not  even  the  best  of 
men  sometimes  exposed  to  the  temptation  of  rejoic- 
ing over  them,  if  their  cause  is  promoted  by  them  1 
The  weaker  party,  especially,  if  they  have  been 
ill  used,  treated  with  pride  and  scorn,  oppression 
and  cruelty,  are  very  apt  to  take  delight  in  those 
instances  of  misconduct  by  which  their  opponents 
have  brought  upon  themselves  the  prejudice  of  the 
public. 

Rival  candidates  for  fame,  or  power,  or  influence, 
whether  in  ecclesiastical  or  secular  affairs,  are  lia- 
ble to  the  sin  of  rejoicing  in  iniquity.  Hard,  in- 
deed, is  it  for  such  hearts  as  ours  to  repress  all  feel- 
ings of  secret  complacency  in  those  acts  of  a  com- 
petitor by  which  he  sinks,  and  we  are  raised,  in 
public  esteem.  That  man  gives  himself  credit  for 
more  virtue  than  he  really  possesses  who  imagines  he 
should  find  it  easy  to  weep  over  the  follies  and  mis- 
carriages of  the  rival  who  contends  with  him  for 
what  it  is  of  much  importance  he  should  obtain,  or 
of  an  enemy  who  has  deeply  injured  him.  Job  men- 
tions it  as  a  convincing  proof  of  his  integrity,  and  a. 
striking  display  of  good  conduct : — "  If  I  rejoiced  in 
the  destruction  of  him  that  hated  me,  or  lifted  up 
myself  when  evil  found  him."  Aud  it  was  a  fine 
manifestation  of  the  generosity  of  David,  that  in- 
stead of  rejoicing  over  those  sins  which,  in  the  con- 
duct of  Saul  brought  on  the  catastrophe  that  ele- 
yated  him  to  the  throne  of  Israel,  he  bewailed  them 
with  as  sincere  and  pungent  grief,  as  he  could  have 
done  had  Saul  been  the  kindest  of  fathers.  That 
we  are  in  danger  of  the  sin  we  are  now  consider- 
ing, is  also  evident  from  the  exhortation  of  Solo- 
mon— "  Rejoice  not  when  thine  enemy  falleth,  and 
let  not  thine  heart  be  glad  when  he  stumbleth." 
Charity,  if  it  had  full  possession  of  our  hearts,  and 
entire  sway,  would  lot  only  repress  all  outward  ex- 
hibitions of  this  delight,  but  all  inward  emotions; 
would  make  us  dread  lest  an  opponent  should  fall 
into  sin;  would  not  allow  us  to  see  him  go  unwarn- 
ed to  transgression,  but  compel  us  to  admonish  him 
of  his  danger;  and  would  make  us  cheerfully  fore- 
go the  greatest  advantage  to  our  cause  or  reputa- 
tion, that  we  might  gain  by  his  misconduct.  This 
is  the  holiness  of  love,  and  a  reproof  of  the  genu- 
ine hatred  of  sin  ;  for  if  we  mourn  only  over  our 
own  sins,  or  the  sins  of  our  friends,  or  of  our  party, 
there  may  be  something  selfish  in  our  grief  after 
all;  but  to  mourn  over  iniquity,  when,  though  it 
does  harm  to  another,  it  may,  in  some  sense,  pro- 
mote our  cause  is,  indeed,  to  hate  sin  for  its  own 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  him  by  whom  it  is  con- 
demned. 

We  go  on  now  to  show  in  what  love  does  rejoice  : 
"  Charity  rejoiceth  in  the  truth." 

By  the  truth  we  are  not  to  understand  veracitv  as 
opposed  to  falsehood.  The  apostle  is  not  speaking 
of  this  subject.  The  truth  means  the  doctrine  of  the 
word  of  God.  This  is  a  very  common  way  of  de- 
scribing the  revealed  will  of  God  in  the  Scriptures. 
"  Sanctify  them  bv  ihy  truth"  said  our  Lord  ;  "  thy 
word  is  truth."  The  truth  itself  is  the  object  of 
complacency  to  love.  Truth  is  the  most  glorious 
thing  in  the  universe,  next  to  God  and  holiness.  It 
has  been  the  great  object  of  mental  pursuits  since 
the  creation  of  the  world  :  millions  of  minds  have 


40 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


travelled  in  quest  of  it;  philosophers  profess  to  be 
so  enamored  even  with  the  very  term,  that  they' 
have  worshipped  it  as  a  mere  abstraction,  which, 
after  all,  they  could  not  understand.  What  con- 
tentions has  it  originated — to  what  systems  has  it 
given  rise — what  dogmatism  has  it  been  the  occa- 
sion of!  And  yet,  after  all,  apart  from  revelation, 
what  is  it  but  a  name  1  This  gives  it  reality  and 
form  ; — this  tells  us  where  it  is,  what  it  is,  and  how 
it  is  to  be  obtained.  Here  we  learn  that  the  glorious 
gospel  of  the  blessed  God,  and  all  the  doctrine  it  in- 
cludes or  implies,  is  the  truth.  The  question  is 
answered,  proposed  by  Pilate  to  the  illustrious  pri- 
soner at  his  bar,  and  the  oracle  of  heaven  has  de- 
clared that  the  Scriptures  are  the  truths.  And  the 
truth  is  the  object  of  complacency  to  charity ;  the 
bright  star,  yea,  the  full-orbed  sun,  that  enlightens 
its  eye,  and  points  out  the  resting-place  of  its  heart. 
And  it  can  rejoice  in  nothing  else.  Falsehood  and 
error,  and  the  devices  of  the  human  mind,  are  the 
objects  of  its  disgust  and  abhorrence.  It  is  evident, 
then,  as  we  have  already  shown,  that  love  differs 
essentially  from  that  vague  kind  of  charity  which 
is  so  much  cried  up  at  present,  both  without  and 
within  the  pale  of  the  church ;  which  scorns  to 
proceed  upon  the  Scripture  ground  of  the  truth  and 
its  genuine  influence;  reviling  as  narrow-minded- 
ness and  an  uncharitable  party  spirit,  all  regard  to 
particular  doctrines; — but  extends  its  indiscriminate 
embrace,  and  pays  its  idle  and  unmeaning  compli- 
ments to  all  persons,  of  whatever  denomination  or 
persuasion,  presuming  that  they  are  all  serious  and 
mean  well,  however  they  may  differ  from  each  other, 
or  from  the  Scripture,  in  sentiment  or  in  practice. 
One  of  the  maxims  of  this  spurious  candor,  as  we 
have  already  considered,  is,  that  there  is  no  moral 
turpitude  in  mental  error  ;  and  that  every  thing  is 
non-essential  which  does  not  relate  to  the  interests 
of  morality.  How  widely  this  counterfeit  liberality 
differs  from  the  apostolic  charity,  is  evident  from 
the  fact  which  we  are  now  considering,  and  by 
which  we  are  told  that  love  delights  in  the  truth.— 
For  the  truth  it  will  be  zealous,  as  for  an  object 
dearer  than  life  itself;  to  this  it  will  be  ready  to  set 
the  seal  of  blood,  and  not  resign  or  betray  it  through 
fear  of  the  gloom  of  the  captive's  dungeon,  or  dread 
of  the  martyr's  stake.  This  is  its  joy  in  life — its 
support  in  death  :  this  is  the  dear  companion  of  its 
pilgrimage  on  earth,  and  its  eternal  associate  in  the 
felicities  of  heaven. 

But  as  the  truth  is  here  opposed  to  iniquity,  the 
apostle  especially  intended  to  state  that  holiness  is 
the  object  of  complacency  to  charity.  Holiness  is 
the  rational  and  appropriate  effect  of  the  truth  be- 
lieved. No  man  can  receive  the  truth  in  the  love 
of  it,  without  bringing  forth  the  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness, which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  unto  the  glory  of 
God.  It  is  the  delight  of  this  pure  and  heavenly 
grace  to  contemplate  holiness  wherever  it  is  to  be 
found.  Ascending  to  the  celestial  world,  it  joins 
the  choirs  cf  the  cherubim,  to  look  upon  the  spotless 
One,  and  with  them  to  give  utterance  to  its  ecstasies, 
in  the  short  but  sublime  anthem,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy, 
is  the  Lord  God  Almighty."  Undismayed  by  the 
roar  of  thunder,  and  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and 
the  voice  of  words;  by  the  thick  darkness,  and  the 
vivid  lightnings,  and  the  agitation  of  the  quaking 
earth  ; — it  ventures  near  the  base  of  Sinai,  and,  for 
the  delight  that  it  has  in  holiness,  rejoices  in  the  law 
which  is  the  rule  of  righteousness.  The  angels  are 
pleasant  to  behold,  because  they  are  clad  in  gar- 
ments of  unsullied  purity  ;  and  the  crown  of  glory 
which  Adam  wore  before  his  fall  was  his  innocence; 
and  the  deep  degradation  into  which  he  fell  by  his 
apostacy,  was  loss  of  holiness,  in  which  consisted 
the  image  of  God.  The  ceremonial  law  has  an  ex- 
cellence in  the  eye  of  charity,  because  it  teaches  the 


value  of  holiness  in  the  view  of  God,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  it  for  man.  The  prophetic  visions  are  all 
delighted  in,  because  they  are  distinguished  by  the 
beauties  of  holiness;  and  the  whole  gospel  of  Jesus 
is  dear  to  the  heart  of  love,  because  it  is  intended  to 
purify  unto  Christ  a  church,  which  he  will  present 
to  the  Father  without  spot,  wrinkle,  or  blemish. — 
Men  are  esteemed  and  loved  on  earth  as  they  have 
this  moral  excellence  enstamped  upon  their  souls  ; 
and  in  looking  for  a  heaven  which  shall  satisfy  all 
its  desires,  it  can  think  of  nothing  higher  and  better 
than  a  state  of  sinless  purity. 

So  ardent  and  so  uniform  is  charity's  regard  to 
holiness,  that  it  rejoices  in  it  when  it  is  found  in  an 
enemy  or  a  rival.  Yes ;  if  we  are  under  the  influ- 
ence of  this  divine  virtue  as  we  ought  to  be,  we  shall 
desire,  and  desire  very  fervently  too,  that  those  who 
have  displeased  or  injured  us  were  better  than  they 
are.  We  shall  wish  to  see  every  speck  of  imperfec- 
tion gone  from  their  conduct,  and  their  whole  cha- 
racter standing  out  to  the  admiration  of  the  world, 
and  receiving  the  approbation  of  those  by  whom 
they  are  now  condemned.  We  shall  be  willing  to 
do  any  thing  by  which  they  may  conciliate  to  them- 
selves the  favor  of  the  alienated  multitude,  and  also 
raise  themselves  to  the  vantage  ground  on  which 
their  misconduct  has  placed  us  above  them.  This 
is  charity,  to  rejoice  in  those  moral  excellences,  and 
gaze  upon  them  with  gratitude  and  complacency, 
which  invest  the  character  of  one  that  opposes  us 
with  loveliness  and  beauty,  and  by  which  his  cause 
is  promoted,  in  some  degree,  to  the  detriment  of 
ours.  Men  of  little  virtue  may  sometimes  join  from 
policy  in  those  commendations  of  another's  good- 
ness, the  justice  of  which  they  cannot  dispute,  and 
the  harmony  of  which  they  dare  not  disturb ;  but  it 
is  only  the  Christian,  who  is  far  advanced  in  the 
practice  of  all  that  is  difficult  in  religion,  who  can 
secretly  rejoice,  without  envy  or  jealousy  in  those 
very  virtues  which  draw  away  the  public  attention 
from  himself,  and  cause  him  and  his  party  to  pass 
into  eclipse  and  to  sink  into  shadow.  "  O  Charity! 
this  is  thy  work,  and  this  thy  glory ; — a  work  too 
rarely  performed — a  glory  too  rarely  seen — in  this 
region  of  selfishness,  in  this  world  of  imperfection  ; 
where,  of  the  multitudes  that  profess  to  submit  to  thy 
sway,  there  are  still  so  few  who  are  really  governed 
by  thy  laws,  and  inspired  by  thine  influence." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE    CANDOR     OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  bcarcth  all  things." 

Some  writers  consider  this  verse  as  an  amplification 
of  the  foregoing  one,  and  explain  it,  in  reference  to 
the  truth,  in  the  following  manner : — "  It  beareth  all 
things"  reported  in  the  truth,  however  opposed  to 
the  corruption  of  human  nature,  and  counts  none  of 
them  hard  sayings  or  unfit  to  be  borne  ;  "  it  believ- 
eth  all  things"  imported  in  the  great  truth,  or  all  the 
inferences  which  the  apostles  have  deduced  from  it, 
as  being  well  affected  to  the  source  from  whence 
they  flow  ;  "  hopeth  for  all  things"  promised  in  it, 
and  "  endureth  all  things  ;"  or  patiently  suffers  all 
the  afflictions  that  can  attend  a  steady  attachment  to 
it.  This  gives  a  very  good  sense  of  the  words,  and 
admits  the  full  force  of  the  universal  expressions. 
Yet  it  certainly  agrees  better  with  the  scope  of  the 
apostle,  to  understand  the  verse  with  reference  to 
the  brethren  as  the  objects  of  it. 

If  we  render  the  first  expression,  and  which  we 
are  now  about  to  consider,  as  our  translators  have 
done,  it  may  signify  our  bearing  one  another's  bur- 
dens and  weaknesses,  which  is  to  fulfil  the  law  of 
Christ :  and  it  must  be  confessed  this  is  strictly  true; 
for  whoever  is  under  the  influence  of  this  principle, 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


41 


will  possess  a  spirit  of  tender  sympathy.  In  this 
world  we  all  groan,  being  burdened.  Each  has  his 
own  load  of  care,  or  grief,  or  imperfection.  This  is 
not  the  state  where  we  find  perfect  rest.  How  wide 
is  the  scope,  how  frequent  the  opportunity,  how  nu- 
merous the  occasions,  for  sympathy  !  And,  who 
that  is  possessed  of  benevolence,  can  allow  himself 
to  pass  a  brother  upon  the  road,  laboring  under  a 
heavier  load  than  his  own,  without  offering  to  bear 
a  part  1  We  are  not  to  be  impertinently  officious 
and  intermeddling,  nor  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  our 
neighbors  with  an  inquisitive  curiosity:  but  to  in- 
quire into  the  cause  which  gives  them  so  much  so- 
licitude or  so  much  grief,  is  the  duty  of  those  who 
are  the  witnesses  of  their  careworn  countenance  and 
downcast  look.  What  an  unfeeling  heart  must 
that  man  have,  who  can  see  the  very  form  of  care 
and  sorrow  before  him,  and  never  kindly  ask  the 
reason  of  its  existence  1  It  is  but  little  that  sympa- 
thy can  do  for  the  sufferer,  but  that  little  should  be 
most  cheerfully  afforded.  To  be  unnoticed  and  un- 
pitied  in  our  griefs,  adds  greatly  to  their  weight. — 
For  what  purpose  are  Christians  collected  into 
churches  1  not  merely  to  eat  the  Lord's  Supper  to- 
gether :  this  could  be  done  without  any  such  dis- 
tinct recognition  of  a  mutual  relationship,  as  that 
which  takes  place  in  the  fellowship  of  believers. — 
The  end  and  design  of  this  bond  is,  that  being  united 
as  one  body,  the  members  might  cherish  a  general 
sympathy  for  each  other,  and  exercise  their  benevo- 
lence in  the  way  of  mutual  assistance.  The  rich, 
by  their  munificence,  should  help  their  poorer  bre- 
thren to  bear  the  burden  of  poverty ;  the  strong 
should  aid  the  weak  to  bear  the  burden  of  their 
fears  and  apprehensions ;  those  who  are  in  health 
and  ease  should  by  seasonable  visits,  and  soothing 
words,  and  kind  offices,  bear  the  burdens  of  the 
sick ;  counsel  should  always  be  given,  when  it  is 
sought  by  those  who  are  in  difficulty  ;  and  a  dispo- 
sition should  pervade  the  whole  body,  to  render  its 
varied  resources,  talents,  and  energies,  available  for 
the  benefit  of  the  whole. 

But  though  this  also  gives  a  beautiful  meaning, 
and  enjoins  a  necessary  duty,  it  is  not  the  right 
view  of  the  passage.  The  word  translated  "  bear- 
eth"  all  things,  signifies  also,  "to  contain,  to  con- 
ceal, to  cover."  The  idea  of  "  bearing"  is  parallel 
in  meaning  with  that  of  "enduring,"  of  which  the 
apostle  speaks  in  the  latter  part  of  the  verse  ;  and  it 
is  not  probable  that  it  was  his  intention  to  express 
the  same  thought  twice.  Adopting  "concealment" 
as  the  sentiment  intended  to  be  expressed  and  the 
failings  of  others  as  the  object  to  which  it  refers,  I 
shall  go  on  to  show  in  what  way  it  is  practised. 

To  do  this  with  still  greater  effect,  we  shall  exhi- 
bit a  general  view  of  those  sins  to  which  the  view 
of  Christian  charity  stands  exposed  ;  and  these  are, 
slander,  detraction,  and  rash  judging,  or  censorious- 
ness. 

Perhaps  there  are  no  sins  which  are  more  fre- 
quently alluded  to,  or  more  severely  rebuked,  in 
Scripture,  than  those  of  the  tongue;  and  for  this  rea- 
son,— because  there  are  none  to  which  we  are  so 
frequently  tempted — none  we  are  so  prone  to  in- 
dulge, or  so  bold  to  excuse — none  which  are  so  fruit- 
ful of  disorder  and  discomfort  lo  society.  Besides 
swearing,  falsehood,  obscenity,  blasphemy, — the 
Scripture  speaks  of  bearing  false  witness,  railing, 
tale-bearing,  whispering,  backbiting,  slander,  and 
reproach  : — a  dismal  enumeration  of  vices  belong- 
ing to  that  member  which  was  intended  to  be  the 
glory  of  our  frame.  By  slander,  we  understand 
the  circulation  of  a.  false  report  with  the  intention  of 
injuring  a  neighbor's  reputation.  lis  most  vicious 
excess  is  the  invention  and  construction  of  a  story 
which  is  absolutely  false  from  beginning  to  end. — 
Its  next  lower  grade,  though  little  inferior  in  crimi- 


nality, is  to  become  the  propagator  of  the  tale,  know- 
ing it  to  be  false.  "  This,"  says  Barrow,  "  is  to  be- 
come the  hucksters  of  counterfeit  wares,  or  factors 
in  this  vile  trade.  There  is  no  coiner  who  hath  not 
emissaries  and  accomplices  ready  to  take  from  his 
hand  and  put  off  his  money;  and  such  slanderers  at 
second  hand  are  scarcely  less  guilty  than  the  first 
authors.  He  that  breweth  lies  may  have  more  wit 
and  skill,  but  the  broacher  showeth  the  like  malice 
and  wickedness.  In  this  there  is  no  great  difference 
between  the  great  devil  that  frameth  scandalous  re- 
ports, and  the  little  imps  that  run  about  and  disperse 
them."  The  next  operation  of  slander  is  to  receive 
and  spread,  without  examining  into  the  truth  of 
them,  false  and  injurious  reports.  It  is  a  part  of  a 
good  man's  character,  that  "  He  taketh  not  up  a  re- 
proach against  his  neighbor;"  i.  e.  he  does  not  ea- 
sily entertain  it,  much  less  propagate  it ;  he  does  not 
receive  it  but  upon  the  most  convincing  evidence  : 
but  slander  founds  reproachful  tales  upon  conjecture 
or  suspicion,  and  raises  an  injurious  representa 
tion  upon  a  suppositious  foundation.  Sometimes  it 
withers  the  reputation  of  a  neighbor  by  rash  speak- 
ing, or  vehemently  affirming  things  which  it  has  no 
reason  to  believe,  and  no  motive  for  affirming,  but 
the  hope  of  exciting  ill  will.  Slander  is  sinful,  be- 
cause forbidden  in  every  part  of  Scripture ;  ciucl,  be- 
cause it  is  robbing  our  neighbor  of  that  which  is 
dearer  to  him  than  life;  and  foolish,  because  it  sub- 
jects the  calumniator  himself  to  all  kinds  of  incon- 
venience,— for  it  not  only  exposes  him  to  the  wrath 
of  God,  the  loss  of  his  soul,  and  the  miseries  of  hell 
in  the  world  to  come,  but  it  makes  him  odious  in  the 
present  life,  causes  him  to  be  shunned  and  discredit- 
ed, arms  his  conscience  against  his  own  peace, 
brings  upon  himself  the  most  reproachful  accusa- 
tions, and  not  unfrequently  the  vengeance  of  that 
public  justice,  which  is  rightly  appointed  to  be  the 
guardian  not  only  of  property  and  life,  but  of  repu- 
tation also. 

Detraction,  or  backbiting,  differs  a  little  from 
slander,  though,  in  its  general  nature  and  constitu- 
tion, it  closely  resembles  it.  Slander  involveth  an 
imputation  of  falsehood  ;  but  detraction  may  clothe 
itself  with  truth:  it  is  sweetened  poison,  served  from 
a  golden  cup  by  the  hand  of  hypocrisy.  A  detrac- 
tor's aim  is  the  same  as  the  slanderer's — to  injure  the 
reputation  of  another;  but  he  avails  himself  of 
means  that  are  a  little  different.  He  represents  per- 
sons and  actions  under  the  most  disadvantageous 
circumstances  he  can, — setting  forth  those  which 
may  make  them  appear  guilty  or  ridiculous,  and 
throwing  into  the  shade  such  as  are  commendable. 
"When  he  cannot  deny  the  metal  to  be  good  and 
the  stamp  to  be  true,  he  clippeth  it,  and  so  rejecteth 
it  from  being  current:  he  misconstrues  doubtful  ac- 
tions unfavorably,  and  throws  over  the  very  virtues 
of  his  neighbors  the  name  of  faults, — calling  the  so- 
ber sour,  the  conscientious  morose,  the  devout  su- 
perstitious, the  frugal  sordid,  the  cheerful  frivolous, 
and  the  reserved  crafty  :  he  diminishes  from  the  ex- 
cellence of  good  actions,  by  showing  how  much  bet- 
ter they  might  have  been  done  ;  and  attempts  to  de- 
stroy all  confidence  in  long-established  character, 
and  all  respect  for  it,  by  pitching  on  some  single  act 
of  imprudence,  and  expanding  it  into  a  magnitude, 
and  darkening  it  into  a  shadow,  which  truth  and 
justice  forbid.  Such  is  the  backbiter ;  whose  crime 
is  compounded  of  the  ingredients  of  ill  humor, 
pride,  selfishness,  envy,  malice,  falsehood,  coward- 
ice, and  folly.  Backbiting  must  be  peculiarly  hate- 
ful to  God.  ' "  He  is  the  God  of  truth,  and  therefore 
detesteth  lying,  of  which  detraction  ever  hath  a 
spice  :  lie  is  the  God  of  justice,  and  therefore  doth 
especially  abhor  wronging  the  best  persons  and  ac- 
tions: He  is  the  God  of  love,  and  therefore  cannot 
but  loathe  this  capital  violation  of  charity:  He  13 


42 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


jealous  of  his  glory,  and  therefore  cannot  endure  it 
to  be  abused  by  slurring  his  good  gifts  and  graces : 
He  cannot  but  hate  the  offence  which  approacheth 
to  that  most  heinous  and  unpardonable  sin,  that 
consisteth  in  defaming  the  excellent  works  perform- 
ed by  divine  power  and  goodness,  ascribing  them  to 
bad  causes." 

The  same  writer,  in  speaking  of  the  mischief  of 
detraction,  as  discouraging  others  from  the  per- 
formance of  that  goodness  which  is  thus  vilified  and 
defamed,  has  the  following  beautiful  remarks. — 
Many,  seeing  the  best  men  thus  disparaged,  and  the 
best  actions  vilified,  are  disheartened  and  deterred 
from  practising  virtue,  especially  in  a  conspicuous 
and  eminent  degree  : — "  Why,"  will  many  a  man 
say,  "  shall  I  be  strictly  good,  seeing  goodness  is  so 
liable  to  be  misused]  Had  I  not  better  be  contented 
with  a  mediocrity  and  obscurity  of  goodness,  than 
by  a  glaring  lustre  thereof  to  draw  the  envious  eye 
and  kindle  raging  obloquy  upon  me  1"  And  when 
the  credit  of  virtue  is  blasted  in  its  practices,  many 
will  be  diverted  from  it.  So  will  it  grow  out  of  re- 
quest, and  the  world  be  corrupted  by  these  agents  of 
the  Evil  One.  It  were  advisable,  upon  this  consi- 
deration, not  to  seem  ever  to  detract,  even  not  then 
when  we  are  assured  that,  by  speaking  ill,  we  shall 
not  really  do  it;  if  we  should  discover  any  man  to 
seem  worthy,  or  to  be  so  reputed,  whom  yet  we  dis- 
cern, by  standing  in  a  nearer  light,  not  to  be  truly 
such,  yet  wisdom  would  commonly  dictate,  and 
goodness  dispose,  not  to  mar  his  repute.  If  we 
should  observe,  without  danger  of  mistake,  any  plau- 
sible action  to  be  performed  out  of  bad  inclinations, 
principles,  or  designs,  yet  ordinarily  in  discretion 
and  honesty,  we  should  let  it  pass  with  such  com- 
mendation as  its  appearance  may  procure,  rather 
than  slur  it  by  venting  our  disadvantageous  appre- 
hensions about  it;  for  it  is  no  great  harm  that  any 
man  should  enjoy  undeserved  commendation  ;  our 
granting  its  claims  is  but  being  over  just,  which,  if 
it  ever  be  a  fault,  can  hardly  be  so  in  this  case, 
wherein  we  do  not  expend  any  cost  or  suffer  any 
damage  ;  but  it  may  do  mischief  to  blemish  any  ap- 
pearance of  virtue  :  it  may  be  a  wrong  thereto,  to 
deface  its  very  image;  the  very  disclosing  of  hypo- 
crisy doth  inflict  a  wound  on  goodness,  and  exposeth 
it  to  scandal,  for  bad  men  will  then  be  prone  to  infer 
that  ail  virtue  doth  proceed  from  the  like  bad  prin- 
ciples ;  so  the  disgrace  cast  on  that  which  is  spuri- 
ous, will  redound  to  the  prejudice  of  that  which  is 
most  genuine.  And  if  it  be  good  to  forbear  detract- 
ing from  that  which  is  certainly  false,  much  more 
so  in  regard  to  that  which  is  possibly  true;  and  far 
more  still  is  it  so  in  respect  to  that  which  is  clear 
and  sure. 

Censoriousness  is  another  sin  of  the  same  class — 
nnother  child  of  the  same  family:  varying,  how- 
ever, from  those  we  have  already  considered  by  act- 
ing not  so  much  in  the  way  of  reporting  faults  as 
in  condemning  them.  It  is  different  from  slander, 
inasmuch  as  it  assumes,  that  what  it  condemns  is 
true;  and  from  detraction,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  ex- 
ercised with  an  intention  to  injure  another  in  public 
estimation,  but  only  to  reprove  him  for  what  is 
wrong.  It  assumes  the  character,  not  of  a  witness, 
but  of  a  judge  :  hence  the  injunction,  "  Judge  not." 
Censoriousness,  then,  means  a  disposition  to  scrutin- 
ize men's  motives — to  pass  sentence  upon  their  con- 
duct— to  reproach  their  faults, — accompanied  by  an 
unwillingness  to  make  all  reasonable  allowances 
for  their  mistakes,  and  a  tendency  to  the  side  of  se- 
verity rather  than  to  that  of  leniency.  We  are  not 
to  suppose  that  all  inspection  and  condemnation  of 
the  conduct  of  others  is  sin  ;  nor  that  all  reproof  of 
offenders  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of  charity;  nor 
that  we  are  to  think  well  of  our  neighbors,  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  plainest  evidence;  nor  that  we  are  to  i 


entertain  such  a  cred  ulous  opinion  of  the  excellence 
of  mankind,  as  unsuspectingly  to  confide  in  every 
man's  pretences :  but  what  we  condemn  is  need- 
lessly inquiring  into  the  conduct  and  motives  of 
other  men;  examining  and  arraigning  them  at  our 
bar,  when  we  stand  in  no  relation  to  them  that  re- 
quires such  a  scrutiny;  delivering  our  opinion 
when  it  is  not  called  for;  pronouncing  sentence 
with  undue  severity,  and  heaping  the  heaviest  de- 
gree of  reproach  upon  an  offender  which  we  can 
find  language  to  express. 

The  world  is  become  so  extremely  critical  and 
censorious,  that  in  many  places  the  chief  employ- 
ment of  men,  and  the  main  body  of  conversation,  is, 
if  we  mark  it,  taken  up  in  judging ;  every  company 
is  a  court  of  justice,  every  seat  becometh  a  tribunal, 
at  every  table  standeth  a  bar,  whereunto  all  men 
are  cited — whereat  every  man,  as  it  happeneth,  is 
arraigned  and  sentenced ;  no  sublimity  or  sacred- 
ness  of  dignity — no  integrity  or  innocence  of  life — 
no  prudence  or  circumspection  of  demeanor, — can 
exempt  any  person  from  it.  Not  one  escapes  being 
taxed  under  some  odious  name  or  scandalous  cha- 
racter or  other.  Not  only  the  outward  actions  and 
visible  practices  of  men  are  judged,  but  their  retired 
sentiments  are  brought  under  review — their  inward 
dispositions  have  a  verdict  passed  upon  them — their 
final  states  are  determined.  Whole  bodies  of  men 
are  thus  judged  at  once;  and  nothing  is  it  in  one 
breath  to  damn  whole  churches — at  one  push  to 
throw  down  whole  nations  into  the  bottomless  pit: 
yea,  God  himself  is  hardly  spared,  his  providence 
coming  under  the  bold  obloquy  of  those  who — as 
the  Psalmist  speaketh  of  some  in  his  time,  whose 
race  does  yet  survive — speak  loftily,  and  set  their 
mouth  against  the  heavens.  Barrow,  in  order  to 
censure  this  temper,  gives  the  following  qualifica- 
tions of  a  judge.  "  He  should  be  appointed  by  com- 
petent authority,  and  not  intrude  himself  into  office. 
To  how  many  censors  may  we  say,  '  Who  made 
thee  a  judge]'  He  should  "be  free  from  all  preju- 
dice and  partiality.  Is  this  the  case  with  the  censo- 
rious ]  He  should  never  proceed  to  judgment,  with- 
out a  careful  examination  of  the  case,  so  as  well  to 
understand  it.  Let  the  private  self-appointed  judges 
remember  this,  and  act  upon  the  principle  of  Solo- 
mon— "  He  that  answereth  a  matter  before  he  hear- 
eth  it,  it  is  a  folly  and  a  shame  to  him."  He  should 
never  pronounce  sentence  but  upon  good  grounds, 
after  certain  proof  and  full  conviction.  If  this  rule 
were  observed,  how  many  censures  would  be  pre- 
vented. He  will  not  meddle  with  causes  beyond  the 
jurisdiction  of  his  court.  If  this  were  recollected 
and  acted  upon,  the  voice  of  unlawful  censure  would 
die  away  in  silence;  for  who  are  we,  that  we  should 
try  the  hearts  and  search  the  reins  of  men,  or 
judge  another's  servant  ]  He  never  proceeds  against 
any  man,  without  citing  him  to  appear,  either  in 
person,  or  by  his  representative,  and  giving  him  an 
opportunity  to  defend  himself.  When  any  one  is 
censured  in  company,  there  should  always  be  found 
some  generous  mind,  who  would  propose  that  the 
accused  should  be  sent  for,  and  the  trial  put  off  till 
he  appeared.  He  must  pronounce,  not  according 
to  private  fancy,  but  to  public  and  established  laws. 
Is  this  the  rule  of  the  censorious]  Is  it  not  rather 
their  custom  to  make  their  own  private  opinion  the 
law]  He  should  be  a  person  of  great  knowledge 
and  ability.  What  is  the  usual  character  of  the 
private  censors]  Are  they  not  persons  of  great  ig- 
norance and  few  ideas,  who,  for  want  of  something 
else  to  say,  or  ability  to  say  it,  talk  of  their  neigh- 
bors' faults, — a  topic  on  which  a  child  or  a  fool  can 
be  fluent]  He  is  not  an  accuser;  and  moreover  is, 
by  virtue  of  his  office,  counsel  for  the  accused.  On 
the  contrary,  the  censorious  are,  generally,  not  only 
judges  but  accusers,  and  counsel  against  the  culprits 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


43 


whom  they  have  brought  to  their  bar.  He  should 
lean,  as  far  as  the  public  good  will  allow,  to  the  side 
of  mercy  :  but  mercy  has  no  place  in  the  bosom  of 
the  censorious,  and  their  very  justice  is  cruelty  and 
oppression.  He  must  himself  be  innocent.  Why 
is  there  not  a  voice  heard  in  every  company,  when 
the  prisoner  is  arraigned,  and  the  process  of  judg- 
ment begins,  saying,  "He  that  is  without  sin,  let 
him  cast  the  first  stone  !"  He  proceeds  with  solem- 
nity and  grief,  and  slowness,  to  pass  the  sentence. — 
But  what  indecent  haste  and  levity,  not  excepting 
joy,  do  we  witness  in  those  who  are  given  to  the 
practice  of  censuring  their  neighbors'  conduct.* 

Now,  to  all  these  sinful  practices  Christian  love 
stands  directly  opposed.  It  is  a  long  time  before  it 
allows  itself  to  perceive  the  faults  of  others.  Not  more 
quick1  is  instinct  in  the  bird,  or  beast,  or  fish,  of 
prey,  to  discover  its  victim,  than  the  detractor  and 
the  censorious  are  to  descry  imperfections  as  soon 
as  they  appear  in  the  conduct  of  those  around  them. 
Their  vision  is  quite  telescopic,  to  see  objects  of  this 
kind  at  a  distance,  and  they  have  a  microscopic 
power  of  inspection,  to  examine  those  that  are  small 
and  near ;  and,  when  looking  at  faults,  they  always 
employ  the  highest  magnifying  power  which  their 
instrument  admits  of:  while  for  the  purpose  of  look- 
ing at  those  spots,  which  to  the  naked  eye  would  be 
lost  amidst  the  surrounding  glory,  they  carry  a 
darkened  glass.  They  do  not  want  to  see  virtues; 
no,  all  that  is  fair,  and  good,  and  lovely,  is  passed 
over  in  quest  of  deformity  and  evil.  But  all  this  is 
utterly  abhorrent  to  the  nature  of  love;  which,  in- 
tent upon  the  well-being  of  mankind,  and  anxious 
for  their  happiness,  is  ever  looking  out  for  the  signs 
and  the  symptoms  which  betoken  that  the  sum  of 
human  felicity  is  perpetually  increasing.  The  eye 
of  the  Christian  philanthropist  is  so  busily  employed 
in  searching  for  excellence,  and  so  fixed  and  so 
ravished  by  it  when  it  is  found,  that  it.  is  sure  to  pass 
over  many  things  of  a  contrary  nature,  as  not  in- 
cluded in  the  object  of  its  inquiry  ;  just  as  he  who 
is  seavching  for  gems  is  likely  to  pass  by  many  com- 
mon stones  unheeded;  or  as  he  who  is  looking  for 
a  particular  star  or  constellation  in  the  heavens,  is 
lot  likely  to  see  the  tapers  which  are  near  him 
upon  earth.  Good  men  are  his  delight;  and  to 
com°  at  these,  very  many  of  the  evil  generation  are 
passed  by:  and  the^e  is  also  a  singular  power  of  ab- 
straction in  his  benevolence,  to  separate,  when  look- 
ing at  a  mixed  character,  the  good  from  the  evil, 
and,  losing  sight  of  the  latter,  to  concentrate  its  ob- 
servation in  the  former. 

And  when  love  is  obliged  to  admit  the  existence 
of  imperfections,  it  diminishes  as  much  as  possible 
their  magnitude,  and  hides  them  as  much  as  is  law- 
ful from  its  own  notice.  It  tak=s  no  delight  in  look- 
ing at  them,  finds  no  pleasure  ir.  keeping  them  be- 
fore its  attention,  and  poring  into  them;  but  turns 
away  from  them,  as  an  unpleasant  object,  as  a  deli- 
cate sense  would  from  whatever  is  offensive.  If  we 
find  an  affinity  between  our  thoughts  and  the  sins 
of  which  we  are  the  spectators,  it  is  a  plain  proof  that 
our  benevolence  is  of  a  very  doubtful  nature,  or  in 
a  feeble  stale;  on  the  contrary,  if  we  involuntarily 
turn  away  our  eyes  from  beholding  evil,  and  are 
conscious  to  ourselves  of  a  strong  revulsion,  and  an 
acute  distress,  when  we  cannot  altogether  retire 
from  the  view  of  it,  we  possess  an  evidence  that  we 
know  much  of  that  virtue  which  covereth  all  things. 
If  we  are  properly,  as  we  ought  to  be,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  love,  we  shall  make  all  reasonable  allow- 
ances for  those  things  which  are  wrong  in  the  con- 
duct of  our  neighbor  ;  we  shall,  as  we  have  already 
considered,  not  be  forward  to  suspect  evil;  but  shall 
io  every  thing  to  lessen  the  heinousness  of  the  ac- 


*  Dr.  Barrow's  Sermons. 


tion.  This  is  what  is  meant,  when  it  is  said  that 
"  Charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  Hatred  stir- 
reth  up  strifes,  but  love  covereth  all  sins." 

It  is  the  wish  and  the  act  of  love,  to  conceal  from 
the  public  all  the  faults,  which  the  good  of  the  of- 
fender, and  the  ends  of  public  justice,  do  not  iequire 
to  be  disclosed.  There  are  cases,  in  which  to  con- 
ceal offences,  whatever  kindness  it  may  be  to  one, 
would  be  unkindness  to  many.  If  a  person  living 
in  sin,  has  so  far  imposed  upon  a  minister,  as  to  in- 
duce him  to  propose  him  for  admission  to  the  fel- 
lowship of  the  church,  it  is  the  bounden  duty  of  any 
individual,  who  knows  the  real  character  of  the 
candidate,  to  make  it  known  to  the  pastor ;  and  the 
same  disclosure  should  be  made  in  reference  to  a 
person  already  in  communion,  who  is  actually  liv- 
ing in  sin:  concealment  in  these  cases  is  an  injury 
to  the  whole  body  of  Christians.  If  a  person  is  like- 
ly to  be  injured  in  his  temporal  concerns,  by  repos- 
ing confidence  in  one  who  is  utterly  unworthy  of  it, 
it  is  the  duty  of  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
snare  to  warn  the  destined  victim  of  his  danger.  If 
any  are  so  far  regardless  of  the  peace  of  society  and 
the  laws  of  the  country,  as  to  be  engaged  in  great 
crimes  against  both,  concealment  on  the  part  of 
those  who  are  aware  of  the  existence  of  such  prac- 
tices, is  a  participation  in  the  crime.  As  our  love 
is  to  be  universal,  as  well  as  particular,  it  must 
never  be  exercised  towards  individuals  in  a  way 
that  is  really  opposed  to  the  interests  of  the  com- 
munity. 

But  where  no  other  interest  is  concerned— where 
no  claims  demand  a  disclosure — where  no  injury 
is  done  by  concealment,  and  no  benefit  is  conferred 
by  giving  publicity  to  a  fault, — there  our  duly  is  to 
cover  it  over  with  the  veil  of  secrecy,  and  maintain 
an  unbroken  silence  upon  the  subject. 

Instead  of  this  friendly  and  amiable  reserve,  how 
different  is  the  way  in  which  many  act !  No  sooner 
have  they  heard  of  the  commission  of  a  fault,  than 
they  set  off  with  the  intelligence,  as  glad  as  if  they 
bore  the  tidings  of  a  victory,  proclaiming  the  me- 
lancholy fact  with  strange  delight,  in  every  compa- 
ny, and  almost  to  every  individual  they  meet ;  and 
as  there  is  a  greedy  appetite  in  some  persons  for 
scandal,  they  find  many  ears  as  open  to  listen  to  the 
tale,  as  their  lips  are  to  tell  it :  or,  perhaps,  they  re- 
late the  matter  as  a  secret,  extorting  a  promise  from 
those  to  whom  they  communicate  it,  that  they  will 
never  mention  it  again.  But  if  it  be  not  proper  to 
publish  it  to  the  world,  why  do  they  speak  of  ii  at 
all  1  If  it  be  proper  for  publicity,  why  lock  up  others 
in  silence  1  Sometimes  the  telling  faults  in  secret 
is  a  pitiable  kind  of  weakness,  an  utter  impossibili- 
ty of  keeping  any  thing  in  the  mind,  accompanied 
by  an  intention  of  publishing  it  only  to  a  single  per- 
son; but  not  unfrequently  it  is  a  wish  to  have  the 
gratification  of  being  the  first  to  communicate 
the  report  to  a  large  number  of  persons ;  each  is 
made  to  promise  that  he  will  not  disclose  it,  that 
the  original  reporter  may  not  be  anticipated  as 
he  pursues  his  round,  and  thus  have  his  delight 
diminished,  in  being  every  where  the  first  to  tell 
bad  news. 

Then  there  are  some  who  publish  the  faults  oj 
others  under  the  hypocritical  pretence  of  lamenting  ore? 
them,  and  producing  in  others  a  caution  against  the 
same  thing.  You  will  see  them  in  company  putting 
on  a  grave  countenance,  and  hear  them  asking  the 
person  who  sits  near  them,  but  with  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  reach  every  corner  of  the  room,  whether 
he  has  heard  the  report  of  Mr.  Such-an-one's  con- 
duct: and  when  every  ear  is  caught,  every  tongue 
is  silent,  and  every  eye  fixed,  he  will  proceed,  in  a 
strain  of  deep  lamentation  and  tender  commisera- 
tion, to  bewail  the  misconduct  of  the  delinquent,— 
seasoning  the  narration  of  the  offence,  as  he  goes 


It 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


through  all  its  circumstances  and  all  its  aggrava- 
tions, with  many  expressions  of  pity  for  the  offender, 
and  many  words  of  caution  to  tne  company.  Thus, 
under  the  hypocritical  guise  of  pity  and  the  abhor- 
rence of  sin,  has  he  indulged  in  this  mischievous, 
yet  too  common  propensity,  to  publish  the  failings 
of  some  erring  brother.  Has  he  mentioned  the 
subject  to  the  individual  himself?  If  not,  and  he 
has  withheld  this  mode  of  expressing  his  pity, 
what  avails  his  public  commiseration  1  What 
possible  sympathy  with  the  offender  can  it  be,  to 
placard  him  in  public,  and  blazon  his  faults  in  com- 
pany'? 

Some  there  are,  who  suppose  that  there  is  little 
harm  in  talking,  in  their  own  particular  circles,  oj 
the  failings  of  their  neighbors:  they  would  not  speak 
of  these  tilings  before  strangers,  or  society  in  gene- 
ral ;  but  they  feel  no  scruple  in  making  them  matter 
of  conversation  among  their  select  friends.  But 
these  friends  may  not  all  be  prudent;  and  if  it  be 
not  desirable  that  the  fact  should  not  be  known 
without  the  circle,  the  best  way  is,  that  it  be  not 
known  within  it.  Where  there  is  no  benefit  likely 
to  be  obtained  by  publicity,  it  is  best,  in  reference  to 
character,  to  lock  up  the  secret  in  our  own  mind, 
and  literally  to  observe  the  injunction  of  the  pro- 
phet— "  Trust  ye  not  in  a  friend,  put  ye  not  confid- 
ence in  a  guide;  keep  the  doors  of  thy  mouth  from 
her  that  lieth  in  thy  bosom." 

Love,  not  only  will  not  originate,  but  will  not 
help  to  circulate,  an  evil  report.  When  the  tale 
comes  to  her,  there,,  at  least,  in  that  direction  it 
stops.  There  are  gossips,  who,  though  they  would 
shudder  at  slander,  and,  perhaps,  would  not  be  the 
first  to  give  publicity  to  an  idle  report  of  another, 
yet  would  feel  no  scruple  in  telling  what  many  al- 
ready know.  "  It  is  no  secret,"  they  say,  "else  I 
would  not  mention  it."  But  we  should  not  do  even 
this :  we  should  neither  invent,  nor  originate,  nor 
propagate,  an  evil  report.  While  every  tongue  is 
voluble  in  spreading  bad  tidings,  charity  will  be  si- 
lent; while  all  seem  anxious  to  enjoy  communion 
in  backbiting  and  detraction,  and  to  sip  the  cup  of 
detraction,  as  it  passes  round  the  company,  she  says 
to  the  person  who  has  told  the  story,  "  I  have  no 
ears  for  defamation,  or  even  for  the  tale  of  another's 
faults.  Go,  and  affectionately  speak  with  the  indi- 
vidual of  his  failings,  but  do  not  talk  of  them  in 
public."  If  all  men  acted  on  these  principles,  slan- 
der would  die  upon  the  lips  which  gave  it  birth  : 
tale-bearers  would  cease,  for  want  of  customers,  to 
carry  on  their  trade,  as  pedlars  in  detraction  ;  back- 
biting would  go  out  of  fashion ;  and  the  love  of 
scandal  be  starved  for  want  of  food. 

The  evils,  then,  to  which  love  is  opposed,  are — 
calumny,  which  invents  a  slanderous  report  to  in- 
jure the  reputation  of  another;  detraction,  which 
magnifies  a  fault;  ccnsoriousncss,  which  is  too  offi- 
cious and  too  rigid  in  condemning  it ;  talc-bearing, 
which  propagates  it ;  curiosity,  which  desires  to 
know  it ;  malignity,  which  takes  delight  in  it.  Of 
this  list  of  vices,  calumny  is,  of  course,  the  worst; 
but.  a  tattling  disposition,  though  it  may  have  little 
of  the  malignity  of  slander,  is  a  servant  to  do  its 
work,  and  a  tool  to  perpetrate  its  mischief.  Persons 
of  this  description  are  far  too  numerous.  They  are 
to  be  found  in  every  town,  in  every  village — yes, 
and  in  every  church.  They  are  not  the  authors  of 
libels,  but  they  are  the  publishers ;  they  do  not  draw 
up  the  placard,  but  only  paste  it  up  in  all  parts  of 
the  town;  and  are  amenable,  not  for  the  malice 
which  invented  the  defamatory  lie,  but  for  the  mis- 
chief of  circulating  it.  Their  minds  are  a  kind  of 
common  sewer,  into  which  all  the  filthy  streams  of 
scandal  are  perpetually  flowing:  a  receptacle  of 
whatever  is  offensive  and  noxious.  Such  gossips 
might  be  pitied  for  their  weakness,  if  they  were  not 


still  more  to  be  dreaded  for  the  injury  they  do. — 
They  are  not  malignants,  but  they  are  mischief- 
makers;  and,  as  such,  should  be  shunned  and 
dreaded.  Every  door  should  be  closed  against  them, 
or,  at  least,  every  ear.  They  should  be  made  to 
feel  that,  if  silence  be  a  penance  to  them,  their  idle 
and  injurious  tales  are  a  much  more  afflictive  pen- 
ance to  their  neighbors.  Now  such  persons  would 
not  only  be  rendered  more  safe,  but  more  dignified 
by  charity:  this  heavenly  virtue,  by  destroying  their 
propensity  to  gossiping,  would  rescue  them  from  re- 
proach, and  confer  upon  them  an  elevation  of  cha- 
racter to  which  they  were  strangers  before.  It 
would  turn  their  activity  into  a  new  channel,  and 
make  them  as  anxious  to  promote  the  peace  of  so- 
ciety, as  they  were  before  to  disturb  it  by  the  din  of 
their  idle  and  voluble  tongue.  They  would  per- 
ceive that  no  man's  happiness  can  be  promoted  by 
the  publication  of  his  faults;  for  if  he  be  penitent, 
to  have  his  failings  made  the  butt  of  ridicule,  is  like 
pouring  nitre  and  vinegar  upon  the  deep  wounds  of 
a  troubled  mind ;  or  if  he  be  not,  this  exposure  will 
do  harm,  by  producing  irritation,  and  by  thus  plac- 
ing him  farther  off  from  true  contrition. 

If  it  be  essential  to  charity,  to  feel  a  disposition  to 
cover  the  faults  which  we  witness,  and  to  treat  with 
tenderness  and  delicacy  the  offender,  it  is  quite  dis- 
tressing to  consider  how  little  of  it  there  is  in  the 
world.  How  much  need  have  we  to  labor  for  an 
increase  of  it  ourselves,  and  to  diffuse  it,  both  by  our 
influence  and  example,  that  the  harmony  of  society 
may  not  be  so  frequently  interrupted  by  the  lies  of 
the  slanderer,  the  exaggerations  of  the  detractor, 
the  harsh  judgments  of  the  censorious,  or  the  idle 
gossip  of  the  tale-bearer. 


"  Charity  believeth  all  things." 

Nearly  allied  to  the  property  we  have  just  consi- 
dered, and  an  essential  part  of  candor,  is  that  which 
follows:—"  Charity  believeth  all  things  ;"— j.  e.  not 
all  things  contained  in  the  word  of  God, — tor  faitb 
in  divine  testimony  is  not  here  the  subject  treated 
of,— but  all  things  which  are  testified  concerning 
our  brethren  ;  not,  however,  such  as  are  testified  to 
their  disadvantage,  but  in  their  favor.  This  pro- 
perty or  operation  of  love  is  so  involved,  and  has 
been  to  such  an  extent  illustrated,  in  what  we  have 
already  considered,  that  it  cannot  be  necessary  to 
enlarge  upon  the  subject.  As  charity  regards  with 
benevolent  desire  the  weil-being  o(  all,  it  must  feel 
naturally  disposed  to  believe  whatever  can  be  stated 
in  their  'favor.  Tell  a  fond  mother  of  the  faults  of 
her  child:  does  she  immediately  and  entirely  be- 
lieve the  testimony  1  No.  You  will  perceive  an 
aspect  of  unbelief  on  her  countenance ;  you  will  hear 
inquiries  and  doubtful  insinuations  from  her  lips: 
and  after  the  clearest  evidence  has  been  adduced  in 
support  of  the  testimony,  you  will  still  discern  that 
shebelievesyounot.  But  on  the  contrary,  carry  to  her 
a  report  of  her  child's  good  conduct — tell  her  of  his 
achievements  in  wisdom  or  in  virtue, — and  you  see 
at  once  the  look  of  assent,  the  smile  of  approbation, 
hear  me  language  of  conviction,  and,  in  some  cases, 
witness  a  decree  of  confidence  which  amounts  to 
weakness.  How  can  we  account  for  this  1  On  the 
principle  of  the  apostle,  that  "  love  believeth  all 
things  :"  the  mother  loves  her  child;  she  is  sincerely 
anxious  for  his  well-being;  and  as  our  wishes  have 
an  influence  upon  our  convictions,  she  is  forward 
to  believe  what  is  said  to  her  child's  honor,  and  as 
backward  to  believe  what  is  said  to  his  discredit. 

Here,  then,  is  one  of  the  brightest  displays  of 
charity,  as  exhibited  in  the  man  who  believeth  all 
things  which  are  related  to  the  advantage  of  others. 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


He  hears  the  report  with  unfeigned  pleasure,  listens 
with  the  smile  of  approbation,  the  nod  of  assent; 
he  does  not  turn  to  the  subject  of  human  depravity, 
to  find  ground  and  reason  for  discrediting  the  (act, 
nor  does  he  search  with  inquisitive  eye  for  some 
flaw  in  the  evidence  to  impeach  the  veracity  of 
the  testimony  ;  he  does  not  cautiously  hold  his  judg- 
ment in  abeyance,  as  if  afraid  of  believing  too  well 
of  his  neighbor;  but,  if  the  evidence  amount  to  pro- 
bability, he  is  ready  to  believe  the  account,  and  de- 
lights to  find  another  and  another  instance  of  human 
excellence,  by  which  he  may  be  more  reconciled 
and  attached  to  the  family  of  man,  and  by  which 
he  discovers  that  there  is  more  goodness  and  hap- 
piness on  earth  than  he  knew  of  before. 

The  strongest  proof  and  power  of  love,  in  this 
mode  of  its  operation,  is  its  disposition  to  believe 
all  good  reports  of  an  enemy  or  a  rival.  Many  per- 
sons can  believe  nothing  good,  but  every  thing  bad, 
of  those  whom  they  consider  in  this  light.  Let 
them  have  once  conceived  a  prejudice  or  a  dislike  ; 
let  them  only  have  been  injured  or  offended,  opposed 
or  humbled,  by  any  one  ; — and  from  that  moment 
their  ears  are  closed  against  every  word  to  his  cre- 
dit, and  open  to  every  tale  that  may  tend  to  his  dis- 
grace. Prejudice  has  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for 
good;  but  is  all  eye  and  ear  for  evil.  Its  influence 
on  the  judgment  is  prodigious  ;  its  bewildering  ope- 
ration upon  our  convictions  is  really  most  surpris- 
ing and  frightful.  In  many  cases,  it  gives  up  evi- 
dence as  bright,  clear,  and  steady,  as  the  meridian 
splendor  of  the  sun,  to  follow  that  which  is  as  dim 
and  delusive  as  the  feeble  light  of  an  ignis  fatuus. 
How  tremblingly  anxious  should  we  be  to  keep  the 
mind  free  from  this  misleading  influence!  How 
careful  to  obtain  that  candid,  impartial,  discrimi- 
nating judgment,  which  can  distinguish  things  that. 
differ,  and  approve  of  things  that  are  excellent,  even 
in  reference  to  persons  that  are  in  some  respects  op- 
posed to  us!  This  is  candor;  and  a  more  impor- 
tant disposition  of  the  kind  we  can  scarcely  ima- 
gine. Through  that  great  law  of  our  nature,  which 
we  call  the  association  of  ideas,  we  are  too  apt, 
when  we  have  discovered  one  thing  wrong  in  the 
character  or  conduct  of  another  to  unite  with  it 
nothing  but  wrone,  and  that  continually :  we  scarce- 
ly ever  think  of  him,  or  repeat  his  name,  but  under 
the  malign  influence  of  this  unhappy  association. 
What  we  need  is  more  of  that  power  of  abstrac- 
tion of  which  we  have  already  spoken,  by  which 
we  can  separate  the  occasional  act  from  permanent 
character — the  bad  qualities  from  the  good  ones, — 
and  still  be  left  at  liberty  to  believe  what  is  good, 
notwithstanding  what  we  know  of  the  bad. 

If,  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  revela- 
tion, the  testimony  of  our  senses,  and  the  evidence 
of  experience,  we  believe  that  there  is  none  so  per- 
fect in  the  view  of  God  as  to  be  destitute  of  all 
flaws;  we  at  the  same  time  believe  that,  so  far  as 
mere  general  excellence  goes,  there  are  few  so  bad 
as  to  be  destitute  of  all  appro veable  traits.  It  is 
the  business  of  candor,  to  examine,  to  report,  to  be- 
lieve with  impartialitv,  and  candor  is  one  of  the 
operations  of  love.  This  heavenly  disposition  for- 
bids the  prejudice  which  is  generated  bv  differences 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  enables  its  possessor 
to  discredit  the  evil,  and  to  believe  the  favorable 
testimony  which  is  borne  to  those  of  other  denomi- 
nations and  of  other  congregations.  All  excellence 
belongs  not  to  our  society  or  sect ;  al\  evil  is  not  to 
be  found  in  other  societies  or  sects:  yet  how  pre- 
pared are  many  persons  to  believe  nothing  good,  or 
every  thing  bad,  of  other  sects  or  other  societies. 
Away,  away,  with  this  detestable  spirit!  cast  it  out 
yf  the  church  of  the  living  God!  like  the  legion 
spirit  which  possessed  the  man  who  dwelt  among 
the  tombs,  and  made  him  a  torment  to  himself,  and 


a  terror  to  others,  this  demon  of  prejudice  has  too 
long  possessed,  and  torn,  and  infuriated,  even  tke 
body  of  the  church.  "Spirit  of  love!  descend,  and 
expel  the  infernal  usurper.  Cast  out  this  spoiler  of 
our  beauty,  this  disturber  of  our  pea*e,  this  oppo- 
nent of  our  communion,  this  destroyer  of  our  honor. 
Before  thy  powerful  yet  gentle  sway,  let  prejudice 
retire,  and  prepare  us  10  believe  all  things  that  are 
reported  to  us  to  the  credit  of  others — be  they  of 
our  party  or  not — whether  they  have  offended  us  or 
not — and  whether  in  past  timci  they  have  done  evil 
or  good." 


"  Charity  hopeth  all  things." 

Hope  has  the  same  reference  here,  as  the  faith  just 
considered;  it  relates  not  to  what  God  has  promis- 
ed in  his  word  to  them  that  love  him,  but  to  the 
good  which  is  reported  to  exist  in  our  neighbors.- 
In  a  report  of  a  doubtful  matter,  where  the  evidence 
is  apparently  against  an  individual,  love  will  still 
hope  that  something  may  yet  turn  up  to  his  advan- 
tage— that  some  light  will  yet  be  thrown  on  the 
darker  features  of  the  case,  which  will  set  the  mat- 
ter in  a  more  favorable  point  of  view  ;  it  will  not 
give  full  credit  to  present  appearances,  however 
indicative  they  may  seem  to  be  of  evil,  but  hope, 
even  against  hope,  for  the  best. 

If  the  action  itself  cannot  be  defended,  then  love 
will  hope  that  the  motive  was  not  bad;  that  the  in- 
tention in  the  mind  of  the  actor  was  not  so  evil  as 
the  deed  appeared  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator;  that 
ignorance,  not  malice,  was  the  cause  of  the  trans- 
action ;  and  that  the  time  will  come  when  this  will 
be  apparent. 

Love  does  not  speedily  abandon  an  offender  in  de- 
spondency— does  not  immediately  give  him  up  as 
incorrigible,  nor  soon  cease  to  employ  the  mean-; 
necessary  for  his  reformation  ;  but  is  willing  to  ex- 
pect that  he  may  yet  repent  and  improve,  however 
discouraging  present  appearances  may  be.  Hope 
is  the  main  spring  of  exertion;  and  as  love  means 
a  desire  for  the  well-being  of  others,  it  will  not  soci 
let  go  that  hope,  in  the  absence  of  which  all  its  ef- 
forts must  be  paralyzed. 

There  are  reasons  which  make  it  wise,  as  well 
as  kind,  to  believe  and  hope  all  things  for  the  best. 
Presumptive  evidence,  however  strong,  is  often  falla- 
cious. Many  circumstances  in  the  case  may  look 
very  suspicious;  and  yet  the  after-discovery  of 
some  little  event  may  alter  the  aspect  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  make  the  innocence  of  the  accused  fai 
more  apparent  than  even  his  guilt  seemed  before. 
The  various  instances  in  which  we  have  ourselves 
been  deceived  by  appearances,  and  have  been  led 
by  defective,  though  at  the  time  convincing,  evi- 
dence, should  certainly  teach  us  caution  in  listening 
to  evil  reports,  and  dispose  us  to  believe  and  hope 
all  things. 

When  we  consider,  also,  how  common  is  slander, 
detraction  and  tale-bearing,  we  should  not  be  hasty 
in  forming  an  opinion;  nor  should  we  forget  the 
anxiety  which  is  often  manifested  by  each  party  en- 
gaged in  a  contention  to  gain  our  alliance  to  their 
cause,  by  being  first  to  report  the  matter,  and  to  pro- 
duce an  impression  favorable  to  themselves.  Solomon 
has  given  us  a  proverb,  the  truth  of  which  we  have 
seen  proved  in  a  thousand  instances,  and  which, 
notwithstanding,  we  are  continually  forgetting, — 
"  He  that  is  first  in  his  own  cause,  seemeth  to  be 
just;  but  his  neighbor  cometh  and  searcheth  him 
out."  It  is  a  proof  of  great  weakness,  so  to  give 
our  ear  to  the  first  reporter,  as  to  close  it  against 
the  other  party;  and  yet  we  arc  all  prone  to  do  this. 
A  plausible  tale  produces  an  impression,  which  no 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


46 

subsequent  opposing  testimony,  though  attended 
with  far  clearer  evidence  of  truth  than  the  first 
statement,  can  effectually  obliterate.  We  know 
that  every  case  has  two  aspects — we  have  all  been 
experimentally  acquainted  with  the  folly  of  decid- 
ing till  we  have  heard  both  sides;  and  yet,  in  oppo- 
sition to  our  reason,  and  to  our  experience,  we  are 
apt  to  take  up  a  prejudice  upon  ex-parte  statements. 
Another  circumstance,  by  which  we  are  in  danger 
of  being  misled  in  our  opinion  of  our  neighbor's 
conduct,  is  the  mischievous  propensity  cf  many 
persons  to  exaggerate  every  ihing  they  relate. — 
"Whatever  be  the  philosophical  cause,  into  which  a 
fondness  for  the  marvellous,  and  a  delight  in  ex- 
citing surprise,  may  be  resolved,  its  existence,  and 
its  prevalence,  are  unquestionable.  Perhaps,  we 
all  like  to  relate  what  is  new,  and  strange,  and  in- 
teresting; not  excepting  even  bad  news.  To  such 
a  pitch  is  this  carried,  by  those  who  are  deeply  in- 
fected with  the  propensity,  that  they  never  tell  any 
thing  as  they  heard  it:  every  fact  is  embellished  or 
magnified.  If  a  neighbor  has  displayed  a  little 
warmth  of  temper,  they  saw  him  raging  like  a  fury ; 
if  he  was  a  little  cheerful  after  dinner,  he  was 
tippling;  if  he  was  evasive,  they  protest  that  he 
committed  palpable  falsehood,  if  not  perjury;  if  he 
had  not  been  so  generous  in  his  transactions  as 
could  be  wished,  he  was  an  extortioner,  and  devoid 
of  common  honesty.  Nothing  is  moderate  and 
sober  in  the  hands  of  such  persons;  every  thing  is 
extravagant,  or  extraordinary.  All  they  meet  with, 
is  in  the  form  of  adventure.  Out  of  the  least  inci- 
dent they  can  construct  a  tale  ;  and  on  a  small  basis 
of  truth,  raise  a  mighty  superstructure  of  fiction,  to 
interest  and  impress  every  company  into  which 
they  come.  Undeterred  by  the  presence  of  the  in- 
dividual from  whom  they  received  the  original  fact, 
they  will  not  scruple  to  go  on  magnifying  and  em- 
bellishing, till  the  author  of  the  statement  can 
scarcely  recognize  his  own  narrative.  How  strange 
it  seems,  that  such  people  should  either  not  know 
or  not  remember,  that  all  this  while  they  are  telling 
falsehoods.  They  do  not  seem  to  understand,  that 
if  we  relate  a  circumstance  in  such  a  manner  as  is 
calculated  to  give  an  impression  which,  either  in 
nature  or  degree,  does  not  accord  with  reality,  we 
are  guilty  of  the  sin  of  lying.  Where  character  is 
concerned,  the  sin  is  still  greater,  since  it  adds  de- 
traction to  falsehood.  Many  a  man's  reputation 
has  been  frittered  away  by  this  wicked  and  mis- 
chievous propensity.  Every  narrator  of  an  instance 
of  misconduct,  not,  perhaps,  heinous  in  the  first  in- 
stance, has  added  something  to  the  original  fact, 
till  the  offence  has  stood  before  the  public  eye,  so 
blackened  by  this  accumulative  defamation,  that, 
for  a  while,  he  has  lost  his  character,  and  only  par- 
tially recovered  it  in  the  end,  and  with  extreme  dif- 
ficulty. Remembering  the  existence  of  such  an 
evil,  we  should  be  backward  to  take  up  an  unfavor- 
able opinion  upon  first  appearance;  and  where  we 
cannot  believe  all  things,  be  willing  to  hope:  such 
is  the  dictate  of  charity,  and  such  the  conduct  of 
those  who  yield  their  hearts  to  its  influence. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  SELF-DENIAL  OP  LOVE. 

"  hove  endureth  all  things." 

Charity  is  not  fickle,  unsteady,  and  easily  discou- 
raged ;  not  soon  disheartened,  or  induced  to  relin- 
quish its  object ;  but  is  persevering,  patient,  and 
self-denying,  in  the  pursuance  of  its  design  to  relieve 
the  wants,  assuage  the  sorrows,  reform  the  vices, 
and  allay  the  animosities,  of  those  whose  good  it 
seeks.  It  is  as  patient  in  bearing,  as  it  is  active  in 
doing ;  uniting  the  uncomplainable  submission  of 


the  lamb,  the  plodding  perseverance  of  the  ox,  with 
the  courage  of  the  lion. 

It  is  no  frivolous  and  volatile  affection,  relinquish- 
ing its  object  from  a  mere  love  of  change;  nor  is  it 
a  leebie  virtue,  which  weakly  lets  go  its  purpose  in 
the  prospect  of  difficulty ;  nor  a  cowardly  grace, 
which  drops  its  scheme,  and  flees  from  the  face  of 
danger ;  no,  it  is  the  union  of  benevolence  with 
strength,  patience,  courage,  and  perseverance.  It 
has  feminine  beauty,  and  gentleness,  and  sweetness, 
united  with  masculine  energy,  and  power,  and  he- 
roism. To  do  good,  it  will  meekly  bear  with  the 
infirmities  of  the  meanest,  or  will  brave  the  scorn 
and  fury  of  the  mightiest.  But  let  us  survey  the 
opposition,  the  difficulties,  the  discouragements,  the 
provocations,  which  it  has  to  bear,  and  which,  with 
enduring  patience  it  can  resist. 

Sacrifices  of  ease,  of  time,  of  feeling,  and,  of  pro- 
perty, must  all  be  endured :  for  it  is  impossible  to 
exercise  Christian  charity  without  making  these. — 
He  that  would  do  good  to  others,  without  practising 
self-denial,  does  but  dream.  The  way  of  philan- 
thropy is  ever  up  hill,  and  not  unfrequently  over 
rugged  rocks,  and  through  thorny  paths.  If  we 
would  promote  the  happiness  of  our  fellow  crea- 
tures, it  must  be  by  parting  with  something  or  other 
that  is  dear  to  us.  If  we  would  lay  aside  revenge 
when  they  have  injured  us,  and  exercise  forgive- 
ness, we  must  often  mortify  our  own  feelings.  If 
we  would  reconcile  the  differences  of  those  who  are 
at  variance,  we  must  give  up  our  time,  and  some- 
limes  our  comfort.  If  we  would  assuage  their  griefs, 
we  must  expend  our  property.  If  we  would  reform 
their  wickedness,  we  must  part  with  our  ease.  If  we 
would,  in  short,  do  good  of  any  kind,  we  must  be 
willing  to  deny  ourselves,  and  bear  labor  of  body 
and  pain  of  mind.  And  love  is  willing  to  do  this; 
it  braces  itself  for  labor,  arms  itself  for  conflict,  pre- 
pares itself  for  suffering:  it  looks  difficulties  in  the 
face,  counts  the  cost,  and  heroically  exclaims, — 
"  None  of  these  things  move  me,  so  that  I  may 
diminish  the  evils,  and  promote  the  happiness,  of 
others."  It  will  rise  before  the  break  of  day,  linger 
on  the  field  of  labor  till  midnight,  toil  amidst  the 
sultry  heat  of  summer,  brave  the  northern  blasts  o£ 
winter,  submit  to  derision,  give  the  energies  of  body 
and  the  comfort  of  mind  :  all  to  do  good. 

Misconstruction  is  another  thing  that  love  endures 
Some  men's  minds  are  ignorant,  and  cannot  under- 
stand its  schemes ;  others  are  contracted,  and  can- 
not comprehend  them  ;  others  are  selfish,  and  can- 
not approve  them ;  others  are  envious,  and  cannot 
applaud  them ;  and  all  these  will  unite,  either  to 
suspect  or  to  condemn:  but  this  virtue,  "  like  the 
eagle,  pursues  its  noble,  lofty,  heaven-bound  course, 
regardless  of  the  flock  of  little  pecking  caviling  birds, 
which,  unable  to  follow,  amuse  themselves  by  twit- 
tering their  objections  and  ill  will  in  the  hedges  be- 
low." Or,  to  borrow  a  scriptural  allusion,  love,  like 
its  great  pattern,  when  he  was  upon  the  earth,  goes 
about  doing  good,  notwithstanding  the  malignant 
perversion  of  its  motives  and  actions  on  the  part  of 
its  enemies.  "  I  must  do  good,"  she  exclaims  :  "  if 
you  cannot  understand  my  plans,  I  pity  your  igno- 
rance ;  if  you  misconstrue  my  motives,  I  forgive 
your  malignity  ;  but  the  clouds  that  are  exhaled 
from  the  earth,  may  as  well  attempt  to  arrest  the  ca- 
reer of  the  sun,  as  for  your  dulness  or  malevolence 
to  stop  my  attempts  lo  do  good.  I  must  go  on,  with- 
out your  approbation,  and  against  your  opposition." 

Envy  often  tries  the  patience  of  love,  and  is  an- 
other of  the  ills  which  it  bears,  without  being  turned 
aside  by  it.  There  are  men  who  would  enjoy  the 
praise  of  benevolence  without  enduring  its  labors ; 
that  is,  they  would  wear  the  laurel  of  victory  with- 
out exposing  themselves  to  the  peril  of  war :  they 
are  sure  to  envy  the  braver,  nobler  spirits,  whose 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


47 


generous  conquests,  having  been  preceded  by  labor, 
are  followed  by  praise.  To  be  good,  and  to  do  good, 
are  alike  ihe  objects  of  envy  with  many  persons. — 
"  A  man  of  great  merit,"  said  a  French  author,  "  is 
a  kind  of  public  enemy.  By  engrossing  a  multitude 
of  applauses,  which  would  serve  to  gratify  a  great 
many  others,  he  cannot  but  be  envied  :  men  natur- 
ally hate  what  they  highly  esteem,  yet  cannot  love." 
The  feeling  of  the  countryman  at  Athens,  who, 
upon  being  asked  why  he  gave  his  vote  for  the  ba- 
nishment of  Aristides,  replied,  "  Because  he  is  every 
where  called  the  just,"  is  by  no  means  uncommon. 
The  Ephesians  expelled  the  best  of  their  citizens, 
with  the  public  announcement  of  this  reason,  "  If 
any  are  determined  to  excel  their  neighbors,  let 
them  find  another  place  to  do  it."  Envy  is  that 
which  love  hates  and  proscribes,  and,  in  revenge, 
envy  hates  and  persecutes  love  in  return  ;  but  the 
terror  of  envy  does  not  intimidate  love,  nor  its  ma- 
lignity disgust  it :  it  can  bear  even  the  perversions, 
misrepresentations,  and  opposition  of  this  fiend-like 
passion,  and  pursues  its  course,  simply  saying,  "  Get 
thee  behind  me,  Satan." 

Ingratitude  is  often  the  hard  usage  which  love 
has  to  sustain,  and  which  it  patiently  endures.  Into 
such  a  state  of  turpitude  is  man  fallen,  that  he  would 
bear  any  weight  rather  than  that  of  obligation. — 
Men  will  acknowledge  small  obligations,  but  often 
return  malice  for  such  as  are  extraordinary  ;  and 
some  will  sooner  forgive  great  injuries  than  great 
services.  Many  persons  do  not  know  their  bene- 
factors, many  more  will  not  acknowledge  them,  and 
others  will  not  reward  them,  even  with  the  cheap 
offering  of  thanks.  These  things  are  enough  to 
make  us  sick  of  the  world  :  yes  ;  but  ought  not  to 
make  us  weary  of  trying  to  mend  it ;  for  the  more 
ungrateful  it  is,  the  more  it  needs  our  benevolence. 
Here  is  the  noble,  the  lofty,  the  godlike  temper  of 
charity  :  it  pursues  its  course  like  the  providence  of 
Jehovah,  which  continues  to  cause  its  sun  to  rise 
and  its  rain  to  descend,  not  only  upon  the  irrational 
creatures,  who  have  no  capacity  to  know  their  bene- 
factor, but  upon  the  rational  ones,  many  of  whom 
have  no  disposition  to  acknowledge  him. 

Derision  is  often  employed  to  oppose  the  efforts 
of  love  by  all  the  artillery  of  scorn.  Spiritual  reli- 
gion, and  especially  that  view  of  it  which  this  sub- 
ject exhibits,  has  ever  been  an  object  of  contempt  to 
ungodly  men.  Banter  and  ridicule  are  brought  to 
stop  its  progress;  the  greatest  profaneness  and  buf- 
foonery are  sometimes  employed  to  laugh  it  out  of 
countenance ; — but  it  has  learned  to  treat  with  in- 
difference even  the  cruel  mockings  of  irony,  and  to 
receive  upon  its  shield-arm  all  the  arrows  of  the 
most  envenomed  wit. 

Opposition  does  not  disgust,  nor  persevering  obsti- 
nacy weary  it.  It  can  endure  to  have  its  schemes 
examined  iand  sifted  by  those  who  cannot  under- 
stand them,  cavilled  at  by  those  who  cannot  mend 
them,  and  resisted  by  those  who  have  nothing  to 
offer  in  their  place.  It  does  not  throw  all  up  in  a 
fit  of  passion,  nor  suffer  the  tongue  of  petulance,  nor 
the  clamor  of  envy,  to  stop  its  efforts. 

Want  of  success,  that  most  discouraging  considera- 
tion to  activity,  is  not  sufficient  to  drive  it  from  the 
field  ;  but  in  the  expectation  of  the  future  harvest, 
it  continues  to  plough  and  to  sow  in  hope.  Its  ob- 
ject is  too  important  to  be  relinquished  for  a  few 
failures  ;  and  nothing  but  the  demonstration  of  ab- 
solute impossibility  can  induce  it  to  give  up  its  be- 
nevolent purpose. 

If  instances  of  this  view  of  Christian  love  be  ne- 
cessary to  illustrate  and  enforce  it  by  the  power  of 
example,  many  and  striking  ones  are  at  hand.— 
Few,  very  few,  are  worthy  of  being  put  in  competi- 
tion with  that  of  Mr.  Clark.sov,  whose  illustrious 
name,  and  that  of  his  no  less  illustrious  coadjutor, 


Mr.  Wilberforce,  will  ever  be  pronounced  with 
tears  of  gratitude  by  Africa,  as  the  chief  agents  in 
the  work  of  inducing  the  greatest  commercial  na- 
tion upon  earth  to  abolish  the  infernal  traffic  in  hu- 
man beings  ;  and  ought  to  be  rtoorded  in  letters  of 
gold  by  their  grateful  countrymen,  for  having  de- 
livered the  nation  from  the  greatest  crime  which,  in 
her  modern  history,  she  ever  committed,  and  from 
the  greatest  curse  which  she  could  dread  at  the 
hands  of  retributive  justice.  Perhaps  no  uninspired 
book  may  be  so  faiily  regarded  as  a  beautiful  com- 
ment on  the  expression,  "  Charity  endureth  all 
things,"  as  Clarkson's  "  History  of  the  Abolition 
of  the  Slave  Trade."  Twenty  years  of  that  good 
man's  life  were  occupied  in  long  and  fatiguing  jour- 
nies,  at  all  seasons  of  the  year :  in  labors  of  an 
almost  incredible  extent,  to  trace  reports  to  their 
source,  to  collect  information,  and  to  gather  evi- 
dence ;  in  braving  opposition,  bearing  all  kinds  of 
ridicule,  encountering  savages,  whose  trade  had 
made  them  reckless  of  crime,  and  thirsty  for  blood  ; 
in  personal  exposure,  so  great,  that  by  nothing  less 
than  supernatural  strength,  granted  for  the  occasion, 
would  he  have  been  rescued  at  one  time  from  threat- 
ened and  intended  death.  Nor  was  this  the  full 
measure  of  the  endurance ;  disappointment  the  most 
bitter  and  discouraging  often  extinguished  his 
brightest  hopes;  lukewarmness  on  the  part  of  those 
from  whom  he  had  a  right  to  expect  the  most  zeal- 
ous co-operation  often  saddened  his  heart,  though 
it  never  paralyzed  his  zeal;  and,  to  try  his  perse- 
verance and  put  his  benevolence  to  the  severest  tost, 
his  cause  was  of  a  nature  which,  by  the  sufferings 
it  brought  under  review,  was  enough  to  sicken  and 
turn  from  its  purpose  a  compassion  of  less  hardi- 
hood than  his.  What  must  that  man  have  had  to 
endure,  who  thus  describes  his  feelings  after  the  de- 
tails of  evidence  furnished  by  only  one  of  the  thou- 
sands of  days  spent  in  familiarizing  himself  with  the 
various  scenes  of  the  biggest  outrage  ever  commit- 
ted against  the  rights  of  humanity  \ — "  The  differ- 
ent scenes  of  barbarity  which  these  represented  to 
me,  greatly  added  to  the  affliction  of  my  mind.  My 
feelings  became  now  almost  insupportable.  I  was 
agonized  to  think  that  this  trade  should  last  another 
day  :  I  was  in  a  state  of  agitation  from  morning  till 
night :  I  determined  I  would  soon  leave  the  place 
in  which  I  saw  nothing  but  misery.  I  had  collected 
now,  I  believe,  all  the  evidence  it  would  afford ; 
and  to  stay  a  day  longer  in  it  than  was  necessary, 
would  be  only  an  interruption  to  my  happiness  and 
health." 

Who  but  a  Christian  philanthropist  of  the  highest 
order  could  have  pursued  such  a  career,  year  after 
year,  and  not  be  so  wearied  by  labor— so  disheart- 
ened by  opposition— so  disgusted  by  cruelty, — as  to 
abandon  the  object  of  his  pursuit?  Here  was,  in- 
deed, a  beautiful  illustration  of  the  "  love  thai  en- 
dureth all  things." 

But  a  greater  than  Clarkson  might  be  mentioned. 
Let  the  history  of  St.  Paid  be  studied,  and  his  suf- 
fering career  be  traced,  and  his  declarations  heard 
concerning  his  varied  and  heavy  tribulations.  "  I 
think  that  God  ham  sent  forth  us  the  a.postles  last, 
as  it  were  appointed  to  death  ;  for  we  are  made  a 
spectacle  unto  the  world,  and  to  angels,  and  to  men. 
We  are  fools  for  Christ's  sake,  but  ye  are  wise  in 
Christ:  we  are  weak,  but  ye  are  strong;  ye  are 
honorable,  but  we  are  despised.  Even  unto  this 
present  hour,  we  both  hunger  and  thirst,  and  are 
naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no  certain  dwell- 
ing place  ;  and  labor,  working  with  our  own  hands  : 
being  reviled,  we  bless  :  bein?  persecuted,  we  suffer 
it  :  being  defamed,  we  entreat :  we  are  made  as  the 
filth  of  the  earth,  and  are  the  offscouringof  all  things 
unto  this  day."  "  in  labors  more  abundant,  in  stripes 
above  measure,  in  prisons  more  frequent,  in  deaths 


48 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


oft.  Of  the  Jews  five  times  received  I  forty  stripes 
save  one.  Thrice  was  I  beaten  with  rods ;  once 
was  I  stoned  ;  thrice  I  suffered  shipwreck  ;  a  night 
and  a  day  I  have  been  in  the  deep:  in  journeyings 
often,  in  perils  of  waters,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  pe- 
rils by  mine  own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the  hea- 
then, in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness, 
in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among  false  brethren  : 
in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in 
hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often,  in  cold  and  na- 
kedness. Besides  those  things  that  are  without, 
that  which  cometh  upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all 
the  churches."  Nor  did  these  sufferings  come  upon 
him  without  his  being  previously  apprized  of  them, 
for  the  Holy  Ghost  had  witnessed  to  him  that  bonds 
and  afflictions  awaited  him.  Yet  neither  the  pros- 
pect of  his  varied  tribulations,  nor  the  full  weight 
of  them,  made  him  for  a  moment  think  of  relin- 
quishing his  benevolent  exertions  for  the  welfare  of 
mankind.  His  was  the  love  that  "  endurcth  all 
things." 

And  a  greater,  far  greater  than  even  the  great 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  might  be  also  introduced,  as 
affording,  by  his  conduct,  a  most  striking  illustra- 
tion of  this  property  of  Christian  charity.  Who 
out  himself  can  conceive  of  what  the  Son  of  God 
endured  while  he  sojourned  in  this  world?  Who 
can  imagine  the  magnitude  of  his  sufferings,  and 
the  extent  of  that  opposition,  ingratitude,  and  hard 
usage,  amidst  which  those  sufferings  were  sustained, 
and  by  which  they  were  so  greatly  increased? 
Never  was  so  much  mercy  treated  with  so  much 
cruelty;  the  constant  labor  he  sustained,  and  the 
many  privations  to  which  he  submitted,  were  little, 
compared  with  the  malignant  contradiction,  resist- 
ance, and  persecution,  he  received  from  those  who 
were  the  objects  of  his  mercy.  The  work  of  man's 
redemption  was  not  accomplished,  as  was  the  work 
of  creation,  by  a  mere  fiat  delivered  from  the 
throne,  on  which  Omnipotence  reigned  in  the  calm 
repose  of  infinite  majesty :  no — the  Word  was  made 
flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us,  as  a  man  of  sorrow  and 
acquainted  with  grief.  The  wrath  of  God,  the 
fury  of  devils,  the  rage  of  man,  the  malignity  of 
enemies,  the  wayward  follies  and  fickleness  of 
friends,  the  baseness  of  treachery,  the  scorn  of 
official  rank,  and  the  many  stings  of  ingratitude, 
calumny,  and  inconstancy — all  poured  their  venom 
into  that  heart  which  glowed  with  affection  to  the 
children  of  men.  Nothing  turned  him  from  his 
purpose — nothing  abated  his  ardor  in  the  work  of 
our  salvation.  His,  too,  and  above  all  others,  was 
indeed  a  love  which  "  endureth  all  things." 

Such  is  the  model  we  are  to  copy.  In  doing  good 
we  must  prepare  ourselves  for  opposition,  and  all 
its  attendant  train  of  evils.  Whether  our  object 
be  the  conversion  of  souls,  or  the  well-being  of 
man's  corporeal  nature — whether  we  are  seeking 
to  build  up  the  temporal,  or  to  establish  the  eternal, 
interests  of  mankind— we  must  remember  that  we 
have  undertaken  a  task  which  will  call  for  patient, 
self-denying:,  and  persevering  effort.  In  the  midst 
of  difficulties,  we  must  not  utter  the  vain  cowardly 
-wish,  that  we  had  not  set  our  hand  to  the  plough; 
but  press  onward  in  humble  dependence  upon  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  animated  by  the  hope 
el  either  being  rewarded  by  success,  or  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  we  did  every  thing  to  obtain  it :  and 
we  shall  do  this,  if  we  possess  much  of  the  power 
of  love;  for  its  ardor  is  such,  that  many  waters 
cannot  quench  it.  Its  energies  increase  with  the 
difficulty  that  requires  them,  and,  like  a  well  con- 
structed arch,  it  becomes  more  firm  and  consoli- 
dated by  the  weight  it  has  to  sustain.  In  short,  it 
is  Ci  steadfast,  immoveable,  always  abounding  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord,  forasmuch  as  it  knows  that  its 
abor  shall  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    PERMANENCE    OF   LOVE. 

"  Charily  never  failcth." 

Permanence  is  the  climax  of  excellence.  How 
often  has  the  sigh  been  heaved,  and  the  tear  been 
shed,  over  the  perishable  nature  of  earthly  pos- 
sessions. Their  transient  duration  presented  a  pain- 
ful contrast  to  their  great  worth,  and  extorted  the 
sorrowful  exclamation,  Alas  !  that  such  excellence 
should  be  mortal !  The  charm  of  beauty  soon 
fades,  the  force  of  genius  is  at  length  exhausted, 
the  monuments  of  art  decay;  an  incurable  taint 
of  corruption  has  infected  every  thing  earthly,  and 
even  religion  itself  does  not  confer  immortality 
upon  every  thing  that  belongs  to  its  sacred  economy. 
One  thing  there  is,  which  shall  remain-  for  ever, 
for  ''charity  never  faileth  ;"  and  its  permanence  is 
the  crown  and  glory  of  all  its  other  noble  qualities. 
It  is  a  truly  immortal  disposition — bearing  no  ex- 
clusive relation  to  earth  or  to  time,  but  destined  to 
pass  away  from  the  world  with  the  souls  in  which 
it  exists,  to  dwell  in  heaven,  and  flourish  through 
eternity. 

When  it  is  said  that  it  never  faileth,  we  are  not 
merely  to  understand,  that  being  once  planted  in 
the  soul,  it  remains  there  as  the  centre  and  suppon 
of  all  the  other  practical  virtues :  that  it  will  so  re 
main,  is  unquestionable,  for  its  continuance  is  es- 
sential to  the  existence  of  personal  and  social  reli- 
gion. A  man  may  change  his  opinions  on  some 
subjects — he  may  give  up  some  sentiments  once  be- 
lieved by  him  to  be  truth;  but  he  cannot  give  up 
love,  without  ceasing  to  be  a  Christian. 

Nor  does  the  apostle  mean  that  it  remains  as  the 
spirit  of  Christianity  till  the  end  of  time,  amidst 
every  change  of  external  administration  ;  that  it 
shall  so  abide  is  unquestionable.  The  genius  of 
piety  is  unchangeable.  This  was  the  temper  obli- 
gatory upon  the  primitive  Christian  ;  it  is  obliga- 
tory upon  us;  and  it  will  be  no  less  so  upon  every 
future  generation.  A  holier  and  happier  age  is  in 
reserve  for  the  church  of  Christ;  "compared  with 
which,  invisible  though  it  be  at  present,  and  hid 
behind  the  clouds  which  envelope  this  dark  and 
troubled  scene,  the  brightest  day  that  has  yet  shone 
upon  the  world  is  midnight,  and  the  highest  splen- 
dors that  have  invested  it  the  shadow  of  death :" 
but  this  glory  shall  consist  in  a  more  perfect  and 
conspicuous  manifestation  of  the  grace  of  love.  It 
is  in  this,  combined  with  a  clearer  percepticn  of  the 
truth,  that  the  Christians  of  the  millennium  will 
surpass  those  of  every  preceding  age. 

But  the  apostle's  reference  is  evidently  to  another 
world  :  his  eye  was  upon  heaven,  and  he  was  look- 
ing at  things  unseen  and  eternal,  when  he  said  that 
,:  charity  never  faileth."  He  was  then  soaring  on 
the  wing  of  faith,  and  exploring  the  scenes  of  eter- 
nity, among  which  he  saw  this  celestial  plant,  sur- 
viving the  dissolution  of  the  universe,  outliving 
the  earthly  state  of  the  church,  transplanted  to  the 
paradise  of  God,  and  flourishing  in  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect  near  the  fountain  of  light 
and  love. 

To  give  still  greater  emphasis  to  what  he  says  of 
its  continuance,  he  contrasts  it  with  some  things, 
which,  however  highly  valued  by  the  Corinthian 
believers,  were  of  a  transient  duration,  and.  there- 
fore, of  greatly  inferior  value  to  this. 

"  Whether  there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail."  By 
prophecies  here,  we  are  to  understand  inspired  in- 
terpretation of  the  Scriptures;  all  new  revelations 
from  God,  by  oral  or  written  communication,  for 
the  instruction  and  edification  of  the  saints.  These, 
so  far  from  belonging  to  the  heavenly  state  of  the 
church,  did  not  survive  its  primitive  ages.    The 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY 


49 


gift  of  inspiration  was  soon  withdrawn,  the  oracle 
of  prophecy  was  hushed,  and  all  further  responses 
from  heaven  were  denied. 

"  Whether  there  be  tongues  they  shall  cease."  This, 
of  course,  refers  to  the  miraculous  power  of  speak- 
ing any  language  without  previous  study.  This 
gift  also  ceased  with  the  other  extraordinary  en- 
dowments of  the  primitive  ages,  and  bears  no  rela- 
tion to  the  heavenly  world.  Whether  the  commu- 
nication of  ideas  in  the  celestial  state  will  be  car- 
ried on  by  speech,  is,  at  present,  unknown  to  us ;  if 
it  be  so,  what  the  language  will  be  is  beyond  con- 
jecture. 

"  Whether  there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  away." 
This  expression  most  probably  refers  to  what  is 
called,  in  the  preceding  chapter,  "  the  word  of 
knowledge;"  and  of  which  the  apostle  speaks  in 
the  beginning  of  this  chapter — "  Though  I  under- 
stand all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,  and  have 
not  love,  I  am  nothing."  It  means  an  inspired 
knowledge  of  the  types,  predictions,  and  mysteries, 
of  the  Old  Testament,  and  of  their  accomplishment 
by  the  facts  of  the  Christian  economy.  This,  also, 
was  among  the  signs  and  wonders  which  were  to 
vanish  away;  which,  having  been  granted  as  at- 
testations to  the  divine  authority  of  the  word  of 
God,  and  for  the  edification  of  the  church,  were 
discontinued  when  the  canon  of  Scripture  was  com- 
pleted and  settled. 

Some  extend  the  apostle's  reasoning  so  far,  as 
to  include  every  kind  of  our  present  knowledge; 
which,  as  to  its  imperfect  attainments,  and  inade- 
quate mediums,  and  present  modes  of  communica- 
tions, shall  be  removed,  and  give  place  to  a  more 
easy  and  perfect  method  of  acquiring  truth,  and  a 
more  entire  comprehension  of  its  nature  and  re- 
lations. 

As  to  the  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  the  practical 
sciences  and  of  literature,  this  shall  be  lost  and  for- 
gotten, as  utterly  useless,  and  as  bearing  no  relation 
whatever  to  the  celestial  state.  Ye  master  spirits, 
ye  commanding  geniuses,  ye  lordly  minds,  who 
exhaust  the  force  of  your  intellect,  and  lavish  its 
treasures  upon  themes  of  mere  earthly  interest — 
see  here  the  termination  of  all  your  labors.  Scho- 
lars, poets,  painters,  sculptors,  warriors,  ye  who  as- 
semble in  the  temple  of  fame,  amidst  the  mightiest 
productions  of  human  skill,  to  pay  homage  to  each 
other,  to  receive  the  admiration  of  the  world,  and 
to  immortalize  your  names — giving  to  your  mighty 
works  the  full  measure  of  their  value,  in  reference 
to  earth  and  to  time — admitting  that,  in  this  view, 
they  are  bright  scenes  in  the  history  of  man ;  yet 
still,  in  reference  to  heaven  and  its  eternity,  they 
are  nothing — less  than  nothing — and  vanity.  Not 
an  angel  would  turn  to  gaze  upon  the  noblest  pro- 
duction of  human  imagination,  nor  will  a  plea  be 
put  in  by  a  single  inhabitant  of  heaven,  to  exempt 
from  the  destruction  of  the  last  fire  the  sublimest 
specimens  of  human  skill.  Myriads  of  volumes 
have  been  already  lost  and  forgotten ;  myriads 
more  are  on  their  way  to  oblivion  ;  myriads  still 
shall  rise,  only  to  vanish  ; — and  of  all  the  accumu- 
lations that  shall  have  been  made  by  the  time  of  the 
millennium,  and  which  shall  have  been  jroing  on 
through  the  longest  and  the  purest  age  of  reason — 
not  one  shall  be  saved  from  the  general  conflagra- 
tion, as  worthy  to  be  borne  to  the  heavenly  world. 
"  Knowledge  shall  vanish  away." 

But  not  only  shall  the  knowledge  contained  in 
the  scientific,  and  literary,  and  imaginative,  pro- 
ductions of  men  vanish,  together  with  the  volumes 


nish.  The  knowledge  we  gain  from  these  sources 
is  not  that  which  will  attend  us  to  the  skies,  and  be 
sufficient  for  us  when  we  have  arrived  at  the  region 
of  cloudless  splendor,  the  element  of  wisdom,  the 
native  land,  and  dwelling-place  of  truth. 

The  introduction  of  this  idea,  by  the  apostle,  has 
given  occasion  for  one  of  the  most  striking  digres- 
sions from  his  tract  of  thought  which  he  ever  made. 
His  argument  only  required  him  to  state  that  love 
is  better  than  the  gift  of  knowledge,  because  the  lat- 
ter shall  cease ;  but  he  proceeds'  to  show  why  it  shall 
cease,  and  ascribes  its  continuance  to  its  imperfec- 
tion: he  then  takes  an  opportunity  to  draw  one  of 
the  most  sublime  contrasts  to  be  found  in  the  word 
of  God,  between  our  knowledge  in  the  present  world, 
and  our  more  perfect  comprehension  of  truth  in  the 
world  that  is  to  come. 

And  why  shall  knowledge  vanish  away  1  because 

"  We  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part." 

A  part  only  of  truth  is  made  known,  and,  therefore, 
a  part  only  is  received  by  us.  This  may  imply  that 
their  are  many  things  we  do  not  know  at  all.  Who 
can  doubt  this  ?  Upon  the  supposition  that  we  are 
perfectly  acquainted  with  all  that  is  proper  to  be 
known,  all  that  could  be  acquired  by  the  aid  of  rea- 
son and  the  discoveries  of  revelation,  still  we  should 
hear  a  voice,  saying  to  us,  "  Lo,  these  are  a  part  of 
his  ways,  but  the  thunder  of  his  power  who  can  un- 
derstand!" There  are,  doubtless,  truths  of  vast 
importance  and  of  deep  interest,  which  have  never 
yet  approached,  and,  in  the  present  world,  never 
will  approach,  the  horizon  of  the  human  under- 
standing. There  are  paths  in  the  region  of  truth 
which  the  vulture's  eye  has  not  seen,  and  which  are 
hid  from  the  view  of  all  living. 

When,  on  his  death-bed,  the  great  Newton  was 
congratulated  upon  the  discoveries  he  had  made,  he 
replied,  with  the  modesty  usually  attendant  on  vast 
attainments,  "  I  have  been  only  walking  on  the 
shores  of  truth,  and  have,  perhaps,  picked  up  a  gem 
or  two,  of  greater  value  than  others;  but  the  vast 
ocean  itself  lies  all  before  me."  This  is  strictly  cor- 
rect in  reference  to  the  material  universe,  to  which 
the  remark  was  intended  to  apply.  Of  natural  truth, 
the  ocean,  with  its  depths,  its  islands,  and  the  con- 
tinents and  kingdoms  to  which  it  leads,  is  all  before 
us.  We  have  only  looked  upon  the  surface,  and 
seen  some  of  the  objects  passing  upon  it:  we  have 
only  seen  a  few  land-marks,  on  one  part  of  one  of 
its  shores;  but  the  infinitude  of  its  ample  space, 
and  the  innumerable  objects  which  that  space  con- 
tains, are  yet  to  be  explored.  And  with  respect  to 
the  spiritual  world,  although  we  possess,  in  the  vo- 
lume of  inspiration^  revelation  of  the  most  sublime, 
important,  and  interesting  objects  of  knowledge :  yet 
probably,  there  are  truths  of  which,  after  all  that  di- 
vines and  philosophers  have  written,  we  can  form 
no  more  conception,  than  we  can  of  the  objects  of  a 
sixth  sense,  or  than  a  blind  man  can  of  colors.  "  We 
know  only  in  part." 

It  is  implied  also  that  what  we  do  know,  we  know 
but  imperfectly.  In  some  cases,  our  knowledge  is 
uncertainty,  and  amounts  only  to  opinion  ;  faith  is 
weak,  and  mixed  with  many  doubts.  AVe  cannot 
exultingly  exclaim,  "  I  know;"  we  can  scarcely  say, 
"  I  believe."  The  object  sometimes  presents  itself 
to  our  mind,  like  the  sun  seen  dimly  through  n  mist 
— now  appearing,  and  then  lost  again,  in  the  density 
of  the  fog.  Now  a  truth  comes  upon  us,  in  a  thin 
and  shadowy  form  ;  we  think  we  see  it,  but  it  is 


by  which  it  was  circulated;  but  all  theological :  again  obscured.  We  onlv  see  glimmerings.  Wcper 
works — our  creeds,  our  catechisms,  our  artiHes  of  j  ceive  appearances,  rather  than  demonstrations; 
faith,  our  bodies  of  divinity,  our  works  of  biblical  dark  outlines,  not  perfect  pictures, 
criticism,  our  valued,  and  justly  valued,  commen-  And  where  no  doubt  undermines  the  certainty  of 
taries — our  sermons,  and  our  treatises — all  shall  va-  j  our  knowledge,  what  dark  limits  bound  its  extent, 
41* 


CHRIST  lAlN    CiiAxtiTY. 


We  walk,  as  through  a  valley  shut  in  on  each  side 
by  lofiy  mountains,  whose  tops  are  lost  amidst  the 
clouds,  whose  shadows  add  to  the  obscurity  of  our 
situation,  and  whose  mighty  masses  stand  between 
us  and  the  prospect  which  lies  beyond.  How  im- 
perfect and  limited  is  our  knowledge  of  the  great 
God — of  the  spirituality  of  his  nature — of  his  neces- 
sary self-existence  from  eternity — of  his  triune  es- 
sence !  How  feeble  are  our  conceptions  of  the  com- 
plex person  of  Christ,  the  God-man  Mediator ;  of  the 
scheme  of  providence,  embracing  the  history  of  our 
world,  and  of  all  other  worlds ;  and  of  the  connec- 
tion between  providence  and  redemption  !  How 
have  divines  and  philosophers  been  perplexed  on 
the  subject  of  the  entrance  of  moral  evil;  on  the 
agreement  between  divine  prescience,  and  the  free- 
dom of  the  human  will ;  between  moral  inability, 
and  human  accountability!  How  much  obscurity 
hangs,  in  our  view,  over  many  of  the  operations  of 
nature!  how  soon  do  we  arrive  at  ultimate  laws, 
which,  for  aught  we  can  tell,  may  be  only  the  effects 
of  causes  that  are  hidden  from  our  observation!  In 
what  ignorance  do  we  live,  of  many  of  the  most 
common  occurrences  around  us.  Who  has  perfect 
ideas  of  the  essences  of  things,  separate  and  apart 
from  their  qualities — of  matter,  for  instance,  or  spi- 
rit 1  Who  can  perfectly  conceive  how  the  idea  of 
motion  results  from  that  of  body,  or  how  the  idea  of 
sensation  results  from  that  of  spirit  1  On  what 
theme  shall  we  meditate,  and  not  be  mortified  to 
find  how  little  progress  we  can  make  before  we  are 
arrested  by  insurmountable  difficulties  1  On  what 
eminence  shall  we  take  our  stand,  and  to  what  part 
of  the  horizon  direct  our  eye,  and  not  see  clouds 
and  shadows  resting  like  a  veil  upon  the  prospect  1 
How  truly  is  it  said,  "  We  know  but  in  part."  An- 
gels must  wonder  at  the  limitation  of  our  ideas ;  and 
disembodied  spirits  must  be  astonished  at  the  mighty 
bound  they  make,  by  that  one  step  which  conducts 
them  across  the  threshold  of  eternity. 

The  apostle  illustrates  the  present  imperfection 
of  our  knowledge,  compared  with  its  future  advance- 
ment, by  two  similitudes.  The  first  is,  the  differ- 
ence between  the  ideas  of  a  child  and  those  of  a  man. 
"  When  I  was  a  child,  I  spake  as  a  child,  I  under- 
stood as  a  child,  I  thought  as  a  child ;  but  when  I 
became  a  man,  I  put  away  childish  things."  The 
meaning  of  Paul  in  this  verse  is — that  our  know- 
ledge in  the  heavenly  state  will  be  as  different  from, 
and  as  superior  to,  any  thing  we  gain  on  earth,  as 
the  ideas  of  an  adult,  in  the  maturity  of  his  intellect- 
ual powers,  are  to  those  which  he  entertained  when 
he  was  a  child.  Our  knowledge  at  present,  is  that 
of  children  ;  we  are  not  only  in  the  minority,  but  in 
the  infancy,  of  our  minds.  Our  notions  are  the 
opinions  cf  children;  our  discourses  are  the  lisp- 
ings  of  children;  our  controversies  the  reasonings 
of  children.  The  prodigious  attainments  of  those 
great  luminaries,  Bacon,  Milton,  Boyle,  Locke, 
Newton ;  and  in  the  science  of  theology,  of  those 
great  divines,  Owen,  Howe,  Charnock,  Baxter, 
Bates,  Butler,  Hooker; — all  these  are  but  the  pro- 
ductions cf  children,  written  for  the  instruction  of 
others  less  taught  ihan  themselves.  Yea,  the  apos- 
tle includes  himself  and  his  writings  in  the  descrip- 
tion— "  We  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part. 
When  /  was  a  child,  I  spake  as  a  child ;  but  when 
1  became  a  man,  I  put  away  childish  things."  He 
alludes  to  his  own  childish  conceits,  and  puerile 
simplicity,  which  had  given  way  to  the  matured 
knowledge  of  his  riper  years;  and,  by  implication, 
declares  his  expectation,  that  the  knowledge  which 
he  should  gain  in  the  celestial  state  would  be  as 
much  above  his  present  views,  as  they  were  beyond 
those  which  he  entertained  when  he  was  a  child. — 
Yes,  that  greatest  of  mere  men — that  illustrious  in- 
dividual who  had  been  in  the  third  heaven — who 


had  explored,  as  we  imagine,  some  of  the  secrets  of 
the  unseen  world — who  had  fathomed  so  much  of 
the  depth,  measured  so  much  of  the  height,  of  truth  ; 
even  he  tells  us,  that  he  was  but  in  his  minority. — 
What  an  idea  does  it  give  us  of  the  infinitude  of 
knowledge  yet  to  be  obtained,  when  we  are  inform- 
ed that  the  Bible  itself,  even  the  New  Testament, 
that  book  of  books,  the  work  of  which  it  is  said,  it 
has  God  for  its  author,  truth  without  any  mixture 
of  error,  for  its  contents,  and  salvation  for  its  end, 
is  but  a  book  for  children,  a  work  for  saints  in  their 
infancy,  a  mere  elementary  treatise  on  the  subject 
of  eternal  truth,  written  by  the  finger  of  God,  for 
his  family,  during  their  education  and  noviciate  on 
earth. 

The  second  similitude,  by  which  the  present  im- 
perfection of  our  knowledge  is  set  forth,  is  that  very 
partial  acquaintance  which  we  gain  with  material 
objects,  by  looking  at  them  through  a  glass.  ';  Now 
we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly." 

Considerable  diversity  of  opinion  prevails  as  to 
the  precise  object  of  the  apostle's  allusion  in  the  ex- 
pression which  he  here  employs.  It  is  admitted 
that  the  word  in  the  original  literally  signifies  a 
mirror;  and  hence  most  expositors  consider  that  the 
comparison  is  to  this  article,  and  that  his  meaning 
is,  that  our  knowledge  of  divine  truth  in  this  world, 
is  only  of  that  partial  kind  which  we  gain  by  seeing 
objects  reflected  from  a  mirror.  But  does  this  ac- 
cord with  his  design,  which  is  to  represent  the  ob- 
scurity of  our  present  ideas,  compared  with  what  wt 
shall  know  hereafter,  when  that  which  is  perfect  is 
come  1  The  knowledge  we  gain  of  an  object  that 
is  reflected  from  a  highly  polished  surface  is  too  ac- 
curate to  furnish  such  a  comparison.  Hence  some 
are  of  opinion — and  this  is  the  view  I  take — that 
the  allusion  is  to  those  semi-transparent  substances, 
such  as  horn  and  diaphanous  stones,  which  were 
used  in  windows  before  glass  was  known,  and 
through  which  objects  would  be  but  very  dimly  seen. 
Nothing  could  better  accord  with  the  apostle's  pur- 
pose than  this.  How  dim  and  shadowy  do  those 
forms  appear,  which  we  discover  through  such  a 
medium:  we  discern  only  the  mere  outline;  every 
thing  is  seen  imperfectly,  and  many  things  connect- 
ed with  the  object  are  not  seen  at  all.  "  We  see  it 
through  a  glass,  darkly."  The  term  rendered 
"darkly"  signifies  an  enigma,  a  riddle,  a  form  of 
speech  in  which  one  thing  is  put  for  another;  which, 
though  in  some  respects  like  it,  is  but  an  obscure  re- 
presentation, and  calculated  to  puzzle  those  who  are 
required  to  find  out  the  thing  which  is  thus  darkly 
shadowed  forth. 

Here  it  may  be  proper  to  inquire  why  divine 
truth  is  at  present  involved  in  so  mu^n  comparative 
darkness. 

It  is  designed  to  accord  with  the  analogy  of  faith. 
We  are  to  walk  by  faith,  which  is  not  only  opposed 
to  the  testimony  of  the  sense,  but  is  distinguished 
also  from  the  clearness  and  certainty  of  perfect 
knowledge. 

It  comports  also  with  the  purpose  of  a  divine  reve- 
lation. There  is  no  doubt  but  that  some  of  the  clouds 
which  envelope  the  subjects  of  revealed  truth  could 
have  been  dissipated,  and  many  things  put  in  a  still 
clearer  light.  A  studied  caution,  a  designed  reserve, 
is  maintained  in  some  places;  for  as  the  Bible  is 
given  to  be  a  test  of  moral  disposition,  the  evidence 
should  be  sufficient  to  demand  belief,  without  being 
enough  to  compel  it.  The  Bible  affords  us  light 
enough  to  assist  us  in  discharging  the  duties  of  this 
world,  and  to  guide  us  to  glory,  honor,  immortality, 
and  eternal  life;  but  it  concedes  nothing  to  curiosity, 
nothing  to  a  spirit  of  restless  inquiry.  It  stands  like 
a  waymark  on  the  high  road  to  eternity,  and  is  in- 
tended simply  to  announce  what  is  truth,  and  the 
way  to  its  dwelling-place,  but  not  to  make  known  to 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


51 


(he  traveller  all  the  details  of  the  city  to  which  he  is 
journeying. 

And,  in  another  view,  this  obscurity  is  absolutely 
necessary.  If  the  disclosure  were  more  obscure,  it 
would  be  beyond  our  apprehension  ;  we  could  know 
nothing;  and,  in  that  case,  religion  could  have  no 
existence,  or  exist  only  as  the  blind  offspring  of  ig- 
norance. If  it  were  more  cloudy  and  shadowy,  it 
would  have  no  power  to  arrest  attention  or  interest 
the  heart :  it  might,  indeed,  point  to  a  brighter  state, 
where  it  would  throw  off  the  dense  covering  in 
which  it  had  enwrapped  itself  on  earth;  but  too  lit- 
tle of  the  beauty  of  truth  would  bl"  seen  to  captivate 
our  affections,  and  to  allure  us  to  foiKi.v  .Vr  to  that 
world  where  she  displays  her  unveiled  gloiies;  but 
as  revelation  is  now  given  to  us,  enough  of  the 
beauty  of  truth  is  seen,  to  inspire  us  with  a  true  af- 
fection ;  enough  is  concealed,  to  make  us  long  to 
see  her  face  to  face.  And  were  all  the  knowledge 
that  it  is  possible  for  us  lo  receive,  actually  commu- 
nicated to  us,  who,  amidst  such  acquisitions,  could 
attend  lo  the  low  pursuits  of  ordinary  affairs  ?  The 
immediate  effect  of  such  a  disclosure  would  be  to 
produce,  so  far  as  real  Christians  are  concerned,  a 
total  stagnation  of  the  affairs  of  this  life.  All  the 
studies  and  pursuits,  the  arts  and  the  labors,  which 
now  employ  the  activily  of  man — which  support  or- 
der, or  promote  happiness — would  lie  neglected  and 
abandoned.  It  is  necessary  that  something  of  the 
magnitude  of  truth  should  be  concealed — something 
of  its  effulgence  softened — something  of  its  beauty 
veiled;  or  the  holy  mind  of  the  Christian,  absorbed 
in  such  a  vision,  would  find  all  that  is  important  in 
life  utterly  insignificant,  and  all  that  is  attractive 
tasteless  and  insipid.  Disturbed  in  his  lofty  medi- 
tations, and  interrupted  in  his  ecstasies,  by  the  din  of 
business,  and  the  obtrusion  of  low,  grovelling  cares, 
and  judging  that  scenes  of  secular  activity  unfitted 
him  for  communion  with  this  heavenly  visitant. — 
ne  would  retire  from  the  social  haunts  of  men,  to 
converse  with  truth  in  the  solitude  of  the  hermitage 
or  the  silence  of  the  desert.  So  necessary  is  it  to 
hang  a  veil  on  the  too  dazzling  brightness  of  divine 
subjects. 

This  partial  obscurity  is  also  necessary,  on  ac- 
count of  the  feebleness  and  limited  extent  of  our  facul- 
ties. Our  minds  could  no  more  bear  to  look  upon 
the  unmitigated  glory  of  divine  truth,  than  the  eye 
of  an  infant  could  sustain  the  unsoftened  effulgence 
of  the  mid-day  sun.  Our  minds  cannot  grasp,  in  its 
full  extent,  one  single  subject  out  of  all  the  mighty 
theory.  Some  vague  idea  may  be  formed  of  the 
almost  illimitable  range  of  this  plan,  when  we  recol- 
lect that  its  development  is  to  employ  our  under- 
standing in  the  highest  state  of  intellectual  perfec- 
tion, and  to  employ  it,  not  for  a  measured  term,  but 
through  the  countless  ages  of  an  endless  existence. 
The  study,  the  discovery,  the  enjoyment,  of  truth, 
will  form  one  of  the  chief  felicities  of  the  heavenly 
state:  but  what  must  that  knowledge  be,  which  is  to 
afford  something  new  and  interesting  through  eter- 
nity %  how  can  this  be  obtained  by  man  in  the  in- 
fancy of  his  existence  upon  earth  1  There  are  sub- 
jects yet  to  be  known,  which  would  have  no  less 
surpassed  the  understanding  of  Newton,  than  his 
profound  discoveries  in  science  would  the  mind  of 
a  child. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  we  walk  at  present  amidst 
shades  and  glimmerings.  Rut  how  humbling  is  this 
view  of  the  subject  to  the  pride  of  intellect !  "  There 
is  a  spirit  in  man,  anil  the  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty siveth  him  understanding."  The  thinking 
mind  is  "the  glory  of  our  nature  ;  it  is  the  candle  ol 
the  Lord  shining  "  in  the  earthly  house  ol  our  ta- 
bernacle," and  giving  light  to  all  the  faculties  of  our 
soul,  to  guide  their  operations,  and  to  direct  them 
in  i  heir  appropriate  business.    To  what  an  immea- 


surable elevation  does  it  raise  man  above  the  brute 
creation !  What  wonders  it  has  achieved — what 
stupendous  monuments  of  wisdom  and  power  it  has 
raised  !  Who  can  mention  the  names  of  the  giants 
of  the  world  of  mind,  and  especially  who  can  survey 
the  productions  of  their  genius,  without  having  high 
notions  of  the  capacities  of  the  human  understand- 
ing 1  But  what  are  all  the  works  of  the  greatest 
theologians,  the  profoundest  philosophers,  when 
compared  with  the  knowledge  of  another  world, 
but  as  the  ideas  of  one  who  "  thought  as  a  child,  and 
spake  as  a  child !"  Shall  any  man,  shall  the  great- 
est of  men,  be  proud  of  (heir  modicum  of  know- 
ledge, vain  of  their  childish  notions,  puffed  up  with 
their  poor  scautling  of  information!  Were  the 
meanest  and  least  of  all  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect,  to  come  down  and  catechise  a  synod  of  the 
greatest  divines  on  earth,  how  soon  would  he  con- 
found them  amidst  their  most  sagacious  discoveries 
and  most  celebrated  works.  What  infantine  con- 
ceptions, what  puerile  conceits,  could  be  found  out 
in  their  most  finished  productions  !  So  little  reason 
has  man  for  the  pride  of  understanding — so  much 
cause  to  clothe  himself  with  the  garment  of  hu- 
mility. 


HEAVEN   A    STATE    OF    PERFECT   KNOWLEDGE. 

"  But  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that 
which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away.  Now  we  see 
through  a  glass  darkly ;  but  then  face  to  face:  now 
I  know  but  in  part ;  but  then  shall  I  know,  even  as  I 
am  known." 

All  these  expressions  refer  to  the  celestial  world, 
and  unite  to  teach  us  that  heaven  is  a  state  of  per- 
fect knowledge.  Here  we  know  only  part  of  truth  ; 
then  we  shall  know  the  whole:  here  we  know  no- 
thing but  in  a  partial  manner:  there  we  shall  know 
every  thing  completely  :  here  we  see  truth,  only  as 
we  perceive  the  dark  shadow  of  a  man,  through  a 
dense  medium  ;  there  we  shall  behold  it  as  clearly  as 
we  do  the  same  man  when  we  see  him  face  to  face ; 
there  we  shall  know  truth,  even  as  we  are  known 
by  superior  beings,  i.  e.  with  as  much  certainty, 
though  not  with  the  same  comprehension. 

This  last  expression  has  been  sometimes  ex- 
plained, as  conveying  the  intimation  that  we  shall 
recognize  each  other  in  the  celestial  state.  "We 
shall  know  others,  even  as  we  are  known  by  them." 
Many  reasons  concur  to  produce  the  expectation  of 
this  mutual  recognition.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
suppose  that  we  shall  maintain  our  identity,  not 
only  of  person  but  of  character ;  and  also  the  remi- 
niscence of  our  earthly  existence  and  history  ;  with- 
out believing  the  interesting  truth,  that  we  shall 
again  be  mutually  known  to  each  other  in  the  hea- 
venly world.  This  is  one  of  the  sentiments  which 
the  sacred  writers  rather  take  for  granted  than  stop 
to  prove.  But  certainly  this  is  not  the  meaning  of 
the  passage  now  under  consideration.  The  apostle 
here  speaks  of  our  knowledge  of  things,  not  of  per- 
sons. 

The  felicity  of  the  celestial  state  will,  doubtless, 
include  every  thing  that  can  yield  delight  to  a  cor- 
poreal, social,  intellectual,  and  moral  creature.  It  is 
eternal  life — everlasting  existence,  attended  by 
every  thing  that  can  render  existence,  a  blessing. — 
It  is  life,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term — life  in  ihe 
highest  degree  of  perfection.  The  glorified  body 
will  probably  retain  the  organs  of  sound  and  sight, 
— the  purest  of  the  senses, — and  thus  become  the 
miei  of  the  most  pleasurable  sensations;  while  it 
will  be  for  ever  free  from  the  cravings  of  appeti'e, 
the  languor  of  sickness,  the  distress  of  pain,  the  wea- 
riness of  labor.  The  social  impulse  will  he  gratified 
by  the  sublime  converse  of  "the  innumerable  com- 


m 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


pany  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect." The  moral  feelings  will  all  combine  in  the 
most  unsullied  purity;  while  the  intellect  will  be  ir- 
radiated by  the  light  of  eternal  truth.  The  heart  will 
thus  repose  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  chief  good,  and 
the  mind  in  the  contemplation  of  the  first  truth  ;  be- 
yond which  nothing  remains  to  be  enjoyed — nothing 
to  be  known. 

But  we  are  now  considering  heaven  under  the  re- 
presentation of  a  state  of  knowledge,  and  as  an  in- 
tellectual condition.  In  this  light  the  Scriptures  fre- 
quently speak  of  the  glory  to  be  revealed.  They 
call  it  an  inheritance  "  in  light;"  they  describe  it  as 
a  world  where  there  is  no  night.  There  "  we  shall 
see  him  as  he  is,"  "  behold  his  glory,"  "  see  him  face 
to  face :"  expressions  which  relate  more  to  the  eyes 
of  the  mind  than  to  those  of  the  body.  Perhaps  we 
do  not  sufficiently  contemplate  heaven  in  this  view 
of  it.  The  greater  part  of  mankind  are  taken  up 
with  mere  sensations,  and  are  but  little  acquainted 
with  the  pure  enjoyment  connected  with  the  per- 
ception of  evidence  and  the  apprehension  of  truth. 
The  rapturous  exclamation,  "I  have  found  it !"  is 
rarely  uttered  by  the  multitude,  over  any  thing  but 
the  acquisition  of  wealth  or  the  gratification  of  ap- 
petite. But  those  who  have  been  engaged  in  any 
measure  in  intellectual  pursuits,  will  be  able  to  ap- 
preciate the  pleasures  of  knowledge.  Evidence  is 
to  the  mind  like  light  to  the  pye,  and  the  perception 
of  truth,  as  water  to  the  thirsty.  Even  the  compa- 
ratively barren  sciences  of  numbers  and  figures, 
which  exclude  the  operation  of  the  fancy,  and  pre- 
sent nothing  to  exercise  the  passions  or  gratify  the 
imagination,  the  truths  of  which  derive  all  their  in- 
terest from  the  evidence  by  which  they  are  sup- 
ported, or  the  manner  in  which  they  are  applied  to 
other  purposes  ; — yes  ;  even  these  are  a  source  of 
high  and  pure  enjoyment  to  the  human  mind,  which 
is  ever  seeking  to  arrive  at  infallible  certainty,  and 
can  repose  nowhere  else.  What  exquisite  delight 
has  been  experienced  by  some  men,  when,  after  a 
long  process  of  reasoning,  or  a  fatiguing  course  of 
experiments,  they  have  at  length  arrived  at  a  de- 
monstration. If,  then,  in  (he  present  world,  where 
the  subjects  of  our  research  are  often  so  insignifi- 
cant, Avhere  our  knowledge  is  obtained  with  such 
labor,  is  limited  by  so  much  ignorance,  and  blended 
with  so  much  error;  if  amidst  such  circumstances 
the  pleasure  of  knowledge  be  so  great, — what  will 
it  be  in  the  heavenly  state  "? 

Let  us  consider  what  will  be  the  objects  of  our 
knowledge. 

If  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  we  shall 
know  all  things  that  are  knowable,  so  far  as  an  ac- 
quaintance with  them  will  contribute  to  our  felicity. 
We  shall  know  every  thing  that  is  essential  to  the 
right  performance  of  duty,  or  to  the  most  perfect 
gratification  of  our  intellect — all  that  lies  within  our 
proper  sphere  or  compass  as  creatures. 

We  shall  perfectly  comprehend  all  the  laws  which 
govern  the  material  world.  The  discovery  of  these 
are  now  considered  to  be  among:  the  most  dignified 
and  gratifying  employments  of  the  human  under- 
standing. It  was  his  discoveries  in  natural  philoso- 
phy which  gave  to  our  great  Newton  his  celebrity. 
What  a  high  station  in  the  records  of  fame  is  as- 
signed to  Linneus,  La  Place,  Davy,  and  Watt,  and 
to  others,  who  have  explored  the  secrets  and  ex- 
plained the  laws  of  nature'  They  are  ranked 
among  the  illustrious  members  and  most  valuable 
benefactors  of  their  species.  They  are  looked  up  to 
with  a  kind  of  semi-idolatry,  and  their  praises  are 
continually  chanted  for  their  vast  achievements,  not 
only  in  adding  to  the  stock  of  knowledge,  but  in  ac- 
cumulating fresh  honors  upon  human  nature. — 
What  sublime  and  astonishing  facts  are  included 
in  the  sciences  of  astronomy,  optics,  chemistry  !  how 


much  of  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  of  the  divine 
Architect  are  displayed  in  the  works  of  creation  '- 
yet  these  things  are  now  hidden  from  a  great  por- 
tion of  the  redeemed,  who,  by  the  disadvantages  of 
their  education,  are  shut  out  from  these  sources  of 
knowledge.  But  they  will  be  admitted  to  them  in 
heaven.  Creation  will  not  be  destroyed  at  the 
judgment  day,  but  only  purified.  The  vast  and 
splendid  machine,  will  not  then  be  thrown  aside,  bro- 
ken up,  and  consigned  to  oblivion.  Nothing  which 
the  hand  of  the  Creator  hath  framed  shall  be  for- 
gotten. The  brilliant  scenes  which  are  now  pas- 
sing before  our  eyes,  but  on  which  many,  even  re- 
generated minds  look  without  understanding  them, 
are  not  a  mere  pageant.  Beautiful  was  the  remark 
of  the  eminently  pious  Bishop  Hall,  who,  on  being 
told  in  his  old  age,  that  his  views  of  astronomy  were 
not  quite  correct,  replied,  "Well!  it  may  be  so;  but 
I  am  soon  going  to  heaven,  and  as  I  shall  take  the 
stars  in  my  way,  I  must  leave  the  subject  till  then, 
when  every  mistake  will  be  rectified."  So  com- 
pletely will  all  the  disadvantages  of  our  earthly  con- 
dition be  removed  in  heaven,  whether  those  disad- 
vantages arise  from  the  Christian  being  born  in  an 
age  when  knowledge  is  in  its  infancy,  or  amidst 
those  privations  of  property  which  deny  him  access 
to  the  sources  of  information.  In  the  hour  of  death, 
the  pious  but  illiterate  tenant  of  the  cottage,  on 
whose  mind  the  orb  of  science  never  rose,  though 
the  sun  of  righteousness  poured  upon  it  the  light  of 
a  spiritual  illumination,  ascends  above  the  disad- 
vantages of  education,  makes  a  glorious  transition 
from  the  shades  of  ignorance,  in  which  he  dwelt 
upon  earth,  into  the  cloudless  transparency  of  the 
firmament  on  high.  His  natural  faculties,  com- 
pressed and  enfeebled  now  by  the  circumstances  of 
his  birth,  shall  then  expand  to  a  comprehension, 
and  attain  to  a  vigor,  probably  not  surpassed  by  the 
loftiest  of  the  human  race  :  and  he,  too,  shall  know 
in  heaven,  the  works  of  the  God  of  nature,  as  he  knew 
below,  and  shall  still  better  know  above,  the  works 
of  the  God  of  grace. 

Providence  will  form  another  mighty  range  of  in- 
quiry, and  another  source  of  delightful  knowledge 
in  heaven.  By  providence,  we  mean  God's  moral 
government  of  the  universe — the  course  of  the  di- 
vine administration  towards  rational  and  moral 
creatures:  that  mighty  scheme,  which  commenced 
its  application  before  time  was  born,  or  the  founda- 
tions of  the  earth  were  laid;  which  embraces  the 
annals  of  other  worlds  besides  ours;  which  includes 
the  history  of  angels,  men,  and  devils.  Providence 
comprises  the  whole  range  of  events,  which  have 
taken  place  from  the  formation  of  the  first  creature, 
to  the  last  moment  of  time,  with  all  the  tendencies, 
reasons,  connections,  and  results,  of  things  ;  the  se- 
parate existence  of  each  individual,  with  the  con- 
tinuation and  influence  of  the  whole,  in  one  har- 
monious scheme.  Providence  is  now  full  of  mys- 
teries. We  are  puzzled  at  almost  every  step.  In- 
numerable are  the  events  over  which,  after  having 
in  vain  endeavored  to  sound  their  depth  with  the 
line  of  our  reason,  we  must  exclaim,  "  O  the 
depth!"  But  we  shall  know  all;  why  sin  was  per- 
mitted, and  how  it  entered,  with  all  the  attendant 
train  of  incomprehensible  results  which  followed  its 
introduction  into  the  moral  universe.  It  will  then  be 
made  apparent  to  us,  why  so  long  a  peri  jd  elapsed 
between  the  first  promise  of  a  Saviour,  and  his  in- 
carnation, sufferings,  and  death:  why,  for  so  many 
ages,  the  World  was  left  in  ignorance,  sin,  and  mi- 
sery: why  such  errors  were  permitted  to  enter  the 
church ;  and  so  soon,  and  so  extensively,  to  corrupt 
the  simplicity  and  deform  the  beauty  of  the  Chris- 
tian profession  :  why  the  man  of  sin  was  suffered  to 
establish  his  sent  in  the  temple  of  Christ;  to  exalt 
himself  above  all  that  is  called  God ;  to  utter  his 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


53 


blasphemy  ;  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  saints  ;  and  so 
long  to  spread  the  clouds  of  superstition,  and  the 
shades  of  death,  over  Christendom  :  why  the  impos- 
tor of  Mecca  was  allowed  to  arise,  and  for  so  many 
ages  to  render  a  large  portion  of  the  earth  inacces- 
sible to  the  rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness:  why  j 
idolatry,  with  all  its  sanguinary  deities,  and  all  its 
bloody  and  obscene  rites,  was  left  so  long  to  insult 
the  heavens,  to  pollute  the  earth,  and  to  curse  man- 
kind. What  deep  unfathomable  mysteries  are 
these!  How  confounding  to  our  reason,  and  how 
utterly  beyond  our  research!  What  astonishment 
and  delight,  what  inconceivable  emotions,  will  be 
produced  by  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the  mighty 
scheme,  by  the  progressive  discoveries  of  the  con- 
nections and  issues  of  things,  and  the  wondrous  dis- 
play of  divine  glory  which  will  be  made  by  the 
whole.  How  shall  we  be  enraptured  to  find,  that 
those  events  which  now  so  confound  us,  were  dark 
only  by  excess  of  wisdom,  and  that  those  facts 
which  so  often  distressed  us  upon  earth  were  but 
the  more  sombre  shades  of  the  perfect  picture ! — 
What  manifestations  of  Deity  will  then  be  made, 
when  God  shall  admit  us  to  his  cabinet,  and  lay 
open  to  us  the  arcana  of  his  government ! 

And,  doubtless,  we  shall  not  only  see  the  harmony 
and  wisdom  of  Providence,  in  its  general  aspect 
and  its  more  comprehensive  combinations  and  ar- 
rangements, but  in  its  particular  bearing  on  our  own 
private  and  personal  history.  The  most  important 
and  interesting  chapter  in  the  volume  of  universal 
history  is,  to  us,  that  which  contains  the  record  of 
our  life.  What  clouds  and  shadows  still  rest,  and 
in  the  present  state  ever  must  rest,  upon  our  obscure 
and  humble  annals.  How  often  is  Jehovah,  in  his 
dealings  with  us,  a  God  that  hideth  himself!  how 
often  does  he  wrap  himself  in  clouds,  and  pursue 
his  path  upon  the  waters,  where  we  can  neither  see 
his  goings  nor  trace  his  footsteps  !  How  many  of 
his  dispensations  are  inexplicable!  and  of  his  judg- 
ments, how  many  are  unfathomable  by  the  short 
line  of  our  reason !  But  whatever  we  know  not 
now,  we  shall  know  hereafter :  the  crooked  will  be 
made  straight,  the  cloud  of  darkness  will  be  scat- 
tered, and  all  his  conduct  towards  us  placed  in  the 
broad  daylight  of  eternity.  We  shall  see  the  con- 
nection which  our  individual  history  bears  with  the 
general  scheme  of  providence;  and  perceive  how, 
notwithstanding  our  insignificance,  our  existence 
was  no  less  necessary  to  the  perfection  of  the  whole 
plan  than  that  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth.  We 
shall  see  how  all  the  varying  and  numerous,  and 
seemingly  opposite,  events  of  our  history  were  com- 
bined into  one  gracious  purpose  of  mercy,  which 
was  most  perfectly  wise  in  all  its  combinations:  now 
we  believe  that  "  all  things  work  together  forgood;" 
then  we  shall  see  how  this  end  was  accomplished  by 
events,  which,  at  the  time  put  us  to  so  much  grief, 
and  involved  us  in  so  much  surprise.  Delightful, 
most  delightful  will  it  be,  to  retrace  our  winding 
and  often  gloomy  course,  and  discern  at  each 
change  and  turning  the  reason  of  the  occurrence, 
and  the  wisdom  of  God  ;  delightful  will  it  be,  to  dis- 
cern the  influence  which  all  our  temporal  circum- 
stances, all  our  disappointments,  losses,  and  per- 
plexities, had  upon  our  permanent  and  celestial  hap- 
piness. How  much  of  divine  wisdom,  power,  good- 
ness and  faithfulness,  will  our  short  and  humble 
history  present;  and  what  rapturous  fervor  will  the 
discovery  give  to  the  sons;  of  praise  which  we 
shall  utter  before  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb. 
Revelation,  as  containing  th?  scheme  of  human 
redempiion  by  Jesus  Ohrisr,  will  be  another  object 
of  our  study,  and  source  of  knowledge.  The  Bible 
is  given  to  make  God  known  ;  and  one  page  of  the 
Bible,  yea  one  verse,  makes  known  more  of  God 
than  all  the  volume  of  nature.     Bat,  after  all,  how 


little  do  we  know  of  God,  of  his  essence,  of  his 
triune  mode  of  subsistence,  of  his  natural  perfec- 
tions, of  his  moral  attributes  1  What  an  unfathom- 
able mystery  is  Deity!  In  what  a  pavilion  of  dark- 
ness does  Jehovah  dwell !  Who,  by  searching,  can 
find  out  God  1  In  heaven  we  shall  know  him,  for 
we  shall  see  him  face  to  face;  we  shall  behold  his 
glory,  and  see  him  as  he  is.  We  shall  have  as  per- 
fect an  acquaintance  with  the  divine  character,  as 
a  finite  mind  can  attain  to;  and  in  this  one  object, 
shall  find  employment  and  bliss  through  eternity. 
We  shall  never  exhaust  this  theme.  Eternity  is 
necessary  to  study  that  which  is  infinite. 

We  shall  there  comprehend,  so  far  as  it  can  be 
clone  by  a  finite  mind,  the  complex  person  of  Jesus 
Christ.  We  cannot  now  understand  this;  "great 
is  the  mystery  of  godliness, — God  manifest  in  the 
flesh ;"  but  what  we  know  not  now,  we  shall  know 
hereafter.  Then  will  the  cross  be  seen,  as  the  cen- 
tral point  of  the  divine  administration,  bright  with 
ten  thousand  glories,  and  sending  out  its  beams  to 
the  extremity  of  the  moral  system.  The  ruin  of 
the  world  by  its  federal  connection  with  Adam: 
the  election  of  the  Jews,  and  the  long  abandonment 
of  the  Gentiles  ;  the  slow  advance  of  Christianity 
to  its  millennial  reign  and  triumph;  the  bearing  of 
redemption  upon  other  orders  of  beings  beside  man ; 
the  difficulties  which  hang  like  impenetrable  clouds 
upon  the  doctrines  of  personal  election,  regenera- 
tion, perseverance,  the  freedom  of  the  will  viewed 
in  connection  with  divine  prescience  and  predesti- 
nations—all, all  will  be  laid  open  to  the  view  of 
glorified  saints  in  heaven.  Every  thing  in  the 
Scriptures,  which  is  now  dark,  shall  be  made  light. 
A  reconciling  point  shall  be  found  for  every  seem- 
ing contradiction,  and  the  faith  and  patience  of  the 
saints  be  rewarded,  for  having  received  the  truth 
on  the  credit  of  him  who  spoke  it,  without  demand- 
ing to  see  before  they  believed. 

Such  shall  be  the  sources  of  knowledge  in  heaven. 
O  the  bliss  of  eternally  drinking  in  knowledge 
from  such  fountains ! 

We  may  now  consider  the  advantages  which 
the  heavenly  state  will  possess  for  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge. 

The  soul  will  there  be  perfect  in  holiness,  and  thus 
the  understanding  will  be  delivered  from  the  disturb- 
ing and  bewildering  influence  of  sin.  In  our  pre- 
sent state  of  imperfection,  the  depravity  of  our  na- 
ture contracts  and  misdirects  our  judgment:  the 
corruptions  of  the  heart  send  up  a  mist,  which  veils 
the  lustre  of  truth,  and  conceals  its  extent  and  glo- 
ry from  the  mind  The  judgment  cannot  now  see 
spiritual  objects  in  all  their  range,  and  order,  and 
beauty,  because  of  sin.  But  in  heaven  this  con- 
tracting and  darkening  influence  will  cease  for  ever. 
No  evil  bias,  no  sinful  prejudice,  will  ever  warp 
the  judgment:  no  disease  of  the  soul  will  dim  its 
eye  or  enfeeble  its  power.  With  eagle  pinion  it 
will  soar  to  the  fountain  of  radiance,  and  with  eagle 
vision  bear  'he  full  blaze  of  its  glory.  The  natural 
faculty  of  the  mind  will  then  attain  to  its  full  matu- 
rity  of  strength.  The  mind  is  here  in  its  infancy: 
there  it  will  come  to  its  age.  Even  the  intellects 
of  the  greatest  geniuses,  while  on  earth,  are  but 
human  minds  in  childhood,  as  we  have  already 
considered,  and  their  most  prodigious  efforts  but  as 
infantine  exercises.  Here  thev  only  tried  their 
powers:  but  in  heaven  the  mind  will  put  forth  to 
their  full  extent  all  those  wondrous  faculties  which 
are  now  shut  up  and  compressed  in  our  nature,  for 
want  of  room  and  opportunity  to  expand.  In 
heaven,  we sJiMl  not  be  diverted  ami  called  off  from 
the  vurmit  of  truth  bv  the  inferior  interests  of  the 
body:  the  soul  will  not  be  prevented  from  making 
excursions  into  the  regions  of  light,  by  the  cares, 
wants,  and  anxieties,  which  abound  in  this  slate  of 


54 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


being,  but  will  be  left  at  leisure  to  pursue  her  sub- 
lime researches.  She  will  have  nothing  to  hinder 
the  acquirement  and  enjoyment  of  knowledge.  To 
crown  all,  heaven  is  an  eternal  state,  and  everlast- 
ing ages  will  be  afforded  through  which  the  glori- 
fied mind  will  carry  on  its  pursuits.  Were  the 
term  of  human  life  again  protracted  to  the  antedi- 
luvian age,  what  vast  attainments  would  be  made 
by  us  all  in  the  discovery  of  truth  !  What,  then, 
must  it  be  to  have  eternity  through  which  to  grow 
in  knowledge? 

We  might  notice  the  characters  of  cur  know- 
ledge. It  will  be  perfect:  by  which  we  are  not  to 
understand  that  it  will  be  as  complete  as  the  nature 
of  things  admits  of,  for  we  should  then  possess  a 
comprehension  equal  to  that  of  God.  We  cannot 
perfectly  know  every  thing  as  it  may  be  known: 
our  ideas  of  many  things  must  be  limited,  especial- 
ly those  which  relate  to  the  divine  nature.  By  per- 
fection, we  mean  freedom  from  error:  our  know- 
ledge will  be  free  from  all  admixture  of  doubt,  sus- 
pense and  fallacy;  our  attainments  will  be  bound- 
ed only  by  our  capacity  ;  there  will,  perhaps,  be  a 
gradation  of  mind  in  heaven,  no  less  obviously 
marked  than  that  which  exists  on  earth  ;  but  all  ca- 
pacities will  be  filled. 

Our  knowledge  will  doubtless  be  progressive. — 
Increase  of  ideas  is,  perhaps,  in  the  case  of  a  crea- 
ture, essential  to  felicity.  We  now  find  more  plea- 
sure in  receiving  a  new  and  important  truth,  than 
we  experience  in  all  we  before  possessed.  A  state 
in  which  there  remains  nothing  more  to  be  known, 
conveys  not  an  idea  of  happiness  so  vividly  as  that 
where  the  delight  of  discovering  something  new  is 
ever  added  to  the  joy  of  contemplating  so  much 
that  is  old.  What  a  view  of  heaven  ! — An  eternal 
advance  in  the  most  important  knowledge ;  an  ever- 
lasting accumulation  of  ideas;  an  interminable 
progression  in  truth.  In  the  march  of  the  mind 
through  intellectual  and  moral  perfection,  there  is 
no  period  set :  this  perfection  of  the  just  is  for  ever 
carrying  on — is  carrying  on,  but  shall  never  come 
to  a  close.  God  shall  behold  his  creation  for  ever 
beautifying  in  his  eyes,  for  ever  drawing  near  to 
himself,  yet  still  infinitely  distant  from  him,  the 
fountain  of  all  goodness.  There  is  not  in  religion 
a  more  joyful  or  triumphant  consideration  than  this 
perpetual  progress  which  the  soul  makes  in  the  per- 
fection of  its  nature,  without  ever  arriving  at  its 
ultimate  period.  Here  truth  has  the  advantage  of 
fable.  No  fiction,  however  bold,  presents  to  us  a 
conception  so  elevating  and  astonishing  as  this  in- 
terminable line  of  heavenly  excellence.  To  look 
upon  the  glorified  spirit,  as  going  on  from  strength 
to  strength,  adding  viitue  to  virtue,  and  knowledge 
to  knowledge ;  making  approaches  to  goodness 
which  is  infinite ;  for  ever  adorning  the  heavens 
with  new  beauties,  and  brightening  in  the  splen- 
dors of  moral  glory  through  the  ages  of  eternity ; 
—has  something  in  it  so  transcendent,  as  to  sa- 
tisfy the  most  unbounded  ambition  of  an  immor- 
tal spirit.  Christian!  does  not  thy  heart  glow  at 
the  thought  that  there  is  a  time  marked  out  in  the 
annals  of  heaven,  when  thou  shalt  be  what  the  an- 
gels now  are;  when  thou  shalt  shine  with  that  glory 
in  which  principalities  now  appear;  and  when,  in 
full  communion  with  the  Most  High,  thou  shalt 
"see  him  as  he  is?" 

How  our  knowledge  in  heaven  will  be  acquired, 
whether  by  testimony,  by  immediate  revelation,  or 
by  some  method  of  mental  application,  it  would  be 
idle  to  specnlaie.  We  know  that  wl.a'ever  mode 
is  determined  upon  by  God,  will  promote,  and  not 
interrupt,  our  felicitv  ;  we  shnll  have  nothing  of 
the  weariness  of  study — nothing  of  the  anxietv  of 
doubt — noihing  of  the  torture  of  suspense.  Ideas 
will  flow  into  the  soul  with  the  same  ease  and  plea- 


sure on  our  part  as  rays  of  light  come  to  the  bodily 
eye. 

Whatever  knowledge  we  gain  in  heaven  will  be 
transforming:  it  will  not  be  mere  opinion,  or  unin- 
fluential  speculation.  All  our  ideas  will  be  as  fuel, 
to  feed  the  flame  of  love,  which  will  then  burn 
upon  the  altar  of  the  soul:  all  will  be  quickening, 
penetrating,  influential.  Our  opinions  will  be  prin- 
ciples of  action.  Every  thing  will  lead  us  to  see 
more  of  God,  to  love  hiin  with  a  more  intense  glow 
of  holy  affection,  and  to  be  more  conformed  to  him. 
The  light  of  truth  will  ever  be  associated  with  the 
warmth  of  love.  "  We  shall  be  like  God,  for  we 
shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

It  is  difficult  to  find,  in  the  volume  of  revelation, 
a  stronger  internal  evidence  of  its  divine  original, 
than  the  view  it  gives  of  the  celestial  state,  com- 
bining, as  it  does,  the  perfection  of  knowledge  and 
of  purify.  Every  other  representation  which  has 
been  given  of  heaven,  bears  the  mark  of  an  earth- 
ly source, — the  proof  of  being  a  human  device.— 
As,  in  seeking  for  a  Deity,  man  found  the  prototype 
in  his  own  passions,  when  he  had  abandoned  the 
one  living  and  true  God  ;  so,  in  forming  a  heaven, 
he  collected  all  the  materials  from  the  objects  of  his 
own  fleshly  delights.  The  Elysium  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  Romans;  the  Hall  of  the  Scandinavians;  the 
Paradise  of  Mohammedans;  the  fantastic  abodes 
of  the  departed  Hindoos; — are  all  adapted  to  their 
depraved  appetites,  and  were  suggested  by  their 
corrupt  imaginations.  Beyond  the  pleasures  of  a 
seraglio,  of  a  field  of  glory,  or  of  a  hall  resounding 
with  the  shout  of  victory — beyond  the  gratification 
of  sense — man,  when  left  to  himself,  never  looked 
for  the  happiness  which  is  to  constitute  his  paradise. 
A  heaven  made  up  of  perfect  knowledge,  and  of 
perfect  love,  is  a  vision  entirely  and  exclusively  di- 
vine, and  which  never  beamed  upon  the  human 
understanding  till  the  splendid  image  came  upon  it 
from  the  word  of  God.  How  worthy  of  God  is 
such  a  representation  of  celestial  bliss!  It  is  an 
emanation  from  his  own  nature,  as  thus  described: 
— "  God  is  light :  God  is  love."  The  glorious  real- 
ity is  evidently  the  provision  of  his  own  wisdom 
and  grace  ;  and  the  sublime  description  of  it  in  the 
Scriptures,  is  as  evidently  the  delineation  of  his 
own  finger. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   PRE-EMINENCE    OF    LOVE. 

"Now  abide  these  three,  Faith,  Hope,  Charily;   but 
the  greatest  of  these  is  Charily." 

Such  is  the  triune  nature  of  true  religion,  as  de- 
scribed by  an  inspired  penman  ;  of  that  religion 
about  which  myriads  of  volumes  have  been  written, 
and  so  many  controversies  have  been  agitated. — 
How  short  and  how  simple  the  account;  within 
how  narrow  a  compass  does  it  lie;  and  how  easily 
understood,  might  one  have  expected,  would  have 
been  a  subject  expressed  in  terms  so  familiar  as 
these.  This  beautiful  verse  has  furnished  the  arts 
with  one  of  their  most  exquisite  subjects:  poets 
have  sung  the  praises  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity ; 
the  painter  has  exhibited  the  holy  three  in  all  the 
glowing  colors  of  his  pencil ;  and  the  sculptor  has 
given  them  in  the  pure  and  almost  breathing  forms 
of  his  marble  ;  while  the  orator  has  employed  them 
as  the  ornaments  of  his  eloquence.  But  our  ora- 
tors, poets,  sculptors,  and  painters,  have  strangely 
mi'uinders'ood  them,  and  too  often  proved  that  they 
knew  nothing  of  them  but  as  the  abstractions  of 
their  genius  :  what  they  presented  to  the  eye  were 
mere  earthly  forms,  which  bore  no  resemblance  to 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


55 


these  divine  and  spiritual  graces:  and  multitudes 
have  gazed,  with  admiration  kindling  into  rapture, 
on  the  productions  of  the  artist,  who  at  the  same 
time  had  no  taste  for  the  virtues  described  by  the 
apostle.  Religion  is  a  thing  essentially  different 
from  a  regard  to  classic  elegance,  not  indeed  that 
it  is  opposed  to  it,  for,  as  it  refines  the  heart,  it  may 
be  supposed  to  exert  a  favorable  influence  on  the 
understanding,  and  by  correcting  the  moral  taste, 
to  give  a  still  clearer  perception  of  the  sublime  and 
the  beautiful.  It  is  greatly  to  be  questioned,  how- 
ever, whether  religion  has  not  received  more  injury 
than  benefit  from  the  fine  arts;  whether  men  have 
not  become  carelessly  familiar  with  the  more  awful 
realities  of  truth,  by  the  exhibition  of  the  poet, 
the  painter,  and  the  engraver;  and  whether  they 
have  no*  mistaken  those  sensibilities  which  have 
been  awakened  by  a  contemplation  of  the  more 
tender  and  touching  scenes  of  revelation,  as  de- 
scribed upon  the  canvass  or  the  marble,  for  the 
emotions  of  true  piety.  Perhaps  the  "  Paradise 
Lost"  has  done  very  little  to  produce  any  serious 
concern  to  avoid  everlasting  misery ;  "  The  Descent 
from  the  Cross"  by  Rubens,  or  the  "Transfigura- 
tion" by  Raphael,  as  little,  to  draw  the  heart  to 
the  great  objects  of  Christianity.  Innumerable 
representations,  and  many  of  them  very  splendid 
productions  too,  have  been  given  of  Faith,  Hope, 
and  Charity;  and  doubtless  by  these  means  many 
kindly  emotions  have  been  called  for  a  while  into 
exercise,  which,  after  all,  were  nothing  but  a  tran- 
sient effect  of  the  imagination  upon  the  feelings. 
It  is  of  vast  consequence  that  we  should  recollect 
that  no  affections  are  entitled  to  the  character  of 
religion,  but  such  as  are  excited  by  a  distinct  per- 
ception of  revealed  truth.  It  is  not  the  emotion 
awakened  by  a  picture  presented  to  the  eye,  nor  by 
a  sound  addressed  to  the  ear,  but  by  the  contempla- 
tion of  a  fact,  or  a  statement,  laid  before  the  mind, 
that  constitutes  piety.  We  now  proceed  to  the  sub- 
ject of  this  chapter. 

Faith  is  the  belief  of  testimony,  accompanied,  if 
the  testimony  be  delivered  by  a  living  individual, 
by  a  disposition  to  depend  upon  his  veracity;  and, 
if  if  r»la'e  to  something  in  which  we  are  interested, 
with  an  expectation  of  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise. 
In  reference  to  spiritual  things,  it  means  a  firm  per- 
suasion of  the  truth  of  what  God  has  revealed  in  his 
word.  "Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for, 
the  evidence  of  things  not  seen :"  or,  as  the  passage 
is  rendered  by  some,  "  Faith  is  the  confidence  of 
things  honed  for,  the  conviction  of  things  not  seen." 
It  is  a  belief,  not  only  that  the  Bible  is  true,  but  of 
the  truth  contained  in  the  Bible:  it  is  not  merely  a 
perception  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  as  a  di- 
vine revelation,  but  also  a  perception  of  the  truth  of 
its  doctrines.  General  faith,  means  a  belief  of  all 
that  God  has  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  whether  it 
be  invitation  or  promise,  command  or  threatening, 
prophecy  or  history;  and  it  is  this  that  the  apostle 
describes  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews.  Faith  in  Christ,  or  justifying  faith 
relates  to  that  part  of  the  divine  word  which  testi- 
fies concerning  the  person  and  work  of  the  Redeem- 
er. Savin?  belief  takes  into  its  view  every  thing 
contained  in  the  word  of  God,  but  its  special  objecr 
is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  :  just  as  the  eye  of  a  condemn- 
ed criminal,  at  the  place  of  execution,  beholds  the 
assembled  multitude,  the  fatal  tree,  and  the  messen- 
ger whom  he  sees  hastening  with  the  reprieve;  but 
it  is  on  the  latter  that  his  view  is  fixed  with  the 
greatest  steadiness  and  delight.  Faith  in  Christ, 
then,  is  a  full  persuasion  of  the  truth  of  the  glorious 
gospel  concerning  Him,  accompanied  by  a  full  con- 
fidence in  his  veracity,  and  an  expectation  of  the 
fulfilment  of  his  word.     It  is  not  a  mere  notion,  a 


purely  intellectual  act ;  but  certainly  implies  an  ex- 
ercise of  the  will.  It  is  the  belief  of  something 
spoken  by  a  living  person,  and  necessarily  involves 
a  confidence  in  his  veracity;  it  is  something  inte- 
resting to  ms,  and  must  contain  expectation.  Hence 
it  is  represented  by  the  apostle  as  synonymous  with 
the  act  of  committing  the  soul  into  the  hands  of 
Christ.  "  I  know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am 
persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have 
committed  to  him."  If  it  were  a  purely  intellectual 
act,  how  could  it  be  the  subject  of  command  or  the 
matter  of  duty — For  can  that  which  is  exclusively 
mental  contain  eithtr  moral  good  or  evil  1  If  faith 
be  purely  intellectual,  must  not  unbelief,  its  oppo- 
site, be  the  same  1  But  it  is  said,  that  as  the  dispo- 
sition influences  the  judgment,  and  leads  to  either 
faith  or  unbelief,  according  to  the  state  of  the  heart, 
the  moral  excellence  of  one,  and  the  turpitude  of  the 
other,  arises  from  its  cause.  But  is  not  the  Scrip- 
lure  most  explicit  in  its  condemnation  of  unbelief, 
as  evil  in  itself;  and  in  its  commendation  of  faith, 
as  morally  excellent  1  The  question  is  not  what  is 
the  meaning  of  the  term  faith  as  employed  by  meta- 
physicians, but  as  employed  by  the  apostles ;  and 
this  meaning  can  be  gathered  only  from  their  writ- 
ings, in  which  many  terms  are  employed  with  a  sig- 
nification somewhat  different  to  that  in  which  they 
are  employed  in  ordinary  discourse.  Justification, 
for  instance,  in  reference  to  ordinary  affairs,  means 
the  act  of  declaring  an  accused  person  to  be  inno- 
cent of  the  charge  brought  against  him  ;  but,  as  the 
term  is  used  by  the  sacred  writers,  means  nothing 
more  than  treating  a  person  acknowledged  to  be 
guilty,  as  righteous,  for  the  sake  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ. 

Faith  is  not  that  which  constitutes  the  ground  of 
our  acceptance  with  God,  but  which  places  us  upon 
that  ground  :  it  is  not  our  justifying  righteousness, 
but  that  which  unites  us  to  Christ,  and  appropriates 
his  righteousness  to  ourselves.  It  is  true  that  a  dif- 
ferent view  seems  to  be  given  by  the  apostle,  when 
he  says,  quoting  the  Old  Testament  expression, 
"  Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was  counted  to 
him  for  righteousness."  It  would  seem  from  hence, 
and  so  it  has  been  contended,  that  his  faith  was  ac- 
cepted in  lieu  of  his  obedience,  as  the  matter  of  his 
righteousness,  and  the  ground  of  his  acceptance 
with  God.  But  a  more  correct  translation  of  the 
passage  will  rectify  this  mistake,  and  prevent  what 
must  be  considered  a  fundamental  error  on  the  very 
important  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  "  Abra- 
ham believed  God,  and  it  was  reckoned  to  him, 
'to,'  '  in  order  to,1  or  'towards,'  his  justification."* 
It  is  not,  then,  for  our  faith,  but  by  it,  that  we  are 
justified  :  faith,  as  an  act  of  ours,  is  no  more  the 
meritorious  ground   of  our  justification  than  any 


*  Great  efforts  have  been  made  by  the  opponents 
of  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness  to  be- 
lievers for  their  justification,  and  especially  by 
M'Knight,  to  overturn  this  doctrine,  by  the  aid  of 
the  text  we  are  now  considering.  This  critic 
thought  he  had  found  in  this  passage  a  triumphant 
proof  that  our  own  faith,  or  act  of  believing,  and  not 
Christ's  obedience  unto  death,  constitutes  our  justi- 
fying righteousness,  in  lieu  of  our  own  good  works. 
It  is  a  little  remarkable  that  so  acute  a  critic  should 
have  overlooked  the  force  of  the  Greek  preposition 
(us,)  not  only  as  established  by  other  scholars,  but 
by  himself:  for  in  his  preliminary  Essay  on  the 
meaning  of  Greek  Particles,  which  he  has  prefixed 
to  his  Exposition  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  al- 
though he  gives  fourteen  different  but  harmonious 
renderings  of  this  preposition,  the  meaning  of  "  for," 
or  "in  lieu  of,"  has  no  place.  We  have  "concern- 
ing," "in  order  to,"  "  towards ."  but  not  "  for:"  and 
ye!  he  has  given  it  this  meaning  in  the  text. 


5G 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


other  of  our  performances;  for,  if  it  were,  we  should 
still  be  justified  by  works,— as  faith  is  as  much  a 
work  as  penitence.  The  apostle  is  sufficiently  ex- 
plicit on  this  head,  where  he  says,  "  But  now  the 
righteousness  of  God  without  law  is  manifested,  be- 
ing witnessed  by  the  law  and  the  prophets ;  even 
the  righteousness  of  God  by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ 
unto  all  and  upon  all  them  that  believe."  "  To  him 
that  worketli  not,  but  believeth  on  him  that  jnstifieth 
the  ungodly,  his  faith  is  reckoned  towards  justifica- 
tion." "  By  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be 
made  righteous."  "  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  to  every  one  that  believelh." 

Hope  is  the  desire  and  expectation  of  those  future 
good  things  which  God  has  promised  in  his  word. 
Faith  believes  the  promise,  hope  desires  its  fulfil- 
ment. It  is  essential  to  hope,  that  its  object  be  some 
good  thing,  either  supposed  or  real ;  for  no  one  can 
desire  that  which  is  evil,  as  evil :  and  its  object  must 
be  something  future  ;  for  who  expects  that  of  which 
he  is  already  in  possession  1  Desire,  without  ex- 
pectation, is  either  mere  wishing,  or  else  despond- 
ency ;  expectation,  without  desire,  is  either  indiffer- 
ence or  dread  :  the  union  of  both  constitutes  hope. 
The  object  of  Christian  hope  is  thus  stated  by  the 
apostle  :— "  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God  ; 
and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  but  we 
know  that  when  he  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like 
him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is  ;  and  every  man 
that  hath  this  hope  in  him"  [in  Christ]  "  purifieth 
himself,  even  as  he  is  pure."  Paul  represents  it  as 
that  which  the  whole  rational  creation  has  groaned 
after,  ever  since  the  entrance  of  sin  into  the  world. 
"  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are 
not.  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall 
be  revealed  in  us.  For  the  earnest  expectation  of 
the  creature  waiteth  for  the  manifestation  of  the 
sons  of  God.  For  the  creature  was  made  subject  to 
vanity,  not  willingly,  but  by  reason  of  him  who  hath 
subjected  the  same  in  hope,  because  the  creature  it- 
self also  shall  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  cor- 
ruption into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of 
God.  For  we  know  that  the  whole  creation  groan- 
eth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  now.  And 
not  only  they,  but  ourselves  also,  which  have  the 
first  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  even  we  ourselves  groan 
within  ourselves,  waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wit, 
the  redemption  of  the  body.  For  we  are  saved  by 
hope  :  but  hope  that  is  seen  is  not  hope  ;  for  what  a 
man  seeth,  why  doth  he  yet  hope  for"?  But  if  we 
hope  for  that  we  see  not,  then  do  we  with  patience 
wait  for  it."* 

*  Rom.  viii.  13 — 25.  This  passage  has  been 
thought  to  contain  inexplicable  difficulties,  and  to 
have  been  in  the  mind  of  the  apostle  Peter  when  he 
spoke  of  the  things  hard  to  be  understood  in  the 
writings  of  Paul.  Upon  this  text  some  have  raised 
the  benevolent,  but,  as  it  strikes  me,  the  groundless, 
hypothesis  of  the  resurrection  of  the  brute  creation. 
]f  we  are  willing  to  be  guided  by  the  generally  ac- 
knowledged canon  of  interpretation,  of  explaining 
a  difficult  passage  by  the  context,  we  shall  find  a 
light  which  will  conduct  us  through  the  intricacies 
of.this  text,  and  illuminate  our  course  as  we  proceed. 
If  we  examine  the  context,  we  shall  find,  both  from 
what  precedes  and  what  follows,  that  the  apostle  is 
speaking  of  the  future  happiness  of  the  righteous. — 
The  passage  is  introduced  thus:  "  I  reckon  that  the 
sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in 
us;"  then  follows  the  expression,  "  for  the  earnest 
expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  for  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  sons  of  God  ;"  or,  as  it  might  be  render- 
ed, "  looketh  for  the  revelation  of  the  sons  of  God  ;" 
i.  e.  the  glory  to  be  revealed,  of  which  he  had  just 
spoken.    Next  comes  a  parenthetical  description  of 


Christian  hope  is  not  a  mere  feeble  and  fluctuat- 
ing expectation  of  eternal  happiness,  partaking 
more  of  the  nature  of  uncertainty  than  of  confi- 
dence ;  for  it  is,  by  a  beautiful  figure  of  speech, 
called  a  sure  and  steadfast  anchor;  and  in  other 
places,  without  a  figure,  it  is  called  a  lively  hope,  a 
good  hope,  and  a  confident  one ;  and  we  are  also 
admonished  to  go  on  to  the  full  assurance  of  hope: 
expressions,  especially  the  last,  which  amount  to  the 
highest  degree  of  confident  and  triumphant  expecta- 
tion. Many  Christians  seem  to  err  on  this  subject, 
by  supposing  that  the  grace  of  which  we  are  now 
speaking,  means  nothing  more  than  a  state  of  mind, 
partaking  of  so  much  doubt,  as  leaves  them  very 
little  above  the  level  of  absolute  despondency. — 
Hope  must  ever  be  in  proportion  to  our  faith  ;  if  the 
latter  be  weak,  the  former  will  inevitably  be  so  too. 

It  will  be  perceived,  that  although  these  three 
graces  are,  in  some  respects,  very  different,  yet  there 
are  others  in  which  they  have  points  of  strong  re- 
semblance. Faith  has  something  of  the  expectation 
of  hope,  and  hope  something  of  the  desire  of  love. — 
Hope  touches  faith  at  the  point  of  expectation  ;  love 
touches  hope  at  the  point  of  desire :  and  thus,  like 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  maintain  their  distinction, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  they  soften  down  into  each 
other  by  almost  insensible  degrees. 

But  how  are  we  to  understand  the  apostle,  when 
he  says,  "There  remain  these  three!"  He  here 
alludes  to  the  miraculous  operations  of  the  primitive 
church,  and  contrasts  with  their  transient  existence 
the  permanent  continuance  in  the  Christian  church 
of  these  cardinal  virtues.  Miracles  were  introduced 
to  establish  the  credibility  of  the  gospel  testimony, 
and  having  delivered  their  evidence,  retired  for 
ever;  but  faith,  and  hope,  and  love,  are  to  remain 
as  the  very  essentials  of  true  religion.  Particular 
forms  of  church  government  are  only  the  attire 
which  piety  wears,  or  the  habitation  in  which  it 
dwells;  but  these  graces  are  the  body,  soul,  and 
spirit,  of  vital  religion.  When  these  are  no  longer 
to  be  found  on  earth,  godliness  may  be  said  to  be 
retired  and  gone. 

But  are  these  the  only  Christian  virtues  which 
have  outlived  the  age  of  miracles,  and  which  are 
destined  still  to  live  and  flourish  on  the  earth  1  Cer- 
tainly not.  Penitence,  temperance,  yea,  whatso- 
ever things  are  true;  whatsoever  things  are  honest; 
whatsoever  things  are  just;  whatsoever  things  are 
lovely;  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report:  are 
as  permanent  and  as  strong  in  their  obligations,  as 
faith,  and  hope,  and  love;  but  these  three  either  re- 


the  present  earthly  and  temporal  condition  of  the 
moral  creation,  and  how  it  was  brought  into  this 
condition.  "  For  the  creature  was  made  subject  to 
vanity  ;"  i.  e.  to  the  misery  of  this  present  world, 
terminating  in  death  ;  "  not  willingly,"  not  on  ac- 
count of  their  own  personal  transgression,  "but  by 
him  who  hath  subjected  the  same ;"  i.  e.  Adam,  their 
natural  root  and  federal  head.  The  expression, 
'■'  in  hope,"  should  be  taken  from  the  end  of  the 
twentieth  verse,  and  placed  at  the  commencement 
of  the  twenty-first;  the  conjunction  (on)  should  be 
translated  "that,"  instead  of  "because;"  and  the 
twenty-first  verse,  connected  with  the  nineteenth, 
allowing  for  the  intervening  parenthesis,  would  thus 
read  :  "  The  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature 
looketh  for  the  revelation  of  the  sons  of  God  ;  in 
hope  that  the  creature  shall  be  delivered  from  bond- 
age of  corruption  ;"  i.  e.  death  ;  to  which  the  apostle 
afterwards  opposes  "  the  redemption  of  the  body," 
or  the  resurrection  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God.  "  For  we  know  that  the  whole 
creation,"  or  every  rational  creature,  "  groaneth 
and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  now.  And 
not  only  they  ;"  i.  e.  the  whole  heathen  world ;  "  but 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


57 


present,  or  imply,  or  excel,  all  others.  They  are  the 
mam  trunk,  from  which  all  ethers  issue  as  the 
branches,  and  by  which  they  are  supported. 

••  Now  abideth  faith,  hepe,  charity;  but  the  great- 
est of  these  is  charity  !"  Love  among;  the  Christian 
virtues  is,  as  poets  have  described  Gabriel  among 
archangels,  a  seraph  loftier  than  all  the  seraph 
train.  But  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  it  was  the 
apostle's  intention  to  depreciate  the  value  and  im- 
portance of  the  other  two.  What  can  be  more  im- 
portant aud  necessary  than  the  faith  by  which  we 
are  united  to  Christ,  and  justified  in  the  sight  of 
God;  by  which  we  purity  our  hearts  and  overcome 
the  world  1  Turn  to  the  eleventh  chapter  to  the 
Hebrews,  where  the  sacred  writer  seems  to  conduct 
you  into  the  temple  of  Christianity  ;  and  after  exhi- 
biting the  names,  and  the  statues,  and  the  recorded 
deeds,  of  the  heroes  of  the  church,  and  displaying 
before  you  the  spoils  they  have  won  in  the  battles 
of  the  Lord,  says  to  you,  "  Behold  the  triumphs  of 
faith  !"  Faith  is  the  means  of  love  :  hence  said  the 
apostle,  "  Faith,  which  worketh  by  love."  Nor 
could  if  be  his  intention  to  depreciate  hope,  which 
is  called,  "  the  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure  and 
steadfast,  which  entereth  into  that  within  the  veil :" 
of  which  it  is  said,  "  we  are  saved  by  hope;"  and 
every  man  that  hath  this  hope,  "purifieth  himself, 
even  as  he  is  pure." 

Much  less  are  we  warranted,  from  this  expres- 
sion, to  select  love,  as  the  exclusive  object  of  our 
pursuit,  and  to  cultivate  it  ta  the  neglect  of  the  other 
two.  Separate  from  them  it  can  have  no  existence. 
Any  attempt  to  build  it  up  without  them,  is  like  the 
effort  10  raise  a  superstructure  without  a  foundation. 
"Add  to  your  faith,  brotherly  kindness  and  charity," 
says  the  apostle.  It  is  only  as  we  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  God's  love  to  us,  which  is  contained  in  the 
gospel,  that  we  can  possess  Christian  charity  to  our 
fellow-men. 

What  the  apostle  means  is,  that  there  are  some 
viae:-  of  love,  in  vhich  it  must  be  allowed  to  possess  a 
higher  degree  of  moral  excellence  than  cither  faith  or 
hope. 

1.  It  is  the  end  vrhich  faith  and  hope  are  the  means 
of  producing.  Love  is  what  might  be  called  an  ul- 
timate virtue  ;  but  faith  and  hope  subordinate  ones. 
Justification  itself  is  but  part  of  the  divine  means 
for  bringing  the  soul  of  man  into  a  state  of  moral 
perfection.  The  ultimate  end  to  be  obtained  by  re- 
demption is  the  restoration  of  the  image  of  God  to 


ourselves,"  the  believers  in  the  gospel  of  Christ, 
"who  have  received  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit, 
groan  within  ourselves,  waiting  for  the  adoption, 
namely,  the  redemption  of  our  body," — the  resurrec- 
tion, and  consequent  full  revelation,  of  our  dignity 
and  immortal  glory  as  the  sons  of  God. 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  this  passage,  in  which  the 
apostle,  to  give  importance  to  the  subject  of  future 
glory,  represents  it  as  the  object  of  longing  desire  to 
the  whole  rational  creation,  the  various  tribes  of 
which  are  exhibited  as  lifting  up  their  heads  from 
beneath  the  bondage  of  misery  and  death,  and  di- 
X  an  exploring  eye  and  easier  hope  towards 
imi.itv;  as  that  alone  which  could  relieve 
their  sorrows  and  satisfy  their  desires.  They  knew 
not  with  certainty  that  there  was  such  a  slate  ;  their 
iio'ions  were  obscure  and  fluctuating  ;  it  was  rather 
a  wish  than  a  belief:  but  it  was  that  which  they 
may  be  truly  said  to  have  groaned  after,  as  what 
alone  could  compensate  for  the  sorrows  and  the 
brevity  of  human  life.  It  is  no  objection  to  this  view 
of  the  passage,  to  say  that  the  heathen  could  be 
scared/  said,  in  their  state  of  ignorance,  to  hope  to 
be  delivered  "  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into 
the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God  :"  for  things 
art  frequently  set  forth  by  the  sacred  writers,  not  as 


the  human  spirit ;  and  pardon  is  the  introductory 
and  subsidiary  means.  Hence  faith,  by  which,  we 
are  justified,  is  an  exercise  of  mind,  which  pro- 
duces, and  is  intended  to  produce,  in  us  a  conformi- 
ty to  the  divine  character.  It  is  not  a  grace  which 
terminates  in  itself,  without  being  calculated  or  de- 
signed to  originate  and  support  any  thing  else,  which 
is  the  case  with  love.  Sanctity  is  the  end  oi  truth  : 
so  our  Lord  teaches  us — "  Sanctify  them  by  the 
truth."  The  truth  is  received  into  the  mind  by  faith, 
that  it  may  impart  sanctity,  which  includes  love. — 
Similar  remarks  will  apply  to  hope,  of  which  it  is 
said,  "Every  man  thai  hath  this  hope  in  him  puri- 
fieth  himself."  Christian  charity,  then,  attains  this 
eminence  by  being  the  ultimate  virtue,  to  which  the 
other  two  refer.  It  is  f'lat  moral  condition  of  the 
soul,  which  it  is  the  aim  and  purpose  of  all  things  to 
produce. 

2.  Love  is  a  social  grace,  while  faith  and  hope 
are  exercised  in  reference  to  ourselves.  We  believe 
and  hope,  with  an  immediate  regard  to  our  own 
happiness;  but  in  the  exercise  of  love,  we  regard 
the  happiness  of  mankind.  Christian  charity  is  a 
constant  efflux  of  benevolent  feeling,  from  the  pure 
fountain  of  a  heart  devoted  to  the  well-being  of  our 
species:  faith  and  hope  are  the  channels  by  which 
we  receive  the  streams  of  peace  and  joy,  from  the 
fulness  of  God.  By  the  latter,  we  are  recipients  of 
happiness;  by  the  former,  we  are  its  distributors; 
by  believing,  we  rejoice  ;  by  loving,  we  awaken  the 
joys  of  others;  by  one,  we  become  the  heirs  oi'  sal- 
vation, who  are  ministered  to  by  angels;  by  the 
other,  we  become  ministering  angels  in  our  turn. 
What  a  philanthropist  must  that  man  be,  who  cul- 
tivates, and  carries  to  even  a  tolerable  perfection, 
the  disposition  so  beautifully  described  in  this  chap- 
ter, and  who  displays  all  its  properties  in  his-  inter- 
course with  society :  how  must  such  an  individual 
bless  all  with  whom  he  has  to  do  :  as  he  pursues  his 
holy  career,  sorrow  is  alleviated,  care  is  mitigated, 
want  supplied,  wickedness  reformed  by  his  efforts ; 
the  groans  of  creation  are  hushed,  and  the  tears  of 
humanity  wiped  away,  by  his  divine  charity ;  and 
he  becomes,  in  his  measure,  like  that  heavenly  vi- 
sitant in  our  world,  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  He  went 
about  doing  good." 

Survey  with  admiration  and  delight  the  mighty 
operations,  and  the  splendid  achievements,  of  this 
powerful  and  benevolent  principle,  as  they  are  to 
be  seen  within,  and  only  within,  the  hallowed  pale 


they  are  actually  contemplated  by  the  persons  in 
connection  with  whom  they  are  introduced,  but  as 
they  are  in  themselves.  Thus,  Christ  is  called  the 
"desire  of  all  nations,"  not  that  all  nations  really 
desired  him,  but  desired  happiness,  which  his  ad- 
vent alone  could  introduce.  So,  in  this  case,  every 
creature  longs  for  that  immortality,  or  future  state 
of  happiness  which  is  in  itself,  though  not  contem- 
plated as  such  by  them,  the  glorious  revelation  of 
the  sons  of  God.  This  most  striking  and  beautiful 
passage  has  no  reference  to  the  brute  creation,  as 
groaning  under  the  effects  of  man's  sin,  and  from 
which  they  will  be  delivered  by  resurrection  ;  no 
reference  to  any  physical  change  to  be  produced 
during  the  millennium  in  the  material  world,  now 
l>v  a  bold  figure  represented  as  burdened  and  pained 
by  hitman  guilt;  for  what  has  this  to  do  with  the 
context,  or  with  the  design  of  the  apostle,  which  is 
to  comfort  believers  under  the  sufferings  of  this 
mortal  state  1  but  it  relates  to  that  glory,  honor  and 
eternal  life,  which  God  has  promised  to  them  that 
love  him  in  reference  to  which  he  so  sublimely  af- 
firms, "  Our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  mo- 
ment, worketh  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  The  view  here  given  is  that 
which  is  taken  also  by  Hammond  and  M'Kmght. 


58 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


of  Christianity.  What  are  all  the  numerous  and 
diversified  institutions  in  our  own  land,  where 
houseless  poverty  has  found  a  home  ;  craving  hun- 
ger, a  supply;  forsaken  infancy,  a  protector;  help- 
less age,  a  refuge;  ignorance,  an  instructor;  peni- 
tence, a  comforter;  virtue,  a  defence;— but  the  tri- 
umphs and  glories  of  love  1  What  are  all  those 
sublime  combinations  of  human  energies,  property, 
and  influence,  which  have  been  formed  for  the  il- 
lumination, reformation,  and  salvation  of  the  hu- 
man race  1  what  Bible  Societies,  Missionary  Socie- 
ties, Tract  Societies,  Anti-slavery  Societies,  Peace 
Societies, — but  the  mighty  monuments  of  that  love, 
"  which  seeketh  not  her  own,  and  is  kind  1"  What 
are  the  tears  of  commiseration,  which  flow  for  hu- 
man sorrows,  but  the  drops  that  fall  from  the  eye  of 
love?  What  the  joy  that  is  excited  by  the  sight  of 
happiness,  but  the  smiles  of  love'!  What  was  it 
that  made  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  willing, 
not  only  to  bear  any  accumulation  of  suffering,  in- 
dignity, and  reproach,  but  to  pour  out  his  blood  as  a 
libation  for  others,  and  even  to  be  accursed  from 
Christ  for  his  kinsmen,  and  mankind  in  general! — 
Love  !  What  is  it  that  renders  the  modern  mission- 
ary willing  to  go  into  perpetual  exile,  from  the  land 
of  his  fathers  and  of  his  birth,  to  spend  the  future 
years  of  his  life,  and  find,  at  last,  a  grave  amidst  the 
sands  of  Africa,  or  the  snows  of  Greenland  :  will- 
ing to  exchange  the  society  and  polished  intercourse 
of  Europeans,  for  savages,  whose  minds  are  brut- 
ishly  ignorant,  and  whose  manners  are  disgustingly 
offensive;  willing  to  quit  the  land  of  Sabbaths,  and 
of  Bibles,  and  of  churches,  for  regions  over  which 
the  demon  of  superstition  has  extended  his  horrid 
sway,  and  beneath  whose  yoke  nothing  is  to  be  seen 
but  orgies,  in  which  lust  and  cruelty  struggle  for 
pre-eminence'? — Love!  What  was  it  that  breathed 
into  the  heart  of  Howard  that  spirit  which  so  filled 
and  fired  his  imagination  with  visions  of  human 
misery,  and  which  brought  from  so  many  dungeons 
the  plaintive  cry,  "  Come  over  and  help  us!"  that 
he  could  no  longer  rest  in  his  own  house,  or  in  his 
own  country,  but  travelled,  again  and  again,  across 
the  breadth  of  Europe,  in  quest  of  wretchedness; 
descending  into  the  captive's  cell,  that  he  might 
weigh  his  fetters,  and  measure  his  narrow  apart- 
ment, and  examine  his  food,  to  ascertain  whether 
there  was  not  more  of  misery  in  his  hapless  and  for- 
gotten lot,  than  justice  demanded  for  the  punishment 
of  his  crime;  who  inhaled  the  infected  atmosphere 
of  the  lazaretto,  to  grapple  with  the  plague — that  fell 
destroyer  of  the  human  race,  to  approach  which 
seemed  to  be  courting  death  1  It  was  love  that  form- 
ed the  character  of  that  illustrious  man,  and  pre- 
sented him  to  the  notice  and  admiration  of  the  ci- 
vilized world.  What  was  it  that  gave  courage,  con- 
fidence, and  self-denial,  to  that  extraordinary  wo- 
man, who  ventured  among  the  furies  of  Newgate, 
where,  if  she  had  not  cause  to  fear  that  assassins 
would  attempt  her  life,  she  must  have  calculated 
upon  finding  a  sort  of  demons,  whose  malignity,  ex- 
cited by  the  purity  and  virtue  which  seemed  to  set 
in  stronger  light,  by  the  power  of  contrast,  their  own 
vices,  would  vent  its  rage  on  the  angel  form  which 
had  disturbed  them  1  If  ever  the  form  and  the  beau- 
ty of  charity  were  seen  in  one  of  our  species,  it  was 
in  Mrs.  Fry  when  she  entered  the  cells  of  our  me- 
tropolitan piison,and  called  their  vicious  and  loath- 
some inmates  around  her,  to  be  instructed  and  re- 
formed. And  what  is  it  that  makes  ten  thousand 
holy  men  and  women  employ  themselves  continual- 
ly in  all  kinds  of  self-denying  exertions,  to  instruct 
the  igno.  ant,  to  relieve  the  miserable,  to  reform  the 
wicked  1  These,  O  heavenly  charity!  are  thy 
works,  the  displays  of  thy  excellences,  and  proofs  of 
thy  pre-eminence! 
3.  It  is  a  distinguished  excellence  of  love,  that  it 


is  a  likeness  to  God.  We  are  not  at  all  surprised  that 
the  philosopher  to  whom  the  question  was  proposed, 
"What  is  God  V  should  have  requested  a  day  to 
prepare  his  answer:  and  when  that  was  expired, 
should  have  asked  a  second,  and  a  third,  and  should 
have  at  length  confessed  to  the  reproving  monarch 
who  proposed  the  query,  that  the  more  he  examined 
the  more  he  was  confounded :  and  the  farther  he 
penetrated,  the  deeper  and  deeper  he  seemed  plung- 
ing in  darkness  and  mystery.  Revelation  has  come 
to  the  aid  of  feeble  reason,  and,  compared  with  the 
latter,  has  thrown  a  blaze  of  radiance  on  the  all- 
important  subject ;  and  yet,  with  the  light  of  truth 
shining  around  us,  so  little  do  we  understand  of 
God,  that  he  may  be  said,  as  it  respects  us,  to  "  make 
darkness  his  pavilion ;"  for  "  who  by  searching  can 
find  out  God— who  can  find  out  the  Almighty  to 
perfection  1"  Of  his  essence  we  know  nothing  :  of 
his  eternity,  omniscience,  and  omnipotence,  next  to 
nothing,  as  to  any  comprehension  of  them.  His 
moral  perfections  are,  it  is  true,  more  easily  under- 
stood by  us  ;  but  as  these  are  all  infinite,  it  is  but  lit- 
tle even  of  these  that  we  can  understand.  "  He  is 
a  rock,  his  way  is  perfect,  without  iniquity,  just  and 
right  is  he."  Inflexible  justice,  immaculate  purity, 
inviolable  truth,  unimpeachable  fidelity,  belong  to 
him  ;  but  if  this  were  all  the  view  the  Scriptures 
gave  us  of  his  attributes,  if  the  delineation  of  the 
divine  character  stopped  here,  how  much  would  be 
wanting  to  the  sinner's  comfort  1  Can  the  trembling 
and  condemned  criminal  take  much  pleasure  in 
contemplating  the  power,  the  justice,  and  the  truth 
of  the  judge,  who  holds  his  destiny  in  his  hand, — at 
least  till  he  knows  whether  that  judge  have  mercy 
also  in  his  heart,  and  in  his  prerogative  1  And  as 
little  would  it  comfort  us  to  know  all  the  other  at- 
tributes of  Deity,  if  we  would  not  exultingly  ex- 
claim, in  the  language  of  the  apostle,  "God  is 
Love  !"  Sublime  and  heart-reviving  declaration  ! 
never  was  any  thing  uttered  more  calculated  to  de- 
light the  soul  of  man.  Such  a  view  of  Deity  is  pe- 
culiar to  revelation.  Idolatry,  in  all  her  strange 
devices,  in  all  her  image-making  processes,  never 
conceived  of  such  a  God  :  power,  wisdom,  justice, 
truth,  have  ail  received  their  appropriate  symbols 
of  divinity,  and  have  been  worshipped  under  mate- 
rial forms,  but  benevolence  had  no  statue,  no  tem- 
ple, no  priest.  It  was  too  pure  a  conception  for  the 
human  heart,  and  too  elevated  an  idea  for  human 
reason.  "  God  is  love !"  This  refers  not,  of  course, 
to  his  essence,  but  to  his  character.  It  means,  that 
benevolence  is  his  whole  moral  character ;  not  onlv 
that  his  nature  is  one  sum  of  infinite  excellence,  but 
that  his  conduct  is  one  mighty  impulse  to  that  which 
is  good;  in  other  words,  that  the  divine  disposition 
is  an  infinite  propensity  to  delight  in  happiness,  as 
already  existing,  or  to  produce  it  where  it  does  not 
exist.  But  be  it  recollected,  that  the  benevolence  of 
God  is  the  love  of  a  governor  or  ruler,  and  not 
merely  that  of  a  philanthropist,  or  a  father;  and 
who,  in  the  exercise  of  his  good-will  to  any  particu- 
lar part,  cannot  sacrifice  the  welfare  of  the  whole; 
and,  consequently,  whose  benevolence  is  not  only 
compatible  with  the  exercise  of  retributive  justice, 
but  requires  it. 

Such  is  the  disposition  of  that  divine  mind,  to 
which,  by  Christian  love,  we  are  conformed  :  that 
benevolence  of  the  Deity,  which,  in  its  propensity 
to  delight  in  happiness,  and  to  create  it,  makes  him 
infinite  in  patience,  to  bear  with  the  millions  of 
crimes  which  daily  insult  and  provoke  him;  infinite 
in  mercy,  to  pardon  the  most  aggravated  transgres- 
sions ;  infinite  in  kindness,  to  provide  for  the  wants 
and  comforts  of  his  creatures.  The  highest  pre- 
eminence in  Christian  love,  the  richest  gem  in  its 
crown  of  honor,  is  its  resemblance  lo  God.  There 
is  nothing  remotelv  analogous  to  faith,  or  hope,  in 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


59 


the  divine  nature.  He  that  is  omniscient,  cannot 
be  saici  to  beiievre  ;  nor  he  that  is  infinitely  blessed, 
and  possessed  of  a  divine  fulness,  be  said  to  hope: 
but  he  can  and  does  love.  Resemblance  to  God  is 
the  highest  glory  of  man.  We  should  esteem  it  an 
honor  to  bear  a  faint  impress  of  some  of  the  more 
distinguished  of  the  human  race.  It  would  be 
thought  a  high  compliment,  to  have  it  said  that  our 
genius  resembled  that  of  Milton,  and  our  benevo- 
lence that  of  Howard ;  that  our  faith  was  like  Abra- 
ham's, or  our  meekness  akin  to  that  of  Moses  ;  but 
how  much  greater  is  the  distinction  to  bear,  by  love, 
the  image'  of  God. 

5.  Love  is  eternal  in  its  duration ;  it  ascends  with 
us  to  the  skies,  to  live  in  our  hearts,  as  the  temper 
of  our  souls,  lor  ever  and  ever.  It  is  questioned  by 
•some,  whether  the  other  two  graces  will  cease  in 
the  celestial  state.  It  has  been  contended,  that  as 
the  glories  of  the  divine  nature,  are  illimitable  and 
innumerable,  and  the  glorified  mind  will  not  attain 
to  a  perfect  knowledge  of  these  at  once,  but  be  con- 
tinually receiving  fresh  communications  on  this 
vast  theme,  there  must  be.  both  faith  and  hope  in 
heaven  ;  for  as  we  successively  receive  these,  we 
must  believe  in  the  assurance  of  those  which  are  to 
come,  and  must  perpetually  look  forward  with  ex- 
pectation and  desire.  But  does  not  this  assume  what 
cannot  be  proved — that  our  knowledge  of  God  and 
divine  things  will  be  communicated  in  heaven  by 
testimony,  and  not  be  acquired  by  intuition  1  It  is 
not  at  all  necessary  that  our  growing  knowledge, 
our  eternally  accumulating  ideas,  should  be  thus 
conveyed  to  us;  for  they  may,  for  aught  we  know, 
be  the  reward  of  pleasant  study,  or  they  may  flow 
into  the  mind,  as  the  ideas  of  sensation  do  into  the 
soul,  without  any  effort,  and  may  also  come  with  all 
the  certainty  of  that  intuition  by  which  we  perceive 
the  truth  of  axioms.  To  say  that  this  is  belief,  is  to 
confound  two  things  essentially  distinct — knowledge 
and  faith.  So  that  it  does  not  appear  plain,  that 
faith,  in  any  sense  of  the  term,  will  exist  in  heaven. 
But  though  it  could  be  proved  that,  in  some  modi- 
fication of  the  term,  it  would  be  exercised  in  the  ce- 
lestial state,  such  a  belief  would  differ  so  materially 
from  that,  which  we  now  possess,  and  by  which  we 
are  justified  and  saved,  that  it  may  with  propriety 
be  said,  faith  will  cease  in  heaven.  All  the  great 
objects  to  which  faith  now  refers  are  absent;  we  be- 
lieve in  their  existence,  through  the  report  which  is 
made  of  them  in  the  word  of  God;  but  in  heaven 
*hey  will  be  immediately  present  to  the  senses  of 
°»r  glorified  body,  or  the  perceptive  faculty  of  our 
ppi''t  made  perfect.  Nor,  as  it  respects  hope,  is  it 
by  ntr;  means  certain  that  this  will  exist  in  the  hea- 
venly &mte:  for  although  it  is  difficult  to  conceive 
how  there  can  be  otherwise  than  a  futurity,  even  in 
eternity,  aui  how  there  can  be  a  state  of  mind  other- 
wise than  tin  desire  and  expectation  of  future  good 
— yet,  as  in  hope,  there  is  usually  some  degree  of 
doubt  and  uncenainty,  the  state  of  mind  with  which 
glorified  spirits  contemplate  and  anticipate  future 
good,  may  lie  an  indubitable  certainty,  which  ex- 
cludes the  restlessness  of  desire,  and  the  incertitude 
of  expectation. 

In  the  hour  of  death,  the  believer  closes  the  con- 
flict with  his  spiritual  enemies,  enters  a  world 
where  no  foe  shall  ever  exist,  and  where,  of  course, 
he  no  longer  needs  either  defensive  or  a^ressive 
weapons.  He  takes  off  the  helmet  of  salvation,  for 
hope  is  not  needed  when  he  is  brought  to  full  pos- 
session: he  lays  aside  the  shield  of  faith,  for  seeing 
and  knowing  have  succeeded  to  believing  and  he 
will  be  beyond  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked  one: 
the  breast-plate  of  sincerity  he  retains,  not  as  a  wea- 
pon,but  a.3  an  ornament — not  as  a  means  of  defence, 
out  as  a  memorial  of  victory  ;  his  feet  are  no  lunger 
shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel  of  peace 


for  he  will  no  more  have  to  tread  on  the  snares  of 
the  destroyer,  nor  be  exposed  to  his  missiles,  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit  which  is  the  word  of  God,  shall 
be  sheathed,  and  hung  with  the  trumpet  in  the  hall ; 
praying  will  cease,  where  there  is  no  want  to  be 
supplied — no  care  to  be  alleviated — no  sin  to  be  for- 
given— no  sorrow  to  be  soothed;  watchfulness  will 
no  more  be  necessary,  where  no  enemy  is  to  be 
found,  no  danger  arises  ;  the  means  of  grace  will  all 
be  useless,  where  grace  is  swallowed  up  in  glory; 
submission  will  never  be  called  for,  where  there  are 
no  trials;  and  even  many  of  the  properties  of  love 
itself  will  seem  to  be  absorbed  in  its  general  princi- 
ple ;  many  of  its  modifications  and  operations  will 
cease,  amidst  its  eternal  delight  in  perfect  excel- 
lence and  happiness;  for  there  can  be  no  forgive- 
ness of  injuries  where  none  will  be  inflicted ;  no 
long  suffering  where  there  is  nothing  to  sutfer  ;  no 
concealment  of  faults  where  none  can  be  commit- 
ted;  no  self-denial  where  there  will  be  nothing  to 
try  us;  nothing  of  love  will  remain,  nothing  be  ex- 
ercised, but  a  pure  and  Tuunixed  delight  in  happi- 
ness; and  how  should  it  stimulate  us  to  the  exer- 
cise of  mutual  forbearance  and  commiseration  now, 
to  consider  that  it  is  the  only  state  where  these  vir- 
tues can  be  indulged  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


IMPROVEMENT. 


Adopting  the  method  pursued  by  the  old  Divines,  . 
shall  take  up  this  part  of  the  subject  in  the  way  of 

INSTRUCTION. 

1.  May  we  not  infer  from  it,  the  divine  origvn  of 
those  Scriptures,  which  give  such  a  pre-eminence  to 
the  duty  of  love. 

The  contents  of  the  word  of  God  have  ever  been 
considered,  and  very  justly,  as  a  voucher  for  its  di- 
vine authority.  The  Bible  is  its  own  witness:  the 
sublimity  of  its  doctrines,  surpassing  alike  the  in- 
vention and  the  comprehension  of  the  human  under- 
standing; the  harmony  of  its  writers;  the  granc'gur 
of  its  style,  the  more  remarkable  if  we  consider 
the  illiterate  character  of  many  of  those  who  wrote 
it ;  the  elevation  and  purity  of  its  morality,  espe- 
cially when  contrasted  with  the  condition  of  the 
whole  world ;  the  view  it  gives  us  of  the  nature 
and  attributes  of  the  Deity,  of  the  character  of 
Jesus  Christ,  of  the  state  of  human  nature,  of  the 
scheme  of  redemption,  of  the  elements  of  evan- 
gelical piety,  of  the  certainty  and  glory  of  immor- 
tality;— are  all  the  hand-writing  of  Jehovah,  and  to- 
gether, form  this  illustrious  inscription — "the  word 
of  god."  Where  is  any  thing  like  this  among  the 
works  of  men  !  Could  ignorance  have  devised 
a  system  so  sublime,  or  depravity  invent  a  scheme 
so  holy  1  But  to  go  no  farther  than  the  subject  we 
are  now  considering,  and  which  may  be  regardec" 
as  not  only  a  single  precept  of  morality,  but  the 
spirit  of  the  whole,  is  it  conceivable  thai  such  a 
generous  and  self-denying  system  of  duty  would 
have  sprung  from  the  selfishness  of  human  nature  1 
Would  man,  had  he  been  left  to  the  mere  exercise 
of  his  reason,  and  the  impulses  of  his  own  heart, 
ever  have  summed  up  all  morality  and  social  obli- 
gation in  that  one  word,  love,  and  have  represented 
this  as  the  essence  of  virtue?  Is  there  any  thing 
analogous  to  this  in  any  human  system  with  which 
we  are  acquainted  1 

Examine  paganism,  both  ancient  and  modern ; 
and  what  of  this  spirit  do  you  find  in  its  multiform 
varieties'?  Was  benevolence,  as  has  been  already 
asked,  ever  embodied  in  an  idol"?  was  a  temple,  a 
statue,  or  an  altar,  ever  raised  to  its  honor?  The 
abstractions  of  wisdom  and  power,  and  some  few 


GO 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


of  the  sterner  virtues  of  human  nature,  tcgpther 
■with  many  of  its  sinful  passions,  obtained  a  niche 
in  the  Pantheon  ;  but  such  a  virtue  as  that  enjoined 
by  Paul,  not  only  was  not  worshipped,  but  would 
have  been  despised,  by  all  classes  ot  ancient  idola- 
ters, as  diametrically  opposed  to  those  qualities  in 
which  they  considered  human  greatness  to  consist. 
To  say  nothing  of  that  spirit  of  cruelty  which,  like 
a  demon  legion,  possessed,  and  tortured,  and  con- 
vulsed, the  worshippers  of  Moloch,  even  the  milder 
tnd  classic  mythology  of  the  Greeks  and  the 
Romans,  breathed  into  its  votaries  no  spirit  of  uni- 
versal philanthropy.  The  patriotism  of  these  na- 
tions, the  chivalrous  self-de/otedness,  which  is 
blazoned  with  such  splendor  on  the  page  of  history, 
and  which  kindle  such  enthusiasm  in  the  youthful 
imagination — what  is  it  but  the  light  of  a  con- 
suming fire  7  The  patriotism  of  Rome,  and  of 
Greece,  in  their  best  and  purest  days,  was  but  a 
selfishness  of  the  most  destructive  kind,  which  would 
have  trampled  down  pure  philanthropy  with  indig- 
nant scorn,  as  a  mean  and  ■  owardly  spirit — a  traitor 
against  the  absorbing  glory  of  Athens  or  of  the 
Roman  commonwealth.  Those  proud  arid  haughty 
patriots  thought  that  the  world  was  made  for  them, 
and  cared  not  what  rights  of  other  nations  they  in- 
vaied,  so  as  they  could  strengthen  their  own  power; 
nor  what  misery  they  inflicted,  so  as  they  could  ex- 
tend their  own  fame.  Selfishness  the  most  en- 
grossing was  the  soul  of  their  system  ;  every  man 
considered  himself  as  represented  by  his  country, 
and,  in  contending  for  the  honor  of  the  latter,  was 
fighting  for  his  own  aggrandizement.  Had  love 
been  the  ascendant  in  those  ages,  the  world  would 
never  have  been  made  to  lie  prostrate  at  the  feet  of 
Alexander,  or  of  Caesar. 

And  who  among  the  poets  sang  the  praises  of 
universal  benevolence ;  who  among  the  legislators 
made  it  the  basis  of  their  morals,  who  among  the 
philosophers  expatiated  on  its  glories,  or  laid  the 
obligation  to  cultivate  it,  upon  the  consciences  of 
their  disciples'?  The  highest  virtue  of  paganism 
was  martial  prowess.  So  heavenly  a  glory  never 
shone  upon  it.  as  is  contained  in  that  one  sentence, 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself;"  or  if 
any  theory,  distantly  analogous  to  it,  was  found 
there,  it  was  a  borrowed  light,  the  dim  reflection  of 
the  distant  brightness  of  divine  truth. 

And  as  to  modern  paganism,  we  need  not  say 
how  vain  it  is  to  seek  for  universal  love  amidst  the 
ferocities  of  the  American  Indians,  the  murderous 
cruelties  of  the  South  Sea  Islanders,  the  disgusting 
selfishness  and  ridiculous  vanity  of  the  Chinese,  or 
the  insulting  and  degrading  oppressions  of  the  Hin- 
doos. 

Next  turn  your  attention  to  Mohammedanism; 
and  in  what  page  of  the  Koran  will  you  find,  we 
will  not  say,  such  a  description,  and  such  an  en- 
forcement, of  philanthropy  as  we  have  in  this  chap- 
ter; but  where  do  you  find  a  recognition  of  the 
principle  1  In  all  those  pretended  revelations  from 
heaven,  of  which  Gabriel  is  said  to  have  been  the 
bearer,  where  is  there  such  a  description  of  Deity 
as  this — "God  is  love  !"  or  such  a  sentiment  as  that 
which  arises  out  of  it,  "  he  that  dwelleth  in  love, 
dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him  1"  So  far  from 
recognizing  this  principle,  Islamism  condemns  and 
forbids  it.  It  enjoins  almsgiving,  it  is  true,  and 
gives  it  a  high  place  amongst  its  virtues,  but  this  is 
not  the  same  as  love,  and  may  be  often  carried  to  a 
great  extent  without  a  particle  of  its  nature.  This 
system  of  imposture,  abounding,  as  it  does,  with 
minute  and  ridiculous  ceremonies,  and  a  slavish 
regard  to  absurd  ritual  observances,  enforces,  by 
the  authority  of  its  founder,  the  most  ferocious  and 
blood-thirsty  hatred  of  all  who  do  not  receive  it  in 
the  exercise  of  implicit  faith.    Wars  against  all 


infidels  are  not  only  enjoined  in  many  passages  of 
the  Koran,  but  are  declared  to  be  in  a  high  degree 
meritorious  in  the  sight  of  God.  How  completely 
Islamism  has  filled  its  votaries  with  the  most  fero- 
cious bigotry  and  the  most  merciless  intolerance,  is 
known  by  universal  testimony.  They  every  where 
pour  insulting  contempt  upon  all  who  are  not  Mus- 
sulmans, and  feel  a  savage  delight  in  adding  cruelty 
to  insult.  "  The  infidel  dogs,"  is  a  common  appel- 
lation applied  to  Christians.  The  spirit  of  the  sys- 
tem is  every  where  visible  in  the  absolute  despotism 
of  the  governments  of  those  countries  in  which  it 
prevails ;  where  it  is  found,  the  arts  arid  the  sciences 
do  not  flourish,  and  liberty  withers  in  its  shade. 
The  flaming  scimetar  of  the  Sultan  is  its  patron 
and  defence  ;  it  was  propagated  by  the  sword — it  is 
supported  by  the  bow-string,  and  it  is  essentially 
and  unalterably  cruel.  Such  is  Islamism  ;  a  curse 
to  the  world,  a  mystery  in  the  divine  government, 
a  dreadful  obstacle  to  the  spread  of  Christianity, 
and  the  reverse  of  all  that  is  holy  and  beneficent  in 
the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God. 

Infidelity,  it  is  true,  has  attempted  an  imitation 
of  this  virtue,  but  infidels  have  had  revelation  to 
copy  from;  and  even  with  this  model  before  their 
eyes,  have  produced  a  caricature  instead  of  a  far, 
simile.  The  universal  benevolence  of  this  school 
is  at  war  with  the  private  affections  and  individual 
tenderness:  that  of  Christianity  springs  out  of  them, 
and  is  founded  upon  them.  "We  contend,  therefore, 
that  this  noble,  and  generous,  and  useful  disposition 
is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  revealed  truth  ;  and 
whence,  but  from  heaven,  could  it  have  proceeded, 
and  who  but  Jehovah  either  could  or  would  have 
given  it  the  authority  of  a  law?  Whoever  will 
reflect  for  a  moment,  will  be  struck  with  the  singu- 
larity of  the  fact,  that  the  Bible  resolves  the  whole 
of  practical  religion  into  love  to  God,  and  the 
whole  of  morality  into  love  to  man.  Is  this,  we 
ask  again,  the  work  of  human  invention  :  or  does 
it  look  like  the  production  of  imposture  1  Would 
the  selfishness  of  man  have  devised  such  a  system  ; 
for  where,  among  all  his  handy  work,  do  we  find 
any  thing  like  it  1  O  no  ! — It  is  part  of  the  super- 
scription of  heaven — it  is  the  impress  of  divinity — 
it  is  the  seal  of  truth. 

2.  We  learn,  that  the  spirit  of  trite  religion  is  not 
only  unlike,  but  opposed  to,  the  characters  most  ad- 
mired by  the  people  of  the  world. 

The  character  which  the  historian  loves  to  deli- 
neate, on  which  he  delights  to  exhaust  the  stores  r> 
his  genius,  and  to  lavish  the  richest  coloring  of  ^s 
pencil ;  which  he  is  most  pleased  to  exhibit  K7  the 
admiration  of  his  readers  ;  and  in  which,  with  an 
eager  sympathy,  those  readers  t  the  as  raiic'i  cleligM 
as  did  the  author,  perusing  it  again  and  again,  till 
the  soul  glows  with  enthusiasm;— is  net  the  meek 
and  virtuous  prince,  who  is  intent  on'y  on  the  arts 
of  peace,  and  the  internal  welfare  of  his  kingdom  : 
no,  but  the  ambitious  hero,  who  fills  the  world  with 
the  fame  of  his  victories,  and  by  the  aid  of  daunt- 
less courage,  consummate  skill,  and  inordinate  lust 
of  dominion,  goes  on  from  conquering  to  conquer  : 
this  is  the  man  for  whom  (he  admiration  of  posterity 
is  claimed ;  whose  crimes  are  lost  sight  of  in  the 
splendor  of  his  genius,  and  whose  cruelty  is  forgot- 
ten in  the  success  with  which  it  is  followed.  Thus 
it  is,  that  under  the  power  of  a  peculiar  fascination, 
demons  are  worshipped  in  sight  of  the  miseries 
they  have  inflicted,  and  within  hearing  of  the 
groans  they  have  extorted,  merely  on  account  of  the 
vast  srenius  they  possess,  and  of  their  power  to 
curse^the  children  of  men.  But  the  New  Testa- 
ment lavishes  no  encomiums  on  such  men,  bestows 
no  praise  on  their  deeds,  but  treats  them  as  the  bit- 
terest enemies  of  human  happiness.  The  sword 
of  conflict  and  the  laurel  of  victory  are  not  among 


CHRISTIAN    CI1  ARIT  V 


CI 


the  objects  which  it  commends  to  our  attention,  but 
-.vhieh  it  devotes  to  our  detestation  :  the  peace-maker 
is  the  character  on  which  it  bestows  all  its  praises, 
and  invests  with  its  richest  honors. 

If  we  descend  from  national  affairs  to  the  more 
confined  range  of  social  intercourse,  we  shall  rind 
the  same  perversion  of  judgment,  the  same  miscon- 
ception of  true  excellence,  and  the  same  misplaced 
admiration.     What  is  the  character  which  is  usu- 
ally most  applauded  in  fashionable  circles,  and  also 
by   the  generality  of    mankind,  whether   rich   or 
poor  ?     Is  it  not  the  high  spirited  individual  who  is 
quick  to  discern  offence,  and  bold  to  resent  it;  who 
will  allow  no  one  with  impunity  to  tread  upon  the 
skirt  of  his  dignity,  or  his  right ;  who  is,  perhaps,  in 
some  things,  frank, generous,  and  affable,  but  under 
this  exterior  conceals  a  proud,   independent  spirit, 
which  can  btook  neither  a  superior  nor  a  rival,  hut 
is  ever  aspiring  to  distinction  ;  who  is  courteous  but 
ambitious;  who  would  Dot  willingly  and  intention- 
ally give  offence,  but,  having  given  it,  would  feel 
himself  for  ever  disgraced  by  putting  on  the  gar- 
ment of  humility,   and  asking  forgiveness;   who 
would  give  alms  to  the  needy,  but  not  precedence 
even  to  the  deserving ; — is  not,  this  the  most  admired 
of  the  world's  favorites]     Is  not  revenge  dignified 
with  the  name  of  honor,  and  pride  called  spirit! — 
In  short,  are  not  the  qualities  generally  admired 
by    men,   of  the    active,   irascible,   and  ambitious 
kind ;  and  are  not  the  meek,  and  gentle,  and  passive 
virtues,  looked  upon  with  disesteem,  and  treated 
with  contempt  1     Is  poverty  of  spirit,  is  humility,  is 
self-abasement,  is  the  forgiveness  of  insults,  is  pa- 
tience under  provocation,  admired,  applauded,  imi- 
tated 1      Is   it   to   the   character    formed   of  these 
graces,  that  the  silent  homage  of  the  heart,  and  the 
loud  praises  of  the  tongue,  are  paid  1     Gluite  the 
contrary.      The    men   who   would    practise   these 
things,  must  make  up  their  minds,  to  endure  the 
world's  scorn,  ami  to  be  treated  as  poor  tame-spi- 
rited creatures,  who  deserve  all  the  contumely  they 
receive,  because  of  their  forbearance  in  submitting 
to  it:  and  yet  this  is  the  spirit  of  religion,  for  this  is 
the  temper  of  Jesus.    When  Jesus  Christ  came  into 
the  world,  he  found  it  full  of  the  notion  that  human 
glorv  c. insisted  in  ambition,  pride,  and  resentment  ; 
'.he  Jew  and  the  Gentile  participated  in  the  senti- 
ment, and  hence  he  took  particular  pains  to  correct 
tins  notion,  giving,  in  bis  sermon  on  the  mount,  a 
delineation  of  character  the  very  opposite  of  this. — 
Indeed,  the  design  of  that  sermon  was  to  rectify  the 
mistakes  then  universally  prevalent  on  the  subject 
of  character   and   of  happiness,   and  to  teach   the 
world  that  his  disciples  were  to  be  pre-eminently 
distinguished  by  humility,  penitence,  meekness,  pu- 
rity, peaceableness,  forgiveness,  thirsting  after  right- 
eousness; these  are  the  qualities  of  a  true  Chris- 
tian ;  and  every  one  who  bears  that  character  must 
Sedulously  cultivate  its  appropriate  dispositions,  and 
be  willing  to  bear  the   ridicule  <o  which  they  will 
expose  him.     He  must  never  seek  to  conciliate  the 
favor  of  the  unconverted,  by  imitating  their  spirit, 
or  disguising  his  own;  but  bear  their  scorn,  and 
wait  with  patience  for  a  world  where  humility  and 
meekness  will  be  honored  and  rewarded,  and  love, 
their  parent  disposition,  be  crowned  with  glorv. 

3.  This  subject  plainly  shows  us,  that,  religion  is 
exceedingly  difficult. 

It  is  a  very  common  supposition,  that  it  is  an 
easy  thing  to  be  a  Christian.  And  if  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian were  nothing  more  than  going  to  a  place  of 
worship,  indulging  in  pious  emotions,  subscribing 
to  religious  institutions,  and  professing  certain  reli- 
gious opinions,  the  supposition  would  be  correct ;  for 
nothing  is  more  easy  than  all  this:  but  if  the  spirit 
of  religion  be  the  disposition  described  in  this  chap- 
ter, then  must  it  be  obvious  to  every  one  who  knows 


his  own  heart,  that  it  is  the  most  difficult  thing  in 
the  world.  The  Scriptures  every  where  represent 
true  piety  by  terms,  allusions,  and  figure?,  which 
imply  the  greatest  effort  and  the  most  persevering 
labor;  hence  we  are  commanded  to  "strive  to  enter 
in  at  the  strait  gate  ;':  to  "  lay  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  that  doth  most  easily  beset  us;  and  to 
run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us;"  to 
"labor  for  the  meat  which  endureth  unto  eternal 
life;"  to  "fight  the  good  fight  of  faith  ;"  to  "mortify 
the  deeds  of  the  body  ;"  to  "  crucify  the  flesh." — 
What  terms!  what  ideas;  what  metaphors]  Can 
any  thing  that  is  easily  accomplished,  require  or 
justify  the  use  of  such  language"?  If  it  were  a  liirl:t 
thing  to  be  a  Christian,  could  the  sacred  writers, 
with  any  propriety,  have  employed  such  strong  and 
very  expressive  figures  1  Nothing,  surely,  can  more 
impressively  teach  us  the  absolute  and  indispensa- 
ble necessity  of  the  most  incessant  as  well  as  vigor- 
ous effort.  The  course  of  a  sinner  is  down  hill.— 
''Easy,"  says  Virgil,  ':is  the  descent  to  hell;"  a 
transgressor  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  givp  himself 
up  to  the  indulgence  of  his  corruptions,  and  he  will 
slide,  without  effort,  to  perdition.  Not  so  the  saint. 
Heaven,  by  an  appropriate  figure  of  speech,  is  re- 
presented as  on  a  high  eminence,  which  cannot  be 
reached  without  constant  and  laborious  climbing. — 
Not  that  all  this  is  necessary  to  merit  heaven,  but  to 
reach  it :  we  are  justified  by  faith  without  works, 
and  become  entitled  to  eternal  life  exclusively  by 
the  righteousness  of  Christ;  nor  are  we  to  conceive 
of  the  faith  by  which  we  receive  this  righteousness 
as  consisting  of  any  violent  strivings  of  our  minds, 
but  as  a  simple  dependance  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  for  acceptance  with  God  :  but  we  are  speak- 
ing of  the  Christian  temper  of  practical  religion,  of 
sanctification,  of  going  on  through  all  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  life,  to  the  possession  of  that  crown 
of  glory  which  Christ  has  merited  for  us;  and  if 
this  be  easy  work,  there  is  nothing  difficult. 

4.  Religion  is  a  comparatively  rare  thing  among 
men. 

This  is,  indeed,  a  melancholy  and  a  painful  re- 
flection ;  for  it  is  saying,  in  other  words,  there  ar» 
but  few  that  are  saved.  It  is  applying  to  our  own 
times  the  awful  language  employed  by  our  Lord  as 
descriptive  of  the  state  of  things,  in  his  days  upon 
earth.  "  Broad  is  the  way  which  leadeth  to  de- 
struction, and  many  there  be  which  go  in  thereat; 
strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way,  which 
leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it." — 
Tremendous  and  truly  dreadful  is  the  idea,  that  the 
greatest  part  of  mankind  are  moving  towards  the 
bottomless  pit,  and  sinking  daily  in  crowds  to  the 
miseries  of  perdition.  Such  a  sentiment  ought  not 
to  be  admitted  to  the  mind,  except  upon  the  cieaiest 
evidence;  neither  ought  it  to  be  uttered  by  the  lip, 
much  less  be  recorded  by  the  pen,  except  with  a 
view  to  lessen  the  havoc  which  it  describes,  by  dis- 
turbing the  delusion  which  is  the  cause  of  this  ex- 
tensive ruin. 

It  is  evident — at  least  if  the  word  of  God  be  true 
— that  no  man  can  be  saved  without  religion  ;  and 
that  the  religion  which  does  not  include  love,  is  in 
fact,  no  religion  at  all:  the  only  inquiry,  then,  to  be 
answered  is,  Does  Christian  love  abound,  or  is  it 
comparatively  rare"?  Is  the  great  mass  of  human 
beings  around  us  actuated  by  a  spirit  of  universal 
benevolence — a  benevolence  which  is  the  fruit  of 
regeneration,  and  the  effect  of  faith;  which  springs 
from  love  to  God,  and  is  cherished  by  a  sense  of  re- 
deeming grace;  which  is  exercised  in  obedience  to 
the  divine  authority,  and  with  a  view  to  the  divine 
glory;  which,  in  its  operations,  is  full  of  forbearance 
and  meekness,  kindness,  candor,  and  sympathy, 
humility  and  disinterestedness'?  Is  this  the  pre- 
vailing disposition  of  the  bulk  of  mankind'?  Do  we 


62 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


see  it  manifested  in  the  intercourse  of  society  1 — 
Alas  !  alas !  instead  of  this,  do  we  not  still  see  these 
passions  in  operation,  which  the  apostle  mentions 
as  descriptive  of  fhe  conduct  of  mankind  to  each 
other  in  his  day.  "For  we  ourselves,  who  were 
sometime  disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers  lusts 
and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and  envy;  hateful, 
and  hating  one  another."  Are  not  anger,  malice, 
revenge,  selfishness,  envy,  pride,  censoriousness, 
the  predominant  dispositions  in  the  generality  of 
mankind  1  Who  can  deny  this,  or  who  will  attempt 
to  deny  it  1  And  if  this  be  the  case,  religion  must 
be  comparatively  rare.  Few,  indeed,  are  living  in 
the  exemplification  of  Christian  love.  Dreadful,  tre- 
mendous idea  ! — I  tremble  as  I  write  ! — my  soul  is 
distressed,  and  groans  with  anguish  over  my  own 
statements.  I  would  disbelieve  them  if  I  could; 
and  even  believing  them,  I  would  shut  them  up  in 
my  own  bosom,  if  it  Mere  not  necessary  to  promul- 
gate them,  in  order  to  detect  that  delusion  which, 
by  leading  men  to  think  that  it  is  an  uncommon 
thing  for  souls  to  be  lost,  makes  it  a  still  rarer  oc- 
currence* for  them  to  be  saved.  I  must  come  to  the 
conclusion — for  I  cannot  help  it,  without,  becoming 
an  infidel — that  there  are,  in  our  time,  many  more 
who  perish,  than  are  saved.  "  Hell  hath  enlarged 
herself,  and  opened  her  month  without  measure; 
and  their  glory,  and  their  pomp,  and  their  mul- 
titude, and  iie  that  rejoiceth  shall  descend  into  it." 
Reader,  let  the  dreadful  announcement,  that  it  is  a 
rare  thing  to  be  saved,  startle  you  like  thunder  from 
3'our  slumbers,  and  lead  you  to  institute  the  most 
serious,  and  solemn,  and  impartial  examination  of 
your  hearts.  Do  not  rest  satisfied  with  a  mere 
vague  idea  of  religion,  or  a  mere  general  careless 
assumption  that  you  are  a  Christian.  Without  such 
a  disposition  as  that  we  have  considered,  you  have 
r.o  religion  ;  and  without  religion  you  must  perish 
eternally.  You  have  been  a  professor  of  religion, 
and  have  approved  a  gospel  ministry,  and  have  en- 
joyed the  light  and  advantages  of  gospel  ordinances; 
but  this  will  only  aggravate  your  guilt  and  condem- 
nation, and  misery:  if  you  are  not  living  under  the 
influence  of  love,  you  are  living  without  religion, 
and  must  have  your  doom  with  those  of  whom  it  is 
said,  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and  all 
the  nations  that  forget  God." 

5.  We  learn  the  great  criminality  of  many  things 
Still  remaining,  and  in  some  degree  connived  at, 
among  professors  of  religion. 

National  antipathies  are  too  often  found  in  con- 
siderable strength  in  the  minds  of  Christians,  espe- 
cially in  a  time  of  warfare.  Mistaking  the  nature 
of  patriotism,  and  thinking,  as  did  the  ancient 
Greeks  and  Romans,  that  love  for  our  country  im- 
plies hatred  of  every  rival  nation,  we  are  too  apt  to 
imbibe  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  places  in  which 
we  live,  and  to  cherish  a  feeling  of  iil  will  towards 
our  national  competitors.  The  religion  of  the  New 
Testament  is  by  no  means  hostile  to  a  spirit  of  pure 
and  sublime  patriotism ;  that  patriotism  which  seeks 
to  exalt  a  nation  by  all  the  arts  of  peace,  the  disco- 
veries of  science,  the  inventions  of  fancy,  the  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge,  morality,  and  religion:  but  the 
thirst  of  conquest,  the  love  of  aggrandizement,  the 
lust  of  domination,  which  would  make  us  dislike  a 
nation,  because  it  limits  our  puwers  and  resists  our 
aggressions,  is  an  unchristian  feeling,  and  an  of- 
fence against  the  law  of  love.  From  every  thing 
which  would  flatter  the  pride,  or  excite  the  ambition, 
or  exasperate  the  anger,  or  increase  the  irritability, 
of  a  nation — every  thing  that  would  swell  the  cur- 
rent of  prejudice  against  another  country,  we  should 
carefully  abstain:  we  should  have  no  national  ene- 
mies, no  enmities  and  aversions  excised,  by  the  geo- 
graphical divisions  of  the  globe.  We  should  re- 
member that  God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  na- 


tions that  dwell  upon  the  earth  ;  and,  therefore,  that 
all  men  are  our  brothers,  and  should  be  loved  as 
brothers.  A  Christian  is,  in  one  sense,  a  citizen  of 
the  world ;  and  although  he  was  born  in  England, 
should  abhor  the  thought  of  an  hereditary  dislike  to 
an  American,  or  a  Frenchman.  When  national 
passions  are  roused  and  incensed,  he  is  to  bear  no 
part  in  the  widely  circulating  hatred;  and  amidst 
much  that  he  may  regret  and  condemn,  is  still  to  re- 
member, that  he  is  not  to  be  "  easily  provoked." 

Allied  to  this  is  the  passion  for  war. 

Whether  the  abstract  principle  of  the  unjustifia- 
bleness  of  war  in  every  case  be  tenable,  we  will  not 
now  discuss;  but  that  war,  as  it  is  usually  main- 
tained, is  utterly  indefensible  on  Christian  princi- 
ples, can  admit  cf  no  question.  It  is  but  too  evident, 
that  nominal,  and  even  great  numbers  of  real  Chris- 
tians, are  not  duly  impressed  with  the  deep  crimi- 
nality and  great  enormity  of  the  warlike  spirit.  In- 
stead of  bearing  their  testimony,  by  all  proper 
means,  and  on  every  suitable  occasion,  against  it, 
they  partake  of  the  general  and  murderous  enthusi- 
asm; they  cherish  the  same  antipathies;  are  actuat- 
ed by  the  same  revengeful,  proud,  ambitious  spirit, 
as  the  people  of  the  world ;  defend  by  argument  the 
wars  that  arise,  as  just  and  necessary  ;  read  with  as 
much  avidity  the  details  of  battles;  boast  with  as 
much  exultation  of  the  victories  which  are  obtained  ; 
and  enter  as  deeply  into  all  the  ardor  of  the  hostile 
passion,  as  though  they  were  the  worshippers  of 
Mars,  the  god  of  war,  instead  of  Jehovah  the  God 
of  love.  Ought  these  things  to  be  1  Are  they  not  a 
manifest  and  flagrant  violation  of  all  their  princi- 
ples and  professions'?  The  whole  substance,  genius, 
and  tendency  of  Christianity,  is  pacific.  The  God 
whom  we  worship  delighteth  in  mercy,  and  is  infi- 
nitely benevolent;  the  character  of  Christ,  who  is 
our  example,  no  less  than  our  atonement,  is  formed 
of  all  the  meek  and  gentle  virtues,  in  the  greatest 
perfection  ;  the  scheme  of  salvation  is  a  plan  of 
grace;  all  the  doctrines  of  revelation  unite  in  their 
tendency  to  soften  and  sweeten  the  temper;  while 
the  precepts  of  Christian  morality  forbid  wrath,  an- 
ger, malice,  revenge  of  every  kind  or  degree,  and 
enjoin  us,  in  no  case,  to  render  evil  for  evil,  but 
ever  to  return  good  for  evil.  The  New  Testa- 
ment is  directly  opposed  to  that  rage  and  resent- 
ment, to  which  the  world  has  given  the  delusive 
names  of  spirit  and  a  sense  of  honor,  and  from 
whence  wars  and  contentions  proceed.  To  these 
haughty  and  mischievous  sensibilities,  which  are 
but  an  imitation  of  the  passions  that  rage  in  full 
force  in  the  natures  of  brute  animals,  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ  offers  all  the  resistance  of  a  divine 
authority.  Let  any  man  think  of  the  crimes  com- 
mitted and  the  miseries  inflicted,  by  a  single  battle, 
and  surely,  if  he  has  ever  read  only  one  of  the  Gos- 
pels, or  one  of  the  Epistles,  he  must  be  convinced 
that  a  hatred  of  war  is  an  essential  feature  of  prac- 
tical religion.  But  we  need  go  no  further  than  this 
chapter  to  prove  that  the  warlike  passion,  even  in 
the  least  degree,  is  opposed  to  Christianity;  for  if 
love  were  universally  prevalent,  swords  would  be 
beaten  into  ploughshares,  and  spears  into  pruning- 
hooks.  It  is  high  time  for  the  followers  of  the  meek 
and  lowly  Jesus,  in  every  part  of  the  world,  to  sfnly 
the  genius  of  their  religion,  since,  in  the  knowledge 
of  this,  many  of  them  are  still  lamentably  deficient. 
It  is  a  shame  upon  what  is  called  the  Christian 
world,  that  it  has  not  long  since,  borne  universal, 
impassioned,  and  indignant  testimony  against  that 
enormous  evil,  which  still  rages  not  merely  among 
savages  ;  but  among  scholars,  philosophers,  Chris- 
tians, and  divines.  In  vain,  so  far  as  regards  the 
diffusion  of  a  pacific  spirit,  has  science  enlightened 
the  mind;  in  vain  has  learning  softened  the  man- 
ners and  cultivated  the  taste ;  in  vain  has  art  multi- 


CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 


C3 


plied  the  comforts;  in  vain  has  even  religion  esta- 
blished the  faith,  and  in  some  measure  sanctified  the 
minds  of  the  inhabitants  of  Christendom  ;  for  war, 
horrid,  bloody,  destructive  war,  is  as  much  prac- 
tised, and  as  much  patronised,  as  ever.  Whatever 
men  have  learnt,  they  have  not  learnt  to  love  one 
another;  whatever  attainments  they  have  made  in 
knowledge,  they  have  made  scarcely  any  in  cha- 
rity ;  however  high  they  may  have  soared  above  the 
savage  into  the  heights  of  science,  they  are  still 
nearly  upon  a  level  in  a  taste  for  war.  But  real 
Christians  should  come  out  and  be  separate,  and 
touch  not  the  unclean  thing :  let  them  act  upon  their 
own  principles,  and  become  not  only  the  friends 
but  the  advocates  of  peace:  let  them  echo  back  in 
their  several  spheres  the  angel's  description  of 
Christianity,  "  peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men  :" 
let  ministers  from  the  pulpit,  writers  from  the  press, 
private  Christians,  in  their  intercourse  with  each 
other  and  with  the  world, — inculcate  a  fixed  and 
irreconcileable  abhorrence  of  war :  let  the  church 
of  God  be  a  society  for  the  diffusion  of  the  princi- 
ples of  universal  peace. 

Love  forbids  the  indulgence  of  sectarian  prejudice. 
God  has,  for  wise  ends  no  doubt,  permitted  the  ex- 
istence of  various  and  conflicting  opinions  among 
real  Christians:  but,  unhappily,  instead  of  making 
these  differences  merely  the  occasion  of  mutual 
forbearance,  and  opportunities  for  showing  through 
what  interposing  media  Christians  can  press  to 
recognize  and  embrace  each  other;  instead  of  con- 
verting them  into  tests  of  the  sincerity,  and  proofs 
of  the  strength  of  our  attachment; — we  have  per- 
mitted them  to  rise  up  into  separating  walls,  which 
divide  and  alienate  our  hearts  from  each  other. 
Perhaps,  even  towards  those  whose  errors  are  too 
fundamental  to  allow  us  to  acknowledge  them  as 
fellow-Christians,  much  less  to  hold  communion 
with  them  in  the  bond  of  church  fellowship,  there 
is  not  enough  of  genuine  charity;  for  is  there  not 
something  of  bitterness  and  contempt,  of  wrath 
and  ill  will,  instead  of  that  deep  compassion  and 
tender  pity  with  which  their  situation  should  ever 
be  viewed  1  Poor  men !  with  all  their  boasted  rea- 
son, they  walk  in  darkness  at  noonday,  and,  with 
the  lamp  of  truth  in  their  hands,  they  are  yet 
stumbling  like  the  blind.  "We  may  feel  a  holy  ab- 
horrence of  their  sentiments,  but,  for  themselves, 
we  should  cherish  the  deepest  commiseration. 

But  as  to  those  who  agree  v/ilh  us  in  all  the  fun- 
damental doctrines  of  the  gospel,  and  differ  from 
us  only  on  the  forms  of  church  government,  on  the 
mode  and  subject  of  a  sacrament,  or  on  some  of 
the  minor  points  of  doctrine, — surely — surely,  to- 
wards them  we  should  maintain  the  full  force  of 
brotherly  affection,  without  allowing  our  differences 
to  interrupt  for  a  moment  the  exercise  of  the  most 
entire  good  will.  We  would  indulge  a  hope,  that, 
in  this  age,  there  is  a  nearer  aprroximemon  than 
there  was,  of  the  various  denominations  of  Chris- 
tians to  each  other;  that  the  spirit  of  intolerance  is 
dying  awav ;  that  there  U  a  greyer  disposition  to 
recognize  each  other,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
term'  as  members  of  (he  same  body,  and  brethren 
in  the  same  familv.  but  even  yet,  there  is  too  much 
of  the  odium  the.dogicum  remainine  among  minis- 
ters, and  too  much  of  the  spirit  of  party  among 
lavmen  •  too  much  of  the  feeling  of  rivalry  and 
suspicion  :  too  much  disposition  to  misconstrue  ac- 
tions to  arraign  motives:  too  much  inclination  to 
env'an'l  jealousy.  It  is  too  common  for  the  minis- 
ters^and  members  of  the  establishment,  to  look  with 
naughty  contempt,  and  to  speak  as  they  feel  towards 
those  who  secede  from  their  church;  and  to  revile 
them  as  troublesome  schismatics,  as  rebels  against 
established  authority. 

Let  it  not  be  thought,  however,  that  it  is  only  by 


churchmen  that  the  law  of  love  is  violated  ;  for  it 
must  be  confessed,  and  regretted,  that  it  is  not  al- 
ways observed  as  it  should  be,  by  the  various  sects 
of  Dissenters,  Baptists,  Paedo-baptists,  and  Metho- 
dists, are  all  too  often  actuated  by  a  degree  of  envy, 
jealousy,  and  selfishness,  utterly  unworthy  of  the 
great  cause  of  religion,  and  altogether  at  variance 
with  their  common  principles.  What  attempts  are 
sometimes  made  by  the  Wesleyans  to  raise  a  pre- 
judice against  Calvinism  and  its  adherents,  by  de- 
formed, horrid,  and  ferocious  looking  caricatures 
of  that  system;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  how  often 
are  the  whole  body  of  Methodists  condemned  by 
Calvinists,  as  upholding  all  the  errors  of  Pelagius! 
Baptists  pour  unmeasured  contempt  on  infant  bap- 
tism, and  are  repaid  by  their  opponents  in  ridicule 
on  adult  immersion.  Statements  are  often  given 
of  the  sentiments  of  a  sect,  which  they  would  deny, 
and  consequences  deduced  from  them  which  they 
would  abhor.  And  then,  what  clashing  of  inter- 
ests frequently  takes  place  vjhe?i  a  new  denomination 
is  introduced  into  a  toivn  or  a  village.  Sometimes 
this  introduction  takes  place  without  occasion  for 
it:  there  is  really  no  room  for  another  body  of 
Christians;  the  existing  means  of  public  instruc- 
tion are  already  sufficient,  both  as  to  quantity  and 
quality; — and,  in  this  case,  to  be  animated  by  such 
a  zeal  for  our  denomination,  as  to  set  it  up  at  the 
certain  hazard,  and  especially  with  the  very  hope, 
of  dividing  a  prevailing  and  hitherto  peaceful  body 
of  Christians,  is,  in  the  last  degree,  a  hateful  effu- 
sion of  party  spirit:  men  may  call  it  zeal  for  the 
glory  of  God;  but  call  it  what  they  will, it  is,  when 
exhibited  in  its  own  deformity,  nothing  but  envy, 
or  the  selfishness  which  seeketh  its  own.  In  other 
cases,  what  jealousy  and  ill  will  have  been  stirred 
up  in  the  minds  of  an  existing  party,  by  an  attempt 
made  by  another  to  establish  itself  in  the  same 
place !  It  signified  nothing  how  large  was  the  place, 
how  great  the  population,  how  inadequate  the  means 
of  religious  instruction:  all  this  was  leftoul  of  view; 
and  the  new  denomination,  though  they  preached 
the  gospel  in  its  purity,  was  opposed  and  disliked, 
because  it  came  into  a  field,  where  there  was  al- 
ready an  evangelical  body,  though  that  body  could 
not  be  said  to  have  occupied  more  than  one  little 
nook  or  corner  of  the  uncultivated  land.  It  would 
be  invidious  to  name  any  denomination  as  having 
manifested  most  of  this  spirit, — no  one,  perhaps,  is 
altogether  free  from  it:  but  we  have  known,  in 
some  instances,  such  wretched,  paltry,  nay  wicked, 
means  resorted  to;  such  attempts  to  oppose  the  new 
comers,  by  defaming  their  principles,  by  insinuat- 
ing charges  against  their  ministers,  by  throwing 
suspicions  even  over  the  purposes  of  their  private 
meetings;  such  a  system  of  espionage,  by  sending 
spies  to  gather  something  to  cavil  at  from  the  dis- 
courses of  their  opponents,  as  they  choose  to  call 
them;  such  a  series  of  kidnapping  tricks  to  draw 
away  the  young  and  unwary; — that  we  have  felt  it 
somewhat  difficult,  in  witnessing  this  absence  of 
Christian  love  in  others,  to  retain  it  in  exercise  in 
our  own  hearts  towards  them.  Instead  of  indulg- 
ing such  envy,  jealousy,  and  ill  will,  all  denomina- 
tions who  agree  in  the  fundamental  truths  of  the 
gospel  should  regard  and  hail  each  other,  as  only 
so  many  companies  in  the  same  regiment,  or  so 
many  laborers  in  the  same  field,  or  so  many  work- 
men in  the  same  building, — having  one  common 
object,  and  serving  under  one  common  head.  But, 
alas  !  alas  !  no  rival  companies  of  a  secular  nature 
can  be  more  jealous  of  each  other  than  some  con- 
gregations of  professing  Christians  are.  This  re- 
mark does  not  apply  so  much  to  the  larger  bodies, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  our  great  towns  and  cities, 
as  to  the  smaller  ones,  which  exist  in  our  less  popu- 
lous places.    But  we  have  all  too  much  prejudice, 


64 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


&r.d  too  little  Christian  affection  for  each  other. — 
We  all  need  more  of  the  mind  of  Christ.  We  do 
not  wish  to  see  a  spirit  of  indifference  to  our  dis- 
tinctive opinions, — this  would  be  a  sin  in  the  other 
extreme ;  but  we  desire  to  behold  more  cordial  good 
will  and  confidence  towards  those  who  differ  from 
us,  and  far,  far  less  of  the  spirit  of  sects  and  par- 
ties. 

Love  would  soften  the  asperity,  and  nemove  the 
acrimony \  of  controversy.  We  are  not  enemies  to 
well-conducted  controversy.  As  long  as  truth  is 
attacked,  it  must  be  defended  :  and  as  long  as  error 
exists,  it  must  be  assailed.  To  give  up  the  truth 
for  the  sake  of  peace,  is  a  conspiracy  against  the 
Bible,  and  establishing  a  covenant  with  the  enemies 
of  the  Lord.  Not  an  iota  of  God's  word  must  be 
surrendered  to  error  and  infidelity.  We  must 
:<  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to 
the  saints;"  and  resist,  if  need  be,  unto  bonds,  im- 
prisonment, and  death.  A  hollow,  fawning,  para- 
sitical spirit,  which  would  conciliate  the  friendship 
of  men  disaffected  to  the  Scriptures,  by  giving  up, 
or  treating  lightly,  any  of  their  contents,  has  the 
curse  of  heaven  upon  it.  "  Controversy  is  the 
safety  valve  of  theological  zeal.  The  spirit  of  par- 
ty is  opposed  to  it,  being  too  intolerant  for  discus- 
sion. Truth  has  always  triumphed  by  means  of 
controversy :  she  has  grown  powerless  only  when 
the  sleep  of  lethargy  has  stolen  upon  the  church. 
What  is  Christianity  itself,  but  a  standing  contro- 
versy with  the  infidbl,  the  sensualist,  and  the  formal- 
ist,— the  men  of  the  world  1  We  admit  that  the 
spirit  of  controversy,  or,  to  speak  more  properly, 
the  controversial  spirit,  is  not,  in  itself,  very  con- 
ducive to  the  cultivation  of  personal  piety.  The 
angry  controvertist,  and  fierce  polemic,  is  not  al- 
ways a  devout  believer  or  an  amiable  member  of 
society.  The  church  has  been  sometimes  as  much 
disgraced  by  her  advocates,  as  annoyed  by  her  as- 
sailants; and  there  are  intestine  debates  and  dis- 
putes, which,  as  friends  to  religion,  as  well  as  friends 
to  peace,  we  could  wish  to  have  terminated  for  ever. 
But  alive,  as  we  trust  we  are,  to  the  dangers  of 
controversy,  we  must,  nevertheless,  protest  against 
that  timid,  trimming,  self-indulgent,  ultra-liberal 
dread  of  religious  debate,  which  would  bind  over 
truth  to  keep  the  peace  with  error,  and  consign 
those  celestial  weapons  of  the  spiritual  armory- 
reason  and  Scripture— to  the  ark  of  the  church,  as 
useless  regalia."*  It  is  highly  probable  that  all 
controversy  will  never  cease,  till  truth  stands  re- 
vealed amidst  the  light  of  eternity.  But  there  will 
come  a  period,  when  men  will  discuss  their  differ- 
ences in  the  spirit  of  brotherly  affection  :  when, 
perhaps,  there  will  be  fewer  points  unsettled,  and 
those  few  will  be  debated  with  candor  and  mutual 
esteem.  Too  many,  in  their  disputations  about  re- 
ligion, contend  for  truth,  till  they  have  destroyed 
love,  and  even,  in  reference  to  the  former,  present 
it  in  so  mutilated  a  form,  as  to  deprive  it  of  much 
of  its  own  engaging  beauty. 

Luther's  prayer  should  be  presented  by  all — 
"From  frivolous,  fruitless  controversies,  good  Lord 
deliver  us  !"  It  is  well  observed  by  an  old  writer, 
"  That  disputations  in  religion  are  sometimes  ne- 
cessary, but  always  dangerous ;  drawing  the  best 
spirits  into  the  head  from  the  heart,  and  either 
leaving  it  empty  of  all,  or  too  full  of  fleshly  zeal 
and  passion,  if  extraordinary  care  be  not  taken  still 
to  supply  and  fill  it  anew  with  pious  affection  to- 
wards God,  and  love  towards  man."  There  is  no 
case  in  which  good  men  are  more  under  the  power 
of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  than  when  en- 
gaged in  religious  controversy;  and  when,  under 
the  idea  that  they  are  only  "  contending  earnestly 

*  Electric  Review. 


for  the  faith,"  they  indulge  in  aii  kmus  of  unha.- 
lowed  tempers,  dip  their  pens  in  gall,  deliberately 
write,  as  deliberately  print,  and  no  less  deliberately 
justify,  the  bitterest  sarcasms — the  severest  irony — 
the  most  railing  accusations — the  grossest  person- 
alities— the  most  uncharitable  surmises :  in  short, 
when,  as  the  controversy  is  about  religion — a  cir- 
cumstance which  ought  to  produce  a  spirit  directly 
the  reverse — there  is  no  degree  of  abuse,  reviling, 
and  defamation,  to  which  they  do  not  have  recourse. 
Such  has  been  too  often  the  tone  of  religious  con- 
troversy, and  by  which  it  would  seem  as  if  the 
graces  were  mere  heathen  courtezans,  in  whose 
company  a  Christian  should  blush  to  be  found; 
while  the  furies  were  so  many  personifications  of 
holy  zeal,  whose  assistance  is  to  be  solicited  in  the 
support  of  truth.  Oh,  what  a  handle  has  the  spirit 
of  angry  controversy  given  to  infidels  against  the 
whole  system  of  revelation  ! — they  have  fought 
against  Christianity  with  poisoned  arrows,  and  the 
gall  of  furious  polemic,  has  supplied  the  venom  in 
which  they  have  dipped  Ueij  sarca.'ms,  ironies, 
and  jests.  '  It  is  high  time  tnat  the  apof\>e's  exhorta- 
tion should  be  practically  remembered — "  Let  all 
bitterness,  and  wrath,  and  anger,  ai^A  clamor,  and 
evil-speaking,  be  put  away  from  you,  with  all  ma- 
lice :"  that  all  who  contend  for  the  faith,  should  re- 
member Paul's  advice  to  Timothy — "  The  servant 
of  the  Lord  must  not  strive  ;  but  be  gentle  unto  all 
men,  apt  to  teach,  patient ;  in  meekness  instructing 
those  that  oppose  themselves,  if  God  peradventure 
will  give  them  repentance,  to  the  acknowledging 
of  the  truth."  The  wrath  of  man,  in  no  instance, 
worketh  the  righteousness  of  God.  Let  any  one 
read  this  chapter,  and  say  if  it  be  possible  to  justify 
the  spirit  in  which  contentions  for  the  truth  are  ge- 
nerally carried  on.  Let  it  not  be  pleaded  that  we 
are  commanded  to  rebuke  sharply,  as  if  this  fur- 
nished an  apology  for  all  uncharitableness:  for 
duties  cannot  be  in  opposition  to  each  other :  and 
therefore  even  this  must  be  performed  in  a  manner 
that  is  compatible  with  meekness  and  love.  Unfor- 
tunately, the  spirit  of  acrimonious  controversy  is  as 
popular  as  it  is  sinful :  those  pugnacious  hierophants, 
by  whom  it  is  carried  on,  are  generally  the  leaders 
of  a  party,  which  thinks  itself  happy  in  a  repre- 
sentative, who  with  his  shield  can  defend  them,  and 
with  his  tremendous  sword  can  vanquish  their  ene- 
mies, and  thus  lead  them  on  to  victory  and  supre- 
macy. It  would  be  amusing,  if  it  were  not  too 
serious  a  matter  for  entertainment,  to  hear  how 
these  persons  exult  in  the  exploits  of  their  redoubt- 
able Hercules  ;  and  to  see  how  securely  they  repose 
under  the  protection  of  his  terrible  and  far-resound- 
ing club.  What  deep  disgrace  is  it  upon  the  pro- 
fessors and  teachers  of  the  religion  of  the  meek 
and  lowly  Saviour,  to  suppose  that  his  doctrines 
and  his  precepts  require  the  aid  of  human  and  un- 
hallowed passions  to  give  them  effect ! 

We  may  -next  exhibit  the  criminality  which  attaches 
to  the  si?i  of  schism,  and  deplore  Us  prevalence.  It 
will  be  necessary  to  explain  here  what  I  mean  by 
schism.  No  term  has  been  more  emploved  or  more 
abused  than  this ;  it  tias  furnished  to  bigots  of  all 
parlies  a  theme  of  angry  declaration,  and  a  subject 
of  bitter  accusation  and  reproach,  against  all  who 
differ  from  them  in  opinion ;  upon  whatever  ground, 
or  in  whatever  spirit,  that  difference  is  maintained. 
Papists  charge  this  sin  upon  Protestants;  while  the 
church  of  England,  in  its  turn,  attempts  to  fasten 
the  guilt  of  it  upon  all  who  secede  from  her  com- 
munion. It  is  circulated  with  eagerness  from  one 
denomination  to  another,  as  a  term  of  ignominy, 
and  is  continually  calling  into  exercise  some  of  the 
worst  passions  of  human  nature.  Papal  bulls,  epis- 
copal charges,  clerical  sermons,  party-spirited  jour- 
nals, are  continually  harping  upon  it;  and  multi- 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


65 


tudes,  who  have  no  other  means  of  blackening  an 
opponent,  think  that  they  cannot  more  effectually 
succeed  in  rendering  him  both  odious  and  guilty, 
than  by  calling  him  a  schismatic.  I  will  at  once 
confess,  that  schism  is,  indeed,  when  properly  un- 
derstood, a  sin  of  so  enormous  a  kind,  that  too 
much  cannot  be  said  for  its  condemnation.  But  it 
is  not  properly  understood.  In  its  etymological  sig- 
nification, it  means  a  rent,  a  division,  a  separation 
of  that  which  was  originally  one.* 

Campbell's  remarks  are  so  clear  and  convincing 
on  this  subject,  that  they  may,  with  great  propriety, 
be  referred  to.  As  breach,  or  rupture,  is  the  literal 
import  of  the  term  in  oar  language,  wherever  these 
words  may  be  figuratively  applied,  the  term  schism 
seems  likewise  capable  of  an  application.  It  inva- 
riably supposes,  that  among  those  things  whereof  it 
is  affirmed,  there  subsisted  an  union  formerly,  and 
as  invariably  denotes  that,  the  union  subsists  no 
longer.  In  this  manner  the  apostle  Paul  uses  the 
word,  applying  it  to  a  particular  church,  or  Chris- 
tian congregation.  Thus  he  adjures  the  Corinthians, 
by  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there  be  no  di- 
visions, or  schisms,  among  them !  and  in  another 
place  of  the  same  Epistle,  "I  hear  that  there  are 
divisions,"  or  schisms.  In  order  to  obtain  a  proper 
idea  of  what  is  meant  by  a  breach,  or  schism,  in 
this  application,  we  must  form  a  just  notion  of  that 
which  constituted  the  union  whereof  the  schism 
was  a  violation.  Now,  the  great  and  powerful  ce- 
ment which  united  the  souls  of  Christians,  was 
their  mutual  love.  Their  hearts,  in  the  emphatical 
language  of  holy  writ,  were  knit  together  in  love. 
This  had  been  declared  by  their  Master  to  be  the 
distinguishing  badge  of  their  profession — "By  this 
shall  all  men  know  that  ve  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another."  Their  partaking  of  the  same 
baptism,  their  professing  the  same  faith,  their  en- 
joying the  same  promises,  and  their  joining  in  the 
same  religious  services — formed  a  connection  mere- 
ly external,  and  of  little  significance,  unless,  agree- 
ably to  the  apostle's  expression,  it  was  rooted  and 
grounded  in  love.  As  this,  therefore,  is  the  great 
criterion  of  the  Christian  character,  and  the  foun- 
dation of  Christian  unity — whatever  alienates  the 
affections  of  Christians  from  one  another  is  mani- 
festly subversive  of  both,  and  may,  consequently, 
with  the  greatest  truth  and  energy,  be  denominated 
schism.  It  is  not  so  much  what  makes  an  outward 
distinction,  or  separation  (though  this  also  may,  in 
a  lower  degree,  be  so  denominated,)  as  what  pro- 
duces an  alienation  of  the  heart,  which  constitutes 
schism  in  the  sense  of  the  apostle  ;  for  this  strikes 
directly  at  the  vitals  of  Christianity.  Indeed,  both 
the  evil  and  the  danger  of  the  former — that  is,  an 
external  separation — is  principally  to  be  estimated 
from  its  influence  upon  the  latter — that  is,  in  pro- 
ducing an  alienation  of  heart ;  for  it  is  in  the  union 
of  affection  among  Christians,  that  the  spirit,  the 
life,  and  the  powerof  religion  are  principally  placed. 
Wherever  an  alienation  of  heart  takes  place,  and 
whatever  be  the  occasion  of  it,  whether  there  be  an 
external  separation  or  not,  there  is  a  schism.  It 
may  arise  in  the  church  of  England,  and  has,  per- 
haps, arisen  in  the  divisions  characterized  by  the 
terms  evangelical  and  anti-evangelical ;  not,  indeed, 
that  these  terms  are  recognized,  but  the  distinctions 
certainly  exist  of  which  thev  are  the  designations; 
or  it  may  exist  in  the  church  of  Scotland,  and  does 
exist  in  a  way  similar  to  what  occurs  in  the  sister 
church  in  the  south ;  it  arose  in  the  church  of  Rome, 
that  boasted  seat  of  unity  and  infallibility,  in  the 
contest  between  the  JansenNts  and  the  Jesuits;  or, 
it  may  arise — as,  alas  !  we  know  to  our  shame  and 
distress  it  does  too  often  arise — in  our  Independent 

*  Matthew  ix.  lf».    John  vii.  43. 
Number  4,'t 


churches;  so  that,  without  any  actual  and  visible 
separation  or  secession,  this  dreadful  evil  may  be  in 
full  and  mischievous  operation.  On  the  contrary, 
there  may  be  diversity  of  opinion  in  the  same  so- 
ciety, as  in  those  Baptist  churches  that  admit  of 
mixed  communion,  without  any  schism;  and,  pro- 
vided there  be  no  alienation  of  heart,  no  interrup- 
tion to  mutual  esteem  and  good-will,  there  may  be 
even  an  external  separation,  without  schism.  This 
sin  can  have  no  existence  except  in  those  cases 
where  the  unity  of  the  spirit  is  disturbed,  and  the 
bond  of  peace  is  severed.  As  long  as  sincere  love 
remains,  there  is,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term,  no 
schism.  Consequently,  whatever  tends  to  alienate 
the  hearts  of  Christians  from  each  other,  whatever 
tends  to  produce  discord,  whatever  tends  to  stir  up 
strife — no  matter  who  may  be  guilty  of  such  con- 
duct— is  the  very  essence  of  this  hateful  vice.  If 
men  will  attempt  to  coerce  the  conscience,  by  legis- 
lating for  others  in  such  matters  as  those  of  religion, 
and  interfere,  by  human  authority,  in  affairs  which 
should  be  transacted  through  the  medium  of  the 
Bible,  between  God  and  the  soul — they  must  be  an- 
swerable for  those  divisions  which  arise  from  the 
conscientious  objections  of  persons  who  cannot  sub- 
mit to  such  enactments.  If  to  separate  peaceably 
from  the  church  of  England  be  the  sin  of  schism, 
how  will  the  church  of  England  justify  itself  from 
the  same  charge  brought  against  her  by  the  church 
of  Rome  1  The  schismatic  is  not  he  who  peaceably 
secedes;  but  he  who  renders  secession  necessary, 
by  setting  up  requirements  with  which  the  sepa- 
ratist cannot  comply  without  violating  his  con- 
science. Not  that  I  mean  to  say  Episcopalians,  or 
even  the  supporters  of  any  established  religion 
whatever,  are  schismatical,  except  where  their  con- 
duct is  such  as  is  calculated  to  produce  mutual  dis- 
affection ;  so  neither,  on  the  other  hand,  are  dis- 
senters justly  chargeable  with  this  sin,  unless  their 
conduct  can  be  fairly  proved  to  be  founded  on  a 
factious  spirit  of  ill-will  towards  the  religious  esta- 
blishment of  the  country.  It  is  nothing  to  say  that 
their  dissent  proceeds  on  insufficient  grounds,  and 
their  objections  to  the  church,  as  by  law  established, 
are  to  things  that  are  indifferent  in  themselves,  and 
therefore  frivolous  and  vexatious.  If  they  are  in- 
different, why  then  impose  them  1  but  of  their  in- 
difference or'importance  dissenters  themselves  must 
judge;  as  did  the  reformed  churches  of  Christen- 
dom of  the  corruptions  of  popery.  If  a  dissenter 
employ  himself  in  stirring  up  ill-will  towards  the 
members  of  the  church  of  England,  by  arraigning 
the  motives  of  its  ministers,  and  charging  them 
with  sordid  avarice,  or  a  mere  love  of  worldly 
pomp  and  domination  ;  or  by  questioning  the  piety 
of  its  members:  or  by  exciting  animosity,  or  pro- 
ducing alienation  of  heart  in  the  minds  of  his  own 
party  t  or,  if  he  so  slate,  defend,  and  enforce  his 
own  principles,  as  that  the  natural  result  in  those 
who  hear  him  shall  be  an  interruption  of  all  com- 
munion of  heart,  and  the  exercise  of  all  mutual 
good-will  between  the  two  denominations;  if  he 
employ  himself  in  widening  the  breach  between 
them,  and  repelling  them  farther  from  each  other; 
he  is  indeed  a  schismatic,  and  deserves  all  the  re- 
proach which  such  conduct  can  bring  upon  him. 
But,  then,  it  should  be  recollected  that  no  less  guilty 
of  the  sin  of  schism,  is  he  who,  whether  he  be  a 
mitred  or  nnmitred  minister  of  the  established 
church,  employs  his  talents  in  holding  up  dissenters 
to  public  obloquy  as  a  factious,  troublesome,  dan- 
gerons  body,  seceding  upon  no  grounds  but  such  as 
are  frivolous,  entitled  to  reproach  for  what  they 
have  done,  and  to  suspicion  for  what  they  may  do. 
But  quitting  names  and  parties,  schism  is  the  sin  of 
doing  any  thing  to  alienate  men's  hearts  from  each 
other,  whatever  be  the  occasion  or  the  means  of  the 


06 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


estrangement,  and  estimate.  It  is  the  very  opposite 
of  charity;  and  in  saying  this  we  arraign  it  upon 
the  most  solemn  and  the  most  capital  charge,  which 
any  indictment  can  prefer.  We  have  all,  perhaps, 
something  of  it  in  our  spirit ;  but  little  does  it  occur 
to  some  men,  when  they  are  advancing  their  charges 
and  fulminating  their  anathemas  against  others  for 
the  sin  of  schism,  that,  while  in  the  eye  of  heaven 
the  objects  of  their  anger  are  innocent  of  the  crime 
that  is  laid  to  their  charge,  they  themselves  are  re- 
garded by  him,  whose  judgment  is  according  to 
truth,  as  the  greatest  schismatics  upon  earth. 

The  temptation  cannot  be  resisted,  of  introducing 
here  a  long, — but  no  one  who  has  a  taste  for  literary 
or  moral  beauty  will  deem  it  too  long,  an  extract 
from  the  writings  of  Mr.  Hall. 

"  The  Gallican  church,  no  doubt,  looked  upon  it 
as  a  signal  triumph,  when  she  prevailed  on  Louis 
the  Fourteenth  to  repeal  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  to 
suppress  the  Protestant  religion.  But  what  was  the 
consequence'?  Where  shall  we  look  after  this  pe- 
riod, for  her  Fenelons  and  her  Pascals  ;  where,  for 
the  distinguished  monuments  of  piety  and  learning, 
which  were  the  glory  of  her  better  days  1  As  for 
piety,  she  perceived  she  had  no  occasion  for  it,  when 
there  was  no  lustre  of  Christian  holiness  surround- 
ing her;  nor  for  learning,  when  she  had  no  longer 
any  opponents  to  confute,  or  any  controversies  to 
maintain.  She  felt  herself  at  liberty  to  become  as 
ignorant,  as  secular,  as  irreligious,  as  she  pleased  ; 
and,  amidst  the  silence  and  darkness  she  had  creat- 
ed around  her,  she  drew  the  curtains  and  retired  to 
rest.  The  accession  of  numbers  she  gained  by  sup- 
pressing her  opponents,  was  like  the  small  exten- 
sion of  length  a  body  acquires  by  death  ;  the  feeble 
remains  of  life  were  extinguished,  and  she  lay  a 
putrid  corpse — a  public  nuisance,  filling  the  air  with 
pestilential  exhalations.  Such,  there  is  every  rea- 
son to  believe,  would  be  the  effect  of  similar  mea- 
sures in  England.  That  union  among  Christians 
which  it  is  so  desirable  to  recover,  must,  we  are  per- 
suaded, be  the  result  of  something  more  heavenly 
and  divine  than  legal  restraints  or  angry  controver- 
sies. Unless  an  angel  were  to  descend  for  that  pur- 
pose, the  spirit  of  division  is  a  disease  which  will 
never  be  healed  by  troubling  the  waters.  We  must 
expect  the  cure  from  the  increasing  prevalence  of 
religion,  and  from  a  copious  communication  of  the 
Spirit  to  produce  that  event.  A  more  extensive 
diffusion  of  piety,  among  all  sects  and  parties,  will 
be  the  best  and  only  preparation  for  a  cordial  union. 
Christians  will  then  be  disposed  to  appreciate  their 
differences  more  equitably,  to  turn  their  chief  at- 
tention to  points  on  which  they  agree  ;  and,  in  con- 
sequence of  loving  each  other  more,  to  make  every 
concession  consistent  with  a  good  conscience.  In- 
stead of  wishing  to  vanquish  others,  every  one  will 
be  desirous  of  being  vanquished  by  the  truth.  An 
awful  fear  of  God,  and  an  exclusive  desire  of  dis- 
covering his  mind,  will  hold  a  torch  before  them  in 
their  inquiries,  which  will  strangely  illuminate  the 
path  in  which  they  are  to  tread.  In  the  room  of 
being  repelled  by  mutual  antipathy,  they  will  be  in- 
sensibly drawn  nearer  to  each  other  by  the  ties  of 
mutual  attachment.  A  larger  measure  of  the  spirit 
of  Christ  would  prevent  them  from  converting  every 
incidental  variation  into  an  impassable  boundary, 
or  from  condemning  the  most  innocent  and  lauda- 
ble usages,  for  fear  of  symbolizing  with  another 
class  of  Christians, — an  odious  spirit,  with  which 
the  writer  under  consideration  is  strongly  impreg- 
nated. The  general  prevalence  of  piety  in  different 
communities,  would  inspire  that  mutual  respect, 
that  heartfelt  homage,  for  the  virtues  conspicuous 
in  the  character  of  their  respective  members,  which 
would  urge  us  to  ask,  with  astonishment  and  regret, 
Why  cannot  we  be  one  1   what  is  it  that  obstructs 


our  union  1  Instead  of  maintaining  the  barrier 
which  separates  us  from  each  other,  and  employing 
ourselves  in  fortifying  the  frontiers  of  hostile  com- 
munities, we  should  be  anxiously  devising  the  means 
of  narrowing  the  grounds  of  dispute,  by  drawing  the 
attention  of  all  parties  to  those  fundamental  and 
catholic  principles  in  which  they  concur. 

"  To  this  we  may  add,  that  a  more  perfect  sub- 
jection to  the  authority  of  the  great  Head  of  the 
church,  would  restrain  men  from  inventing  new 
terms  of  communion,  from  lording  it  over  con- 
science, or  from  exacting  a  scrupulous  compliance 
with  things  which  the  word  of  God  has  left  indiffer- 
ent. That  sense  of  imperfection  we  ought  ever  to 
cherish,  would  incline  us  to  be  looking  up  for  supe- 
rior light,  and  make  us  think  it  not  improbable, 
that  in  the  long  night  which  has  befallen  us,  we 
have  all  more  or  less  mistaken  our  way,  and  have 
much  to  learn,  and  much  to  correct.  The  very  idea 
of  identifying  a  particular  parly  with  the  church, 
would  be  exploded,  the  foolish  clamor  about  schism 
hushed,  and  no  one,  however  mean  or  inconsidera- 
ble, be  expected  to  surrender  his  conscience  to  the 
claims  of  ecclesiastical  dominion.  The  New  Testa- 
ment is  surely  not  so  obscure  a  book  that  were  its 
contents  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  hundred  serious, 
impartial  men,  it  would  produce  such  opposite  con- 
clusions, as  must  necessarily  issue,  in  their  forming 
two  or  more  separate  communions.  It  is  remarked 
ble,  indeed,  that  the  chief  points  about  which  real 
Christians  are  divided,  are  points  on  which  that 
volume  is  silent ;  mere  human  fabrications  which 
the  presumption  of  men  has  attached  to  the  Chris- 
tian system.  A  larger  communication  of  the  spirit 
of  truth  would  insensibly  lead  Christians  into  a  simi- 
lar train  of  thinking;  and,  being  more  under  the 
guidance  of  that  infallible  teacher,  they  would  gra- 
dually tend  to  the  same  point,  and  settle  in  the  same 
conclusions.  Without  such  an  influence  as  this,  the 
coalescing  into  one  community  would  probably  be 
productive  of  much  mischief;  it  certainly  would  do 
no  sort  of  good,  since  it  would  be  the  mere  result  of 
intolerance  and  pride,  acting  upon  indolence  and 
fear. 

"During  the  present  disjointed  state  of  things, 
then,  nothing  remains  but  for  every  one  to  whom 
the  care  of  any  part  of  the  church  of  Christ  is  en- 
trusted, to  exert  himself  to  the  utmost  in  the  promo- 
tion of  vital  religion,  in  cementing  the  friendship  of 
the  good,  and  repressing,  with  a  firm  and  steady 
hand,  the  heats  and  eruptions  of  party  spirit.  He 
will  find  sufficient  employment  for  his  time  and  his 
talents,  in  inculcating  the  great  truths  of  the  gospel, 
and  endeavoring  to  "  form  Christ"  in  his  hearers, 
without  blowing  the  flames  of  contention,  or  widen- 
ing that  breach  which  is  already  the  disgrace  and 
calamity  of  the  Christian  name.  Were  our  efforts 
uniformly  to  take  this  direction,  there  would  be  an 
identity  in  the  impression  made  by  religious  instruc- 
tion ;  the  distortion  of  party  features  would  gradual- 
ly disappear,  and  Christians  would  every  where  ap- 
proach toward  that  ideal  beauty  spoken  of  by  paint- 
ers, which  is  combined  of  the  finest  lines  and  traits 
conspicuous  in  individual  forms.  Since  they  have 
all  drank  into  the  same  spirit,  it  is  manifest  nothing 
is  wanting,  but  a  larger  portion  of  that  spirit,  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  a  solid,  cordial  union.  It  is  to  the 
immoderate  attachment  to  secular  interest,  the  love 
of  power,  and  the  want  of  reverence  for  truth, — not 
to  the  obscurities  of  revelation, — we  must  impute 
the  unhappy  contentions  among  Christians;  mala- 
dies which  nothing  can  correct,  but  deep  and  ge- 
nuine piety.  The  true  schismatic  is  not  so  properly 
the  person  who  declines  a  compliance  with  what  he 
judges  to  be  wrong,  though  he  may  be  mistaken  in 
that  judgment,  as  the  man  who,  like  the  author  be- 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY, 


67 

I  selves  decidedly  and  warmly  to  his  person  and  mi- 
nistry ;  to  demonstrate,  in  every  possible  way,  their 
sincere  and  cordial  u-ish  to  promote  his  comfort ;  to 
abstain  from  every  thing:  that  would  grieve  his 
mind;  and,  by  every  means  in  their  power,  to  pro- 
mote his  usefulness.  It  would  not  allow  them  to  be 
offended  by  his  faithful  rebukes,  but  cause  themto 
submit,  with  Christian  frankness  and  humility,  to 
his  cautions,  admonitions  and  reproofs:  it  would 
lead  them  to  interpret,  in  a  candid  manner,  any 
little  neglects,  or  unintentional  offences:  it  would 
make  willing  and  reasonable  excuses  for  his  seem- 
ing inattention  :  it  would  cover,  and  not  expose,  his 
infirmities,  if  they  are  such  as  comport  with  sterling 
piety:  it  would  lead  them  to  manifest  a  becoming 
respect  for  his  office,  and  opinion  : — and  whilst  it 
would  leave  them  in  full  possession  of  entire  free- 
dom of  thought,  and  manly  dignity  of  conduct, 
would  still  prescribe  humility  and  reverence,  which 
the  Scriptures  claim  for  those  who  are  set  over  them 
in  the  Lord. 

In  the  conduct  of  the  people  towards  each  other,  love 
would  check  all  that  irritability  which  is  excited  by 
a  word, — that  anger  which  is  cherished  till  it  ripens 
into  malice  or  revenge.  How  much  is  the  peace  of 
our  churches  disturbed  by  such  hot  or  sullen  spirits! 
But  did  this  heavenly  virtue  prevail,  care  would  be 
taken  not  to  give  offence ;  and  equal  care  would  be 
in  exercise  not  to  take  offence ;  one  man  would 
bridle  his  tongue,  lest  he  should  utter  words  that 
would  grieve;  another  would  rein  in  his  temper, 
lest  he  should  be  provoked  when  he  ought  not ;  and 
all  would  be  watchful  against  whatever  would  de- 
stroy the  unity  of  the  spirit  and  the  bond  of  peace. 
If  any  action  has  been  done,  or  any  word  spoken  of 
a  doubtful  kind,  no  one  would  suspect  an  evil  mo- 
tive, but  rather  be  ready  to  conclude  in  favor  of  a 
good  intention  :  suspicion  would  be  displaced  by 
mutual  confidence,  and  hasty  imputations  of  what 
is  wrong,  by  the  belief  or  hope  of  what  is  right.  In- 
stead of  circulating  ill  reports  of  each  other,  or  be- 
lieving them  when  circulated,  all  would  entertain 
too  much  good  will,  and  too  high  an  opinion  of  their 
brethren,  to  listen  to  an  insinuation  against  them. — 
Universal  kindness  would  reign  throughout  the  so- 
ciety ;  each  would  feel  an  interest  in  the  whole,  and, 
by  "  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,"  would  promote 
their  comfort  and  bear  their  burdens.  There  would 
be  no  struggle  for  pre-eminence,  no  grasping  at 
power:  such  pride  would  be  abhorred,  and  all  would 
be  subject  one  to  another:  the  rich  would  not  be 
puffed  up,  nor  vaunt  themselves  against  the  poor, 
nor  would  the  poor  envy  the  rich.  In  a  time  of 
difficulty,  such  as  the  choice  of  a  minister,  there 
would  be  a  giving  up,  as  far  as  possible,  of  indivi- 
dual feeling,  and  all  would  consider  the  general 
good  :  no  one  would  selfishly  wish  to  have  his  taste 
alone  consulted,  his  opinion  alone  attended  to;  no 
one  would  obtrude  his  views  upon  the  rest  in  an 
unseemly  manner :  but  each  would  consult  all. 

We  may  again  remark,  what  churches  we  should 
have,  if  love  were  the  ruling  principle,  which  go- 
verned them.  "  Then  would  each  of  them  present 
a  peaceful  haven,  inviting  men  to  retire  from  the 
tossings  and  perils  of  this  unquiet  ocean  to  a  sacred 
enclosure,  a  sequestered  spot,  which  the  storms  and 
tempests  of  the  world  were  not  permitted  to  in- 
vade:" then  would  the  prayer  of  Christ  be  answer 
ed,  and  hi-<  people  lie  one,  and  afford  by  their  unit 
a  demonstration  of  the  divinity  of  his  mission, 
which  the  most  impious  could  not  resist:  then 
would  the  church  on  earth  present  a  calm  unruffled 
surface,  which  should  reflect,  as  from  a  mirror,  a 
bright  resemblance  of  the  church  in  heaven.  Let  us, 
then,  t'nr  the  honor  of  our  principles,  for  the  credit 
of  our  common  Christianity,  for  our  own  peace 
and  comfort  in  relation  to  the  body  of  the  people,— 


fore  us,  sedulously  employs  every  artifice  to  alienate 
the  affections  of  good  men  from  each  other."* 

5.  How  desirable  is  it  that  religion,  should  prevail 
more  than  it  does. 

If  the  spirit  of  religion  is  love,  then  who  can  avoid 
longing  for  its  universal  dominion  1  How  much  is 
it  to  be  coveted  for  the  peace  of  our  churches  !  It 
must  be  confessed,  and  that  with  grief  and  shame, 
that  Zion  is  not  yet  a  "  peaceable  habitation  ;"  nor 
do  all  her  assemblies  present  the  good  and  the  plea- 
sant sight  of  brethren  dwelling  together  in  unity. — 
Contentions  about  one  thing  or  another  abound. — 
The  seeds  of  discord  are  plentifully  sown,  and  bear 
an  exuberant  crop  of  the  fruits  of  contention.  How 
many  religious  communities  are  distracted,  to  their 
own  injury,  the  exultation  of  their  enemies,  and  the 
discredit  of  religion  !  Many  are  the  causes  which 
produce  this  unhappy  state  of  things;  but  that  which 
gives  force  to  them  all,  is  the  absence  or  the  weak- 
ness of  love.  Here  is  the  grand  defect,  and  all  other 
circumstances  are  but  subsidiary.  It  is  most  melan- 
choly and  humiliating  to  discover,  when  some  tri- 
fling disagreement  occurs,  what  small  attainments 
seemingly  flourishing  churches  have  made  in  this 
virtue;  how  insignificant  is  the  subject  over  which 
two  parties  will  engage  in  all  the  eagerness  of  con- 
tention, and  how  bitter  the  spirit  with  which  the 
contention  is  carried  on.  It  has  been  said,  that 
quarrels  about  religion  have  been  usually  maintain- 
ed with  more  malevolence  than  any  other.  This 
we  deny ;  but,  at  the  same  time  we  must  admit  that 
they  are  often  sustained  with  a  measure  of  acrimony 
that  is  a  disgrace  to  all  concerned.  The  usual  oc- 
casion of  disagreement,  is  jither  the  dismissal  or  the 
choice  of  a  minister.  And  not  unfrequently  do  be- 
lievers wrangle  about  him  who  is  to  teach  them  re- 
ligion, till  they  have  lost  the  very  spirit  of  piety  it- 
self. But  whatever  may  be  the  occasion,  want  of 
love  is  the  cause,  of  all  feuds  and  strifes. 

O  !  what  churches  we  should  have,  if  Christian 
charity  were  allowed  to  have  its  full  scope  !  The 
pastor  would  labor  with  the  most  earnest,  indefatiga- 
ble, and  disinterested  zeal  for  the  eternal  welfare 
of  the  flock,  and  make  it  evident  that  compassion 
for  souls,  and  not  filthy  lucre,  was  the  impulse  of  all 
his  conduct.  Affection  would  beam  in  his  eyes,  and 
breathe  in  his  spirit,  while  "  the  law  of  kindness" 
would  dwell  on  his  lips.  He  would  preside  over 
the  people  in  the  meekness  of  wisdom  ;  and,  instead 
of  proudly  lording  it  over  God's  heritage,  he  would 
rule  them  in  love.  He  would  be  gentle  among 
them,  "even  as  a  nurse  cherishes  her  children."  In- 
stead of  being  easily  provoked  by  any  little  uninten- 
tional infringement  on  his  rights,  or  disrespect  to 
his  dignity,  he  would  forbear  with  that  which  was 
the  result  of  ignorance,  and  wisely  and  meekly  ex- 
pustulate  in  reference  to  that  which  was  the  effect 
of  impertinence.  Over  all  his  talents,  however 
brilliant,  he  would  put  the  garment  of  humility; 
and  with  respect  to  all  his  success,  however  great, 
he  would  speak  in  the  language  of  modesty.  He 
would  neither  envy  his  more  gifted  or  successful 
brethren,  nor  proudly  vaunt  over  his  inferiors.  To 
all  his  charge,  even  the  most  illiterate  and  obscure, 
he  would  conduct  himself  with  the  condescension 
of  true  benevolence,  put  the  most  favorable  construc- 
tion on  the  actions  of  his  people,  repose  in  them  an 
honorable  confidence,  labor  to  correct  their  errors, 
whether  doctrinal  or  practical,  and  have  no  greater 
joy  than  to  see  them  walking  in  the  truth. 

Christian  charity  would  also  dictate  to  the  people, 
towards  their  minister \  a  line  of  conduct  no  less  pious 
and  amiable  :   it  would  lead  them  to  attach  them- 

*  Strictures  on  a  work  entitled,  "  Zeal  without 
Innovation." 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


seek  that  more  of  this  heavenly  spirit  may  be  diffus- 
ed among  all  who  are  called  by  the  name  of  Christ. 

HOW  DESIRABLE  IT  IS  THAT  SUCH  A  RELIGION  AS 
THIS     SHOULD     BE    SPREAD     OVER    THE     FACE     OF     THE 

whole  earth  !  In  what  a  miserable  condition  is 
our  globe.  The  whole  world  lieth  in  the  wicked 
one,  is  entangled  in  the  coils,  and  bitten  by  the 
fangs,  and  tortured  by  the  venom,  of  the  old  ser- 
pent,— the  devil.  Justly  has  the  apostle  said,  that 
"the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travailelh  in 
pain  together  until  now."  Nearly  eighteen  centu- 
ries have  passed  since  he  saw  this  bleeding  victim 
of  Satan's  cruelty,  and  heard  its  groans ;  and  it  is 
bleeding  and  groaning  still.  Wherever  we  go, 
either  in  reality  or  in  imagination,  we  find  ourselves 
in  a  vale  of  tears,  where  forms  of  misery,  indefi- 
nitely varied  and  almost  innumerably  multiplied, 
rise  before  our  eyes,  and  utter  nothing  but  wo,  wo, 
wo;  and  vvho  can  wonder  that  our  world  should 
thus  be  little  else  but  a  region  of  misery'!  Think 
upon  the  passions  which  predominate  in  human  af- 
fairs ;  think  of  the  vile  affections,  which  like  furies, 
tyrannize  over  the  minds  of  men  :  wrath,  malice, 
revenge,  envy,  pride,  suspicions,  selfishness,  cruel- 
ty, slander, — these  are  the  oligarchy  of  diabolical 
tempers,  which  usurp  the  dominion  of  the  world  in 
the  name  of  Satan,  and  which,  with  something  of 
his  power  and  of  his  fury,  torment  the  miserable 
children  of  men.  How  much  of  the  most  cruel 
slavery,  the  most  sanguinary  warfare,  the  most  re- 
morseless oppression,  the  most  deadly  revenge,  the 
most  operative  mischief,  the  most  crafty  subtlety,  the 
most  insulting  pride, — is  perpetually  at  work  in  the 
destruction  of  human  happiness.  The  prevalence  of 
love  would  put  a  stop  to  all  this :  it  would  beat  the 
sword  of  war  into  the  ploughshare  of  peace  :  it 
would  break  the  galling  fetter  of  slavery,  and  bid  the 
captive  go  free:  it  would  change  the  tyrant  into  a 
father  :  it  would  convert  the  venom  of  malice  into 
the  milk  of  human  kindness:  it  would  transform 
the  crafty  serpent  into  the  innocent  dove  :  it  would 
tame  the  ferocity  of  the  implacable  assassin  into 
clemency;  and  would  teach  Am  to  pronounce  for- 
giveness, who  now  breathes  out  nothing  but  slaugh- 
ter: it  would  teach  pride  to  put  on  humility  as  a 
garment :  it  would  give  to  the  vigilant  eye  of  intel- 
ligence the  expression  of  candor,  instead  of  the 
glance  of  suspicion ;  and  would  substitute,  for  the 
torment  of  envy,  the  exquisite  delight  of  that  sym- 
pathy which  can  rejoice  with  those  that  do  rejoice. 

What  an  argument  for  Christian  missions  : 
and  what  a  motive   to   their    zealous   support  !  ! 

We  have  already  proved  that  both  Paganism  and 
Mohammedanism  are  hostile  to  a  spirit  of  univer- 
sal benevolence:  if,  therefore,  the  world  is  ever  to 
be  subjugated  to  the  mild  and  beneficial  dominion 
of  charity,  the  conquest  must  be  made  bv  Chris- 
tianity. And  to  this  honor  is  Christianity  destined  : 
it  was  to  this  theme  that  the  evangelical  prophet 
struck  his  lyre,  when  he  said — "  Out  of  Zion  shall 
go  forth  the  law,  and  the  word  of  the  Lord  from 
Jerusalem.  And  he  shall  judge  among  the  nations, 
and  shall  rebuke  many  people ;  and  they  shall  beat 
their  swords  into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears 
into  pruning  hooks  :  nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword 
against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any 
more  :  but  they  shall  sit  every  man  under  his  vine 
and  under  his  fig-tree;  and  none  shall  make  them 
afraid."  "  And  there  shall  come  forth  a  rod  out  of 
the  stem  of  Jesse,  and  a  Branch  shall  grow  out  of 
his  roots;  and  righteousness  shall  be  the  girdle  of 
his  loins,  and  faithfulness  the  girdle  of  his  reins. 
The  wolf  also  shall  dwell  wi'h  the  lamb,  and  the 
leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  kid  ;  and  the  calf 
and  the  young  lion  and  the  falling  together;  and  a 
little  child  shall  lead  them.  And  the  cow  and  the 
bear  shall  feed;    their  young  ones  shall  lie  down 


together:  and  the  lion  shall  eat  straw  like  the  ox. 
And  the  suckling  child  shall  play  on  the  hole  of 
the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall  put  his  hand 
in  the  cockatrice's  den.  They  shall  not  hurt  nor 
destroy  in  all  my  holy  mountain:  for  the  earth  shall 
be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters 
cover  the  sea."  Such  is  the  poetic  and  beautiful 
description  which  is  given  by  the  prophet  of  the 
harmonizing  and  benevolent  tendency  of  the  gos- 
pel, as  well  as  of  its  effect  wherever  its  influence  is 
entirely  submitted  to.  How  exceedingly  is  it  to  be 
desired,  that  such  a  system  should  be  universally 
prevalent!  The  awful  description  which  the  apos- 
tle gives  us  of  the  idolatry  of  his  times,  and  of  its 
demoralizing  effects, — deeply  as  it  is  colored,  and 
darkly  as  it  is  shaded, — is  not  less  justly  applicable 
to  the  Pagan  nations  of  the  present  day,  than  it  was 
to  those  of  antiquity.  "They  have  changed  the 
glory  of  the  incorruptible  God  into  an  image  made 
like  unto  corruptible  man,  and  to  birds,  and  four- 
footed  beasts,  and  creeping  things.  Who  changed 
the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie,  and  worshipped  and 
served  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator,  who  is 
blessed  for  ever!  Amen.  And  even  as  they  did 
not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,  God  gave 
them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  to  do  those  things 
which  are  not  convenient; — being  filled  with  all 
unrighteousness,  fornication,  wickedness,  covetous- 
ness,  maliciousness:  full  of  envy,  debate,  murder, 
deceit,  malignity :  whisperers,  backbiters,  haters  of 
God,  despiteful,  proud,  inventors  of  evil  things,  dis- 
obedient to  parents,  without  understanding,  cove- 
nant breakers,  without  natural  affection,  implaca- 
ble, unmerciful."  What  a  picture!  Who  can 
contemplate  it  without  horror!  Yet  such  is  the 
state  of  society — such  the  aspect  of  the  moral  world 
— such  are  the  crimes  that  deform,  and  pollute,  and 
torment,  the  human  race  under  the  reign  of  Pagan- 
ism, which,  wherever  it  exists,  converts  earth  into 
the  vestibule  of  hell,  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  a  range 
of  malignant  demons, — which  educates  men  for 
fiends  amidst  the  worst  of  excesses  of  depravity, 
and  tortures  its  victims  in  this  world  preparatory  to 
their  execution  in  the  next.  Who  that  pretends  to 
carry  in  his  bosom  the  heart  of  a  man, — much  more 
who  thai  professes  to  have  the  spirit  of  a  Christian, 
which  is  the  mind  of  Christ, — but  must  mourn  in 
bitterness  of  soul  over  this  ftightful  wilderness, 
and  long  to  bring  these  habitations  of  cruelty  under 
the  reign  of  love? 

Let  it  be  recollected,  that  whenever  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ  is  felt  in  its  proper  influence  ;  when- 
ever it  changes  the  heart,  and  sanctifies  the  life  ; — 
it  does  not  merely  turn  men  away  from  dumb  idols, 
but  causes  them  also  to  deny  ungodliness  and  world- 
ly lusts,  and  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly, 
in  this  present  evil  world.  It  does  not  merely  lead 
to  a  change  of  names,  a  substitution  of  one  set  of 
religious  rites  for  another;  but  while  it  removes  all 
that  is  impious  in  idolatry,  it  displaces  all  that  is 
odious  and  abominable  in  vice.  It  presents  the  first 
table  of  the  law,  and  says,  "  Thou  shalt  love  God 
with  all  thy  soul;"  and  then  holds  up  the  second, 
and  commands  us  to  love  our  neighbors  as  our- 
selves. Wherever  the  gospel  of  Christ  is  permitted 
to  govern  society,  it  banishes  all  that  can  afflict,  ana 
introduces  whatever  can  comfort,  the  human  race; 
All  the  crimes  and  the  curses  of  society  flee  before  it, 
while  all  the  blessings  of  earth  follow  in  its  train  : 
it  not  only  brings  learning,  and  aits,  and  sciences, 
with  all  that  can  adorn  the  mind  and  embellish, 
life,  but,  as  its  chief  benefit,  it  establishes  the  reign 
of  charity.  This  it  has  done  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent in  many  places  already;  and  even  its  enemies 
have  acknowledged  it.  And  he  that  would  see 
what  religion  can  do,  has  done,  and  will  yet  do,  in 
exalting  benevolence  on  the  ruins  of  cruelty,  and 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


09 


in  establishing  the  reign  of  mercy,  let  him  contem- 
plate, as  he  may  do,  through  the  medium  of  mis- 
sionary reports,  the  once  wild  and  savage  Esqui- 
maux, converted  into  peaceful,  harmless,  and  be- 
nevolent followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus; 
or  the  once  murderous  Otaheitans,  who  revelled  in 
the  blood  of  human  sacrifices,  and  slaughtered  with- 
out remorse  their  own  children,  now  exhibiting  a 
character  remarkable  for  its  clemency  and  gentle- 
ness; or  the  once  marauding  tribes  ot  South  Africa 
casting  away  their  poisoned  arrows,  and  their  assa- 
gays,  and  exhibiting  a  moral  transformation  as 
great  and  striking,  as  if  the  lions,  that  prowled 
around  their  tents,  were  changed  by  miracles  into 
lambs.  And  are  these  the  triumphs  of  that  religion, 
of  which  the  many  branches  and  the  multiplied 
duties,  are  summed  up  in  that  one  word — Love  '? 

Friends  of  humanity!  by  all  the  love  you  bear 
to  God  or  man,  1  conjure  you  to  labor  to  the  utter- 
most in  extending  the  religion  you  profess.  Esti- 
mate, if  you  can,  the  deep  guilt  of  neglecting  the 
cause  of  Christian  missions.  None  of  you  have 
done  what  you  could  have  done,  or  what  you  ought 
to  do,  in  this  most  sacred,  most  important  cause.  I 
ask,  what  proportion  of  your  property  ought  to  be 
put  in  requisition  for  promoting  the  universal  reign 
of  charity  1  Is  a  tenth,  or  a  fifth,  or  a  third,  enough 
for  that  cause,  the  object  of  which  is  to  teach  all 
men  that  dwell  on  the  earth  to  love  God  supremely, 
and  each  other  as  themselves'! — enough  to  be  given 
for  the  purpose  of  cementing  the  whole  human 
family  together  in  a  union  of  affection? — enough 
to  give  to  a  cause,  which,  when  it  is  completely 
victorious, — and  completely  victorious  it  will  be, — 
will  banish  pride,  and  malice,  and  envy,  and  re- 
venge, from  the  abodes  of  manl  How  can  you 
live  in  splendor — how  can  you  enjoy  your  luxuries 
— how  can  you  dwell  with  delight  upon  your  accu- 
mulating hoards  of  wealth, — while  all  this  is  want- 
ing to  extend  the  influence  of  religion?  Alas! 
alas!  because  you  have  so  little  of  it  in  your  own 
soul.  Christian  benevolence,  were  it  felt  in  its  full 
force,  would  lead  to  self-denial,  to  economy,  to  sim- 
ple habits,  to  personal  sacrifices, — in  order  that  you 
may  have  more  to  spare,  for  the  great  object  of 
Christian  missions. 

But  in  addition  to  your  property,  and  your  influ- 
ence, give  to  the  cause  of  missions  your  private, 
sincere,  fervent,  believing,  and  constant  prayers. — 
Ii  is  only  by  the  power  of  the  Divine,  Omnipotent 
Spirit,  that  the  kingdom  of  Christ  can  be  establish- 
ed in  this  selfish  world.  Read  the  chapter  which 
we  have  considered, — compare  with  it  the  present 
slate  of  mankind, — and  then  say  if  aught  but  the 
same  power  which  called  the  chaos  out  of  nothing, 
and  raised  ibis  fair  and  beautiful  world  out  of  chaos, 
can  effect  a  transformation  so  astonishing  and  sub- 
iime  as  would  be  effected,  if  this  region  of  dark 
and  vengeful  passions  were  converted  into  an  abode 
of  holy  and  mild,  and  benevolent  affections.  Be- 
seech Jehovah  daily,  that  he  would  arise  and  plead 
his  own  cause:  for  surely  love  must  be  eminently 
the  cause  of  him  who  is  infinite  in  goodness,  and 
delighteth  in  mercy.  Give  him  no  rest  till,  in  an- 
swer to  believing  and  earnest  prayer,  he  shall  sav, 
" Behold,  I  create  new  heavens,  and  a  new  earth: 
and  the  former  shall  not  be  remembered,  nor  come 
into  mind.  But  be  ye  glad  and  rejoice  for  ever  in 
that  which  I  create:  for,  behold,  I  create  Jerusalem 
a  rejoicing,  ami  her  people  a  joy.  And  I  will  re- 
joice in  Jerusalem,  and  joy  in  my  people:  and  the 
voice  of  weeping  shall  be  no  more  heard  in  her, 
nor  the  voice  of  crying. — And  it  shall  come  to  pass, 
that  before  they  call,  I  will  answer;  and  whilst 
they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will  hear.  The  wolf  and 
the  lamb  shall  feed  together,  and  the  lion  shall  eat 
straw  like  the  bullock;   and  dust  shall  be  the  ser- 


pent's meat.     They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all 
my  holy  mountain,  saith  the  Lord.'; 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

IMPROVEMENT,    EY   WAY    OF    EXAMINATION   AND 
HUMILIATION. 

Self-examination  is  the  duty  of  every  Christian, 
not  merely  that  he  may  ascertain  whether  his  faith 
i  be  genuine,  but  whether  it  be  sufficiently  operative. 
It  ought  not  to  be  a  frequent  and  undecided  ques- 
tion with  any  one, — "  Am  I  in  reality  a  child  of 
.  God  1"  but  it  should  be  a  constantly  recurring  in- 
quiry, "  Is  there  any  one  branch  of  religious  obliga- 
tion, which,  through  the  deceitfulness  of  the  human 
j  heart,  I  do  not  feel  ?  or  through  a  criminal  heedless- 
;  ness,  I  habitually  neglect  1     The  object  of  self-exa- 
mination, with  a  believer,  is  to  supply  those  defects 
in  his  graces,  and  to  put  away  those  remains  of  his 
corruptions,  which,  though  they  may  not  prove  that 
he  has  not  piety,  prove  that   he  has  less  than  he 
'  ought  to  have.     For  this  purpose,  he  should  often 
,  bring  his  actions  and  his  motives  to  the  standard, 
!  and  try  his  whole  profession  ;  as  well  what  he  does 
that  he  should  not  do,  as  what  he  does  not  that  he 
should  do.     If  we  are  to  exhort  one  another  daily, 
j  lest  any  of  us  be  hardened  through  the  deceitful- 
ness of  sin,  we  surely  ought  to  examine  ourselves 
|  daily,  for  the  same  reason.     Our  guilty  self-love  is 
J  perpetually  attempting  to  throw  a  veil  over  the  sin- 
ful infirmities  of  our  nature — to  hide  their  crimi- 
nality from  our  view  ;  and  thus  to  keep  us  in  a  state 
of  false  peace,  by  keeping  us  in  ignorance.  Against 
i  this  deceitfulness  of  our  heart,  we  can  only  be  guard- 
j  ed  by  a  frequent  and  close  examination  of  our  whole 
selves. 

A  frequent  examination  of  our  hearts  and  con- 
I  duct  is  necessary,  because  of  the  multitude  of  our 
|  daily  sins,  which  are  often  so  minute  as  to  escape 
:  the  observation  of  a  careless  and  superficial  glance, 
and  so  numerous  as  to  be  forgotten  from  one  day  to 
j  another  ;  and  so,  they  either  come  not  into  notice, 
I  or  pass  out  of  recollection :  and  therefore  they  should 
j  be  summed  up  every  evening,  and  repented  of,  and 
forgiven,  before  we  compose  ourselves  to  sleep, — 
J  that  nightly  returning  harbinger,  and  monitor,  and 
image,  of  approaching  death.     The  advantages  of 
j  frequent  examination  are  so  many  and  so  great  as 
to  recommend  the  practice  strongly  to  all  who  are 
deeply  anxious  about  the  welfare  of  their  souls  ;  by 
this   means   we  shall   not  only  detect   many  sins 
which  would  otherwise  be  lost  in  our  attention  to 
greater  ones,  but  we  shall  more  easilv  destroy  them, 
and  more  speedily  revive  our  languishing  graces; 
just  as  a  wound  may  with  greater  facility  be  cured 
while  it  is  yet  fresh  and  bleeding,  and  an  extinguish- 
ed taper,  while  yet  it  retains  a  strong  sympathy  for 
light,  may  be  rekindled,  either  by  the  near  contact 
of  a  neighboring  flame,  or  by  the  timely  application 
of  a  little  well  directed  breath.     "  Sins  are  apt  to 
cluster  and  combine,  when  either  we  are  in  love 
with  small  sins,  or  when  they  proceed,  from  a  care- 
less and  incurious  spirit,  into  frequency  and  contin- 
uance ;  but  we  may  easily  keep  ihem  asunder  by  our 
daily  prayers,  and  our  nightly  examinations,  and 
our  severe  sentences:  "for  he  that  despiseth  little 
things,"  said  the  son  of  Sirach,  "shall  perish  by  lit- 
tle and  little."     A  frequent  examination  of  our  ac- 
tions will  lend  to  keep  the  conscience  clear,  so  that 
the  least  fre.-h  spot  will  be  more  easily  seen;  and  so 
tender,  that  the  least  new  pressure  will  be  felt;  for 
that  which  comes  upon  an  already  blotted  page  is 
scarcely  discerned,  and  that  which  is  added  to  an 
already  great  accumulation  is  hardly  seen  or  felt. — 
This,  also,  is  the  best  way  to  make  our  repentance 
pungent  and  particular.     But  on  this  subject  we 


70 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


shall  have  more  to  say  presently.  If  self-examina- 
tion be  neglected  for  want  of  opportunity,  it  is  plain 
that  those,  at  least,  who  have  their  time  at  their 
own  command  and  disposal  are  far  too  deeply  in- 
volved in  the  business  of  the  world  and  the  laby- 
rinths of  care:  no  man  ought  to  allow  himself  to  be 
so  taken  up  in  looking  into  his  secular  pursuits,  as 
to  have  no  time  to  look  into  the  state  of  his  soul ; 
and  to  be  so  greedy  after  gain,  or  so  intent  upon  the 
objects  of  an  earthly  ambition,  as  to  be  careless 
about  examining  whether  we  are  growing  in  grace, 
and  increasing  in  the  riches  of  faith  and  love,  dis- 
covers a  mind  which  cither  has  no  religion  at  all, 
or  has  reason  to  fear  that  it  has  none. 

But  besides  that  cursory  retrospect  which  we 
should  take  every  evening  of  the  conduct  of  the  day, 
a  portion  of  time  should  be  frequently  set  apart  for 
the  purpose  of  instituting  a  more  minute  and  rigid 
inquiry  into  the  state  of  our  personal  piety;  when, 
taking  in  our  hand,  the  word  of  God,  we  should  de- 
scend with  this  candle  of  the  Lord  into  the  dark  and 
deep  recesses  of  the  heart,  enter  every  secret  cham- 
ber, and  pry  into  every  corner  to  ascertain  if  any 
thing  be  hiding  itself  there  which  is  contrary  to  the 
mind  and  will  of  God.  Many  standards  will  be 
found  in  the  Scriptures,  all  concurring  with  each 
other  in  general  purpose  and  principles,  by  which 
this  investigation  of  ourspirits  should  be  conducted. 
We  now  propose  the  law  of  love. 

On  these  occasions  of  introspection,  we  should  in- 
quire how  far  our  faith  is  working  by  love.  I  will 
conceive  of  a  professing  Christian  who  has  set 
apart  a  portion  of  time, — say  on  a  Saturday  evening, 
before  he  is  to  eat  on  the  next  day  the  Lord's  sup- 
per ;  or  on  a  Sabbath  evening,  when  he  has  received 
the  sacramental  memorials  of  the  Saviour's  love,  to 
examine  into  the  state,  not  only  cf  his  conduct,  but 
the  frame  and  temper  of  his  spirit.  He  is  anxious 
to  know  how  far  he  is  living  so  as  to  please  God. — 
We  can  imagine  him,  after  having  read  the  Scrip- 
tures, presenting  his  fervent  supplications  to  God,  in 
the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  and  saying,  "  Search 
me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart ;  try  me  and  know 
my  thoughts;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way 
in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting."  He 
now  enters  upon  the  business  of  self-examination  ; 
and  the  subject  of  inquiry  that  evening  is  the  frame 
of  his  heart  towards  his  fellow  creatures,  the  state 
of  his  mind  in  reference  to  the  law  of  love,  the  mea- 
sure of  his  charity,  and  the  infirmities  of  his  tem- 
per. Hear  his  holy  colloquies  with  himself.  "I  have 
no  just  reason,  thanks  be  to  sovereign  grace!  to 
question  whether  1  have  received  the  fundamental 
doctrines  of  the  gospel.  I  believe  my  creed  is  sound ; 
nor  have  I  any  serious  ground  for  suspecting  the 
sincerity  of  my  faith,  or  the  reality  of  my  conver- 
sion :  my  conduct,  too,  so  far  as  the  estimate  of  man 
goes,  has,  through  the  help  of  God,  been  free  from 
immorality.  And  though  I  may  without  presump- 
tion say  that  I  love  God,  yet  I  am  covered  with  con- 
fusion that  my  love  is  so  weak  and  lukewarm.  But 
my  solemn  business  at  this  time  is  to  examine  into 
the  state  and  measure  of  my  Christian  charity;  for 
I  am  persuaded  that  whatever  knowledge,  or  faith, 
or  seeming  raptures,  or  supposed  communion  with 
God,  I  may  lay  claim  to, — I  am  but  a  very  imperfect 
Christian,  if  I  am  considerably  deficient  in  love. — 
Taking  the  apostolic  description  of  this  lovely  vir- 
tue, I  will  bring  my  heart  to  the  test. 

"  Do  I  then  love,  in  his  sense  of  the  word1?  Is  my 
heart  a  partaker  of  this  disposition  1  Is  the  selfish- 
ness of  my  corrupt  nature  subdued,  and  made  to 
give  way  to  a  spirit  of  universal  benevolence  :  so 
that  I  can  truly  say  I  rejoice  in  happiness,  and  am 
conscious  of  a  continual  benevolent  sympathy  with 
universal  being,  and  of  a  perpetual  efflux  of  good 
will  to  all  creatures  1    Do  I  feel  as  if  my  own  hap- 


piness were  receiving  constant  accessions  from  the 
happiness  of  others;  and  that  my  soul,  instead  of 
living  in  her  own  little  world  within,  an  alien  from 
the  commonwealth  of  mankind,  indifferent  to  all  but 
herself,  is  in  union  and  communion  with  my  spe- 
cies 1  In  short,  do  I  know  the  meaning  of  the  apos- 
tle's emphatic  expression,  '  He  that  dwelleth  in  love 
dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him  V  But  let  me  de- 
scend to  particulars. 

"  What  do  I  know  of  the  forbearance  of  love  1 — 
Can  I  suffer  long,  or  am  I  easily  provoked  '?  Am  I 
patient  under  provocation;  restraining  my  anger; 
keeping  my  wrath  in  subjection  under  the  most  pro- 
voking insults,  amidst  the  basest  ingratitude,  or  the 
most  irritating  scorn'?  In  my  intercourse  with  my 
brethren  in  Christ,  am  I  quick  to  take  offence  by 
any  real  or  supposed  slight  or  impertinence'?  Am  I 
so  jealous  of  my  own  dignity,  so  sensitive,  and  ir- 
ritable, as  to  be  roused  to  anger  by  any  little  of- 
fence, and  transported  to  wrath  by  more  serious 
provocations!  Am  I  revengeful  under  injuries; 
brooding  over  them  in  silence,  cherishing  the  re- 
membrance, and  reviving  the  recollection  of  them, 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  retaliate,  and  rejoic- 
ing in  the  sufferings  which  come  upon  those  that 
injure  me  1  or  am  I  easily  conciliated,  most  forward 
to  forgive,  and  ever  ready  to  return  good  for  evil  ? 
How  have  I  acted  since  my  last  season  of  self-exa- 
mination in  these  particulars'?  Let  me  call  to  re- 
collection my  conduct,  that  I  may  see  how  far  I 
have  practised  the  duty,  and  exhibited  the  excel- 
lence of  Christian  meekness. 

"  Charity  is  kind.  Is  kindness — universal,  con- 
stant, operative  kindness — characteristic  of  my  con- 
duct 1  Is  the  law  of  kindness  on  my  lips,  its  smile 
upon  my  countenance,  and  its  activity  in  my  life"? 
or  am  I  uncivil  and  uncourteous  in  speech,  frown- 
ing and  repulsive  in  my  aspect,  grudging  and  un- 
frequent  in  acts  of  generosity  1  Have  I  the  charac- 
ter, among  my  neighbors  and  acquaintance,  of  a 
man  who  can  be  always  depended  upon  for  a  fa- 
vor, when  it  is  needed?  or,  on  the  contrary,  am  I 
by  general  report,  a  very  unlikely  person  to  lend  a 
helping  hand  to  a  person  in  necessity'?  Are  there 
any  instances  of  unkindness  which  I  can  now  call 
to  remembrance,  which  have  brought  dishonor 
upon  my  reputation,  guilt  upon  my  conscience,  re- 
proach upon  the  cause  of  religion,  and  for  which, 
therefore,  I  ought  toseek  the  pardon  of  God  through 
Christ! 

"  Charity  cnvieth  not.  Am  I  subject  to  the  tor- 
menting influence  of  that  truly  diabolical  temper  by 
which  a  person  is  made  miserable  in  himself,  and 
to  hate  his  neighbor  or  his  rival,  on  account  of  that 
neighbor's  or  rival's  distinctions'?  Ami  so  truly 
infernal  in  my  dispositions,  as  to  sicken  and  pine  at 
the  sight  of  the  success  or  happiness  of  others,  and 
to  cherish  ill-will  on  that  account  towards  theml — 
When  I  hear  another  praised  and  commended,  do 
I  feel  a  burning  of  heart  within,  and  an  inclination 
to  detract  from  their  fame,  and  to  lower  them  in  the 
estimation  of  those  who  applaud  them  ;  and  do  I 
secretly  rejoice  when  any  thing  occurs  to  lessen  and 
lower'ihem  in  public  opinion,  or  to  strip  them  of 
those*distinctions  which  render  them  the  objects  of 
our  dislike?  or  do  I  possess  that  true  spirit  of  love, 
which  constrains  me  to  rejoice  with  those  that  re 
joice,  to  feel  pleased  with  their  prosperity,  and  to 
consider  their  happiness  as  an  accession  to  my  own  1 
Have  I,  indeed,  that  benevolence  which  delights  so 
truly  in  felicity,  as  to  make  me  glad  at  seeing  it  in 
the  possession  of  an  enemy  or  a  rival  1 

"Charity  vaunteth  not-  itself,  is  not  puffed  up.  Is 
this  descriptive  of  my  spirit,  in  reference  to  my  own 
attainments  and  achievements  1  Am  I  lowly  in  mv 
own  eyes,  clothed  with  humility,  modest  in  the  esti- 
mate I  foim  of  myself,  and  all  that  belongs  to  me  1 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


71 


or  am  I  proud,  vain,  and  ostentatious;  valuing  and 
admiring  myself  on  the  ground  of  any  personal,  ci- 
vil, ecclesiastical,  or  spiritual  distinctions!  Am  I 
fond  of  exciting  admiration,  and  obtaining  applause  1 
or  am  I  content  with  the  approbation  of  my  own 
conscience,  and  the  smile  of  God  !  Do  I  wish  to 
make  others  feel  their  inferiority,  and  to  suffer  un- 
der a  mortifying  sense  of  it  !  or  do  I,  from  the  most 
tender  regarcito  their  comfort,  conceal,  as  much  as 
possible,  any  superiority  I  may  have  over  them ;  and 
make  them  easy  and  happy  in  my  company!  Do  I 
indulge  in  haughty  aiis,  or  maintain  a  kind  affabi- 
lity and  an  amiable  condescension! 

"  Charity  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly.  Is  it  my 
study  not  to  give  uneasiness  and  offence,  by  any 
thin?  unsuitable  to  my  age,  sex,  rank,  station,  and 
circumstances  ;  any  thing  rude,  rough,  impertinent, 
or  unbecoming!  or  am  I  continually  disturbing  the 
comfort  of  those  around  me,  by  indecorous  and  un- 
suitable behavior! 

"Charity  seeketh  not  her  own.  Am  I  habitually 
selfish — anxious  only  for  my  own  gratification,  and 
building  up  my  comfort  to  the  annoyance  or  neglect 
of  others!  Am  I  indulging  a  penurious,  avaricious 
disposition — feasting  upon  luxuries,  and  refusing  to 
minister  to  the  relief  of  human  misery,  according 
to  the  proportion  in  which  God  has  blessed  me  !  or 
am  I  diffusing  abroad  my  substance,  considering 
that  I  am  only  a  steward  of  what  I  hold,  and  must 
account  for  it  all !  Am  I  overbearing  and  intolerant 
in  discussion  and  debate — wanting  others  to  sacri- 
fice their  views,  in  order  that  I  may  have  every 
thing  my  own  way  !  or  am  I  willing  to  concede  and 
yield,  and  disposed  to  give  up  my  own  will  to  the 
general  opinion,  and  for  the  general  good! 

"Charity  thiakelh  no  evil.  Am  I  suspicious,  and 
apt  to  impute  bad  motives  to  men's  conduct!  or 
am  I  generous  and  confiding — prone  to  think  the 
best  that  truth  will  allow!  Am  I  censorious,  or 
candid !  Do  I  feel  more  in  haste  to  condemn, 
than  to  excuse,  and  more  eager  to  blame  than  to  ex- 
culpate ! 

"  Charity  rejoicelh  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in 
the  truth.  What  is  mv  disposition  toward  tho~e  who 
are  my  opponents  !  Do  I  delight  in,  or  mourn  over, 
their  faults  !  Do  I  so  love  them,  as  to  be  glad  when, 
by  their  regard  to  truth  and  righteousness,  they 
raise  themselves  in  public  esteem;  and  to  be  sorry 
when  they  injure  their  own  cause,  and  give  me  an 
advantage  over  them  by  their  errors  and  sins  !  Have 
I  made  that  high  attainment  in  virtue  and  piety, 
which  leads  me  to  delight  in  the  righteousness  of  a 
rival,  even  when  it  may  seem  to  exalt  him!  or  am 
I  still  so  destitute  of  love,  as  to  say,  in  reference  to 
his  faults,  '  Ah  !  so  would  I  have  it !' 

"Charity  covereth  all  things.  Ami  prone  and 
anxious  to  conceal  the  failings  of  others,  or  to  ex- 
pose them  !  'Believeth  all  things.'  Am  I  credu- 
lous of  whatever  is  to  the  advantage  of  a  brother! 
1  Hopeth  all  things.'  Where  the  evidence  is  not 
enough  to  warrant  belief,  do  I  indulge  an  expecta- 
tion and  desire  that  farther  knowledge  may  explain 
the  matter  favorably! 

"Charity  endureth  all  things.  Am  I  willing  to 
make  anv  exertion,  to  bear  any  hardship,  to  sustain 
anv  reasonable  loss,  for  the  peace  and  welfare  of 
others!  or  am  I  so  fond  of  ease,  so  indolent,  so  sel- 
fish, as  to  give  nothing  but  mere  ineffectual  wishes 
for  their  comfort  and  well-being! 

"  What  measure  of  holy  love  have  I — of  that  love 
which  puts  forth  its  energies  in  such  operations  as 
these  !  Do  I  so  love  God,  and  feel  such  a  sense  of 
his  love  to  me,  as  to  have  mv  soul  transformed  into 
this  divine  temper!  Does  the  love  of  Christ  thus 
constrain  me!  Am  I  so  absorbed  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  that  stupendous  display  of  divine  benevo- 
lence, that   unparalleled  manifestation  of  infinite 


mercy,  which  was  made  in  the  cross  of  the  Son  of 
God,  as  to  find  the  selfishness  of  my  nature  melted, 
and  all  its  enmities  subdued,  by  this  most  amazing 
and  transporting  scene!  I  feel,  that  without  love, 
I  cannot  have  entered  into  the  meaning  and  design, 
the  moral  force  and  beauty,  of  the  great  atonement, 
that  I  can  have  no  disposition  which  properly  cor- 
responds to  that  august  and  interesting  spectacle. — 
I  see  that  knowledge  is  not  enough,  that  belief  is 
not  enough,  that  ecstacy  is  not  enough,  that  hope  is 
not  enough ;  that,  in  tact,  nothing  can  come  up  to 
the  demands,  to  the  spirit,  to  the  design,  of  a  reli- 
gion which  has  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
for  its  central  object,  and  grand  support,  and  dis- 
tinguishing glory — but  a  temper  of  universal  and 
practical  benevolence.  Have  I  this  !  If  so,  how 
much  of  it !" 

Such  should  be  the  subject  of  diligent  and  fre- 
quent examination  to  every  professing  Christian. 

Humiliation  should  follow  examination. 

The  act  of  humbling  and  abasing  ourselves  before 
God,  is  a  part  of  the  duty,  not  only  of  sinners,  when 
they  make  their  first  application  to  the  mercy-seat 
for  pardon,  but  of  believers,  through  every  succes- 
sive stage  of  their  Christian  career.  As  long  as  we 
are  the  subjects  of  sin,  we  ought  also  to  be  the  sub- 
jects of  contrition.  We  may,  through  sovereign 
grace,  have  been  justified  by  faith,  and  have  been 
brought  into  a  state  of  peace  with  God :  but  th»s 
does  not  render  a  very  humbling  sense  and  confes 
sion  of  our  sins  an  exercise  inappropriate  to  our 
state,  any  more  than  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  re- 
lationship of  a  child  to  humble  himself  before  his 
father,  for  those  defects  in  his  obedience,  which, 
though  they  do  not  set  aside  his  sonship,  are  un- 
worthy of  it.  "  If  we  say  we  have  no  sin,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not 
in  us."  This  language  applies  to  believers,  and  not 
merely  to  unconverted  sinners;  and  so  does  that 
which  follows — "  If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faith- 
ful and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us 
from  all  unrighteousness."  The  most  perfect  as- 
surance of  hope  does  not  release  us  from  the  duty 
of  abasing  ourselves  before  God;  and  if  an  angel 
were  sent  to  assure  us  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  ac- 
ceptance with  heaven,  we  should  still  lie  under  ob- 
ligation to  cultivate  a  contrite  and  penitent  frame 
of  mind.  Sin,  and  not  merely  punishment,  is  the 
ground  of  humiliation.  It  is  the  most  detestable 
selfishness  to  imagine,  that,  because  we  are  freed 
from  the  penal  consequences  of  sin,  we  are  under 
no  obligation  to  lie  low  in  the  dust.  With  what  un- 
utterable disgust  we  should  look  upon  the  indivi- 
dual who,  because  his  life  had  been  spared  by  royal 
clemency,  when  it  might  have  been  taken  by  na 
tional  justice,  acted,  after  his  pardon,  as  if  that  very 
pardon  had  entitled  him  to  forget  his  crime,  and  to 
live  as  carelessly  and  as  confidently  as  he  would 
have  done  had  he  never  sinned.  A  pardoned  sin- 
ner— and  no  believer  is  any  thing  more — should 
ever  be  a  humble  and  self-abased  creature  in  the 
sight  of  God. 

The  subject  we  are  now  upon  shows  us  what 
cause  there  is  for  humiliation  before  God.  This 
frame  of  mind  should  not  be  founded  upon,  or  pro- 
duced by,  mere  general  views  of  our  depraved  na- 
ture, but  by  particular  apprehensions  in  reference 
to  sinful  practice;  as  long  as  our  confessions  are 
confined  to  mere  acknowledgments  of  a  depraved 
nature,  our  convictions  of  sin  are  not  likely  to  be 
very  deep,  nor  our  sorrow  for  it  very  pungent.- 
Such  confessions  will  usually  sink  into  mere  formal 
and  sorrowless  acknowledgments  of  transgressions, 
It  is  hv  descending  to  details;  it  is  the  lively  view 
and  deep  conviction  of  specific  acts  of  transgres- 
sions, or  defects  in  virtue;  that  awakens  and  sharp- 
ens the  conscience,  and  brings  I  he  soul  to  feel  that 


7-3 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY. 


godly  sorrow  which  worketh  repentance.  One  dis- 
tinctly ascertained  defect  or  transgression — espe- 
cially if  it  be  much  dwelt  upon  in  itsexient,and  in- 
fluence, and  aggravations — will  do  more  to  humble 
the  soul,  than  hours  spent  in  meie  general  confes- 
sions of  a  depraved  nature. 

There  are  many  things,  on  the  ground  of  which 
no  self-abasement  can  be  felt  by  the  Christian  who 
is  walking  in  any  degree  of  religious  consistency. 
He  cannot  confess  that  which  he  has  really  not  been 
guilty  of:  he  cannot  be  humbled  on  account  of  any 
act  of  open  immorality,  for  he  has  committed  none. 
In  reference  to  actual  vice,  he  is  to  be  thankful,  not 
humble :  he  is  to  be  humble,  indeed,  that  he  has  a 
nature  capable  of  it,  if  left  of  God  ;  but  he  is  to  be 
thankful  that  he  has  not  been  permitted  thus  to  dis- 
grace himself.  It  is  sometimes  to  be  regretted  that 
good  people,  in  their  public  confessions  of  sin,  are 
not  more  definite  than  they  are,  and  that  they  do 
not  express  the  particular  sins  for  which  they  seek 
forgiveness  of  God.  Without  using  language  that 
seems  applicable  to  adultery,  and  robbery,  and 
drunkenness,  our  defects  in  all  Christian  graces  are 
so  numerous  and  so  great,  that  there  is  no  degree 
of  humiliation  which  is  too  deep  for  those  defects 
and  omissions  of  which  the  holiest  man  is  guilty  be- 
fore God.  And  we  have  no  need  to  go  beyond  the 
subject  of  this  treatise,  to  find  how  exceedingly  sin- 
ful and  vile  we  must  all  be  in  the  sight  of  God.  Let 
us  only  call  to  remembrance  the  truly  sublime  de- 
scription which  the  apostle  has  given  us  of  the  di- 
vine nature,  and  to  which,  of  necessity,  we  have  so 
often  referred — "  God  is  love" — infinite,  pure,  and 
operative  love;  let  us  only  recollect  his  wonderful 
patience,  his  diffusive  kindness,  his  astonishing 
mercy  even  to  his  enemies;  and  then  consider  that 
it  is  our  duty  to  be  like  him — to  have  a  disposition, 
which,  in  pure,  patient,  and  operative  benevolence, 
ought  to  resemble  his;  that  this  was  once  our  na- 
ture, and  will  be  again,  if  we  reach  the  celestial 
state:  and  surely  in  such  a  recollection,  we  shall 
find  a  convincing  proof  of  our  present  exceeding 
sinfulness. 

Let  it  not  be  replied,  that  this  is  subjecting  us  to 
too  severe  a  test.  By  what  test  can  we  try  our 
hearts,  but  the  law  of  God  1  What  a  proof  is  it  of 
sin,  when  we  find  that  the  instances  in  which  we 
have  committed  it  are  so  numerous,  that  we  want 
to  get  rid  of  the  law  by  which  it  is  proved  and  de- 
lected 1  O  !  what  a  fallen  nature  is  ours,  and  how 
low  has  it  sunk !  We  are  not  now  examining  it  in 
its  worst  s'ate,  as  it  is  seen  among  Pagans  and  sa- 
vages, or  even  the  best  of  the  heathen  ;  nor  as  it  is 
seen  in  the  worst  parts  of  Christendom ;  nor  as  it 
appears  in  the  best  of  the  unrenewed  portions  of 
mankind:  no,  but  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the  church 
of  Christ,  in  the  enlightened  and  sanctified  portions 
of  the  family  of  man. 

Must  we  not,  after  this  survey,  exclaim  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  Who  can  understand  his  errors'!  cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults  !"  Who  can  carry  in  his 
bosom  a  proud  heart,  or  on  his  brow  a  lofty  mein  1 
Who  can  look  with  complacency  upon  his  poor 
starveling  graces,  and  doat  with  fond  and  pharisaic 
eyes  upon  his  own  righteousness  1  Who  is  not 
stripped  at  once,  in  his  own  view,  of  all  his  imper- 
fect virtues;  and  presented  to  his  own  contempla- 
tion in  the  naked  deformity  of  a  poor,  sinful,  and 
imperfect  creature,  who  has  no  ground  for  pride, 
but  most  ample  and  abundant  cause  for  the  deepest 
humiliation.  Let  the  men  who  value  themselves  so 
highly  on  the  ground  of  their  moral  dignity,  and 
who  are  regarded  by  others  as  almost  sinless  cha- 
racters, and  who  feel  as  if  they  had  little  or  no  oc- 
casion for  the  exercise  of  a  penitential  frame  of 
mind;  who  pity  as  fanaticism,  or  scorn  as  hypocri- 
sy,  those  lowly  confessions  which  Christians  make 


at  the  footstool  of  the  divine  throne; — let  them  come 
to  this  ordeal  and  try  themselves  by  this  standard, 
that  they  may  learn  how  ill  grounded  is  their  pride, 
and  how  little  occasion  they  have  to  boast  of  their 
virtue !  Would  they  like  that  any  human  eye  should 
be  able  to  trace  all  the  movements  of  their  hearts, 
and  see  all  the  workings  of  envy,  and  suspicion,  and 
wrath,  and  selfishness,  which  the  eye  of  Deity  so 
often  sees  there'?  Say  not  that  these  are  only  the 
infirmities  of  our  nature,  to  which  the  wisest'  and 
the  best  of  the  human  race  are  ever  subject  in  this 
world  of  imperfection ;  because  this  is  confessing 
how  deeply  depraved  is  mankind,  even  in  their  best 
state.  Can  envy,  and  pride,  and  selfishness,  and 
suspicion,  and  revenge,  be  looked  upon  as  mere  pic- 
cadilloes,  which  call  for  neither  humiliation  nor 
grief.  Are  they  not  the  germs  of  all  those  crimes 
which  have  deluged  the  earth  with  blood,  filled  it 
with  misery,  and  caused  the  whole  creation  to  groan 
together  until  now?  Murders,  treasons,  wars,  mas- 
sacres, with  all  the  lighter  crimes  of  robberies,  ex- 
tortions, and  oppressions,  have  all  sprung  up  from 
these  passions. 

What  need,  then,  have  we  all  of  that  great  sacri- 
fice which  beareth  away  the  sin  of  the  world  1  and 
what  need  of  a  perpetually  recurring  application, 
by  faith  and  repentance,  to  that  blood  which  speak- 
e'th  better  things  than  the  blood  of  Abel,  and  which 
cleanseth  from  all  sin  1  What  cause  have  we  to  re- 
pair nightly  to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  ob- 
tain mercy;  and  daily,  that  we  may  find  grace  to 
help  in  time  of  need.  With  the  eye  of  faith  upon 
the  propitiatory  offering  that  was  presented  to  Di- 
vine justice  by  the  Son  of  God  upon  the  cross,  let 
us  continually  approach  the  awful  Majesty  of  hea- 
ven and  earth,  saying — "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner !" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IMPROVEMENT,    BY   WAY    OF    EXHORTATION. 

Love  may  be  enforced  upon  us  by  a  consideration 
of, 

1.   Our  own  peace  and  comfort. 

We  are  not  to  be  indifferent  to  our  own  happi- 
ness ;  we  cannot  be  :  man  can  no  more  will  his  own 
misery,  or  be  careless  about  his  own  comfort,  tban 
he  can  cease  to  exist.  To  seek  for  enjoyment  is  the 
first  law  of  our  existence — an  inherent  and  insepa- 
rable propensity  of  our  nature.  In  this  respect,  the 
angels,  and  the  spirits  of  the  just  above,  agree  with 
man  upon  the  earth.  There  is  no  sin,  therefore,  in 
desiring  to  be  happy  ;  we  could  not  do  otherwise,  if 
we  would.  Ever  since  the  entrance  of  sin,  howe- 
ver, the  heart  is  corrupted  in  its  taste,  so  as  to  put 
evil  for  good  ;  and,  mistaking  the  nature  of  happi- 
ness, man  of  course  mistakes  the  way  to  obtain  it. 
All  the  pursuits  of  the  world,  however  varying,  and 
however  unlawful,  are  the  operations  of  "this  pro- 
pensity of  the  human  mind ;  they  are  all  but  so  many 
efforts  to  obtain  happiness.  To  this  feeling  of  the 
human  bosom  many  of  the  most  comprehensive, 
beautiful,  and  encouraging  invitations  of  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ  are  addressed;  and  it  is  at  once  the 
glory  and  the  peculiarity  of  the  gospel  that  addres- 
ses itself  first,  not  to  our  moral,  but  to  our  natural, 
wants.  It  meets  us,  not  as  craving  after  holiness, 
for  of  this  an  unenlightened,  unconverted  sinner 
knows  nothing ;  but  as  craving  after  happiness, — a 
desire  common  to  every  human  bosom:  this  is  the 
meaning  of  that  exquisite  language  with  which  the 
apostle  almost  closes  the  word  of  God — "  The  Spi- 
rit and  the  Bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  hear- 
eth,  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come. 
And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of 
life  freely.'-     The  same  view  appertains  to  the  Ian- 


CHRISTIAN   C  II  A  R  I  T  V. 


73 


guage  of  the  Prophet — "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirst- 
eth,  come  ye  to  the  waters."  The  thirst  here  men- 
tioned is  not,  as  has  been  frequently  but  erroneously 
stated,  the  strong  desire  of  a  convinced  sinner  after 
the  blessings  of  the  gospel:  but  that  of  a  miserable 
creature  after  happiness.  The  persons  addressed 
by  the  prophet  are  such  as  were  spending  their 
money  for  that  which  was  not  bread,  and  their  la- 
bor for  that  which  satisfieth  not;  expressions  which 
will  not  apply  to  those  who  are  desiring  Christ,  and 
the  blessings  of  his  gospel,  but  to  those  who  are  en- 
deavoring to  be  happy  without  them:  to  all  these  the 
Lord  Jesus  is  representeil  as  saying,  "Hearken 
diligently  unto  me.  Come  unto  me:  I  will  give  you 
the  sure  mercies  of  David;  then  shall  ye  eat  that 
which  is  good,  and  your  soul  shall  delight  itself  in 
fatness.  I  am  the  way  to  happiness.  Men  shall  be 
blessed  in  me."  The  blessing  of  the  gospel,  by 
which  men  are  made  happy,  is  not  only  justification 
through  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  but  also  sanc- 
tification  by  his  Spirit.  An  unrenewed  heart  can 
no  more  be  happy  in  any  place  or  circumstances, 
than  a  diseased  body  can  be  rendered  easy  and 
comfortable  by  situation  and  external  advantages. 
Until  the  carnal  mind,  which  is  enmity  against 
God,  be  regenerated,  and  brought  to  love  God  su- 
premely, there  can  be  no  peace ;  as  long  as  the 
heart  is  under  the  dominion  of  predominant  selfish- 
ness, and  all  those  lusts  and  passions  to  which  it 
gives  rise,  it  must  be  miserable.  In  the  absence  of 
love,  the  human  bosom  must  be  the  seat  of  uneasi- 
ness and  distress.  Happiness  does  not  arise  from 
possessions  so  much  as  from  dispositions:  it  is  not 
what  a  man  has,  or  where  he  dwells,  but  what  he 
is.  Whatever  be  the  great  source  of  felicity,  the 
springs  of  it  must  be  seated  in  our  nature.  There 
are  certain  tempers,  the  absence  of  which  would 
render  heaven  a  place  of  torment  to  us;  and 
others,  which  would  raise  for  us  an  Eden  in  the 
dreariest  wilderness  on  earth. 

Love  is  essential  tn  the  happiness  of  a  moral  agent. 
This  was  the  original  rectitude  of  our  nature. — 
Man  was  made  for  love ;  to  love  God  supremely, 
and  to  love  whatever  is  like  God,  or  related  to  him. 
This  disposition  was  not  only  his  temper  in  Para- 
dise, but  if.  was  the  very  paradise  of  his  soul,  in 
which  be  hell  the  sweetest  communion  with  God 
and  universal  beins:.  This  tuned  his  heart  to  har- 
mony with  his  .Maker  ami  his  fellow  creatures. — 
Every  movement  of  his  heart  was  a  movement  of 
love;  and  all  his  desires  so  many  aspirations  of 
love:  this  constituted  at  once  his  honor  and  his  hap- 
piness. Hence,  the  implantation  of  this  grace  in 
his  goal  is  the  bringing  back  of  man  again  to  his 
original  state,  to  his  "  divinely  natural  condition  ;" 
and,  therefore,  it  is  the  restoration  of  him  to  true 
complacency  and  satisfaction.  It  is  true  that  many, 
in  the  absence  of  this,  pretend  to  some  kind  of  en- 
joym  snt,  and  have  it  too;  for  there  are  pleasures  of 
sin,  such  as  they  are:  but  as  to  solid  happiness, — 
that  which  befits  and  satisfies  a  rational,  moral,  and 
immortal  creature, — it  may  with  the  greatest  truth 
be  affirmed,  that  the  wicked  are  like  the  troubled 
sea,  that  cannot  rest,  but  is  continually  casting  up 
mire  and  dirt. 

Let  any  one  consider  the  passions  which  lore  expels 
from  the  b  isom,  or  which  it  keeps  in  subjection 
where  it  dues  not  eradicate  them,  and  ask  if  that 
heart  can  be  the  seat  of  comfort,  or  the  region  of 
peace,  where  they  predominate.  As  well  may  we 
expect  quietude  and  comfort  in  a  haunt  of  banditti, 
or  in  a  den  of  wild  b'-asts.  or  in  a  field  of  battle,  as 
in  a  heart  where  tinker,  wrath,  malice,  envy,  pride, 
and  revenue,  have  taken  up  their  abode.  On  the 
other  hand,  how  calm,  and  composed,  and  cheerful, 
is  that  heart,  where  meekness  is  the  presiding  spi- 
rit ;  where  love  to  God  has  introduced  benevolence 


to  man, — a  temper  which  follows  it  as  closely  as  its 
shadow,  and  lias  subjugated  the  temper  to  the  do- 
minion of  charity!  Let  any  one  consult  his  own 
experience,  and  inquire  if  there  be  not  an  ineffable 
delight  in  the  feelings  of  benevolent  regard  ;  whe- 
ther such  a  state  do  not  resemble  one  of  those  calm 
and  glowing  summer  evenings,  when  nature  seems 
to  be  quietly  reclining  on  the  bosom  of  peace.  But 
how  demon-like  is  the  feeling  when  the  turbulent 
passions  gain  the  ascendancy  :  what  agitation  and 
what  torment  are  the  result ! 

Love  is  the  very  element  which  is  congenial  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  renders  the  heart  the  abode  of  his 
delight.  "  The  irascible  passions,"  says  Mr.  Hall, 
in  his  beautiful  tract  on  the  work  of  the  Spirit, 
"surround  the  soul  with  a  sort  of  troubled  atmo- 
sphere, than  which  nothing  is  more  contrary  to  the 
calm  and  holy  light  in  which  the  spirit  loves  to 
dwell."  "  Let  all  bitterness,  and  wrath,  and  clamor, 
and  evil  speaking,  be  put  away  from  you,  with  all 
malice  ;  and  grieve  not  the  Spirit  of  God;" — an  ex- 
pression as  we  have  already  considered,  which, 
from  its  context,  intimates  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
susceptible  of  offence  ;  and  peculiarly  so,  by  any  ne- 
glect or  violation  of  the  law  of  love.  Every  thing 
connected  with  our  spiritual  well  being  depends  on 
the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  our  hearts  : 

l  when  this  divine  guest  retires  from  our  souls,  and 

!  withdraws  his  gracious  influences,  he  gives  utter- 
ance at  the  same  time  to  the  solemn  denunciation, 

i  "  Woe  be  unto  you,  if  my  soul  depart  from  you." — 
The  heart  of  the  believer  assumes  then  the  charac- 
ter and  appearance  of  a  temple  forsaken  by  its  dei- 
ty:  all  is  ruin  and  desolation  ;  the  sacrifice  ceases, 
the  altar  is  overthrown,  the  fire  is  extinguished. — 
We  have  all  much  need  to  present  with  the  utmost 
fervor  the  supplica'.ion  of  the  Psalmist,  "  Cast  me 
not  away  from  thy  presence,  and  take  not  thy  Holy 
Spirit  from  me."  No  witness  to  our  sonship,  no 
consolations,  no  faith,  no  hope,  no  growth  in  grace, 
no  joy  and  peace  in  believing, — can  then  be  enjoy- 
ed ;  instead  of  this  we  shall  be  abandoned  to  world- 
ly-mindedness,  unbelief,  despondency,  gloomy  ap- 
prehensions, and  foreboding  anticipations.  Now 
the  Spirit  will  retire  from  that  heart  which  is  desti- 
tute of  love,  and  which  is  perpetually  indulging  in 
tempers  of  an  opposite  description.  If,  then,  you 
would  retain  this  divine  visitant — this  illustrious 
guest ;  if  you  would  indeed  continue  to  be  the  tem- 
ples of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  if  you  would  have  God  abid- 
ing in  you; — cultivate  the  grace  of  charity  ;  invite 
him  to  your  souls  for  this  very  purpose;  yield  your- 
selves to  his  fender  solicitations,  and  gracious  draw- 
ings; open  your  minds  to  his  gentle  illapses:  and 
when  at  any  time  you  feel  an  unusual  relenting  of 
mind,  follow  up  the  impression  and  re-ign  your 
whole  selves  to  the  benign  power  of  which  you  are 
at  that  time  the  happy  subjects. 

Love  will  promote  your  own  peace  and  comfort, 
hi/  conciliating  the  good  will  and  kindness  of  others. 
In  all  the  commerce  of  life,  we  are  generally  paid 
back  in  the  same  kind  of  conduc'  which  we  main- 
tain towards  others.  Ill  will,  and  pride,  and  envy, 
and  selfishness,  are  sure  to  excite  and  to  array 
against  us  the  bad  passions  of  mankind.  Under 
such  circumstances,  many  will  take  delight  in  an- 
noying us;  all  our  unkindness  will  comeback  upon 
us  in  innumerable  acts  of  retaliation.  But  love  con- 
ciliates esteem.  "  The  meek  shall  inherit  the 
earth;"  their  quiet,  and  inoffensive,  and  benevolent 
spirit  subdues,  bv  a  mild  but,  irresistible  power,  the 
most  violent  and  injurious  tempers.  It  has  often  led 
the  lion,  the  tiger,  and  the  serpent,  by  iis  soft  and 
silken  cord  ;  it  has  charmed  to  tameness  not  only 
the  fierceness  of  wild  beasts,  but  the  frantic  rag:e  of 
the  furies.     It  was  thus  that  Jacob  subdued  the  rage 

of  Esau,  who  was  marching  against  him  with  pur- 


74 


CHRISTIAN   CHARITY. 


poses  of  revenge;  so  that  instead  of  executing  his 
wrath,  "  he  ran  to  meet  him,  and  embraced  him,  and 
fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  him."  It  was  thus 
that  David  softened  the  heart  of  Saul,  and  disarmed 
his  malignity  of  its  murderous  intention.  ,!  Is  this 
the  voice  of  my  son  David  V  said  the  royal  perse- 
cutor ;  "  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  wept,  say- 
ing to  David,  Thou  art  more  righteous  than  I,  for 
thou  hast  rewarded  me  good,  whereas  I  have  re- 
warded thee  evil."  "  Who  is  he  that  will  harm 
you,"  said  the  apostle,  "  if  you  are  followers  of  that 
which  is  good  1"  Who  can  be  the  enemy  of  chari- 
ty 1  Who  will  subject  himself  to  the  odium  and  re- 
proach of  being  unkind  to  love! 

In  all  these  ways  do  we  promote  our  own  peace 
by  the  cultivation  of  this  temper.  And  can  we  be 
indifferent  to  our  own  comfort  1  Is  it  a  matter  of 
no  moment  to  us,  whether  our  bosom  be  the  seat  of 
quietude  or  agitation  1  Oh  no ;  it  is  not,  it  cannot 
be.  But  we  have  had  our  attention  too  much 
drawn  off  from  ourselves.  We  have  forgotten  that 
it  is  said,  the  good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from  him- 
self. We  have  thought,  or  acted  too  much  as  if 
we  thought,  the  sources  of  peace  were  without  us, 
and  beyond  us.  We  are  not  yet  cured  of  the 
disease  of  earthly-mindedness.  We  still  labor  un- 
der the  mistake,  that  happiness  is  something  uncon- 
nected with  moral  disposition;  that  it  is  a  matter 
foreign  from  ourselves,  and  arising  from  the  ad- 
ventitious circumstances  of  wealth,  and  rank,  and 
fame.  It  is  time  to  take  another  course,  to  try  ano- 
ther scheme,  and  to  adopt  other  means.  Let  us 
seek  God's  grace  to  open  springs  of  pleasure  in  our- 
selves. Not  that  we  are  to  seek  in  ourselves  for 
joy  and  peace,  when  suffering  under  a  conscious- 
ness of  sin ;  not  that,  as  sinners,  we  are  to  seek  re- 
lief from  the  burden  of  guilt  in  our  own  virtues  or 
graces ;  not  that  we  are  in  any  sense  to  look  to  our 
own  works,  as  constituting  our  justifying  righteous- 
ness: in  all  these  views  of  our  case,  we  must  re- 
joice only  in  the  Lord;  but  as  those  who  are  justi- 
fied, and  at  peace  with  God  through  Christ,  we  are 
to  do  the  work  of  righteousness,  which  is  peace, 
and  enjoy  the  effects  of  righteousness,  which  is 
quietness  and  assurance  forever:  we  are  to  covet 
the  rejoicing  which  Paul  speaks  of  as  arising  from 
"  the  testimony  of  our  conscience,  that  in  simplicity 
and  godly  sincerity,  not  with  fleshly  wisdom,  but  by 
the  grace  of  God,  we  have  had  our  conversation  in 
the  world."  There  is  the  joy  of  justification,  and 
the  joy  of  sanctification:  one,  the  delight  of  being 
restored  to  God's  favor  by  the  work  of  Christ,  and 
the  other  the  joy  of  being  restored  to  God's  image 
by  the  work  of  the  spirit.  Manv  seem  afraid  of 
the  joys  of  holiness,  and  count  all  delight  but  that 
of  faith  to  be  a  mere  effervescence  of  self-righteous- 
ness,  and  which  only  intoxicates  the  soul  with  pride. 
Why,  then,  uas  our  Lord  pronounced  his  seven-fold 
beatitude  on  the  graces  of  a  renewed  mind  1  Whv 
has  he  thus  so  emphatically  and  solemnly  connected 
happiness  with  holiness  1  The  angels  are  happv, 
because  they  are  holy:  and  the  heavenly  felicity  is 
the  perfection  of  sanctity.  In  proportion,  therefore, 
as  we  give  ourselves  lip  to  the  influence  and  the 
government  of  love,  we  approach  to  the  blessedness 
of  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  He  that 
lives  in  love  shall  drink  of  the  waters  of  his  own 
cistern,  and  be  satisfied ;  he  shall,  every  morning, 
find  this  heavenly  manna  lying  upon  the  surface 
of  his  soul,  and  be  fed  with  it  to  eternal  life;  and 
finding  himself  united  by  faith  to  the  truth,  he  shall 
find  peace  within,  fhoieh  in  the  world  he  should 
have  tribulation. 

True  religion  is  no  sullen  stoicism,  or  gloomy 
melancholy;  it  is  not  an  enthralling  tyranny  exer- 
cised over  the  noble  and  generous  sentiments  of 
love  and  delight,  as  those  who  are  strangers  to  it 


imagine  :  but  it  is  full  of  a  vigorous  and  masculine 
felicity,  such  as  ennobles,  instead  of  degrading,  the 
soul;  such  as  invigorates,  instead  of  enervating, 
its  powers;  such  as  does  not  dispirit  and  sadden  the 
mind  afterwards,  when  the  season  of  enjoyment  is 
gone  by,  as  do  earthly  and  sensual  pleasures ;  but 
elevates  its  views  and  purposes,  and  strengthens  it 
for  lofty  enterprise  and  heroic  deeds,  by  giving  it  to 
drink  of  the  river  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  which 
flows  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb, 
and  refreshing  it  with  what,  in  a  true  and  a  holy 
sense,  may  be  called  the  nectar  of  in, mortality. 
That  religion  which  does  not  consisi  in  mere  airy 
notions,  in  cold  and  heartless  orthodoxy,  in  phan- 
saic  forms  and  ceremonies,  but  in  faith  working  by 
love — love  to  God,  to  Christ,  to  the  biethren,  and  to 
the  world — does  sometimes,  in  its  higher  elevations, 
lead  the  soul  into  a  mount  of  transfiguration,  where 
it  glows  amidst  the  splendor  that  falls  on  it  from 
the  excellent  glory  :  or  takes  it  to  the  top  of  Pisgah, 
where  it  sees  the  distant  prospect  of  the  promised 
land;  thus  placing  it  in  the  porch  of  heaven,  and 
on  the  confines  of  eternity. 

2.  Love  prepares  the  soul  for  making  greater  at- 
tainment in  all  other  parts  of  religion.  It  is  pro- 
duced by  knowledge  and  faith  ;  but,  by  a  reaction, 
it  increases  the  power  of  its  own  cause.  It  is  just 
that  state  of  heart,  which  is  adapted  to  the  growth 
of  all  the  plants  of  religion,  that  without  it  are  soon 
spoiled  by  the  impure  droppings  of  our  own  corrupt 
and  selfish  affections.  How  much  will  our  growth 
in  knowledge  be  aided  by  this  state  of  soul  1  "  If 
any  man  will  do  the  will  of  God,"  said  Christ,  "  he 
shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God, 
or  whether  I  speak  of  myself."  Disposition  pre- 
pares for  knowledge.  When  Zoroaster's  scholars 
asked  him  what  they  should  do  to  get  winged  souls, 
such  as  might  soar  aloft  in  the  bright  beams  of  truth, 
he  bade  them  bathe  in  the  waters  of  life  ;  and  upon 
being  required  to  state  what  they  are,  replied,  "  The 
four  cardinal  virtues,  which  are  the  four  rivers  of 
Paradise."  The  reason  why  truth  prevails  no  more 
in  the  world,  is  because  there  is  so  little  love.  Our 
views  are  contracted  ard  dim,  not  because  of  the 
narrowness  of  the  prospect  or  the  want  of  a  sun  to 
enlighten  it,  but  because  both  the  luminary  and  the 
scene  are  veiled  by  those  mists  which  our  corrup- 
tions send  up  from  our  hearts  to  becloud  our  under- 
standings. The  holier  we  are,  the  clearer  will  the 
truth  appear  to  our  intellect,  and  the  better  able 
shall  we  be  to  bear  the  brightness  of  his  glory : 
even  as  our  Lord  declares,  that  it  is  purity  of  heart 
which  must  prepare  us  to  sustain  the  beatific  vision. 
The  pagan  sages  also  prescribe  to  their  pupils  a  cer- 
tain moral  disposition,  as  essential  to  advancement 
in  knowledge;  and  so  does  Christianity.  Plato 
taught,  that  he  who,  by  universal  love  and  holv  af- 
fection, was  raised  above  the  dominion  of  selfish- 
ness, came  into  the  nearest  union  with  God,  and  at- 
tained to  the  highest  intellectual  life:  and  this  is 
the.  unction  of  the  Holy  One,  mentioned  by  the 
apostle  whereby  we  know  all  things.  Our  souls 
are  too  clouded  and  too  agitated  by  the  bad  feelings 
of  our  hearts,  to  make  great  attainments  in  holy 
light.  The  moral  excellence  of  the  truth  is  hidden 
from  us;  it  passes  before  us  in  dark  outline,  an 
awful  and  majestic  form ;  we  see  its  back  parts, 
but  we  discover  not  the  brightness  and  the  beauty 
of  its  countenance,  as  we  might  do,  on  account  of 
our  want  of  holv  conformity  to  its  nature,  and  of 
fitness  for  its  fellowship.  Let  us,  then,  grow  in 
love,  that  we  may  grow  in  knowledge. 

And  with  respect  to  faith,  the  more  we  are 
brought  to  feel  the  influence  of  the  great  scheme  of 
redeeming  love,  in  transforming  us  into  its  own 
image,  and  causing  us  to  love  others,  as  God  for 
Christ's  sake  has  loved  us,  the  more  firm  will  be 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


our  conviction  of  the  divine  origin  of  the  plan 
which  has  thus  wrought  so  marvellous  a  change 
upon  us.  He  that  believeth  hath  the  witness  in 
himself,  in  the  revolution  of  feeling,  of  motive  and 
of  aim,  which  has  been  produced  in  his  soul.  To 
him  the  experimental  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel  appears  with  a  brightness  which  none  of  the 
rest  possess.  He  is  himself  an  evidence  of  the  di- 
vine power  which  accompanies  the  truth.  No  subtle 
argumentation  can  reason  him  out  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  that  change  and  deliverance  which  he  has 
experienced  from  predominant  selfishness  to  love. 
If  all  Christians  acted  fully  up  to  their  principles, 
and  drank  as  deeply  as  they  might  do,  ar.d  should 
do,  of  the  spirit  of  charity,  the  impress  of  heavcu 
would  be  so  clearly  enstamped  upon  the  church, 
that  the  divinity  of  the  gospel  could  no  longer  re- 
main a  matter  of  question  with  any.  Who  can 
doubt  the  heavenly  origin  of  that  system  which  has 
raised  him  not  only  to  a  heavenly  hope,  but  to  a 
heavenly  temper  1 

3.  The  credit  and  honor  of  religion  require  that 
we  should  seek  after  higher  attainments  in  love.  It 
is  well  known  by  all  who  possess  only  the  most  su- 
perficial acquaintance  with  the  word  of  God,  that 
the  end  and  design  of  the  great  scheme  of  revealed 
truth — a  scheme  which  occupied  the  councils  of 
heaven  from  eternity,  and  was  accomplished  by  an 
incarnation  of  God  himself;  that  the  end  for  which 
the  Son  of  God  was  crucified — a  mystery  which 
angels  desire  to  look  into — was  not  merely  to  bring 
a  set  of  notions  into  the  world,  and  to  induce  men 
to  change  one  class  of  opinions  and  forms  for  ano- 
ther, still  leaving  the  heart  of  man  as  impure  and 
selfish  as  ever:  on  the  contrary,  it  is  known  that 
God  has  come  down  to  our  nature,  to  raise  us  to 
his  ;  that  the  whole  plan  of  salvation  terminates  in 
the  renewal  and  perfection  of  the  human  race  in 
the  principles  of  purity  and  benevolence.  It  has 
been  declared,  wherever  Christianity  has  travelled, 
that  the  essence  of  religion  is  love.  Hence  expect- 
ations, which,  though  rising  high,  are  well  founded, 
have  been  indulged  in  reference  to  the  benign  and 
holy  temper  of  the  followers  of  the  Lamb.  Men 
have  said,  "  Let  us  see  how  those  Christians  conduct 
themselves."  What  disgust  and  disappointment 
have  been,  in  many  cases,  and  to  a  wide  extent,  the 
result!  Has  the  church  of  God  yet  answered  to  its 
own  professions,  or  to  the  expectations  of  its  specta- 
tors and  enemies  1  Has  religion  derived  all  the 
advantage,  in  the  way  of  attestation  and  recom- 
mendation, which  it  should,  from  the  conduct  of  its 
friends'?  Are  they  seen  everywhere  so  meek,  so 
just,  so  kind,  so  candid,  so  benevolent,  so  humble — 
as  to  excite  admiration,  and  to  extort  the  concession 
that  the  principles  which  could  produce  such  con- 
duct must  be  from  heaven  1  On  the  contrary,  have 
not  multitudes  who  judge  of  Christianity,  not  as 
they  should  do  by  itself,  but  by  the  conduct  of  its 
professors,  received,  from  the  offensive  exhibitions 
of  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  malice,  which  they 
are  doomed  to  witness  sometimes  in  the  church,  an 
unutterable  disgust,  an  invincible  prejudice  against 
Christianity'!  Where  is  the  spirit  of  charity  which 
■was  exhibited  in  the  great  Author  of  Christianity, 
and  which  is  enjoined  in  his  precepts,  and  contained 
in  his  system  1 — is  a  question  a  thousand  times 
asked,  even  by  those  who  live  in  a  Christian  land, 
but  who  see  little  there  of  universal  love.  Creeds 
and  catechisms,  forms  and  ceremonies,  devotional 
seasons  and  religious  observances,  will  be  thought 
of  little  worth,  and  will  do  little  to  ensure  the  es- 
teem and  to  engage  the  imitation  of  mankind,  in 
the  absence  of  that  disposition  which  all  these  things 
are  adapted  and  intended  to  produce.  The  world's 
demand  of  the  church  is  for  love :  "  We  have  had," 
say  they,  "enough  of  opinions;  let  us  now  have 


actions:  we  have  had  more  than  enough  of  articles 
of  faith  ;  let  us  now  see  more  of  the  fruits  of  love." 
And  how  shall  we  meet  that  demand  1  Not  by  ex- 
hibiting less  of  truth,  but  more  of  love:  not  by 
giving  up  our  creeds  or  our  forms,  but  by  carrying 
them  out  into  all  the  beautiful  effects  of  beneficence 
and  purity. 

Christians;  the  character  of  religion  is  entrusted 
to  our  keeping,  and  we  are  continually  defaming  it, 
or  raising  its  reputation;  and  are  either  betraying 
it  into  the  hands  of  its  enemies,  or  conciliating  their 
esteem  towards  it.  It  is  high  time  for  us  to  be  more 
aware  of  our  responsibility;  high  time  for  us  to 
consider  that  we  are  perpetually  employed  in  in- 
creasing or  diminishing  the  ignominy  of  the  cross. 
The  good  conduct  of  professors  is  a  converting  or- 
dinance, and  an  edifying  one  too.  "Let  your  light 
so  shine  before  men,  that  they,  seeing  your  good 
works,  may  glorify  God  your  heavenly  Father." 
"Shine  as  lights  of  the  world,  holding  forth  the 
word  of  life."  Howl  Not  by  attachment  to  doc- 
trine merely:  no;  the  light  of  truth  will  do  nothing 
without  the  light  of  love.  A  fiery  zeal  for  truth, 
unaccompanied  by  love,  is  the  meteor  that  misleads, 
or  the  lightning  that  kills,  or  the  eruption  that  over- 
whelms and  consumes; — all  of  which  men  are 
afraid  of,  and  retire  from:  but  a  zeal  for  the  truth, 
which  is  accompanied  by  benevolence,  and  pro- 
duces it,  is  like  the  orb  of  day— men  come  to  its 
light,  and  flock  to  the  brightness"  of  its  rising. 

O  that  my  feeble  voice  could  be  heard,  and  my 
counsel  followed,  when  I  call  the  followers  of  Christ 
to  a  serious  consideration  of  the  necessity,  for  the 
sake  of  the  credit  of  religion,  of  being  like  their 
great  Saviour  and  leader  !  O  that  my  words  could 
have  weight  when  I  entreat  them,  as  they  regard 
the  reputation  of  that  gospel  which  is  all  their  sal- 
vation and  all  their  desire,  to  covet  earnestly,  and 
to  pursue  constantly,  this  "  more  excellent  way  1" 
O  that  I  could  prevail,  when  I  beseech  them— aye, 
beseech  them— to  study  the  genius  of  their  religion 
in  its  facts,  doctrinesj  duties,  and  examples,  to  sec 
if  it  be  not  love  !  O  that  I  could  succeed  in  my 
wishes  and  my  efforts,  that  they  might  no  longer, 
by  the  indulgence  of  their  passions,  strengthen  the 
bands  of  iniquity  which  bind  men  to  their  sins,  and 
raise  an  enmity  against  religion  which  shall  aid 
and  accelerate  the  work  of  damnation!  O  that  a 
new  era  would  commence  in  the  history  of  the 
church,  when  finding  what  a  cloud  had  been  brought 
upon  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  by  the  bigotry,  in- 
tolerance, and  enormous  cruelties  of  corrupt  and 
persecuting  communities;  by  the  spirit  of  party 
which  has,  more  or  less,  infected  all  sects  ;  by  the 
rancor  of  controversy  ;  by  the  passion  for  war;  by 
the  pride  of  pharisaism;  by  the  schisms  of  the  bre- 
thren; by  the  envy,  covetousness,  and  malice,  of 
professors ;— all  true  Christians  would  be  baptized 
afresh  unto  repentance  in  the  pure  and  peaceful 
waters  of  the  sanctuary,  confessing  their  sins  of 
uncharitableness  and  ill  will:  then  might  it  be  ex- 
pected that,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Divine  head,  so  in 
that  of  the  mystical  body,  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  his 
dove-like  form,  would  descend,  to  "rest  upon  it," 
and,  by  an  earthly  glory,  prove  and  display  its  hea- 
venly origin. 

4.  By  this  means,  we  shall  be  enabled,  in  a  very 
eminent  degree  to  glorify  God.  For  a  man  to  live 
for  himself,  as  the  ultimate  end  of  his  existence,  is 
no  less  mean,  and  low,  and  little,  than  it  is  wicked. 
Selfishness  of  this  kind  not  only  pollutes  the  soul, 
but  degrades  it :  it  limits  its  desires  within  a  very 
narrow  compass ;  imprisons  its  hopes  in  a  poor  con- 
temptible hovel ;  and  drags  down  its  ambition  from 
the  glory  of  the  infinite  and  eternal  God,  to  the  pal- 
try and  'insignificant  interests  of  a  finite  and  unwor- 
thy creature.     The  heart  of  the  real  Christian  is 


76 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


too  larije  10  be  compressed  within  such  boundaries  : 
understanding  that  God  is  the  author  of  his  exist- 
ence, he  makes  him  the  end  of  it ;  that  as  he  came 
from  him,  he  may  be  continually  returning  to  him. 
Every  thing,  in  point  of  dignity  and  elevation,  is  to 
be  estimated  by  the  end  it  seeks.  Its  aims  give  it 
v  hatever  value  it  possesses,  and  fashion  it  into  their 
own  likeness.  Nothing  can  make  that  great,  which 
only  aims  at  what  is  little  ;  while  a  sublime  nature 
is  imparted  to  that  which  seeks  a  sublime  end. — 
Now,  a  higher  end,  no  creature  in  any  world,  how- 
ever exalted,  can  propose  to  itself,  than  the  glory  of 
God  ;  and  a  lower  one,  the  humblest  believer  in  all 
God's  family  on  earth  should  never  seek.  This  is, 
indeed  to  ennoble  the  soul;  and  enlarges  it  into  a 
universal  and  comprehensive  capacity  of  enjoying 
that  one  unbounded  goodness,  which  is  God  him- 
self; it  makes  it  spread  out  and  dilate  itself  in  the 
infinite  sphere  of  the  Divine  Being  and  blessedness, 
and  makes  it  live  in  the  fulness  of  him  that  filleth 
all  in  all.  "  We  glorify  God,  by  entertaining  the 
impression  of  his  glory  upon  us,  and  not  by  commu- 
nicating any  kind  of  glory  to  him.  Then  does  a 
good  man  become  the  tabernacle  of  God,  wherein 
the  divine  Shcchinah  does  rest,  and  which  the  divine 
glory  fills,  when  the  frame  of  his  mind  and  life  is 
wholly  according  to  that  idea  and  pattern  which  he 
receives  from  the  mount.  We  best  glorify  him, 
when  we  grow  most  like  him  ;  and  then  we  act  most 
for  his  glory,  when  a  true  spirit  of  sanctity,  justice, 
and  meekness,  runs  through  all  our  actions;  when 
we  so  live  as  becomes  those  that  converse  with  the 
great  mind  and  wisdom  of  the  whole  world  ;  with 
that  Almighty  Spirit  that  made,  supports,  and  go- 
verns all  things;  with  that  Being  from  whence  all 
good  flows,  and  in  which  there  is  no  spot,  stain,  or 
shadow  of  evil ;  and  so,  being  captivated  and  over- 
come by  the  sense  of  divine  loveliness  and  goodness, 
endeavor  to  be  like  him,  and  to  conform  ourselves 
as  much  as  may  be  to  him.  As  God's  seeking  his 
own  glory  in  respect  of  us  is  most  properly  the  flow- 
ing forth  of  his  goodness  upon  us;  so  our  seeking 
the  glory  of  God  is  most  properly  our  endeavoring 
a  participation  of  his  goodness,  and  an  earnest  in- 
cessant pursuing  after  the  divine  perfection.  When 
God  becomes  so  great  in  our  eyes,  and  all  created 
things  so  little,  that  we  reckon  nothing  as  worthy 
of  our  aims  and  ambition,  but  a  serious  participa- 
tion of  the  divine  nature,  and  the  exercise  of  divine 
virtues — love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  kindness, 
goodness,  and  the  like;  when  the  soul,  beholdiug 
the  infinite  beauty  and  loveliness  of  the  Divinity, 
and  then  looking  down  and  beholding  all  created 
perfection  mantled  over  with  darkness,  is  ravished 
into  love  and  admiration  of  that  never-setting  bright- 
ness, and  endeavors  after  the  greatest  resemblance 
of  God,  in  justice,  love,  and  goodness ;  when  con- 
versing with  him  by  a  secret  feeling  of  the  virtue, 
sweemcss,  and  power  of  his  goodness,  we  endeavor 
to  assimilate  ourseives  to  him  ;  then  we  may  be  said 
to  glorify  him  indeed."*  These  fine  sentiments 
should  be  engraven  on  our  hearts,  that  they  may  be 
constantly  reduced  by  us  to  practice.  O,  who  that 
would  have  his  nature  exalted  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  honor  and  happiness,  ought  not  to  cultivate  that 
disposition  which  is  the  brightest  representation  con- 
tained in  our  world  of  its  Divine  Creator.  To  be 
the  instrument  of  giving  publicity  to  human  excel- 
lence, of  fixing  the  atiention  of  others  upon  those 
qualities  which,  although  eminently  praiseworthy, 
were  but  little  known,  and  exciting  admiration  on 
their  behalf,  is  no  mean  or  uninteresting  employ- 

*"  Select  Discourses,  by  John  Smith;"  a  book 
which  for  its  combination  of  learning,  genius  and 
piety,  has  scarcely  its  parallel  in  the'  English  lan- 
guage 


ment ;  but  to  exhi-bit  a  temper,  which  is  the  likeness 
of  God,  to  manifest  a  virtue,  in  reference  to  which 
it  may  be  said  that  it  is  an  image  of  Deity,  what  an 
unspeakable  dignity  and  delight.  This  is,  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  term,  to  be  raised  into  fellow- 
ship with  God, — a  word  that  signifies  not  only  an 
act  of  intercourse,  but  a  state  of  communion  ;  a  com- 
munion of  ends  and  aims,  a  kind  of  partnership  in 
purpose  and  pursuit.  God  is  ever  seeking  his  own 
glory,  as  his  ultimate  aim  in  all  his  works  :  his  per- 
fection prevents  him  from  seeking  a  lower  end,  and 
a  higher  he  cannot  seek  :  to  manifest  himself  is  his 
supreme  purpose  ;  and  we  can  easily  imagine  that 
the  manifestation  of  love  is  the  end  to  which  all  the 
other  displays  to  his  attributes  are  made  subservient. 
Have  we  any  hallowed  ambition  in  our  nature,  here 
is  scope  for  its  gratification,  here  is  an  object  to- 
wards which  we  may  let  forth  all  its  energies, — to 
hold  communion  with  God  in  the  manifestation  of 
his  glory  :  what  can  angels  do  more,  except  it,  be  to 
do  it  more  perfectly  1  Christians;  see  your  high 
vocation  :  you  are  set  apart  not  only  by  God,  but  for 
him  ;  constituted  a  people,  to  show  forth  his  praise; 
appointed,  not  only  to  receive  his  grace,  but  to  re- 
flect his  beauty.  Your  highest  glory  is  to  manifest 
his.  His  image  is  the  richest  ornament  of  your 
moral  nature ;  and  to  show  it  to  the  world,  your 
great  business  upon  earth.  The  meanest  Christian 
shows  forth  more  of  God  than  the  heavens  which 
declare  his  glory,  and  the  firmament  which  showeth 
his  handy  work :  he  is  a  brighter  object  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  teaches  more  of  its  infinite  Author,  than 
the  sun  in  his  mid-day  splendor,  or  the  moon  in  her 
beauty,  attended  by  her  starry  train,  that  glitter 
upon  the  vault  of  night.  But  to  rise  to  this  emi- 
nence, we  must  excel  in  love;  we  must  put  forth 
all  its  excellences,  and  put  them  forth  in  all  their 
vigor,  and  fulness,  and  harmony, — each  in  its  time, 
and  its  place,  and  its  occasion  ;  for  then  shall  we 
be  like  God  :  anJ  to  be  like  him,  is  in  the  highest 
sense  to  glorify  him;  and  to  glorify  him,  by  being 
made  partakers  of  a  divine  nature,  is  to  receive,  so 
far  as  a  creature  can  receive  it,  a  kind  of  inferior 
apotheosis,  and  to  live  up  to  the  very  height  of  our 
being,  our  honor,  and  our  bliss. 

5.  Another  motive,  and  it  is  the  last  we  shall  ad- 
vance, for  the  cultivation  of  love  is, — that  it  is  the 
state  of  mind,  which  carries  the  soul  on  to  its  ultimate 
•perfection  in  the  celestial  state,  mccte-ns  it  for  that 
state,  and  gives  it  a  foretaste  of  its  felicity. 

It  has  been  observed  by  the  learned  Cudworth, 
who  appears  to  htive  borrowed  the  idea  from  Plu- 
tarch, that  Divine  Wisdom  hath  so  ordered  the 
frame  of  the  whole  universe,  that  every  thing  should 
have  its  own  appropriate  receptacle,  to  which  it  shall 
be  drawn  by  all  the  mighty  force  of  an  irresistible 
affinity  :  and  as  all  heavenly  bodies  press  towards 
the  common  centre  of  gravity,  so  is  all  sin,  by  a 
kind  of  strong  sympathy  and  magnetic  influence, 
drawn  towards  hell  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  all 
holiness  is  continually  drawn  upwards  to  heaven,  to 
embosom  itself  in  giorv.  Hell  is  nothing  else  but 
that  orb  in  which  all  evil  moves,  and  heaven  is  the 
opposite  hemisphere  of  light,  where  holiness,  which 
is  perfect  love,  eternally  revolves.  Remove  sin  and 
disobedience  out  of  hell,  it  will  immediately  lose  its 
darkness,  and  shine  out  in  all  the  serenity  and  beauty 
of  heaven  ;  remove  love  from  heaven,  and  its  sun 
will  set  amidst  the  darkness  and  the  storms  of  ever- 
lasting night.  Heaven  is  not  merely  a  tiling  to 
come,  it  is  in  one  sense  a  present  possession ;  for 
"  he  that  believeth  in  the  Son  hath  everlasting  life." 
It  is  rather  a  state  than  a  place, — a  state  within  us, 
rather  than  a  thing  without  us;  it  is  the  likeness, 
and  the  enjoyment,  and  the  service,  of  God ;  that 
which  every  true  Christian  carries  in  his  bosom 
now,  and  to  which  he  will  fully  enter  hereafter 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 


77 


when  he  .•shall  be  made  perfect  in  love.  To  this 
K'.ate  all  true  religion  is  ever  tending:  the  spirit  of 
iOve  is  the  motion  and  progress  of  the  soul  towards 
its  eternal  rest  in  the  presence  of  God.  No  man  can 
be  prepared  for  the  celestial  felicity,  while  his  heart 
is  destitute  of  this  ;  and  whosoever  has  most  of  it, 
knows  most  of  the  unseen  and  ineffable  joys  of  the 
righteous.  He  lives  in  the  vestibule  of  the  heaven- 
ly temple  ;  and  is  ready,  whenever  its  doors  shall  be 
opened,  to  enter  into  the  dwelling  place  of  God. — 
The  image  of  God  is  upon  him,  and  the  likeness  of 
Deity  is  always  attended  with  something  of  the  hap- 
piness of  the  Deity.  O  the  bliss  of  that  sfate,  where 
the  facilities  of  the  mind,  inconceivably  expanded, 
shall  let  in  the  full  streams  of  the  divine  beneficence, 
and  open  themselves  to  the  uttermost  to  comprehend 
the  breadth  and  length,  the  depth  and  height  of  that 
love  which  passeth  knowledge;  where  divine  good- 
ness will  so  act  directly  upon  the  soul,  as  to  raise  it 
to  a  state  of  holy  enjoyment  surpassing  all  our  pre- 
sent imaginations. 

What  a  motive  to  go  on  in  the  pursuit,  of  charity ! 
Who  does  not  wish  to  become  better  acquainted 
with  his  eternal  state  !  Who  does  not  wish  to  have 
a  more  correct  knowledge  of  that  condition  in  which 
he  is  to  remain  for  ever?  To  attain  to  this,  we 
cannot  turn  aside  the  veil  which  conceals  the  holy 
of  holies  from  our  view  ;  we  cannot  look  upon  the 
throne  of  God  :  we  cannot  be  rapt  like  Paul  into  the 
third  heaven:  no;  but  we  may,  like  John,  see  the 
New  Jerusalem  coming  down  out  of  heaven,  and 
feel  it  taking  possession  of  our  hearts  in  the  spirit 
of  love.  Rarely,  indeed,  do  Christians  attain,  in  the 
present  state,  in  this  unquiet  world,  to  that  calm  re- 
pose of  mind,  that  serene  enjoyment,  attendant  upon 
the  subjugation  of  the  passions  of  the  gentle  domi- 
nion of  benevolence,  which  conveys  to  them  any 
very  high  notion  of  the  supreme  felicity  which  must 
be  connected  with  the  consummation  of  such  a. tem- 
per. Happy  seasons  do  occur;  but  alas  !  how  sel- 
dom, when  they  are  so  far  released  from  the  influ- 
ence of  every  sellish  and  angry  a  flection — when 


they  so  far  feel  the  transforming  influence  of  that 
divine  beneficence  which  they  contemplate — as  to 
be  conscious  of  the  perfect  felicity  which  must  arise 
from  their  being  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  love. — 
Let  us  seek  more  and  more  after  these  anticipations 
of  our  eternal  state  :  we  have  not  already  attained, 
neither  are  we  already  perfect;  but,  forgetting  the 
things  that  are  behind,  let  us  reach  onward,  that  we 
may  apprehend  that  for  which  also  we  are  appre- 
hended in  Christ  Jesus.  Heaven  is  not  only  above 
us,  before  us,  beyond  us,  but  may  be  within  us:  we 
may  all  know  more  of  it  than  we  do:  let  us  become 
more  and  more  anxious  to  accumulate,  not  the  pe- 
rishing riches  of  silver  and  gold,  but  the  imperisha- 
ble wealth  of  a  holy  and  heavenly  temper:  let  us 
aspire  to  immortality  beyond  the  grave,  and  to  the 
spirit  of  it  upon  earth,— ever  remembering  that  a 
Christian  is  one  who  professes  to  be  born  from  hea- 
ven and  to  be  bound  to  it ;  one  who  has  more  of 
heaven  than  of  earth  in  his  disposition  ;  one  who 
already  dwelleth  in  heaven  by  dwelling  in  God  ;  one 
who  is  meetened  for  converse  with  the  innumerable 
company  of  ansrels,  with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect,  with  God  the  judge  of  all,  and  with  Jesus 
the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant !  one  who  bears 
the  impress  of  eternity,  and  is  irradiated  with  some 
beams  of  the  celestial  glory  ; — and  how  can  he  give 
meaning,  or  consistency,  or  truth,  to  professions  so 
high  and  so  holy,  except  it  be  by  that  love  which  is 
the  fruit  of  regeneration,  the  effect  of  faith,  the  ne- 
cessary operation  ol"  love  to  God:  and  which,  be- 
ing cherished  in  the  soul  by  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  comprehends  in  its  embraces  the  whole 
universe,  and,  in  the  exercise  of  its  good-will  to- 
wards those  who  come  under  its  influence,  "  suffer- 
eth  long  and  is  kind;  envieth  not;  vaunteth  not 
itself;  is  not  puffed  up;  doth  not  behave  itself  un- 
seemly ;  seeketh  not  her  own  ;  is  not  easily  provok- 
ed ;  thinketh  no  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but 
rejoiceth  in  the  truth;  covereth  all  things;  believ- 
eth  all  things;"  endureth  all  things;  z\A  of  which 
it  is  sublimely  said,  that  "  Charity  never  faileth." 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  occasion  of  Paul's  description  and  en- 
forcement of  Christian  Charity 3 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Nature  of  Charity 4 

CHAPTER  III. 

Christian  Love  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
that  spurious  candor  which  consists  in  indif- 
ference to  religious  sentiment,  or  connivance 
at  sinful  practices 9 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  indispensable  necessity  of  Christian  Love..  11 

CHAPTER  V. 
On  the  properties  of  Christian  Love 15 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Meekness  of  Love 18 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Kindness  of  Love 21 

CHAPTER  Vni. 
The  Contentment  of  Love 23 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Humility  of  Love 26 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Decorum  of  Love 29 


CHAPTER  XI, 
The  Disinterestedness  of  Love 33 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Unsuspiciousness  of  Love 35 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Joy  of  Love 37 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Candor  of  Love 40 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Self-denial  of  Love 4G 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Permanence  of  Love 48 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Pre-eminence  of  Love 54 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Improvement 59 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Improvement,  by  way  of  examination  and  hu- 
miliation    69 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Improvement,  by  way  of  exhortation 72 


THE 


FAMILY     MONITOR: 


OR,    A 


HELP  TO  DOMESTIC  HAPPINESS. 


BY   JOHN    ANGELL   JAMES, 

AUTHOR     OF    THE    CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT,    4C. 


"  Behold !  how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  is,  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity. 

rSAI.M    CSJIT*. 


PREFACE. 


The  substance  of  the  following  chapters,  was  deli- 
vered by  the  author  in  a  course  of  sermons  which 
followed  a  series  of  expository  lectures  on  the  Epis- 
tle to  the  Ephesians.  The  consecutive  method  of 
E  reaching,  which  he  principally  uses,  is  attended, 
e  thinks,  with  this,  among  many  other  advantages, 
that  it  brings  under  the  review  of  a  minister,  many 
subjects  which  would  otherwise  be  overlooked  :  af- 
fords an  opportunity  for  the  introduction  of  some 
topics,  which,  from  their  peculiarity,  seem  to  re- 
quire such  a  way  of  access  to  the  pulpit ;  and  also 
furnishes  an  apology  for  the  discussion  of  others, 
which  the  fastidiousness  of  modern  delicacy  has  al- 
most excluded  from  the  range  of  pastoral  admoni- 
tion. On  entering  upon  the  first  branch  of  relative 
duties,  the  author  was  so  much  under  the  influence, 
perhaps  improperly,  of  this  excess  of  refinement, 
and  felt  so  much  the  difficulty  of  making  a  public 
statement  of  the  duties  of  husbands  and  wives,  that 
he  had  determined,  at  one  time,  to  relieve  himself 
from  the  embarrassment,  by  merely  reading  large 
extracts  from  Mr.  Jay's  beautiful  sermon  on  this 
subject.  After  he  had  preached  two  discourses,  and 
thus  discharged,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  this  rather 
perplexing  task,  he  received  a  numerously  signed 

fietition  from  many  husbands  and  their  wives,  be- 
onging  to  his  congregation,  requesting  that  they 
might  be  permitted  to  read,  in  print,  the  statement 
of  their  mutual  obligations,  which  they  had  heard 
delivered  with  so  much  fidelity  and  impartiality 
from  the  pulpit.  Instead  of  being  limited  by  this 
request,  the  author  has  gone  beyond  it,  and  sent 
forth  the  whole  series  of  relative  duties,  thus  fur- 
nishing a  manual  of  advice,  in  which  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household  may  find  something  appropri- 
ate to  the  peculiarity  of  their  circumstances. 

It  is  an  unquestionable  truth,  that  if  a  man  be  not 
happy  at  home,  he  cannot  be  happy  any  where;  and 
the  converse  of  the  proposition  is  no  less  true,  that 
he  who  is  happy  there,  need  be  miserable  nowhere. 
"It  is  the  place  of  all  the  world  I  love  most,"  said 
the  interesting  author  of  the  Task,  when  speaking 
of  home.  And  he  may  be  felicitated  who  can  say 
the  same.  Any  attempt,  however  feeble,  to  render 
the  domestic  circle  what  it  ever  should  be,  a  scene 
of  comfort,  is  at  least  benevolent.  Nor  is  this  a 
hopeless  effort;  for  he  who  has  the  Bible  in  his 
hand,  and  speaks  as  the  oracles  of  God,  can  disclose 


at  once,  and  in  a  few  words,  the  important  secret. 
The  principles  of  greatest  consequence  to  mankind, 
whether  we  refer  to  science  or  to  morals,  lie  not  bu- 
ried deep  in  gloom  and  mystery,  but  are  to  be  found, 
like  the  manna  of  the  Israelites,  upon  the  surface  of 
things.  The  secret  cf  happiness  lies  folded  up  in 
the  leaves  of  the  Bible,  and  is  carried  in  the  bosom 
of  religion.  The  author  knows  of  no  other  way  to 
felicity,  and  therefore  does  not  profess  to  teach  any 
other.  Let  the  two  parties  in  wedded  life,  be  be- 
lievers in  Christ  Jesus,  and  partake  themselves  of 
the  peace  that  passeth  understanding ;  let  them, 
when  they  become  a  father  and  a  mother,  bring  up 
their  children  in  the  fear  of  God;  and  as  a  master 
and  a  mistress,  be  diligent  and  successful  in  instruct- 
ing their  servants  in  the  principles  of  religion,  and 
if  happiness  is  to  be  found  upon  earth,  it  will  be  en- 
joyed within  the  hallowed  circle  of  a  family,  thus 
united  by  love,  and  sanctified  by  grace. 

The  author  does  not  deny,  that  much  of  worldly 
comfort  may  be,  and  often  is,  enjoyed  in  some  fami- 
lies, which  neither  possess  nor  profess  a  serious  re- 
gard to  the  claims  of  religion;  while  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged on  the  other  hand,  that  there  are  to  be 
found  professors  of  religion,  whose  households  are 
any  thing  but  happy  ones.  In  reference  to  the  for- 
mer, it  may  be  affirmed,  that  piety,  while  it  would 
raise  their  enjoyment  to  a  sublimer  kind,  and  a 
higher  degree  of  happiness  in  this  world,  would  also 
perpetuate  it  through  eternity;  and  in  reference  to 
the  latter,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  their  disquietude 
is  not  produced  by  religion,  but  occasioned  by  the 
want  of  it.  A  mere  profession  of  the  Christian  faith 
is  rather  a  hinderance  to  felicity  than  a  help :  nothing 
short  of  real  religion  can  be  expected  to  yield  its 
joys. 

In  the  following  pages  there  will  be  found  nume- 
rous and  long  extracts  from  an  incomparably  excel- 
lent work,  by  the  Rev.  Christopher  Anderson,  of 
Edinburgh,  entitled  "  The  Domestic  Constitution." 
Of  that  volume,  the  author  feels  that  his  own  is  not 
worthy,  in  any  instance,  to  be  the  harbinger ;  but 
should  he  find  that  he  has  introduced  any  families 
to  an  acquaintance  with  a  treatise,  so  well  worthy 
of  their  most  serious  attention,  he  will  be  thankful 
for  that  measure  of  benefit,  and  rejoice  that  he  has 
not  labored  in  vain. 

Edgbaston,  September  13,  1828. 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    DOMESTIC    CONSTITUTION,  AND  THE  MUTUAL  DUTIES 
OF    HUSBANDS   AND   WIVES. 

"  By  Thee 
Founded  in  reason,  loyal,  just  and  pure, 
Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities 
Of  lather,  son,  and  brother,  first  were  known. 
Far  be  it  that  I  should  write  thee,  sin  or  blame, 
Or  think  thee  unbefitting  holiest  place, 
Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets  !" — Milton. 

A  family  !  How  delightful  the  associations  we 
form  with  such  a  word  !  How  pleasing  the  images 
with  which  it  crowds  the  mind,  and  how  tender  the 
emotions  which  it  awakens  in  the  heart !  Who  can 
wonder  that  domestic  happiness  should  he  a  theme 
dear  to  poetry,  and  that  it  should  have  called  forth 
some  of  the  sweetest  strains  of  fancy  and  of  feeling  1 
Or  who  can  be  surprised,  that  of  all  the  sweets 
which  present  themselves  in  the  vista  of  futurity,  to 
the  eye  of  those  who  are  setting  out  on  the  journey 
of  life,  this  should  excite  the  most  ardent  desires, 
and  engage  the  most  active  pursuits'?  But  alas'  of 
those  who  in  the  ardor  of  youth,  start  for  the  posses- 
sion of  this  dear  prize,  how  many  fail '  And  why  ? 
Because  their  imagination  alone  is  engaged  in  the 
subject :  they  have  no  definite  ideas  of  what  it  means, 
nor  of  the  way  in  which  it  is  to  be  obtained.  It  is  a 
mere  lovely  creation  of  a  romantic,  mind,  and  often- 
times, with  such  persons,  fades  away, 

"And  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leaves  not  a  wreck  behind." 

It  may  be  of  service,  therefore,  to  lay  open  the 
sources  of  domestic  happiness,  and  to  show  that 
these  are  to  be  found,  not  in  the  flowery  regions  of 
imagination,  but  amidst  the  sober  realities  of  piety, 
chaste  love,  prudence,  and  well-formed  connections. 
These  precious  springs  are  within  the  reach  of  all 
who  will  take  the  right  path  that  leads  to  them  ;  and 
this  is  the  way  of  knowledge.  We  must  make  our- 
selves acquainted  with  the  nature,  designs,  and  im- 
portance of  the  family  compact;  we  must  analyze 
this  union  to  ascertain  its  elements,  its  laws,  and  its 
purposes.  Who  can  be  a  good  member  of  any  state, 
without  knowing  the  nature  of  its  constitution,  and 
the  laws  by  which  it  is  directed?  And  it  is  equally 
vain  to  look  for  domestic  happiness,  without  a  cleat- 
insight  into  the  ends  and  laws  which  Providence 
has  laid  down  in  the  formation  of  the  household. 

In  the  discussions  which  have  been  agitated,  to 
settle  the  question,  as  to  the  form  of  civil  govern- 
ment best  adapted  to  secure  the  welfare  of  the  hu- 
man race,  the  family  constitution  has  been  too 
much  oveilooked.  Speculation  has  been  indulged, 
and  theories  proposed  by  their  respective  authors, 
in  reference  to  the  greater  aggregations  of  society, 
with  all  the  confidence  of  oracular  authority  ;  while 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  evident  they  have  forgotten, 
how  much  the  well-being  of  states  is  dependant  on 
the  well-being  of  the  families  of  which  all  states 
are  composed.  If  there  be  any  truth  in  the  figure, 
by  which  a  nation  is  compared  to  a  pillar,  we  should 
recollect,  that  while  individuals  are  the  materials 
42* 


of  which  it  is  formed,  it  is  the  good  condition  of  fa- 
milies that  constitutes  the  cement  which  holds  it  to- 
gether, and  gives  to  its  fine  form,  solidity  and  dura- 
bility. Let  this  be  wanting,  and  however  inherent- 
ly excellent  the  materials,  however  elegant  the 
shape,  however  ornamented  the  base,  the  shaft,  or 
the  capital  may  be,  it  contains  in  itself  a  princi- 
ple of  decay,  an  active  cause  of  dilapidation  and 
ruin. 

The  domestic  constitution  is  a  divine  institute. — 
God  formed  it  himself.  He  taketh  the  solitary,  and 
setteth  him  in  families;  and  like  all  the  rest  of  his 
works,  it  is  well  and  wisely  done.  It  is,  as  a  system 
of  government,  quite  unique;  neither  below  the 
heavens,  nor  above  them,  is  there  any  thing  precise- 
ly like  it.  In  some  respects  it  resembles  the  civil 
government  of  a  state  ;  in  others,  the  ecclesiastical 
rule  of  a  church  ;  and  it  is  there  that  the  church  and 
the  state  may  be  said  to  meet.  "  This  meeting, 
however,  is  only  on  a  very  small  scale,  and  under 
very  peculiar  circumstances."  When  directed  as 
it  should  be,  every  family  has  a  sacred  character, 
inasmuch  as  the  head  of  it  acts  the  part  of  both  the 
prophet  and  priest  of  the  household,  by  instructing 
them  in  the  knowledge,  and  leading  them  in  the 
worship  of  God;  while  at  the  same  time,  he  dis- 
charges the  duties  of  a  king,  by  supporting  a  sys- 
tem of  order,  subordination,  and  discipline.  Con- 
formably with  its  nature,  is  its  design  ;  beyond  the 
benefit  of  the  individuals  which  compose  it,  and 
which  is  its  first  and  immediate  object,  it  is  intend- 
ed to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  national  communi- 
ty to  which  it  belongs,  and  of  which  it  is  a  part: 
hence  every  nation  has  stamped  a  great  value  on 
the  family  compact,  and  guarded  it  with  the  most 
powerful  sanctions.  Well  instructed,  well  ordered, 
and  weil  governed  families,  are  the  springs,  which, 
from  their  retirements,  send  forth  the  tributary 
streams  that  make  up  by  their  confluence,  the  ma- 
jestic flow  of  national  greatness  and  prosperity;  nor 
can  any  state  be  prosperous,  where  family  order  and 
subordination  are  generally  neglected;  nor  other- 
wise than  prosperous,  whatever  be  its  political  form, 
where  these  are  generally  maintained.  It  is  cer- 
tainly under  the  wise  instruction,  and  the  impar- 
tial sceptre  of  a  father,  and  within  the  little  family 
circle,  that  the  son  becomes  a  good  citizen  ;  it  is  by 
the  fire-side  and  upon  the  family  hearth,  that  loyal- 
ty and  patriotism  and  every  public  virtue  grows;  as 
it  is  in  disordered  families,  that  factious  dema- 
gogues, and  turbulent  rebels,  and  tyrannical  op- 
pressors, are  trained  up  to  be  their  neighbor's  tor- 
ment, or  their  country's  scourge.  It  is  there,  that 
the  thorn  and  the  briar,  to  use  the  elegant  similie 
of  the  prophet,  or  the  myrtle  and  the  fir  tree  are 
reared,  which  are  in  future  time,  to  be  the  orna- 
ment and  defence,  or  the  deformity  and  misery  of 
the  land. 

But  has  the  domestic  constitution  a  reference  only 
to  the  present  world,  and  its  perishable  interests  1 — 
By  no  means.  All  God's  arrangements  for  man, 
view  him,  and  are  chiefly  intended  for  him,  in  his 
relation  to  eternity.  The  eye  of  Deity  is  upon  that 
immortality  to  which  he  has  destined  the  human 
race.  "  F.vpry  family  has,  in  fact,  a  sacred  charac- 
ter belonging  to  it,  which  may,  indeed,  he  forgotten 
or   disdained;    but  the  family  is  constituted,  and 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


ought,  therefore,  to  be  conducted  with  the  prospect  | 
of  the  rising  generation  following  that  which  pre- 
cedes it,  not  only  to  the  grave,  but  to  eternity.  *— 
Every  member  of  every  household  is  an  immortal 
creature  :  every  one  that  leaves  the  circle  by  death, 
goes  into  an  eternity  of  torment  or  of  bliss.  Now, 
since  all  the  institutes  of  God  look  to  another  world 
as  their  chief  and  ultimate  reference,  surely,  surely, 
that  institute  which  is  the  most  powerful  of  all,  in 
the  formation  of  character,  must  be  considered  as 
set  up  with  a  special  intention  to  prepare  the  sub- 
jects of  it  for  "glory,  honor,  immortality,  and  eter- 
nal life." 

No  one  judges  aright  of  this  household  compact, 
nor  can  any  be  in  a  capacity  rightly  to  perform  its 
duties,  who  does  not  consider  this  double  relation 
which  it  bears  to  the  state  and  to  the  church,  and 
who  does  not  view  it  as  a  preparatory  system,  for 
training  up  the  good  citizen  and  the  real  Christian. 
And  for  these  objects,  how  great  is  the  power  which 
it  really  possesses:  how  considerable  is  the  mutual 
influence  of  husbands  and  wives,  in  moulding  each 
other's  tastes,  or  modifying  each  other's  dispositions ; 
of  parents,  in  forming  the  character  of  their  children 
and  servants;  and  of  brothers  and  sisters,  in  stimu- 
lating: and  guiding  each  other's  pursuits.  The  power 
of  other  constitutions  is  remote,  occasional,  and  fee- 
ble; but  this  is  close,  constant,  and  mighty.  With 
other  systems,  the  character  is  only  casually  brought 
into  contact ;  but  this  always  touches  us.  We  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being,  in  the  very  centre 
of  it.  So  powerful  is  the  influence  of  this  associa- 
tion on  its  members,  that  it  has  preserved  them,  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  in  the  possession  of  piety  and 
morality,  in  times  and  places  of  the  greatest  corrup- 
tion of  manners.  "  On  what  vantage  ground  does 
the  conscientious  Christian  parent  here  stand  !  The 
springs  of  public  and  social  life  may  be  greatly  cor- 
rupted ;  the  nation  in  which  he  dwells  may  degene- 
rate into  licentiousness,  into  idolatry,  or  into  the 
most  daring  infidelity.  Retiring  then  to  this  sacred 
enclosure,  he  may  entrench  himself,  and  there,  lift- 
ing up  a  standard  for  God,  either  wait  the  approach 
of  better  days,  or  leave  a  few  behind  him,  on  whom 
the  best  blessings  of  those  days,  will  certainly  de- 
scend. Though  the  heavens  be  shut  up  and  there 
be  no  dew,  the  little  enclosures  which  he  cultivates, 
like  the  fleece  of  Gideon,  will  discover  evident 
marks  of  the  Divine  favor.  It  actually  seems  as 
though  in  the  wide  scene,  where  the  vices  of  the 
age  may,  and  can  reign  triumphant,  this  were  some 
secure  and  sacred  retreat,  into  which  they  cannot, 
dare  not  enter."  t 

It  must  be  evident,  however,  that  the  great  ends 
of  the  domestic  economy,  cannot  be  kept  in  view, 
nor  the  moral  power  of  it  displayed,  unless  the  heads 
of  it  rightly  understand  their  duty,  and  have  a  dis- 
position properly  to  perform  it.  They  must  be 
Christians  in  reality,  or  no  Christian  government 
can  be  maintained.  Where  religion  is  wanting  as 
the  basis  of  their  union,  these  happy  fruits  of  it  can- 
not be  expected.  The  inferior  and  secondary  object 
may  be  accomplished  in  the  absence  of  parental  pie- 
ty, though  neither  so  certainly,  nor  so  effectually; 
but  as  to  the  more  sublime  and  permanent  end  of 
the  family  constitution,  which  connects  its  mem- 
bers with  the  church  of  God  on  earth,  and  the  com- 

*  Anderson. 

t  Mr.  Anderson,  in  support  and  illustration  of 
this  beautiful  sentiment,  brings  forward  the  fami- 
lies of  the  Kenites,  and  the  Rechabiies,  whose  his- 
tory he  traces,  and  shows  it  to  be  like  a  pure  and 
vigorous  stream,  urging  ;*s  course  through  a  turbid 
lake,  with  the  waters  of  which  it  refuses  lo  blend, 
and  maintaining  its  own  characteristic,  amidst  sur- 
rounding impurity. 


pany  of  the  redeemed  in  heaven,  this  cannot  be 
looked  for,  where  the  father  and  the  mother  are 
destitute  of  true  religion.  Oh,  how  many  interest- 
ing households  are  to  be  found,  where  all  the  mere 
social  virtues  are  cultivated  with  assiduity,  where 
the  domestic  charities  all  flourish,  and  public  excel- 
lence is  cherished,  but  which,  on  account  of  the 
want  of  vital  godliness,  are  still  losing  the  highest 
end  of  their  union,  are  carrying  on  no  preparatory 
course  of  education  for  the  skies,  and  are  destined 
to  be  swept  away  with  the  wreck  of  the  nations  that 
know  not  God,  and  the  wicked  who  shall  be  turned 
into  hell.  Alas,  alas!  that  from  such  sweet  scenes, 
such  lovely  retreats  of  connubial  love  and  domestic 
peace,  to  which  learning,  science,  wealth,  elegance, 
have  been  admitted,  religion  should  be  excluded  ; 
and  that  while  many  wise  and  interesting  guests 
are  continually  welcomed  to  the  house,  He  only 
should  be  refused,  who  blessed  the  little  family  of 
Bethany;  who,  wherever  he  goes,  carries  salvation 
in  his  train,  and  gives  immortality  to  the  joys  which 
would  otherwise  perish  for  ever. 

Precious,  indeed,  are  the  joys  of  a  happy  family ; 
but,  oh,  how  fleet !  How  soon  must  the  circle  be 
broken  up,  how  suddenly  may  it.  be !  What  scenes 
of  delight,  resembling  gay  visions  of  fairy  bliss, 
have  all  been  unexpectedly  wrapt  in  shadow  and 
gloom,  by  misfortune,  by  sickness,  by  death.  The 
last  enemy  has  entered  the  paradise,  and  by  expel- 
ling one  of  its  tenants,  has  embittered  the  scene  to 
the  rest ;  the  ravages  of  death  have  been  in  some 
cases  followed  by  the  desolations  of  poverty,  and 
they  who  once  dwelt  together  in  the  hnppy  enclos- 
ure, have  been  separated  and  scattered  to  meet  no 
more.  But  religion,  true  religion,  if  it  be  possess- 
ed, will  gather  them  together  again,  after  this  de- 
struction of  their  earthly  ties,  and  conduct  them  to 
another  paradise,  into  which  no  calamity  shall  en- 
ter, and  from  which,  no  joy  shall  ever  depart. 

Happy  then  would  it  be,  for  all  who  stand  related 
by  these  household  ties,  if  the  bonds  of  nature  were 
hallowed  and  rendered  permanent  by  those  of  di- 
vine grace.  To  found  our  union  on  any  basis  which 
does  not  contain  religion  in  its  formation,  is  to  erect 
it  on  a  quicksand,  and  to  expos"  it  to  the  fury  of  a 
thousand  billows,  each  of  which  may  overturn  the 
fabric  of  our  comfort  in  a  moment:  but  to  rest  it 
upon  religion,  is  to  found  it  upon  a  rock,  where  we 
shall  individually  still  find  a  refuge,  when  the  new- 
est and  the  dearest  relations  are  swept  away  by  the 
tide  of  dissolution. 

It  is  a  pleasing  reflection,  that  the  domestic  con- 
stitution depends  not  for  its  existence,  its  laws,  its 
right  administration,  or  its  rich  advantages,  either 
upon  family  possessions,  or  the  forms  of  national 
policy.  It  may  live  and  flourish  in  all  its  tender 
charities,  and  all  its  sweet  felicities,  and  all  its  moral 
power,  in  the  cottage  as  well  as  in  the  mansion; 
under  the  shadow  of  liberty,  and  evdi  under  the 
scorching  heat  of  tyranny.  Like  the  church  of 
which  it  is  in  seme  respects  the  emblem,  it  accom- 
modates itself  to  every  changing  form  of  surround- 
ing society,  to  every  nation  and  to  evety  age. — 
Forming  with  the  church  the  only  two  institutions 
ever  set  up  by  God,  as  to  their  frame  work;  like  its 
kindred  institute,  it  remains  amidst  the  ruins  of 
the  fall,  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  the  changes  of  hu- 
man affairs,  the  monument  of  what  has  been,  the 
standing  prediction  of  what  shall  be.  Tyrants  that 
crush  the  liberties  of  a  state,  cannot  destroy  the 
constitution  of  the  family:  and  even  persecutors 
that  silence  the  preacher,  and  scatter  the  congrega- 
tion, cannot  hush  the  voice  of  parental  instruction, 
or  extinguish  parental  influence.  Relic-ion,  hunted 
and  driven  by  human  power  from  the  place  of  pub- 
lic concourse,  would  still  find  a  retreat,  as  it  often 
has  done  under  such  circumstances,  in  the  house- 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


hold  of  faith ;  and  there  would  keep  alive  upon  the 
family  altar,  that  hoiy  fire,  with  which  the  sacri- 
fices of  the  temple,  under  happier  auspices,  shall  be 
offered.  Neither  families  nor  the  church  of  the 
redeemed,  shall  ever  be  entirely  lost,  whatever 
changes  the  world  may  yet  have  to  pass  through  : 
"but  blessing  and  being  blest,  will  of  themselves 
alone  one  day  introduce  the  millennium."* 

To  all,  therefore,  who  are  united  in  the  bonds  of 
this  relationship,  I  offer  the  consideration  of  these 
pages:  which  prescribe  duties,  and  present  advan- 
tages, belonging  alike  to  all.  Domestic  happiness, 
in  many  respects,  resembles  the  manna  which  was 
granted  to  the  Israelites,  in  the  wilderness;  like 
that  precious  food,  it  is  the  gift  of  God  which  cometh 
down  from  heaven  ;  it  is  not  to  be  purchased  with 
money  ;  it  is  dispensed  alike  to  the  rich  and  to  the 
poor,  and  accommodates  itself  to  every  taste  ;  it  is 
given  with  an  abundance  that  meets  the  wants  of 
all  who  desire  it ;  to  be  obtained,  it  must  be  reli- 
giously sought  in  God's  own  way  of  bestowing  it; 
and  is  granted  to  man  as  a  refreshment  during  his 
pilgrimage  through  this  wilderness,  to  the  celestial 
Canaan. 

Marriage  is  the  foundation  of  the  domestic 
constitution'  :  this,  says  the  apostle  "  is  honorable 
in  all;"  and  he  has  condemned,  as  "a  doctrine  of 
devils,"  the  opinions  of  those  by  whom  it  is  forbid- 
den. It  is  an  institute  of  God,  was  established  in 
Eden,  was  honored  by  the  petsonal  attendance  of 
Christ,  and  furnished  an  occasion  for  the  first  of 
that  splendid  series  of  miracles,  by  which  he  prov- 
ed himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  But  there  is  another  mark  of  dis- 
tinction put  upon  it  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  where  it  is 
said,  "  This  is  a  great  mystery,  but  I  speak  concern- 
ing Christ  and  the  church."  Eph.  v.  32.  Many 
commentators,  I  am  aware,  consider  the  term  mys- 
tery as  having  no  allusion  to  the  nuptial  tie,  but  as 
applying  exclusively  to  the  union  of  Christ  and 
the  church.  If  this  be  the  case,  it  seems  difficult,  to 
account  for  the  introduction  of  this  union  at  all,  or 
to  explain  what  bearing  it  has  upon  the  subject  in 
hand.  Bes'u'.-es,  the  two-fold  reference  to  the  medi- 
atorial undertaking  of  Christ,  which  is  made  by 
the  apostle,  when  he  enforces  the  duties  of  husband 
and  wife,  seems  to  confirm  the  opinion,  that  he  re- 
presents the  conjugal  union,  as  a  type  or  symbol  of 
the  close  and  endearing  relation  in  which  the 
church  stands  to  its  divine  Redeemer.  Nothingcan 
throw  a  higher  sanctity  over  this  connection,  nor 
invest  it  with  greater  honor  than  such  a  view  of  it. 
Distinguishing,  as  it  does,  man  from  brutes;  pro- 
viding not  only  for  the  continuance,  but  for  the  com- 
forl  nf  (i'ir  species;  containing  at  once,  the  source 
of  human  happiness,  and  of  all  those  virtuous  emo- 
tion1; and  generous  sensibilities,  which  refine  and 
adorn  the  character  of  man,  it  can  never  as  a  ge- 
neral subject  be  guarded  with  too  much  solicitous 
vigilance,  nor  be  contracted,  in  particular  instances, 
with  too  much  prudence  and  care. 

In  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  connection 
itself,  mast  be  a  right  view  and  a  due  performance 
of  the  obligations  arising  out  of  it. 

First.  There  are  duties  common  to  both  par- 
ties. 

Secondly.  There  are  duties  more  particularly 

ENJOINED   UPON    EACH. 

My  first  object  will  be  to  state  those  duties  which 

ARE    COMMON   TO    BOTH    HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

1.  The  first  which  I  mention,  and  which  is  the 
ground  of  all  the  rest,  is  love. 

Let  this  be  wanting,  and  marriage  is  degraded  at 
once  into  a  brutal  or  a  sordid  compact.  This  duty, 
which,  though  for  reasons  which  we  shall  consider 


*See  Anderson  and  Dwight. 


in  due  place,  is  specially  enjoined  on  the  husnai^, 
belongs  equally  to  the  wife.  It  must  be  mutuai,  l-i 
there  can  be  no  happiness :  none  for  the  party  wtucrv 
does  not  love,  for  how  dreadful  the  idea  of  bein# 
chained  for  life  to  an  individual  for  whom  we  have 
no  affection  ;  to  be  almost  ever  in  the  company  of  a 
person  from  whom  we  are  driven  back  by  revul- 
sion, yet  driven  back  upon  a  bond  which  prevents 
all  separation  and  escape;  nor  can  there  be  any 
happiness  for  the  party  that  does  love  ;  such  an  un- 
requited affection  must  soon  expire,  or  live  only  to 
consume  that  wretched  heart  in  which  it  burns.  A 
married  couple  without  mutual  regard,  is  one  of 
the  most  pitiable  spectacles  on  earth.  They  cannot, 
and,  indeed,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  ought  not 
to  separate,  and  yet  they  remain  united  only  to  be  a 
torment  to  each  other.  They  serve  one  impor- 
tant purpose,  however,  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
and  that  is,  to  be  a  beacon  to  all  who  are  yet  disen- 
gaged, to  warn  them  against  the  sin  and  folly  of 
forming  this  union,  upon  any  other  basis  than 
that  of  a  pure  and  mutual  attachment;  and  to  ad- 
monish all  that  are  so  united,  to  Match  with  most 
assiduous  vigilance  their  mutual  regard,  that  no- 
ting be  allowed  to  damp  the  sacred  flame. 

.  '*  s  the  union  should  be  formed  on  the  basis  of 
love,  so  should  great  care  be  taken,  especially  in 
the  early  stages  of  it,  that  nothing  might  arise  to 
unsettle  or  loosen  our  attachments.  Whatever 
knowledge  we  may  obtain  of  each  other's  tastes 
and  habits  before  marriage,  it  is  neither  so  accurate, 
so  comprehensive,  nor  so  impressive,  as  that  which 
we  acquire  by  living  together;  and  it  is  of  prodi- 
gious consequence,  that  when  little  defects  are  first 
noticed,  and  trivial  faults  and  oppositions  first  occur, 
they  should  net  be  allowed  to  produce  an  unfavor- 
able impression  upon  the  mind.  The  remarks  of 
Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor  in  his  inimitably  beautiful 
sermon,  entitled,  "The  Marriage  Ring,"  are  so 
much  in  point,  that  I  shall  introduce  a  long  extract 
in  reference  to  this  idea. 

"Man  and  wife  are  equally  concerned  to  avoid 
all  offences  of  each  other  in  the  beginning  of  their 
conversation  ;  every  little  thing  can  blast  an  infant 
blossom,  and  the  breath  of  the  south  can  shake  the 
little  rings  of  the  vine,  when  first  they  begin  to  curl 
like  the  locks  of  a  new  weaned  boy  ;  but  when  by 
age  and  consolidation  they  stiffen  into  the  hardness 
of  a  stem,  and  have  by  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun, 
and  the  kisses  of  heaven,  brought  forth  their  clus- 
ters, they  cr.n  endure  the  storms  of  the  north,  and 
the  loud  noises  of  a  tempest,  and  yet  never  be  bro- 
ken:  so  are  the  early  unions  of  an  unfixed  mar- 
riage; watchful  and  observant,  jealous  and  busy, 
inquisitive  and  careful,  and  apt  to  take  alarm  at 
every  unkind  word.  For  infirmities  do  not  mani- 
fest themselves  in  the  first  scenes,  but  in  the  succes- 
sion of  a  long  society ;  and  it  is  not  chance  or  weak- 
ness when  it  appears  at  first,  but  it  is  want  of  love 
or  prudence,  or  it  will  be  so  expounded  ;  and  that 
which  appears  ill  at  first,  usually  affrights  the  inex- 
perienced man  or  woman,  who  makes  unequal  con- 
jectures, and  fancies  mighty  sorrows  by  the  propor- 
tions of  the  new  and  early  unkindne.*s. "  It  is  a  very 
great  passion,  or  a  huge  folly,  or  a  regain  want  of 
love,  that  cannot  preserve  the  co.ors  and  beauties 
of  kindness,  so  long  as  public  honesty  requires  a 
man  to  wear  their  sorrows  for  the  death  of  a  friend. 
Plutarch  compares  a  new  marriage  to  a  vessel  be- 
fore the  hoops  are  on,  every  thing  dissolves  its  ten- 
der compaginations;  but  when  the  joints  are  stiff- 
ened and  are  tied  by  a  firm  compliance  and  propor- 
tioned bending,  scarcely  can  it  be  dissolved  without 
fire,  or  the  violence  of  iron.  After  the  hearts  of 
the  man  and  the  wife  are  endeared  and  harden- 
ed by  a  mutual  confidence  and  experience,  longer 
than  artifice  and  pretence  can  last,  there  are  a  great 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


many  remembrances,  and  some  things  present,  that 
dash  all  little  unkindnesses  in  pieces. 

"Let  a  man  and  wife  be  careful  to  stifle  little 
things,  that  as  fast  as  they  spring,  they  be  cut  down 
and  trod  upon;  for  if  they  be  suffered  to  grow  by 
numbers,  they  make  the  spirit  peevish,  and  the  so- 
ciety troublesome,  and  the  affections  loose  and  un- 
easy by  an  habitual  aversion.  Some  men  are  more 
vexed  with  a  fly  than  with  a  wound  ;  and  when  the 
gnats  disturb  our  sleep,  and  the  reason  is  disquiet- 
ed, but  not  perfectly  awakened,  it  is  often  seen  that 
he  is  fuller  of  trouble  than  if  in  the  day  light  of  his 
reason  he  were  to  contest  with  a  potent  enemy.  In 
the  frequent  little  accidents  of  a  family,  a  man's 
reason  cannot  always  be  awake;  and  when  his  dis- 
courses are  imperfect  and  a  trifling  trouble  makes 
him  yet  more  restless,  he  is  soon  betrayed  to  the 
violence  of  passion.  It  is  certain  that  the  man  or 
woman  are  in  a  state  of  weakness  and  folly  then, 
when  they  can  be  troubled  with  a  trifling  accident ; 
and  therefore  it  is  not  good  to  tempt  their  affections, 
when  they  are  in  that  state  of  danger.  In  this  case 
the  caution  is,  to  subtract  fuel  from  the  sudden 
flame;  for  stubble,  though  it  be  quickly  kindled, 
yet  it  is  as  soon  extinguished,  if  it  be  not  blown  by 
a  pertinacious  breath,  or  fed  with  new  materials. 
Add  no  new  provocations  to  the  a:cider.t,  and  do 
not  inflame  this,  and  peace  will  soon  return,  and 
the  discontent  will  pass  away  soon,  as  the  sparks 
from  the  collision  of  a  flint;  ever  remembering, 
that  discontents  proceeding  from  daily  little  things, 
do  breed  a  secret  undiscernable  disease,  which  is 
more  dangerous  than  a  fever  proceeding  from  a 
discerned  notorious  surfeit." 

If  they  woukJ  vvserve  love,  let  them  be  sure  to 
study  most  accurately  each  other's  tastes  and  dis- 
tastes, and  most  anxiously  abstain  from  whatever, 
even  in  the  minutest  things,  they  know  to  be  con- 
trary to  them.  The  ancients  in  their  conjugal  alle- 
gories, used  to  represent  Mercury  standing:  by  Ve- 
nus, to  signify  that  by  fair  language,  and  sweet  en- 
trea'ies,  the  minds  of  each  other  should  be  united. 

If  they  would  preserve  love,  let  them  most  care- 
fully avoid  all  curious  and  frequently  repeated  dis- 
tinctions of  mine  and  thine:  for  this  hath  caused 
all  the  laws,  and  all  the  suits,  and  all  the  wars  in 
the  world;  let  them  who  have  but  one  person,  have 
also  but  one  interest.  Instances  may  occur  in  which 
there  may  and  must  be,  a  separate  investiture  of 
property,  and  a  sovereign  independent  right  of  dis- 
posal in  the  woman  ;  in  thi<  case,  the  most  anxious 
care  should  be  taken  by  the  husband  not  to  attempt 
to  invade  that  right,  and  by  the  wife,  neither  osten- 
taeiously  to  speak  of  it,  nor  rigidly  to  claim  it,  nor 
selfishly  to  exercise  it.  In  ordinary  cases,  "they 
should  be  heirs  to  each  other,  if  they  die  childless; 
and  if  there  be  children,  the  wife  should  be  with 
them  a  partner  in  the  inheritance.  But  during  their 
life  the  use  and  employment  is  common  to  both 
their  necessities,  and  in  this  there  is  no  other  differ- 
ence of  right,  but  that  the  man  hath  the  dispensa- 
tion of  all,  and  may  keep  it  from  his  wife,  just  as 
the  governor  of  a  town  may  keep  it  from  the  right 
owner;  he  hath  the  power,  but  not  the  right  to  do 
so." 

2.  Mutual  respect  is  a  duty  of  married  life;  for 
though  as  we  shall  afterwards  consider,  especial 
reverence  is  due  from  the  wife,  yet  is  respect  due 
from  the  husband  also. 

As  it  is  difficult  to  respect  those,  who  are  not  en- 
titled to  it  on  any  other  ground  than  superior  rank 
or  common  relationship,  it  is  of  immense  conse- 
quence, that  we  should  present  to  each  other,  that 
conduct  which  deserves  respect  and  commands  it. 
Moral  esteem  is  one  of  the  firmest  supports,  and 
strongest  guards  of  love;  and  a  hi?h  degree  of  ex- 
cellence cannot  fail  to  produce  such  esteem.    We 


are  more  accurately  known  to  each  other  in  this 
connection,  than  either  to  the  world,  or  even  to  our 
own  servants  and  children.  The  privacies  of  such 
a  relationship  lay  open  our  motives,  and  all  the  inte- 
rior of  our  character;  so  that  we  are  better  known 
to  each  other  than  we  are  to  ourselves.  If  therefore, 
we  would  be  respected,  we  should  be  respectable. — 
Charity  covers  a  multitude  of  faults,  it  is  true  :  but 
we  must  not  presume  too  far  upon  the  credulity  and 
blindness  of  affection;  there  is  a  point  beyond 
which,  even  love  cannot  be  blind  to  the  crimson  co- 
loring of  a  guilty  action.  Every  piece  of  really  sin- 
ful conduct,  the  impropriety  of  which  cannot  be 
mistaken,  tends  to  sink  us  in  each  other's  esteem, 
and  thus  to  remove  the  safeguards  of  affection. — 
Perhaps  this  has  not  been  sufficiently  thought  of  in 
wedded  life,  the  parties  of  which  have  been  some- 
times anxious  merely  to  cover  their  delinquencies 
from  the  world,  forgetful  that  it  is  a  dreadful  thing 
to  lose  their  mutual  respect.  It  is  delightfully  strik- 
ing to  observe,  how  some  pairs,  of  eminent  moral 
worth,  regard  each  other  ;  what  reverence  is  blend- 
ed with  their  love,  and  how  like  to  angel  forms  of 
heavenly  excellence  they  appear  to  one  another. 

In  all  the  conduct  of  the  conjugal  state  then,  there 
should  be  the  most  marked  and  unvarying  mutual 
respect  even  in  little  things :  there  must  be  no 
searching  after  faults,  nor  examining,  with  micro- 
scopic scrutiny  such  as  cannot  be  concealed  ;  no  re- 
proachful epithets  ;  no  rude  contempt ;  no  incivility ; 
no  cold  neglect ;  there  should  be  courtesy  without 
ceremony;  politeness  without  formality;  attention 
without  slavery;  it  should,  in  short,  be  the  tender- 
ness of  love,  supported  by  esteem,  and  guided  by 
politeness.  And  then,  we  must  maintain  our  mu- 
tual respectability  before  others;  strangers,  friends, 
servants,  children,  must  all  be  taught  to  respect  us, 
from  what  they  see  in  our  own  behavior.  It  is  in 
the  highest  degree  improper,  for  either  party  to  do 
an  action,  to  say  a  word,  or  assume  a  look,  that 
shall  have  the  remotest  tendency  to  lower  the  other 
in  public  esteem. 

3.  Mutual  attachment  to  each  other's  society, 
is  a  common  duty  of  husband  and  wife. 

We  are  united  to  be  companions ;  to  live  together, 
to  walk  together,  to  talk  together.  The  husband  is 
commanded  "  to  dwell  with  the  wife  according  to 
knowledge."  "  This,"  says  Mr.  Jay,  "intends  no- 
thing less  than  residence,  opposed  to  absence  and 
roving.  It  is  absurd,  for  those  who  have  no  prospect 
of  dwelling  together,  to  enter  this  state  ;  and  those 
who  are  already  in  it,  should  not  be  unnecessarily 
abroad.  Circumstances  of  various  kinds  will  doubt- 
less render  occasional  excursions  unavoidable;  but 
let  a  man  return  as  soon  as  the  design  of  his  absence 
is  accomplished,  and  let  him  always  travel  with 
the  words  of  Solomon  in  his  mind,  '  As  a  bird  that 
wandereth  from  her  nest,  so  is  a  man  that  wander- 
eth  from  his  place.'  Can  a  man  while  from  home, 
discharge  the  duties  he  owes  to  his  household  1  Can 
he  discipline  his  children  1  Can  he  maintain  the 
worship  of  God  in  his  family  7  I  know  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  wife  to  lead  the  devotion  in  the  absence 
of  the  husband ;  and  she  should  take  it  up  as  a  cross, 
ifnotforthe  time.as  a  privilege.  Few,  however, 
are  thus  disposed,  and  hence  one  of  the  sanctuaries 
of  God  for  weeks  and  months  together  is  shut  up.-- 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  there  are  some  husbands 
who  seem  fonder  of  any  society  than  the  company 
of  iheir  wives.  It  appears  in  the  disposal  of  their 
leisure  hours.  How  few  of  these  are  appropri- 
ated to  the  wife  !  The  evenings  are  the  most  do- 
mestic periods  of  the  day.  To  these  the  wife  is  pe- 
culiarly entitled — she  is  now  most  free  from  her  nu- 
merous cares,  and  most  at  liberty  to  enjoy  reading 
and  conversation.  It  is  a  sad  reflection  upon  a  man 
when  he  is  fond  of  spending  his  evenings  abroad.— 


THE   FAM1LV   MONITOR. 


It  implies  something  bad,  and  it  predicts  something 
worse." 

And  then  to  ensure  as  far  as  possible,  the  society 
of  her  husband,  at  his  own  fire  side,  let  the  wife  be 
•'  a  keeper  at  home,"  and  do  all  in  her  power  to 
render  that  fire  side  as  attractive  as  good  temper, 
neatness,  and  cheerful,  affectionate  conversation  can 
make  it;  let  her  strive  to  make  his  own  home,  the 
soft  green  on  which  his  heart  loves  to  repose  in  the 
sunshine  of  domestic  enjoyment.  We  can  easily 
imagine,  that  even  in  Paradise,  when  man  had  no 
apparition  of  guilt,  no  visions  of  crime,  no  spectral 
voice  from  a  troubled  conscience,  to  make  him 
dread  solitude,  and  flee  from  it,  that  even  then, 
Adam  liked  not,  on  his  return  from  the  labor  of 
dressing  the  garden,  to  find  Eve  absent  from  their 
bower,  but  wanted  the  smile  of  her  countenance  to 
light  up  his  own,  and  the  music  of  her  voice  to  be 
the  melody  of  his  soul.  Think,  then,  how  much 
more  in  his  fallen  estate,  with  guilt  upon  his  con- 
science, and  care  pressing  upon  his  heart,  does  man 
now,  on  coming  from  the  scenes  of  his  anxious  toil, 
need  the  aid  of  woman's  companionship,  to  drive 
away  the  swarm  of  buzzing  cares,  that  light  upon 
the  heart  to  sting  it;  to  soothe  the  brow  ruffled  with 
sadness;  to  tranquillize  the  bosom  agitated  with 
passion;  and  at  once  to  reprove  and  comfort  the 
mind  that  has  in  some  measure  yielded  to  tempta- 
tion. O,  woman!  thou  knowest  the  hour  when 
"  the  good  man  of  the  house"  will  return,  at  mid- 
day, while  the  sun  is  yet  bowing  down  the  laborer 
with  the  fierceness  of  his  beams,  or  at  evening, 
when  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  are  past;  do 
not  let  him,  at  such  a  time,  when  he  is  weary  with 
exertion,  and  faint  with  discouragement,  find,  upon 
his  coining  to  his  habitation,  that  the  foot  which 
should  hasten  to  meet  him,  is  wandering  at  a  dis- 
tance, that  the  soft  hand  which  should  wipe  away 
Ihe  sweat  from  his  brow,  is  knocking  at  the  door  of 
Dther  houses  :  nor  let  him  find  a  wilderness,  where 
lie  should  enter  a  garden;  confusion,  where  he 
might  to  see  order;  or  filth  that  disgusts,  where  he 
might  hope  to  behold  neatness,  that  delights  and  at- 
tracts. If  this  be  the  case,  who  can  wonder,  that  in 
the  anguish  of  disappointment,  and  in  the  bitterness 
of  a  neglected  and  heart  stricken  husband,  he  turns 
away  from  his  door,  for  that  comfort  which  he 
wished  to  enjoy  at  home,  and  that  society  which  he 
hoped  to  find  in  his  wife,  and  put  up  with  the  sub- 
stitutes for  both  which  he  finds  in  the  houses  of 
other  men,  or  in  the  company  of  other  women. 

United  to  be  associates  then,  let  man  and  wife  be 
as  much  in  each  other's  society  as  possible:  and 
there  must  be  something  wrong  in  domestic  life, 
when  they  need  the  aid  of  balls,  routs,  plays,  card 

Earties,  to  relieve  them  from  the  tedium  produced 
y  home  pursuits.  I  thank  God,  I  am  a  stranger 
to  that  taste,  which  leads  a  man  to  flee  from  his  own 
comfortable  parlor,  and  the  society  of  his  wife, 
from  the  instruction  and  recreation  contained  in  a 
well  stored  library,  or  the  evening  rural  walk,  when 
the  business  of  the  day  is  over,  K)  scenes  of  public 
amusement  for  enjoyment;  to  my  judgment,  the 
pleasures  of  home,  and  of  home  society,  when  home 
and  home  societv,  are  all  that  could  be  desired,  are 
such  as  never  cloy,  and  need  no  change,  but  from 
one  kindred  scene  to  another.  I  am  sighing  and 
longing,  perhaps  in  vain,  for  a  period,  when  society 
shall  be  so  elevated,  and  so  purified ;  when  the  love 
of  knowledge  will  be  so  intense,  and  the  habits  of 
life  will  be  so  simple;  when  religion  and  morality 
will  be  so  generally  diffused  that  men's  homes  will 
be  the  seat  and  circle  of  their  pleasures  ;  when  in 
the  society  of  an  affectionate  and  intelligent  wife, 
and  of  well  educated  children,  each  will  find  his 
greatest  earthly  delight ;  and  when  it  will  be  felt  to 
be  no  more  necessary  to  happiness,  to  quit  their  own 


fire  side  for  the  ball  room  or  the  concert,  than  u  is 
to  go  from  the  well  spread  table,  to  the  public  lt-ast, 
to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  a  healthy  appetite:  then 
will  it  be  no  longer  imposed  upon  us  to  prove,  that 
public  amusements  ate  improper,  for  they  wiii  be 
found  to  be  unnecessary. 

But  the  pleasures  of  home  must  not  be  allowed  to 
interfere  with  the  calls  and  claims  of  public  duty. 
Wives  must  not  ask,  and  husbands  must  not  give, 
that  time  which  is  demanded  tor  the  cause  of  God 
and  man.  This  is  an  age  of  active  charity,  and  the 
great  public  institutions  which  are  set  up,  cannot  be 
kept  in  operation,  without  great  sacrifices  of  time 
and  leisure  by  very  many  persons.  Those,  who  by 
their  wisdom,  talents,  rank,  or  property,  receive  the 
confidence  of  the  public,  must  stand  prepared  to  fill 
up  and  conduct  the  executive  departments  of  our 
societies;  nor  should  they  allow  the  soft  allurements 
of  their  own  houses,  to  draw  them  away  from  what 
is  obviously  the  post  of  duty.  We  have  known 
some,  who,  till  they  entered  into  wedded  life,  were 
the  props  and  pillars  of  our  institutions,  yield  so 
far  to  the  solicitations  of  their  new  and  dearest 
earthly  friend,  as  to  vacate  their  seat  at  the  board 
of  management,  for  ever  after.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
costly  way  of  contributing  to  the  cause  of  religion 
and  humanity,  to  give  those  evening  hours  which 
could  be  spent  so  pleasantly  in  a  country  walk,  or 
in  the  joint  perusal  of  some  interesting  volume  ;  but 
who  can  do  good,  or  ought  to  wish  to  do  it,  without 
sacrifices  1  I  know  an  eminently  holy  and  useful 
minister,  who  told  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  about 
to  be  united,  that  one  of  the  conditions  of  their  mar- 
riage was,  that  she  should  never  ask  him  for  that 
time,  which,  on  any  occasion,  he  felt  it  to  be  his 
duty  to  give  to  God.  And  surely,  any  woman  might 
feel  herself  more  blessed  in  having  sometimes  to  en- 
dure the  loss  of  a  husband's  society,  whose  presence 
and  talents  were  coveted  by  all  public  institutions, 
than  in  being  left  to  the  unmolested  enjoyment  of 
the  company  of  one,  whose  assistance  was  coveted 
by  none. 

4.  Mutual  forbearance  is  another  duty. 

This  we  owe  to  all,  not  excepting  the  stranger, 
or  an  enemy ;  and  most  certainly  it  must  not  be  de- 
nied to  our  nearest  and  dearest  earthly  friend.  For 
the  charity  that  sufferethlong  and  is  kind  ;  that  en- 
vieth  not ;  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up ;  that 
doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly ;  seeketh  not  her 
own;  is  not  easily  provoked;  thinketh  no  evil;  re- 
joiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth; 
that  covereth  all  things;  believeth  all  things;  hop- 
eth  all  things;  endnreth  all  things:  for  this  charity 
there  is  both  need  and  room  in  every  relation  of 
life.  Wherever  sin  or  imperfection  exists,  there  is 
scope  for  the  forbearance  of  love.  There  is  no  per- 
fection upon  earth.  Lovers,  it  is  true,  often  fancy 
they  have  found  it;  but  the  more  sober  judgment 
of  husbands  and  wives,  generally  corrects  the  mis- 
take; and  first  impressions  of  this  kind,  generally 
pass  away  with  first,  love.  We  should  all  enter  the 
marriage  state,  remembering  that  we  are  about  to 
be  united  to  a  fallen  creature  ;  and  as  in  every  case, 
as  Mr.  Bolton  remarks,  it  is  not  two  angels  that 
have  met  together,  but  two  sinful  children  of  Adam, 
from  whom  must  be  looked  for  much  weakness  and 
waywardness,  we  must  make  up  our  minds  to  some 
imperfection;  and  remembering  that  we  have  no 
small  share  of  our  own  that  calls  for  the  forbear- 
ance of  the  other  party,  shall  exercise  the  patience 
that  we  ask.  Where  both  have  infirmities,  and 
they  are  so  constantly  together,  innumerable  occa- 
sions will  be  furnished,  if  we  are  eager,  or  even 
willing  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  opportunities  for 
those  contentions,  which,  if  they  do  not  produce  a 
permanent  suppression  of  love,  lead  to  its  tempo- 
rary interruption.    Many  things  we  should  connive 


THE   FAMILY  MONITOR. 


at,  others  we  should  pass  by  with  an  unprovoked 
mind,  and  in  all  things  most  carefully  avoid  even 
■what  at  first  may  seem  to  be  an  innocent  disputa- 
tion. Affection  does  not  forbid,  but  actually  de- 
mands that  we  should  mutually  point  out  our  faults ; 
but  this  should  be  done  in  all  the  meekness  of  wis- 
dom, united  with  all  the  tenderness  of  love,  lest  we 
only  increase  the  evil  we  intend  to  remove,  or  sub- 
stitute a  greater  one  in  its  place.  Justice,  as  well  as 
wisdom,  requires  that  in  every  case,  we  set  the 
good  qualities  against  the  bad ;  and  in  most  cases 
we  shall  find  some  redeeming  excellences  which, 
if  they  do  not  reconcile  us  to  the  failings  we  de- 
plore, should  at  least  teach  us  to  bear  them  with  pa- 
tience :  and  the  more  we  contemplate  these  better 
aspects  of  the  character,  the  brighter  will  they  ap- 
pear, for  it  is  an  indubitable  fact,  that  while  faults 
diminish,  virtues  magnify,  in  proportion  as  they  are 
steadily  contemplated.  As  to  bitterness  of  language, 
and  violence  of  conduct,  this  is  so  utterly  disgrace- 
ful, and  in  the  circle  which  I  am  accustomed  to  in- 
struct, altogether  so  rare  and  unusual,  that  it 
scarcely  need  be  introduced  even  by  way  of  cau- 
tioning against  it.  The  ancients,  we  are  informed, 
look  the  gall  from  their  nuptial  sacrifices,  and  cast 
it  behind  the  altar,  to  intimate  the  removal  of  all 
bitterness  from  the  marriage  state. 

5.  Mutual  assistance  is  the  duty  of  husbands  and 
wives. 

This  applies  to  the  cares  of  life.  Women  are  not 
tmtally  very  conversant  with  matters  of  trade,  but 
still  their  counsel  may  be  sought  in  a  thousand  cases 
with  propriety  and  advantage.  The  husband  should 
never  undertake  any  thing  of  importance,  without 
communicating  the  matter  to  his  wife  ;  who,  on  her 
part,  instead  of  shrinking  from  the  responsibility  of 
a  counsellor,  and  leaving  him  to  struggle  alone  with 
his  difficulties  and  perplexities,  should  invite  him  to 
communicate  freely  all  his  anxieties:  for  if  she  can- 
not counsel,  she.  can  comfort ;  if  she  cannot  relieve 
his  cares,  she  can  help  to  bear  them  ;  if  she  cannot 
direct  the  course  of  his  trade,  she  may  the  current 
of  his  feelings;  if  she  cannot  open  any  source  of 
earthly  wisdom,  she  can  spread  the  matter  before 
the  Father  and  fountain  of  lights.  Many  men  un- 
der the  idea  of  delicacy  to  their  wives,  keep  all  their 
difficulties  to  themselves,  which  only  prepares  them 
to  feel  the  stroke  the  heavier  when  it  does  come. 

And  then,  as  the  wife  should  be  willing  to  help 
the  husband,  in  matters  of  business,  he  should  be 
Avilling-  to  share  with  her,  the  burden  of  domestic 
anxieties  and  fatigue.  Some  go  too  far,  and  utterly 
degrade  the  female  head  of  the  family,  by  treating 
her  as  if  her  honesty  or  ability  could  not  be  trusted 
in  the  management  of  the  domestic  economy.  They 
keep  the  money,  and  dole  it  out  as  if  they  were  part- 
in?  wiih  their  life's  blood,  grudging  every  shilling 
they  dispense,  and  requiring  an  account  as  rigid  as 
they  would  from  a  suspected  servant;  they  take 
charge  of  every  thing,  give  out  every  thins,  inter- 
fere in  every  thing.  This  is  to  despoil  a  woman  of 
her  authority,  to  thrust  her  from  her  proper  place, 
to  insult  and  degrade  her  before  her  children  and 
servants.  Some,  on  the  other  hand,  go  to  the  oppo- 
site extreme,  and  take  no  share  in  any  thing.  My 
heart  has  ached  to  see  the  slavery  of  some  devoted, 
hard  working,  and  ill  used  wives;  after  laboring 
all  day  amidst  the  ceaseless  toils  of  a  young  and  nu- 
merous family,  they  have  had  to  pass  the  hours  of 
evening  in  sclitude,  while  their  husbands,  instead 
of  coming  home  to  cheer  them  by  their  society,  or 
to  relieve  them  for  only  half  an  hour  of  their  fatigue, 
have  been  either  at  a  party  or  a  sermon  :  and  then 
have  these  hapless  women  had  to  wake  and  watcli 
the  live  long  night,  over  a  sick  or  restless  babe, 
while  the  men  whom  they  accepted  as  the  partner 
of  their  sorrows,  were  sleeping  by  their  side,  unwill- 1 


ing  to  give  a  single  hour  of  their  slumber,  though 
it  was  to  allow  a  little  repose  to  their  toil- worn  wives. 
Why,  even  the  irrational  creatures  shame  such  men; 
for  it  is  a  well  known  fact,  that  the  male  bird  takes 
his  turn  upon  the  nest  during  the  season  of  incuba- 
tion, to  allow  the  female  time  to  renew  her  strength 
by  food  and  rest :  and  with  her,  also,  goes  in  dili- 
gent quest  of  food,  and  feeds  the  young  ones  when 
they  cry.  No  man  should  think  of  marrying,  who 
does  not  stand  prepared  to  share,  as  far  as  he  can  do 
it  with  his  wife,  the  burden  of  domestic  cares. 

They  should  be  helpful  to  each  other  in  the  con- 
cerns of  personal  religion.  This  is  clearly  implied 
in  the  apostle's  language.  "  For  what  knowest  thou, 
O  wife,  whether  thou  shalt  save  thy  husband  1  Or 
how  knowest  thou,  O  man,  whether  thou  shalt  save 
thy  wife  V*  Where  both  parties  are  unconverted, 
or  only  one  of  them  is  yet  a  partaker  of  true  piety, 
there  should  be  the  most  anxious,  judicious,  and  af- 
fectionate efforts  for  their  salvation.  How  heathen- 
ish a  state  is  it,  to  enjoy  together  the  comforts  of 
marriage,  and  then  travel  in  company  to  eternal 
perdition  ;  to  be  mutual  comforters  on  earth,  and 
then  mutual  tormentors  in  hell ;  to  be  companions  in 
felicity  in  lime,  and  companions  in  torment  through 
eternity.  And  where  both  parties  are  real  Chris- 
tians, there  should  be  the  exercise  of  a  constant  re- 
ciprocal solicitude,  watchfulness  and  care,  in  refer- 
ence to  their  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare.  One  of 
the  ends  which  every  believer  should  propose  to 
himself,  on  entering  the  marriage  state,  is  to  secure 
one  faithful  friend,  at  least,  who  will  be  a  helpmate 
for  him  in  reference  to  another  world,  and  to  assist 
him  in  the  great  business  of  his  soul's  salvation,  and 
that  will  pray  for  him  and  with  him  ;  one  that  will 
affectionately  tell  him  of  his  sins  and  his  defects, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  a  Christian ;  one  that  will 
stimulate  and  draw  him  by  the  power  of  a  holy  ex- 
ample, and  the  sweet  force  of  persuasive  words ; 
one  that  will  warn  him  in  temptation,  comfort  him 
in  dejection,  and  in  every  way  assist  him  in  his  pil- 
grimage to  the  skies.  The  highest  end  of  the  con- 
nubial state  is  lost,  if  it  be  not  rendered  helpful  to 
our  piety ;  and  yet  this  end  is  too  generally  neglect- 
ed, even  by  professors  of  religion.  Do  we  converse 
with  each  other  as  we  ought  on  the  high  themes  of 
redemption  by  Christ,  and  eternal  salvation  1  Do 
we  study  each  other's  dispositions,  snares,  troubles, 
decays  in  piety,  that  we  may  apply  suitable  reme- 
dies 1  Do  we  exhort  one  another  daily,  lest  we 
should  be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin  1 
Do  we  practice  fidelity  without  censoriousness  ;  and 
administer  praise  without  flattery  1  Do  we  invite 
one  another  to  the  most  quickening  and  edifying 
means  of  a  public  nature,  and  recommend  the  peru- 
sal of  such  instructive  and  improving  books  as  we 
have  found  beneficial  to  ourselves'?  Do  we  mu- 
tually lay  open  the  state  of  our  minds  on  the  subject 
of  personal  religion,  and  state  our  perplexities,  our 
joys,  our  fears,  our  sorrows  1  Alas,  alas,  who  must 
not  blush  at  their  neglects  in  these  particulars? — 
And  yet,  such  neglect  is  as  criminal,  as  it  is  com- 
mon. Fleeing  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  yet  not 
doing  all  we  can  to  aid  each  other's  escape  !  Con- 
tending side  by  side  for  the  crown  of  glory,  honor, 
immortality,  and  eternal  life,  and  yet  not  doing  all 
we  can  to  ensure  each  other's  success  !  Is  this  love" 
Is  this  the  tenderness  of  connubial  affection  1 

This  mutual  help  should  extend  to  the  maintenance 
of  all  the  habits  of  domestic  order,  discipline,  and  piety. 
The  husband  is  to  be  the  prophet,  priest,  and  king 
of  the  family,  to  instruct  their  minds,  to  lead  their 
devotions,  and  to  govern  their  tempers ;  but  in  all 
that  relates  to  these  important  objects,  the  wife  is  to 
be  of  one  mind  with  him.     They  are  in  these  mat- 

*  1  Corinthians,  vii.  16. 


THE    FAMILY   MONITOR. 


ters,  to  be  \corkers  together,  neither  of  them  leaving 
the  other  to  labor  alone,  much  less  opposing  or 
thwarting  what  is  done.  "  When  the  sun  shines, 
the  moon  disappears;  when  he  sets,  she  appears  and 
shines;  so  when  the  husband  is  at  home,  he  leads 
domestic  worship,  when  he  is  absent,  the  wife  must 
ever  take  his  place."  Some  men  refer  the  instruc- 
tion of  young  children  exclusively  to  their  wives, 
and  some  wives,  as  soon  as  the  children  are  too  old 
to  be  taught  upon  the  knee,  think  that  they  are  ex- 
clusively the  subjects  of  paternal  care.  This  is  a 
mistake  in  the  important  economy  of  the  family,  the 
members  of  which  are  never  too  young  to  be  taught 
and  disciplined  by  the  father,  nor  too  old  to  be  ad- 
monished and  warned  by  the  mother :  he  may  some- 
times have  a  great  influence  in  awing  the  rude  spi- 
rits of  the  younger  branches  ;  while  her  soft  persua- 
sive accents  may  have  delightful  power  to  melt  or 
break  the  hard  and  stubborn  hearts  of  older  ones. — 
Thus  they  who  have  a  joint  interest  in  a  family, 
must  attend  to  them  in  the  exercise  of  a  joint  labor. 

They  must  be  helpful  to  each  other  in  works  of 
humanity  and  religious  benevolence. 

Their  mutual  influence  should  be  exerted,  not  in 
restraining,  but  in  stimulating  zeal,  compassion,  and 
liberality.  What  a  beautiful  picture  of  domestic  life 
is  drawn  by  the  pen  of  the  Old  Testament  historian. 
"  And  it  fell  on  a  day  that  Elisha  passed  to  Shunem, 
where  was  a  great  woman  :  and  she  constrained 
him  to  eat  bread.  And  so  it  was,  that  as  oft  as  he 
passed  by,  he  turned  in  thither  to  eat  bread.  And 
she  sail  unto  her  husband,  Behold  now,  I  perceive 
that  this  is  a  holy  man  of  God,  which  passeth  by  us 
continually.  Let  us  make  a  little  chamber  on  the 
wall,  and  let  us  set  for  him  there  a  bed,  and  a  table, 
and  a  stool,  and  a  candlestick,  and  it  shall  be,  that 
when  he  cometh  to  us,  he  shall  turn  in  thither. — 
And  it  fell  on  a  day  that  he  came  thither,  and  he 
turned  into  the  chamber,  and  lay  there."*  Every 
part  of  tins  scene  is  lovely.  The  generous  and 
pious  wish  of  the  wife,  to  provide  accommodations 
for  a  destitute  and  dependant  prophet ;  her  prompt 
and  prudent  effort  to  interest  her  husband  in  the 
scheme  of  her  benevolence ;  her  discreet  and  mo- 
dest keeping  of  her  place  in  not  acting  without  his 
permis-nm  ;  her  dignified  claim  of  a  right  to  be  as- 
sociated with  him  in  this  work  of  mercy,  for  said 
she,  let  us  make  a  little  chamber  on  the  wall ;  all  is 
delightful,  and  as  it  should  be,  on  her  part :  and  no 
less  so  on  the  part  of  the  man  ;  for  there  was  do 
surly  refusal,  no  proud  rejection  of  the  plan,  because 
it  did  not  originate  with  him,  no  covetous  plea  fo' 
setling  it  aside,  on  the  ground  of  expense.  Delight- 
ed, as  every  husband  should  be,  to  gratify  the  be- 
nevolent wishes,  and  support  the  liberal  schemes  of 
his  wife,  so  far  as  prudence  will  allow,  he  consent- 
ed ;  the  little  chamber  was  erected,  and  furnished 
by  this  holy  pair,  and  soon  occupied  by  t)ie  prophet : 
and  nevT  was  a  generous  actiop  more  speedily  or 
more  richly  rewarded.  Elisha  had  no  means  of  his 
own,  by  which  to  acknowledge  the  kindness;  but 
he  who  said  in  after  times,  "  he  that  receiveth  a 
prophet  in  the  name  of  a  prophet,  shall  receive  a 
prophet's  reward,"  took  upon  himself,  as  he  does  in 
every  instance,  the  cause  of  h/s  necessitous  servant, 
and  most  munificently  repaid  the  generous  deed. 

A  lovelier  scene  is  not  to  be  found  on  earth,  than 
that  of  a  pious  couple,  employing  their  mutual  influ- 
ence, and  the  hours  of  their  retired  companionship, 
in  stirring  up  ench  other's  hearts  to  deeds  of  mercy 
and  religious  benevolence;  not  Adam  and  Eve  in 
Paradise,  with  the  unspotted  robes  of  their  inno- 
cence about  them,  engaged  in  propping  the  vine,  or 
trailing  the  rose  of  that  holy  garden,  presented  to 
the  eyes  of  angels  a  more  interesting  spectacle  than 


*  2  Kings  iv.  8—11. 


this.  What  a  contrast  does  such  a  couple  present, 
to  the  pairs  which  are  almost  every  where  to  be 
found,  whose  calculations  are  not  what  they  can 
save  from  unnecessary  expense  to  bestow  upon  the 
cause  of  God  and  humanity,  but  what  they  can  ab- 
stract or  withhold  from  the  claims  of  benevolence, 
to  lavish  upon  splendid  furniture,  or  domestic  luxu- 
ries. Are  there  no  wives  who  attempt  to  chill  the 
ardor,  to  limit  the  beneficence,  to  stint  the  charities 
of  their  husbands  ;  who,  by  their  incessant  and  que- 
rulous, and  almost  quarrelsome  suggestions,  that  he 
is  doing  too  much  for  others,  and  too  little  for  his 
own  family,  drive  the  good  man,  notwithstanding 
he  is  lord  of  his  own  property,  to  exercise  his  libe- 
rality in  secret,  and  bestow  his  charities  by  stealth'? 
And  what  is  oftentimes  the  object  of  such  women  "? 
nothing  more  than  the  pride  of  ambition,  or  the  folly 
of  vanity.  Only  that  they  might  have  these  taxa- 
tions and  parings  of  charity,  to  spend  upon  dress, 
furniture,  and  parties. 

Perhaps  the  question  will  be  asked,  whether  it  is 
proper  for  a  wife  to  give  away  the  property  of  her 
husband  in  acts  of  humanity,  or  religious  benevo- 
lence 1  Such  an  inquiry  ou^ht  to  be  unnecessary; 
for  no  woman  should  be  driven  to  the  alternative 
of  either  doing  nothing  for  the  cause  of  God  and 
man,  or  doing  what  she  can  by  stealth.  A  sulficient 
sum  ought  to  be  placed  at  her  disposal,  to  enable 
her  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  doing  good.  Why  should 
not  she  appear  in  her  own  name  upon  the  honorable 
list  of  benefactors,  and  shine  forth  in  her  peculiar 
and  separate  glory,  instead  of  being  always  lost  in 
the  radiance  of  our  recorded  mercy  1  Why  should 
she  have  no  sphere  of  benevolent  effort  1  Why 
should  we  monopolize  to  ourselves  the  blessings  of 
those  that  are  ready  to  perish  1  It  is  degrading  a 
married  female  to  allow  her  no  discretion  in  this 
matter,  no  liberty  of  distribution,  no  power  to  dis- 
pense, even  in  cases  that  concern  her  sex,  but  to 
compel  her  to  beg  first  of  a  husband,  that  which 
others  come  to  beg  of  her.  If,  however,  she  be  un- 
happily united  to  a  Nabal,  a  churl,  whose  sordid, 
grasping,  covetous  disposition,  will  yield  nothing  to 
the  claims  of  humanity  or  religion,  may  she  then 
make  up  for  the  deficiency  of  her  husband,  and 
diffuse  his  property  unknown  to  him  1  lam  strong- 
ly tempted  to  answer  this  question  in  the  affirmative ; 
fur  if  m  any  instance  we  may  deviate  from  the  or- 
dinary rule,  and  taking  the  man  at  his  own  word, 
vhich  he  uttered,  when  in  the  solemn  act  of  matri- 
mony, he  said,  "  with  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee 
endow,"  may  invest  the  wife  with  a  joint  proprie- 
torship, and  a  right  of  appropriation,  it  is  in  such  a 
case  as  this.  But  still,  we  must  not  sacrifice  general 
principles,  to  special  cases;  and  therefore,  I  say  to 
every  female  in  such  circumstances,  obtain  if  you 
can,  a  separate  and  fixed  allowance  for  charitable 
distribution  ;  but  if  even  this  be  not  possible,  obtain 
one  for  personal  expenses,  and  by  a  most  rigid  fru- 
gality, save  all  you  can  from  dress  and  decoration, 
for  the  hallowed  purpose  of  relieving  the  miseries  of 
your  fellow  creatures. 

0.  Mutual  sympathy  is  required. 

Sickness  may  call  for  this,  and  females  seem  both 
formed  and  inclined  by  nature  to  yield  it. 

"  O  woman  !  in  our  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made; 
When  (lain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou  !" 

Unwilling,  and,  indeed,  unable  to  subscribe  to  the 
former  part  of  this  description,  I  do  most  readily 
assent  to  the  truth  of  the  latter.  If  we  could  do  with- 
out her  and  be  happy  in  health,  what  are  we  in 


10 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


sickness  without  hei  presence  and  her  tender  of- 
fices'? Can  we  smooth,  as  woman  can,  the  pillow 
on  which  the  sick  man  lays  his  headl  No.  We 
cannot,  administer  the  medicine  or  the  food  as  she 
can.  There  is  a  softness  in  her  touch,  a  lightness 
in  her  step,  a  skill  in  her  arrangements,  a  sympathy 
looking  down  upon  us  from  her  beaming  eye,  which 
ours  wants.  Many  a  female,  by  her  devoted  and 
kind  attentions  in  a  season  of  sickness,  has  drawn 
back  to  herself  that  cold  and  alienated  heart,  which 
neither  her  charms  could  hold,  nor  her  claims  re- 
cover. I  entreat  you,  therefore,  married  females, 
to  put  forth  all  your  power  to  soothe  and  please  in 
the  season  of  your  husband's  sickness.  Let  him  see 
you  willing  to  make  any  sacrifices  of  pleasure,  ease, 
or  sleep,  to  minisler  to  his  comfort.  Let  there  be  a 
tenderness  in  your  manner,  a  wakeful  attention  and 
sympathy  in  your  look,  a  something  that  seems  to 
say,  your  only  comfort  in  his  affliction,  is  to  employ 
yourselves  in  alleviating  it.  Hearken  with  patience 
and  kindness  to  the  tale  of  his  lighter,  and  even  of 
his  imaginary  woes.  A  cold,  heartless,  awkward, 
nnsympathising  woman,  is  an  exception  from  the 
general  rule,  and,  therefore,  the  severer  libel  upon 
her  sex. 

Nor  is  this  sympathy  exclusively  the  duty  of  the 
wife  ;  but  belongs  equally  to  the  husband.  He  can- 
not, it  is  true,  perform  the  same  offices  for  her, 
which  she  can  discharge  for  him  ;  but  much  he  can 
do,  and  all  he  can  he  should  do.  Her  sicknesses 
are  generally  more  numerous  and  heavy  than  his; 
she  is  likely,  therefore,  to  make  more  frequent  calls 
upon  his  tender  interest  and  attention.  Many  of  her 
ailments  are  the  consequence  of  becoming  his  wife ; 
she  was,  perhaps,  in  full  vigor,  till  she  became  a 
mother,  and  from  that  time,  never  had  a  moment's 
perfect  ease  or  strength  again.  That  event  which 
sent  into  his  heart  the  joys  of  a  parent,  dismissed 
from  her  frame  the  comforts  of  health.  And  shall 
he  look  with  discontent,  and  indifference,  and  in- 
sensibility, upon  that  delicate  flower,  which,  before 
he  transplanted  it  to  his  garden,  glowed  in  beautv 
and  in  fragrance,  to  the  admiration  of  every  spec- 
tator? Shall  he  now  cease  to  regard  it  with  any 
pleasure,  or  sympathy,  and  seem  as  if  he  wished  it 
gone,  to  make  room  for  another,  forgetting  that  it 
was  he  that  sent  the  worm  to  the  root,  and  caused 
its  head  to  droop,  and  its  colors  to  fade!  Hus- 
bands, I  call  upon  you  for  all  the  skill  and  tender- 
ness of  love,  on  behalf  of  your  wives,  if  they  are 
■weak  and  sickly.  Watch  by  their  couch,  talk  with 
them,  pray  with  them,  walk  with  them,  wake  with 
them.  In  all  their  afflictions,  be  you  afflicted.  Ne- 
ver listen  heedlessly  to  their  complaints;  and,  oh, 
by  all  that  is  sacred  in  conjugal  affection,  I  implore 
you  never,  by  your  cold  neglect,  or  petulant  expres- 
sions, or  discontented  look,  to  call  up  in  their  ima- 
ginations, unusually  sensitive  at  such  a  season,  the 
phantom  of  a  fear,  that  the  disease  which  has  de- 
stroyed their  health,  has  done  the  same  for  your  af- 
fection. Oh !  spare  their  bosom  the  agonizing 
pangs  of  supposing,  that  they  are  living  to  be  a  bur- 
den to  your  disappointed  heart.  The  cruelty  of  that 
man  wants  a  name,  and  I  know  of  none  sufficiently 
emphatic,  who  denies  his  sympathy  to  a  suffering 
woman,  whose  only  sin  is  a  broken  constitution, 
and  whose  calamity  is  the  result  of  her  marriage. 
Such  a  man  does  the  work  of  a  murderer,  without 
his  punishment,  and  in  some  instances,  without  his 
reproach;  but  not  always  without  his  design  or  his 
remorse. 

But  sympathy  should  be  exercised  by  man  and 
wife,  not  only  in  reference  to  their  sicknesses,  but 
to  all  their  afflictions,  whether  personal  or  relative  ; 
all  their  sorrows  should  be  common  :  like  two 
strings  in  unison,  the  chord  of  grief  should  never  be 
struck  m  the  heart  of  one,  without  causing  a  corres- 


ponding vibration  in  the  heart  of  the  other;  or,  like 
the  surface  of  the  lake  answering  to  the  heaven,  it 
should  be  impossible  for  calmness  and  sunshine  to 
be  upon  one,  while  the  other  is  agitated  and  cloudy, 
heart  should  answer  to  heart,  and  face  to  face. 

Such  are  the  duties  common  to  both  ;  the  obliga- 
tions peculiarly  enjoined  upon  each,  will  be  the  sub- 
ject of  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SPECIAL    DUTIES    OF    HUSBANDS   AND   WIVES. 

"  Wives,  submit  yourselves  unto  your  own  husbands, 
as  unto  the  Lord.  For  the  husband  is  the  head  of 
the  wife,  even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  church  ; 
and  he  is  the  Saviour  of  the  body.  Therefore,  as 
the  church  is  subject  unto  Christ,  so  let  the  wives 
be  to  their  own  husbands  in  every  thing.  Hus- 
bands, love  your  wives,  even  as  Christ  also  loved 
the  church,  and  gave  himself  for  it;  that  he  might 
sanctify  and  cleanse  it  with  the  washing  of  water  by 
the  word,  that  he  might  present  it  to  himself  a  glori- 
ous church,  not  having  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such 
thing;  but  that  it  should  be  holy  and  without  ble- 
mish. So  ought  men  to  love  their  wives  as  their  own 
bodies.  He  that  loveth  his  wife,  loveth  himself.  For 
no  man  ever  yet  hated  his  own  flesh,  but  nonrisheth 
and  cherisheth  it,  even  as  the  Lord  the  church  :  For 
we  are  members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of  his 
bones.  For  this  cause  shall  a  man  leave  his  father 
and  mother,  and  shall  be  joined  unto  his  wife,  and 
they  two  shall  be  one  flesh.  This  is  a  great  mys- 
tery :  but  I  speak  concerning  Christ  and  the 
church." — Ephesians  v.  22 — 32. 

Observe  the  sublime  and  transcendently  interesting 
fact,  which  stands  amidst  the  duties  of  domestic 
life,  as  stated  by  the  apostle,  in  the  language  quoted 
above,  like  the  sun  in  the  centre  of  the  planets,  il- 
luminating, impelling,  and  uniting  them  all.  Every 
part  of  this  most  comprehensive  and  beautiful  pas- 
sage is  inimitably  striking.  The  design  of  the 
whole,  is  to  magnify  Christ's  love  to  the  church ;  in 
order  to  this,  the  moral  condition  of  the  church,  pre- 
vious to  the  transforming  work  of  redeeming  grace, 
is  supposed  to  be  that  of  loathsome  impurity;  yet, 
notwithstanding  this,  he  exercises  the  tenderest 
compassion  for  her  welfare,  and  is  not  repelled  by 
excessive  defilement.  To  effect  her  redemption,  he 
do«s  not  merely  employ  the  operations  of  his  power 
and  of  his  wisdom,  but  surrendered  himself  into  the 
hands  of  divine  justice,  that,  as  a  sacrifice  of  atone- 
ment, he  might  ransom  the  object  of  his  regard,  al 
the  price  of  his  blood  ;  thus  manifesting  an  affection 
stronger  than  death,  and  "  which  many  waters  could 
not  quench."  The  ultimate  design  of  this  act  of 
mysterious  humiliation,  is,  to  render  her  in  som" 
measure  worthy  of  his  regard,  and  meet  for  that  in- 
dissoluble union  with  himself,  into  which,  as  his 
illustrious  bride,  she  was  about  to  be  received  ;  for 
this  purpose,  the  efficient  influences  of  the  Holy- 
Ghost  were  to  be  poured  upon  her  mind,  that,  in 
the  cordial  reception  of  the  truth,  she  might  be  puri- 
fied from  iniquity,  have  the  germ  of  every  virtue 
implanted  in  her  heart,  aad  the  robe  of  righteous- 
ness spread  over  her  frame ;  till,  at  length,  undei 
the  dispensations  of  his  providence,  the  means  of  his 
grace,  and  the  sanctifying  agency  of  his  Spirit,  the 
last  spot,  of  moral  defilement  might  be  effaced,  the 
last  wrinkle  of  spiritual  decay  removed,  and,  like 
"  the  king's  daughter,  all  glorious  within,"  and  with 
her  clothing  of  wrought  gold,  she  might  be  present 
ed,  covered  with  the  beauties  of  holiness,  to  the 
Lord  Jesus,  in  that  day,  "  when  he  shall  come  to  be 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


11 


admired  in  his  saints,  and  glorified  in  all  them  that 
believe."     Behold,  what  manner  of  love  is  this! — 
And  it  is  this  most  amazing,  this  unparalleled  act 
of  mercy,  that  is  employed  by  the  apostle,  as  the 
motive  of  all  Christian  conduct.    He  knew  nothing 
of  moral  philosophy,  if  by  this  expression  be  meant, 
the  abstract  principles  of  ethics.  He  left  as  he  found 
them,  the  grounds  of  moral  obligations,  but  he  did 
not  enforce  virtue  by  a  mere  reference  to  our  rela- 
tions to  God  as  creatures,  but  by  a  reference  to  our 
relation  to  Christ,  as  redeemed  sinners.  He  fetched 
his  motives  to  good  works,  from  the  cross;  he  made 
the  power  of  that  to  be  felt,  not  oniy  on  the  con- 
science, as  supplying  the  means  of  pardon,  but  upon 
the  heart,  as  furnishing  the  most  cogent,  and  at  the 
same  time,  the  most  insinuating  argument  for  sanc- 
tification  :  he  not  only  irradiates  the  gloom  of  de- 
spondency, or  melts  the  stubborn  obstinacy  of  unbe- 
lief, or  stays  the  reckless  progress  of  despair,  by  in- 
spiring a  feeling  of  hope ;  no,  but  by  the  death  of  a 
crucified  Saviour,  and  an  exhibition  of  his  most 
unbounded  compassion,  he  attacks  the  vices  of  the 
depraved  heart,  and  inculcates  all  the  virtues  of  the 
renewed  mind.     The  doctrine  of  the  cross  is  the 
substance  of  Christian  truth,  and  the  great  support 
of  Christian  morals:   and  the  apostle's  mind  and 
heart  were  full  of  it.     Does  he  enforce  humility? — 
It  is  thus:  "Let  the  mind  be  in  you  which  was  in 
Christ  Jesus."   An  unreserved  devotedness  to  God  1 
It  is  thus:  "  Ye  are  not  your  own ;  for  ye  are  bought 
with  a  price  ;  therefore  glorify  God  with  your  body 
and  in  your  spirit,  which  are  his."   Brotherly  love  1 
It  is  thus:  "  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God, 
but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  pro- 
pitiation for  our  sins.     Beloved,  if  God  so  loverf  us, 
we  ought  also  to  love  one  another."    A  forgiving 
temp3r  1     It  is  thus:  "  Be  ye  kind  one  to  another, 
tender  hearted,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as  God 
for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you."     Fenevoknce 
to  the  poor?  It  is  thus  :  "  For  ye  know  the  gr.ice  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though  he  was  rich,  for 
our  sakes  became  poor,  that  we,  th.'ough  his  pover- 
ty might  be  made  rich."  *     And  who  but  an  arostle 
would  have  thought  of  enforcing  conjugal  affection 
bv  a  reference  to  the  love  of  Cnrist  tc  his  church.— 
And  he  has  done  this;  and  has  thus  represented  re- 
deeming love,  as  a  kind  of  holv  atmosphere,  sur- 
rounding the  Christian  vn  all  sides,  accompanying 
nim  every  where,  sustaining  bis  spiriutal  existence, 
the  very  element  in  which  bis  religion  lives,  moves, 
and  has  its  being.    And  t.'iis,  indeed,  is  religion;— 
not  a  name,  not  a  creed,  not  a  form,  not  an  abstract 
feeling,  not  an  o6serva;ice  of  times  and  places,  not 
a  mere  mental  costume  or  holy  dress  which  we  put 
on  exclusive.'y  for  certain  seasons  and  occasions; — 
no,  but  a  moral  habit,  a  mental  taste,  the  spirit  of 
the  mind,  which  will  spontaneously  appear  in  our 
language,  feeling,  and  behavior,  by  a  reference  to 
Jesus  Christ,  as  the  ground  of  hope,  and  the  model 
of  imitation. 

In  statin?  the  duties  especially  enjoined  on  the 
two  parties  in  the  conjugal  union,  I  shall  begin  with 
those  of  the  husband.  He  is  commanded  to  love 
his  wife. 

As  we  have  already  shown  that  this  is  a  duty  of 
both  parties,  the  question  very  naturally  arises,  "  For 
what  reason  is  it  so  specially  enjoined  upon  the  hus- 
band V  Why  is  he  so  particularly  bound  to  the  ex- 
ercise of  afTection  1  Perhaps  for  the  following  rea- 
^ns  :  1.  Because,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  he 
is  most  in  danger  of  failing  in  this  duty.  Placed 
by  the  Creator  as  "  the  head  of  the  wife,"  and  in- 
vested with  a  certain  right  to  govern  his  household, 
he  is  more  in  peril  of  merging  the  tender  sensibili- 


*  Phil.  ii.  5. 
Ephes.  iv.  32. 


1  Cor.  vi.  20.      1  John  iv.  10,  11. 

2  Cor.  viii.  9. 


ties  in  the  predominant  consciousness  of  superiori- 
ty. 2.  Because  he  is  actually  more  deficient  in  this 
duty  than  the  other  party.  This  has  ever  been  the 
case  in  Pagan  and  Mohammedan  countries.  In 
barbarous  nations,  especially,  conjugal  affection 
has  ever  been  exceedingly  weak,  and  it  is  probable, 
that  even  in  the  more  civilized  countries  of  Greece 
and  Rome  it  was  not  so  generally  strong  and  steady, 
as  it  has  since  been  made  by  Christianity.  But 
without  even  going  beyond  the  limits  of  Christen- 
dom, it  may  be  truly  said,  that  husbands  are  usual- 
ly more  deficient  in  love  than  wives;  the  latter,  in 
my  opinion,  excel  the  former  in  tenderness,  in 
strength,  in  constancy  of  affection.  3.  Because  a 
want  of  love  on  the  part  of  the  man,  is  likely  to  be 
attended  with  more  misery  to  the  other  party:  he 
can  go  to  greater  excesses  in  violence,  in  cruelty,  in 
depravity.  The  want  of  this  lender  passion  in  him 
is  likely  to  have  a  still  worse  effect  upon  his  own 
character,  and  the  peace  of  the  wife,  than  the  want 
of  it  in  her :  in  either  case,  a  destitution  of  this 
kind  is  a  melancholy  thing;  but  in  him,  it  is  on  se- 
veral accounts,  the  most  to  be  dreaded. 

The  apostie  lays  down  two  models  or  rules,  for  a 
husband's  affection ;  the  one  is,/A<?  love  which  Christ 
has  many  cstcd  for  his  church ;  and  the  other,  the  love 
which  a  man  be-irs  for  himself. 

In  directing  your  attention  to  the  first,  I  shall  ex 
hibit  the  properties  of  Christ's  love,  and  show  in 
what  wav  our  affection  should  be  conformed  to  his. 
Christ's  love  was  sincere.  He  did  not  love  in 
word  only,  but  in  deed  and  in  truth.  In  him  there 
was  no  dissimulation;  no  epithets  of  endearment 
going  forth  out  of  feigned  lips;  no  actions  varnish- 
ed over  with  a  mere  covering  of  love.  We  must 
be  like  him,  and  endeavor  to  maintain  a  principle 
of  true  regard  in  the  heart,  as  well  as  a  show  of  it 
in  the  conduct.  It  is  a  miserable  thing  to  have  to 
act  the  part  of  love,  without  feeling  it.  Hypocrisy 
is  base  in  every  thing,  but  next  to  religion,  is  most 
base  in  affection.  Besides,  how  difficult  is  it  to  act 
the  part  well,  to  keep  on  the  mask,  and  to  support 
the  character  so  as  to  escape  detection!  Oh,  the 
misery  of  that  woman's  heart,  who  at  length  finds 
out  to  her  cost,  that  what  she  has  been  accustomed 
to  receive  and  value  as  the  attentions  of  a  lover, 
are  but  the  tricks  of  a  cunning  dissembler. 
The  love  of  the  Redeemer  was  ardent. 
Let  us,  if  we  would  form  a  correct  idea  cf  what 
should  be  the  state  of  our  hearts  towards  the  woman 
of  our  choice,  think  of  that  affection  which  glowed 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Saviour,  when  he  lived  and 
died  for  his  people.  We  can  possess,  it  is  true, 
neither  the  same  kind,  nor  the  same  degree  of  re- 
gard, but  surely  when  we  are  referred  to  such  an 
instance,  if  not  altogether  as  a  model,  yet  as  a  mo- 
tive, it  does  teach  us,  that  no  weak  affection  is  due, 
or  should  be  offered  to  the  wife  of  our  bosom.  We 
are  told  by  the  Saviour  himself,  that  if  he  laid  down 
his  life  for  us,  it  is  our  duty  to  lay  down  ours  for  the 
brethren;  how  much  more  for  the  "friend  that 
stickeih  closer  than  a  brother."  And  if  it  be  our 
duty  to  lay  down  our  life,  how  much  more  'o  employ 
it  while  it  lasts,  in  all  the  offices  of  an  affection, 
strong,  steady,  and  inventive.  She  that  for  our 
sake  has  forsaken  the  comfortable  home,  and  the 
watchful  care,  and  the  warm  embrace  of  her  pa- 
rents, has  a  right  to  expect  in  our  regard,  that  which 
shall  make  her  "forget  her  father's  house,"  and 
cause  her  to  feel  that  with  respect  to  happiness,  she 
is  no  loser  by  the  exchange.  Happy  the  woman, 
and  such  should  every  husband  strive  to  make  his 
wife,  who  can  look  back  without  a  sigh  upon  the 
moment,  when  she  quitted  for  ever,  the  guardians, 
the  companions,  and  the  scenes  of  her  childhood ! 
The  love  of  Christ  to  his  church  was  supreme. 
He  gives  to  the  world  his  benevolence,  but  to  the 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


church  his  complacency.  1;  The  Lord  thy  God  in 
ihe  midst  of  thee,"  said  the  prophet,  "  is  mighty  ; 
lie  will  save  thee,  he  will  rejoice  over  thee,  with 
joy  ;  he  will  rest  in  his  love ;  he  will  joy  over  thee 
with  singing."  So  must  the  husband  regard  his 
Wife,  above  all  else ;  he  must  "  rest  in  his  love." — 
He  should  regard  her  not  only  above  all  without  his 
house,  but  above  all  within.  She  must  take  prece- 
dence both  in  his  heart  and  conduct,  not  only  of  all 
strangers,  but  of  all  relatives,  and  also  of  all  his 
children ;  he  ought  to  love  his  children  for  her  sake, 
rather  than  her  for  theirs.  Is  this  always  the  case  1 
On  the  contrary,  have  we  not  often  seen  men,  who 
appear  to  be  far  more  interested  in  their  children 
than  in  their  wives;  and  who  have  paid  far  less  at- 
tention to  the  latter  than  to  grown-up  daughters'! 
How  especially  unseemly  is  it,  for  a  man  to  be  seen 
fonder  of  the  society  of  any  other  woman,  than  that 
of  his  wife,  even  where  nothing  more  maybe  in- 
tended than  the  pleasure  of  her  company.  Nor 
ought  he  to  forsake  her,  in  his  leisure  hours, 
for  any  companions  of  his  .own  sex,  however  in- 
teresting might  be  their  m&nners  or  their  conver- 
sation. 

The  love  of  Christ  is  uniform  Like  himself,  it 
is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  ami  for  ever.  Con- 
jugal affection  should  have  the  sarae  character;  it 
should  be  at  all  times,  and  in  al]  plates  alike;  the 
same  at  hovie,  as  abroad  ;  in  other  persons'  houses 
as  i;i  our  own.  Has  not  many  a  wife  to- sigh  and 
exclaim,  "  Oh  that  I  were  treated  in  my  oWhoose, 
with  the  same  tenderness  and  attention  as  I  >eceive 
in  company."  With  what  almost  loathing  and  dis- 
gust must  such  a  woman  turn  from  endearments, 
which,  under  such  circumstances,  she  can  consider 
as  nothing  but  hypocrisy.  Home  is  the  chief  place 
for  fond  and  minute  attention  ;  and  she  who  has  not 
to  complain  of  a  want  of  it  there,  will  seldom  feel 
the  need  or  the  inclination  to  complain  of  a  wain 
of  it  abroad,  except  it  be  those  silly  women,  who 
would  degrade  their  husbands,  by  exacting,  not 
merely  what  is  really  kind,  but  what  is  actually 
ridiculous. 

The  love  of  the  Redeemer  was  practical  and 
laborious.  He  provided  every  thing  by  his  media- 
tion for  the  welfare  and  comfort  of  the  church,  and 
at  a  cost  and  by  exertions  of  which  we  can  form  no 
idea.  It  has  been  already  declared,  that  both  par- 
ties are  to  assist  in  the  cares  of  life.  A  good,  wife 
cannot  be  an  idle  one.  Beautiful  is  her  portraiture, 
as  drawn  by  the  wise  man.  "  Who  can  find  a  vir- 
tuous woman  1  for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies. — 
The  heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her, 
so  that  he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil.  She  will  do 
him  good  and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  her  life.  She 
layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle,  and  her  hands  hold 
the  distaff.  She  slretcheth  out  her  hand  to  the  poor, 
yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hand  to  the  needy. — 
Her  husband  is  known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sitteth 
amongst  the  elders  of  the  land.  She  openeth  her 
month  with  wisdom,  and  in  h^r  tongue  is  the  law 
of  kindness.  She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her 
household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness. — 
Her  children  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed  :  her  hus- 
band, also,  and  he  praiseth  her.  Many  daughters 
have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest  them  all. 
Favor  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a  wo- 
man that  feareth  the  Lord  she  shall  be  praised. — 
Give  her  the  fruit  of  her  hands,  and  let  her  own 
works  praise  her  in  the  gates."  Proverbs  xxxi. — 
This  exquisite  picture,  combining  as  it  does  indus- 
try, prudence,  dignity,  meekness,  wisdom  and  pie- 
ty, cannot  be  too  frequently  or  minutely  studied,  by 
those  who  would  atlain  to  high  degrees  of  female 
excellence.  The  business  of  providing  for  the  fa- 
mily, however,  belongs  chiefly  to  the  husband.  It 
is  yours,  my  brethren,  to  rise  up  early,  to  sit  up 


late,  to  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness,  and  to  drink, 
if  necessary,  the  waters  of  affliction,  that  you  may 
earn  by  the  sweat  of  your  brow,  a  comfortable  sup- 
port for  the  domestic  circle.  This  is  probably  what 
the  apostle  meant,  when  he  enjoined  us  to  give  ho- 
nor to  the  wife  as  to  the  weaker  vessel ;  the  honor 
of  maintenance,  which  she,  in  consequence  of  the 
weakness  of  her  frame,  and  the  frequent  infirmities 
which  the  maternal  relation  brings  upon  her,  is  not 
so  well  able  to  procure  for  herself.  In  most  barba- 
rous countries,  and  in  some  half-civilized  ones,  the 
burden  of  manual  labor  falls  upon  the  female,  while 
her  tyrant  lord  lives  in  indolence,  feeding  upon  the 
industry  of  the  helpless  being  whom  he  calls  his 
wife,  but  treats  as  a  slave.  And  are  there  no  such 
idle  tyrants  in  our  age  and  country,  who,  so  as  they 
can  live  in  indolence,  and  gratify  their  appetites, 
care  not  how  they  oppress  their  wives'?  wretches 
who  do  little  or  nothing  for  the  support  of  the  fami- 
ly? How  utterly  lost  to  every  noble  and  generous 
sentiment  must  that  man  be  whose  heart  cannot  be 
moved  by  the  entreaties  or  tears  of  an  interesting 
woman,  and  who  can  hear  in  vain  her  pleadings 
for  his  child  at  her  breast,  and  his  child  by  her 
side,  and  who  by  such  appeals  cannot  be  induced  to 
give  up  his  daily  visits  to  the  tavern,  or  his  habits 
of  sauntering  idleness,  to  attend  to  his  neglected  bu- 
siness, and  stay  the  approaching  tide  of  poverty  and 
ruin.  Such  a  creature  is  worse  than  a  brute,  he  is 
a  monster ;  and  it  seems  a  pity,  that  there  is  no 
law,  and  no  convict  ship  to  bear  him  away  to  a 
land,  where  if  he  will  not  work,  so  neither  could 
he  eat. 

In  general,  it  is  for  the  benefit  of  a  family,  that  a 
married  woman  should  devote  her  time  and  atten- 
tion almost  exclusively  to  the  ways  of  her  house- 
hold :  her  place  is  in  the  centre  of  domestic  cares. 
What  is  gained  by  her  in  the  shop,  is  oftentimes  lost 
in  rne  house,  for  want  of  the  judicious  superintend- 
ence of  a  mo\her  and  mistress.  Comfort  and  order, 
as  weft  as  money,  are  domestic  wealth ;  and  can 
these  be  rationally  expected  in  the  absence  of  fe- 
male arrat-igemem ?  The  children  always  want  a 
mother's  eye  and  Rand,  and  should  always  have 
them.  Let  the  husband  then  have  the  care  of  pro- 
viding ;  the  wife,  that  of  distributing ;  for  this  is  the 
rule  both  of  reason  and  revelation. 

And  as  Christ  labored  for  his  church,  not  only 
during  his  abode  upyn  earth,  but  made  provision 
for  its  welfare  when  he  departed  from  our  world, 
in  like  manner  should  the  husfruid  take  care  of  his 
wife.  I  never  could  understand  that  custom,  which 
is  but  too  common,  of  providing  hy  their  wills  so 
much  better  for  the  children  than  they  do  for  the 
mother.  Does  this  look  like  a  supreme  love  1— 
Every  man  who  raises  a.  woman  to  the  tank  of  his 
wife,  should  take  care,  however  inferior  she  might 
have  been  in  circumstances  before  their  marriage 
to  leave  her  in  the  situation  into  which  he  brought 
her  :  for  it  is  indeed  most  cruel,  to  leave  her  to^be 
deprived  at  once,  not  only  of  her  dearest  earthh- 
friend,  but  of  her  usual  means  of  comfortable  sub- 
sistence. 

A  practical  affection  to  a  wife  extends,  however, 
to  every  thing;  it  should  manifest,  itself  in  the  most 
delicate  attention  to  her  comfort  and  her  feelings; 
in  consulting  her  tastes  ;  in  concealing  her  failings ; 
in  never  doing  any  thing  to  degrade  her,  but  every 
thing  to  exalt  her  before  her  children  and  servants; 
in  acknowledging  her  excellences,  and  commend  • 
ing  her  efforts  to  please  him;  in  meeting,  and  even 
anticipating  all  her  reasonable  requests;  in  short  in 
doing  all  that  ingenuity  can  invent  for  her  substan- 
tial happiness  and  general  comfort. 

Christ's  love  to  his  church  was  durable  and  un- 
changeable. "  Having  loved  his  own,  he  loved 
them  to  the  end,"  without  abatement  or  alteration : 


THE  FAMILY  MONITOR. 


In 


so  ought  husbands  to  love  their  wives,  not  only  at 
the  beginning:  but  to  the  end  of  their  union;  when 
the  charms  of  beauty  have,  fled  before  the  wither- 
ing influence  of  disease;  when  the  vigorous  and 
sprightly  frame  has  lost  its  elasticity,  and  the  step 
has  become  slow  and  faltering;  when  the  wrinkles 
of  age  have  succeeded  to  the  bloom  of  youth,  and 
the  whole  person  seems  rather  the  monument,  than 
the  resemblance,  of  what  it  once  was.  Has  she  not 
gained  in  mind  what  she  has  lost  in  exterior  fasci- 
nations 1  Have  not  her  mental  graces  flourished 
amidst  the  ruins  of  personal  charms!  If  the  rose 
and  the  lily  have  faded  on  the  cheek,  have  not  the 
fruits  of  righteousness  grown  in  the  soul  1  If  those 
blossoms  have  departed,  on  which  the  eye  of  youth- 
ful passion  gazed  with  so  much  ardor,  has  it  not 
been  to  give  way  to  the  ripe  fruit  of  Christian  excel- 
lence 1  The  woman  is  not  what  she  was,  but  the 
wife,  the  mother,  the  Christian,  are  better  than  they 
were.  For  an  example  of  conjugal  love  in  all  its 
power  and  excellence,  point  me  not  to  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  displaying  during  the  first  month  of 
their  union  all  the  watchfulness  and  tenderness  of 
affection,  but  lei  mv  look  upon  the  husband  and 
wife  of  fifty,  whose  love  has  been  tried  by  the  lapse 
and  the  changes  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  who 
through  this  period  and  by  these  vicissitudes,  have 
grown  in  attachment  and  esteem;  and  whose  affec- 
tion, if  nor  glowing  with  all  the  fervid  heat  of  a 
midsummer's  day,  is  still  like  the  sunshine  of  an 
October  noon,  warm  and  beautiful,  as  reflected 
amidst  autumnal  tints. 

But,  before  I  go  away  from  this  view  of  a  hus- 
band's especial  duty,  I  must  just  advert  to  another 
rule  of  his  regard  which  is  laid  down  for  him  by 
the  apostle.  "  So  ought  men  to  love  their  wives, 
as  their  own  bodies:  he  that  loveth  his  wife  loveth 
himself."  A  man's  children  are  parts  of  himself; 
his  wife  is  himself:  "  for  they  two  shall  be  one 
flesh."  "  This  is  his  duty  and  the  measure  of  it  too; 
which  is  so  plain,  that,  if  he  understands  how  he 
treats  himself,  there  needs  nothing  be  added  con- 
cerning his  demeanor  towards  her;  for  what  mighty 
care  does  he  take  of  his  body,  and  uses  it  with  a  de- 
licate tenderness,  and  cares  for  it  in  all  contingen- 
cies, and  watches  to  keep  it  from  all  evils,  and  stu- 
dies to  make  for  it  fair  provisions,  and  is  very  often 
led  by  its  inclinations  and  desires,  and  does  never 
contradict  its  appcties,  but  when  they  are  evil,  and 
then  also  not  without  some  trouble  and  sorrow." — 
So  let  a  man  love  his  wife  as  his  own  body. 

Can  it  be  necessary  to  apply  the  force  of  motives 
to  produce  an  appropriate  attention  to  such  a  duty  1 
If  so,  I  appeal  to  your  sense  of  honor.  Husbands, 
call  to  recollection  the  wakeful  assiduities,  and  the 
tender  attentions,  by  which  you  won  the  affection 
and  the  confidence  of  the  woman,  who  forsook  her 
father  and  her  mother,  and  the  home  of  her  child- 
hood, to  find  a  resting  place  for  her  heart  in  your 
attachment ;  and  will  ye  falsify  the  vows  you  plight- 
ed, and  disappoint  the  hopes  you  raised  1  Is  it  ac- 
counted a  disgraceful  stigma  on  a  man's  reputation, 
to  forfeil  the  pledges  of  a  lover?  oh!  how  much 
more  dishonorable  to  forget  those  of  a  husband  ! — 
That  man  has  disgraced  himself  who  furnishes  just 
occasion  to  ihe  partner  of  his  dnv<,  to  draw  with  a 
sigh,  a  contrast  between  the  affectionate  attention 
she  received  as  a  lover  and  as  a  wife. 

I  urge  affection  to  a  wife,  by  the  recollection  of 
tka'  solemn  w<"i",>i?.  when,  in  the  presence  of  heaven 
and  earth,  before  G>d's  minister,  and  in  God's 
house,  yon  bound  yourself,  bv  all  the  deeply  awful 
formali  ies  of  a  kind  of  oath,  to  throw  open  and 
keep  open  your  hpart,  as  the  fountain  of  her  earthly 
happiness,  and  to  levote  your  whole  life  to  the  pro- 
motion of  her  welfare. 

I  appeal  to  your  regard  to  justice.    You  have 


sworn  away  yourself  to  her,  and  are  no  longer  your 
own.  You  have  no  right  to  that  individual,  and 
separate,  and  independent  kind  of  life,  which  would 
lead  you  to  seek  your  happiness,  in  opposition  to, 
or  neglect  of  hers.     "  You  twain  are  one  flesh." 

Humanity  puts  in  its  claim  on  behalf  of  your  wife. 
It  is  in  your  power  to  do  more  for  her  happiness  or 
misery,  than  any  other  being  in  the  universe,  short 
of  God  himself.  An  unkind  husband  is  a  tormentor 
of  the  fir>t  class.  His  victim  can  never  elude  his 
grasp,  nor  go  beyond  the  reach  of  his  cruelty,  till 
she  is  kindly  released  by  the  king  of  terrors,  who, 
in  this  instance,  becomes  to  her  an  angel  of  light, 
and  conducts  her  to  the  grave  as  to  a  shelter  from 
her  oppressor.  For  such  a  woman  there  is  no  rest 
on  earth :  the  destroyer  of  her  peace  has  her  ever  in 
his  power,  for  she  is  always  in  his  presence,  or  in 
the  fear  of  it :  the  circumstances  of  every  place,  and 
every  day,  furnish  him  with  the  occasions  of  cruel 
neglect  or  unkindness,  and  it  might  be  fairly  ques- 
tioned, whether  there  is  to  be  found  on  earth,  a  case 
of  greater  misery,  except  it  be  that  of  a  wretch  tor- 
tured by  remorse  and  despair,  than  a  woman  whose 
heart  daily  withers  under  the  cold  looks,  the  chill- 
ing words",  and  repulsive  actions  of  a  husband,  who 
loveth  her  not.  Such  a  man  is  a  murderer,  though 
he  escapes  in  this  world  the  murderer's  doom  ;  and 
by  a  refinement  of  cruelty,  he  employs  years  in  con- 
ducting his  victim  to  her  end,  by  the  slow  process 
of  a  lingering  death. 

If  nothing  else  can  prevail,  interest  should,  for  no 
man  can  hate  his  wife,  without  hating  himself,  for 
':she  is  his  own  flesh."  Love,  like  mercv,  is  a 
double  blessing ;  and  hatred,  like  cruelty,  is  a  double 
torment.  We  cannot  love  a  worthy  object  without 
rejoicing  in  the  reflex  beams*  of  our  own  affection. 
Next  to  the  supreme  regard  we  cherish  towards 
God,  and  which  it  is  impossible  to  exercise  and  not 
hold  communion  with  angels  in  the  joys  of  heaven, 
connubial  love  is  the  most  beatifying  passion;  and 
to  transform  this  into  unkindness,  is  to  open  at  the 
very  centre  of  our  soul,  a  source  of  poison,  which, 
before  it  exudes  to  torture  others,  torments  our- 
selves. 

I  cannot  here  avoid  inserting  the  exquisite  and 
touching  appeal,  which  Mr.  Jay  puts  into  the  lips  of 
married  women  to  their  husbands.  "  Honor  us  ;  deal 
kindly  with  us.  From  many  of  the  opportunities, 
and  means  by  which  you  procure  favorable  notice, 
we  are  excluded.  Doomed  to  the  shades,  lew  of 
the  high  places  of  the  earth  are  open  to  us.  Alter- 
nately we  are  adored  and  oppressed.  From  our 
slaves  you  become  our  tyrants.  You  feel  our 
beauty,  and  avail  yourselves  of  our  weakness.  You 
complain  of  our  inferiority,  but  none  of  your  be- 
havior bids  us  rise.  Sensibility  has  given  us  a 
thousand  feelings,  which  nature  has  kindly  denied 
you.  Always  under  restraints,  we  have  little  li- 
berty of  choice.  Providence  seems  to  have  been 
mure  attentive  to  enable  us  to  confer  happinesy, 
than  to  enjov  it.  Every  condition  has  for  us  fresh 
mortifications;  every  relation  new  sorrows.  We 
enter  social  bonds;  it  is  a  system  of  perpetual  sacri- 
fice. We  eannot  give  life  to  others  without  hazard- 
in?  our  own.  We  have  sufferings  which  you  do  not 
share,  cannot  share.  If  spared,  years  and  decays 
invade  our  charms,  and  much  of  the  ardor  pro- 
duced by  attraction  departs  with  it.  We  may  die. 
The  grave  covers  us,  and  we  are  soon  forgotten; 
soon  are  the  days  of  your  mourning  ended,  soon  is 
our  loss  repaired  :  dismissed  even  from  your  speech, 
our  name  is  to  be  heard  no  move — a  successor  may 
dislike  it.  Our  children,  after  having  a  mother  by 
mtere,  mav  fall  under  the  control  of  a  mother  hv 
affinity,  and  be  mortified  by  distinctions  made  be- 
i  Them,  and  her  own  offspring.  Though  the  du- 
ties which  we  have  discharged  invariably,  be  the 


34 


THE   FAMILY  MONITOR. 


most  important  and  necessary,  they  do  not  shine: 
they  are  too  common  to  strike  :  they  procure  no  ce- 
lebrity: the  wife,  the  mother  fills  no  historic  page. 
Our  privations,  our  confinements,  our  wearisome 
days,  our  interrupted,  our  sleepless  nights,  the  hours 
we  have  hung  in  anxious  watchings  over  your  sick 
and  dying  offspring."    But  we  forbear. 

I  NOW  COME  TO  THE  DUTIES  ENJOINED  UPON  THE 
WIFE. 

The  first  I  mention  is  subjection. 
"Wives  submit  yourselves  unto  your  own  hus- 
bands as  unto  the  Lord  ;  for  the  husband  is  the  head 
of  the  wife,  even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the 
church;  and  he  is  the  Saviour  of  the  body.  There- 
fore as  the  church  is  subject  unto  Christ,  so  let  the 
wives  be  to  their  own  husbands  in  every  thing." — 
The  same  thing  is  enjoined  also  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Colossians.  Peter  unites  with  Paul  in  the  same 
strain.  "  Ye  wives  be  in  subjection  to  your  own 
husbands."  Before  I  state  the  kind  of  subjection 
here  commanded,  it  is  necessary  to  state  the  nature 
cf  the  authority  to  which  it  is  to  be  yielded.  Here 
1  would  observe,  that  with  whatsoever  kind  and  de- 
gree cf  authority  the  husband  is  invested  over  the 
wife,  it  is  such  as  is  in  no  way  incompatible  with,  or 
trenches  upon  the  strongest  and  tenderest  affection. — 
And  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  "  that  the  apostle  does 
not  enjoin  husbands  to  rule,  nor  instruct  him  how, 
but  merely  to  love  ;  so  that  it  seems  to  be  with  them, 
as  with  bishops  and  priests,  to  whom  much  honor 
is  due,  but  yet  so  that  if  they  stand  upon  it,  and 
challenge  it,  they  become  less  honorable." 

It  is  such  an  authority,  as  is  compatible  with  re- 
ligion or  the  claims  of  God  ;  for  no  man  has  a  right 
to  enjoin,  and  no  woman  is  bound  to  obey  any  com- 
mands which  is  in  opposition  to  the  letter  or  spirit 
of  the  Bible.  It  is  such  an  authority,  as  is  consonant 
with  sound  reason,  its  injunctions  must  all  be  rea- 
sonable, for  surely  it  is  too  much  to  expect,  that  a 
wife  is  to  become  a  slave  of  folly,  any  more  than  of 
cruelty.  It  is  an  authority,  that  accords  unth  the 
idea  of  companionship.  It  was  very  beautifully  ob- 
served by  an  ancient  writer,  that  when  Adam  en- 
deavored to  shift  the  blame  of  his  transgression 
upon  his  wife,  he  did  not  say,  the  "woman  thou 
gavest  to  me,"  no  such  thing,  she  is  none  of  his 
goods,  none  of  his  possessions,  not  to  be  reckoned 
amongst  his  servants  ;  but  he  said  "  the  woman  thou 
gavest  to  be  with  me,"  that  is,  to  be  my  partner,  the 
companion  of  my  joys  and  sorrows. 

Let  conjugal  authority  be  founded  upon  love,  be 
never  exercised  in  opposition  to  revelation  or  rea- 
son, and  be  regulated  by  the  idea  of  companionship, 
and  then  there  need  no  particular  rules  for  its 
guidance;  for  wiihin  such  limits,  it  can  never  de- 
generate into  tyranny  ;  nor  can  it  ever  oppress  its 
subjects :  to  such  a  power  any  woman  may  bow, 
without  degradation,  for  its  yoke  is  easy  and  its 
burden  light.  In  every  society,  from  that  which 
finds  its  centre  in  the  father's  chair,  to  that  which 
in  a  wider  circle  rests  upon  the  throne,  there  must 
be  precedence  vested  somewhere,  and  some  ultimate 
authority,  some  last  and  highest  tribunal  establish- 
ed, for  the  decision  of  which,  there  lies  no  appeal. 
In  the  domestic  constitution  this  superiority  vests  in 
the  husband  :  he  is  the  head,  the  lawgiver,  the  ruler. 
In  all  matters  touching  the  little  world  in  the  house, 
he  is  to  direct,  not  indeed  without  taking  counsel 
with  his  wife,  but  in  all  discordancy  of  view,  he,  un- 
less he  choose  to  waive  his  right,  is  to  decide;  and 
to  his  decision  the  wife  should  yield,  and  yield  with 
grace  and  cheerfulness.  No  man  ought  to  resign 
his  authority,  as  the  head  of  the  family,  no  woman 
ought  to  wish  him  to  do  it :  he  may  give  up  his  pre- 
dilections and  yield  to  her  wishes,  but  he  must  not 
abdicate  the  throne,  nor  resign  his  sceptre.  Usurpa- 
tion is  always  hatefal,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  of- 


fensive exhibitions  of  it,  where  the  husband  is  de- 
graded into  a  slave  of  the  queen  mother.  Such  a 
woman  looks  contemptible  even  upon  the  throne.  I 
admit  it  is  difficult  fora  sensible  woman  to  submit  to 
imbecility,  but  she  should  have  considered  this  be- 
fore she  united  herself  to  it ;  having  committed  one 
error,  let  her  not  fall  into  a  second,  but  give  the 
strongest  proof  of  her  good  sense  which  circumstan- 
ces will  allow  her  to  offer,  by  making  that  conces- 
sion to  superiority  of  statical,  which  there  is  no  op- 
portunity in  her  case  for  her  to  do  to  superiority  of 
mind.  She  may  reason,  she  may  persuade,  she  may 
solicit,  but  if  ignorance  cannot  be  convinced,  nor 
obstinacy  turned,  nor  kindness  conciliated,  she  has 
no  resource  left  but  to — subjnit :  and  one  of  the  finest 
scenes  ever  to  be  presented  by  the  domestic  econo- 
my, is  that  of  a  sensible  woman  employing  her  ta- 
lents and  address,  not  to  subvert,  but  to  support  the 
authority  of  a  weak  husband ;  a  woman  who 
prompts  but  does  not  command,  who  persuades,  but 
does  not  dictate,  who  influences,  but  does  not  com- 
pel, and  who,  after  taking  pains  to  conceal  her  be- 
neficent interference,  submits  to  the  authority  which 
she  has  both  supported  and  guided.  An  opposite 
line  of  conduct  is  most  mischievous;  for  weakness, 
when  placed  in  perpetual  contrast  with  superior 
judgment,  is  rarely  blind  to  its  own  defects;  and  as 
this  conciousness  of  inferiority,  when  united  with 
office  is  always  jealous,  it  is  both  watchful  and  re- 
sentful of  any  interference  with  its  prerogative. — 
There  must  be  subjection  then,  which,  where  it  can- 
not be  yielded  to  superior  talents,  because  there  are 
none,  must  be  conceded  to  superiority  of  station. — 
But  let  husbands  be  cautious  not  to  put  the  submis- 
sion of  their  wives  to  too  severe  a  test.  It  is  hard, 
very  hard,  to  obey  a  rash,  indiscreet  and  silly  ruler. 
"If  you  will  be  the  head,  remember  the  head  is  not 
only  the  seat  of  government,  but  of  knowledge.  If 
you  will  have  the  management  of  the  ship,  see  that 
a  fool  is  not  placed  at  the  helm.  Shall  the  blind 
offer  themselves  as  guides  1" 

The  grounds  of  submission  are  many  and  strong. 
Waiving  all  motives  founded  upon  the  comparative 
strength  of  mind  with  which  the  two  sexes  may  be 
gifted,  I  refer  my  female  friends,  to  less  questiona- 
ble matters.  Look  at  the  creation;  woman  was 
made  after  the  man  "for  Adam  was  first  formed, 
then  Eve."  She  was  made  out  of  man,  "  for  the  man 
is  not  of  the  woman,  but  the  woman  of  the  man." 
She  was  made  for  man,  "  neither  was  the  man  cre- 
ated for  the  woman,  but  the  woman  for  the  man." 
Look  at  the  fall.  Woman  occasioned  it.  "  Adam 
was  not  deceived,  but  the  woman  being  deceived, 
was  in  the  transgression."  She  was  thus  punished 
for  it,  "  Thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband,  and  he 
shall  rule  over  thee."  Look  at  her  history.  Have 
not  the  customs  of  all  nations,  ancient  and  modern, 
savage  and  civilized,  acknowledged  her  subordina- 
tion 1  Look  at  the  light  in  which  this  subject  is 
placed  in  the  New  Testament.  How  strong  is  the 
language  of  the  text,  "  the  husband  is  the  head  of 
the  wife,  even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  church. 
Therefore  as  the  church  is  subject  unto  Christ,  so 
let  the  wives  be  to  their  own  husbands  in  every 
thing." 

Let  me  then,  my  respected  female  friends,  as  you 
would  submit  to  the  authority  of  Christ,  as  you 
would  adorn  the  station  that  providence  has  called 
you  to  occupy,  as  you  would  promote  your  own 
peace,  the  comfort  of  your  husband,  and  the  welfare 
of  your  family,  admonish  you,  meekly  and  grace- 
fully to  be  subject  in  ali  things,  not  only  lo  the  wise 
and  good,  but  to  the  foolish  and  ill-deserving.  You 
may  reason,  as  I  have  said  before,  you  may  expos- 
tulate, but  you  must  not  rebel  or  refuse.  Let  it  be 
your  glory  to  feel  how  much  you  can  endure,  rather 
than  despise  the  institutions  of  heaven,  or  violate 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


15 


those  engagements  into  which  you  voluntarily,  and 
so  solemnly  entered.  Let  your  submission  be  cha- 
racterized by  cheerfulness,  and  not  by  reluctant  sul- 
lenness :  let  it  not  be  preceded  by  a  struggle,  but 
yielded  at  once  and  for  ever;  let  there  be  no  hold- 
ing out  to  the  last  extremity,  and  then  a  mere  com- 
pulsory capitulation ;  but  a  voluntary,  cheerful, 
andisputed,  and  unrevoked  concession. 

2.  The  next  duty  enjoined  upon  a  wife  is  reve- 
rence. 

"  Let  the  wife  see  that  she  reverence  her  hus- 
band.'' This  duty  is  nearly  allied  to  the  last,  but  is 
still  somewhat  different.  By  reverence,  the  apostle 
means  nothing  of  slavish,  or  obsequious  homage, 
but  that  respect  and  deference  which  are  due  to  one 
whom  we  are  commanded  to  obey.  Your  reve- 
rence will  be  manifest  in  your  words ;  for  instance, 
in  your  manner  of  speaking  of  him,  you  will  avoid 
all' that  would  tend  to  lessen  him  in  the  esteem  of 
others;  all  exposure  of  his  faults  or  minor  weak- 
nesses; all  depreciation  of  his  understanding  or 
domestic  rule.  Such  gossip  is  delestable  and  mis- 
chievous; for  can  any  thing  tend  more  to  irritate 
him.  than  to  find  that  you  have  been  sinking  him 
in  the  esteem  of  the  public  1  Reverence  will  be 
displayed  in  your  manner  of  speaking  to  him. — 
"Even  as  Sarah  obeyed  Abraham,  calling  him 
Lord :"  all  flippant  pertness,  every  thing  of  con- 
temptuous consciousness  of  superiority,  of  dictation 
and  command,  of  unnecessary  contradiction,  of  per- 
tinacious and  obtrusive  disputation,  of  scolding  ac- 
cusation, of  angry,  reproachful  complaint,  of  noisy 
and  obstreporous  expostulation,  should  be  avoided. 
Almost  all  domestic  quarrels  begin  in  words ;  and 
it  is  usually  in  a  woman's  power  to  prevent  them 
by  causing  the  law  of  kindness  to  dwell  upon  her 
lips,  and  calming  the  gusts  of  her  husband's  passion, 
by  those  soft  answers  which  turn  away  wrath.  Es- 
pecially should  she  be  careful  how  she  speaks  to 
him  or  even  before  him,  in  the  company  of  her 
family  or  of  strangers;  she  must  not  talk  him  into 
silence  ;  nor  talk  at  him  ;  nor  say  any  thing  that  is 
calculated  to  wound  or  degrade  him,  for  a  sting  in- 
flicted in  public  is  doubly  charged  with  venom;  she 
must  not  endeavor  to  eclipse  him,  to  engross  the  at- 
tention of  the  company  to  herself,  to  reduce  him  to 
a  cypher  which  is  valueless  till  she  stands  before 
him.  This  is  not  reverence ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
should  do  all  in  her  power  to  sustain  his  respecta- 
bility and  dignity  in  public  esteem;  and  her  very 
mode  of  addressing  him,  partaking  at  once  of  the 
kindness  of  affection,  and  the  deference  of  respect, 
is  eminently  calculated  to  do  this.  And  should  he 
at  any  time  express  himself  in  the  language  of  re- 
proof, even  though  that  reproof  be  causeless,  or  un- 
justly severe,  let  her  be  cautious  not  to  forget  her 
station,  so  as  to  be  betrayed  into  a  railing  recrimi- 
nation, a  contemptuous  silence,  or  a  moody  sullen- 
ness.  Difficult,  I  am  aware  it  is,  to  show  reverence 
and  respect,  where  there  are  no  other  grounds  for 
it  to  rest  upon  than  mere  station;  and  as  easy  to 
pay  it  where  wisdom,  dignity  and  piety  support  the 
claims  of  relationship;  but  in  proporlion  to  the  dif- 
ficulty of  a  virtuous  action,  is  its  excellence;  and 
hers  is  indeed  superior  virtue,  who  yields  to  the  re- 
lationship of  her  husband  that  reverence  which  he 
forbids  her  lo  pay  to  him  on  account  of  his  conduct. 
Her  reverence  will  extend  itself  to  her  conduct, 
and  lead  her  to  an  incessant  desire  to  please  him  in 
all  things.  It  is  assumed  by  the  apostle  as  an  indis- 
putable and  general  fact,  that  "the  married  woman 
careth  how  she  may  please  her  husband."  All  her 
conduct  should  be  framed  upon  this  principle,  to 
give  him  contentment,  and  to  increase  his  delight 
in  her.  Let  her  appear  contented  with  her  lot,  and 
that  will  do  much  to  render  him  content  with  his: 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  more  likely  to 


generate  discontent,  in  his  heart,  than  the  appear- 
ance of  it  in  her.  Let  her,  by  cheerful  good  humor, 
diffuse  an  air  of  pleasantness  over  his  dwelling. 
Let  her  guard  as  much  as  possible  against  a  gloomy 
and  moody  disposition,  which  causes  her  to  move 
about  with  the  silence  and  cloudiness  of  a  spectre  ; 
for  who  likes  to  dwell  in  a  haunted  house  1  She 
should  always  welcome  him  across  his  threshold 
with  a  smile,  and  ever  put  forth  all  her  ingenuity 
in  studying  to  please  him,  by  consulting  his  wishes, 
by  surprising  him  occasionally  by  those  unlooked 
for  and  ingenious  devices  of  affection,  which,  though 
small  in  themselves,  are  the  proofs  of  a  mind  intent 
upon  the  business  of  giving  pleasure.  The  greater 
acts  of  reverent  and  respectful  love,  are  often  re- 
garded as  matters  of  course,  and  as  such  produce 
little  impression;  but  the  lesser  acts  of  attention, 
which  come  not  into  the  usual  routine  of  conjugal 
duties,  and  into  the  every  day  offices,  which  may 
be  calculated  upon  with  almost  as  much  certainty 
as  the  coming  of  the  hour  which  they  are  lo  occupy, 
these  free-will  offerings  of  an  inventive  and  active 
regard,  these  extra  tokens  of  respect,  and  expres- 
sions of  regard,  have  a  mighty  power  to  attach  a 
husband  to  his  wife;  they  are  the  cords  of  love,  the 
bands  of  a  man.  In  all  her  personal  and  domestic 
habits,  her  first  care  then,  next  to  that  of  pleasing 
God,  must  be  to  please  him,  and  thus  hold  to  herself 
that  heart,  which  cannot  wander  from  her  without 
carrying  her  happiness  with  it,  and  which,  when 
once  departed,  cannot  be  restored  by  any  power 
short  of  omnipotence  itself. 

3.  Meekness  is  especially  mentioned  by  the  apos- 
tle Peter,  as  a  disposition  which  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  wife  to  cultivate. 

He  has  distinguished  and  honored  this  temper 
by  calling  it  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit.  If  there  be  some  virtues,  which  seem  pre- 
eminently to  suit  the  female  character,  meekness 
bears  a  high  place  amongst  such.  No  one  stands 
in  greater  need  of  this  disposition,  than  the  female 
head  of  a  family  :  either  the  petulance  and  way- 
wardness of  children,  or  the  neglects  and  miscon- 
duct of  servants,  or  the  sharp  words  of  a  husband, 
are  almost  sure,  if  she  be  easily  provoked,  to  keep 
her  in  a  state  of  irritation  all  the  day  long.  How 
trying  is  a  peevish  woman,  how  odious  a  brawling 
one.  '  "  It  is  better  to  dwell  in  the  wilderness  than 
with  a  contentious  and  angry  woman."  The  graces 
were  females,  says  Mr.  Jay,  so  were  the  furies  too. 
The  influence  which  meekness  has  sometimes  had 
in  a  family  is  astonishing:  it  has  quenched  sparks, 
and  even  coals  of  anger  and  strife,  which,  but  for 
this,  would  have  set  the  house  on  fire:  it  has  mas- 
tered the  ti^er  and  the  lion,  and  led  them  captive 
with  the  silken  thread  of  love.  The  strength  of 
woman  lies  not  in  resisting,  but  yielding ;  her  power 
is  in  her  gentleness  ;  there  is  more  of  real  defence, 
aye,  and  more  of  that  aggressive  operation  too, 
which  disarms  a  foe,  in  one  mild  look,  or  one  soft 
accent,  than  in  hours  of  flashing  glances,  and  of 
angry  tones.  When,  amidst  domestic  strife,  she 
has  been  enabled  to  keep  her  temper,  the  storm  has 
been  often  scattered  as  it  rose;  or  her  meekness 
has  served  as  a  conductor  to  carry  off  its  dreadful 
flashes,  which  otherwise  would  have  destroyed  the 
dwelling. 

Put  on,  then,  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit.  Pay  less  attention  to  the  decoration  of  the 
person,  more  to  that  of  the  mind.  "  Your  adorning 
is  not  to  be  that  outward  adorning,  of  plaiting  the 
hair  and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of  putting  on  of 
apparel,  but  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart  which  is 
not  corruptible."  The  language  of  another  apostle 
on  this  subject  is  no  less  striking.  "  In  like  manner 
also,  I  will  that  women  adorn  themselves  in  modest 
apparel,  with  shamefacedness  and  sobriety;    not 


IB 


THE  FAMILY    MONITOR. 


with  broidered  hair,  or  gold,  or  pearls,  or  costly 
array  ;  but,  which  tiecomeih  women  professing  god- 
liness, with  guod  works.''  1  T:m.  ii.  9,  10.  Two 
apostles,  who  both  wrote  as  they  were  moved  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,  in  such  language  as  this,  have  de- 
nounced as  improper,  and  as  unbecoming  a  pro- 
fession of  godliness,  a  taste  for  immodest,  expensive, 
or  decorative  dress.  Surely  then,  this  subject  is 
worthy  the  most  serious  attention  of  all  Christian 
females.  By  what  sophistry  can  the  letter,  much 
more  the  spirit,  of  two  passages  of  holy  writ,  so 
very  plain  and  express  in  their  terms  as  these,  be 
set  aside"?  That  they  are  set  aside,  is  evident  by 
the  appearance  of  almost  every  congregation  into 
which  we  could  enter  on  the  Sabbath  day,  whether 
within  or  without  the  establishment.  The  race  of 
folly,  one  should  really  suppose,  is  at  length  almost 
run",  for  it  does  seem  well  nigh  impossible,  even  by 
the  aid  of  our  neighbors,  the  French,  for  the  women 
of  our  age  to  render  themselves  more  supremely 
ridiculous  than  many  of  them  have  lately  appeared. 
What  with  the  gaudiness  of  coloring  and  extrava- 
gance of  form,  our  religious  assemblies  present 
every  thing  at  once  to  disgust  our  taste,  and  to  dis- 
tress our  piety.  It  is  high  time  for  the  Christian 
teacher  to  call  back  the  women  "  professing  godli- 
ness," from  their  wanderings  in  the  regions  of 
fashionable  folly,  to  the  holy  Scriptures ;  for  the 
holy  Scriptures,  it  should  be  remembered,  have  laid 
down  a  law  for  regulating  the  dress  of  the  body,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  mind.  I  do  hold  then,  that 
these  passages  of  Scripture  are  still  parts  of  reve- 
lation, and  as  such  still  binding  upon  the  con- 
science: if  not,  show  me  when  they  were  cancelled. 
I  contend,  that  Christian  females  ought  to  abstain 
from  expensive,  showy,  and  extravagant  fashions 
in  dress,  jewelry,  and  all  kinds  of  personal  decora- 
tion. I  am  not  arguing  for  a  sectarian  costume,  for 
a  religious  uniform,  for  canonical  shapes  and  co- 
lors; nothing  of  the  sort,  but  for  simplicity,  neat- 
ness, economy ;  for,  what  the  apostle  calls  modest 
apparel,  shamefacedncss,  and  sobriety;  for  the  spirit 
of  the  passages,  if  not  the  very  letter;  for  a  distinc- 
tion between  those  who  profess  godliness,  in  their 
comparative  inattention  to  such  things,  and  those 
who  make  no  such  profession  :  for  a  proof  that 
their  minds  are  not  so  much  engaged  on  these  mat- 
ters, as  the  minds  of  the  people  of  the  world  are. 
I  am  not  for  extinguishing  taste  ;  alas,  in  matters 
of  dress,  this  is  already  done,  but  for  resisting  the 
lawless  dominion  of  folly,  under  the  name  of  fashion. 
I  am  not  for  calling  back  the  age  of  Gothic  barbar- 
ism, or  vulgarity:  no;  1  will  leave  ample  room  for 
the  cultivation  of  both  taste  and  genius,  in  every 
lawful  department,  but  I  am  protesting  against  the 
desolating  reign  of  vanity ;  I  am  resisting  the  en- 
trance of  frivolity  into  the  church  of  God ;  I  am 
contending  against  the  glaring  inconsistency  of  ren- 
dering our  religious  assemblies,  like  the  audience 
convened  in  a  theatre.  The  evils  of  an  improper 
attention  to  dress  are  great  and  numerous.  1.  Much 
precious  time  is  wasted  in  the  study,  and  arrange- 
ments, and  decisions  of  this  matter!  2.  The  atten- 
tion is  taken  off  from  the  improvement  of  the  mind 
and  the  heart,  to  the  decoration  of  the  person. 
3.  The  mind  is  filled  with  pride  and  vanity,  and  a 
deteriorating  influence  is  carried  on  upon  what 
constitutes  the  true  dignity  of  the  soul.  4.  The 
love  of  display  infects  the  character.  5.  Money  is 
wasted  which  is  wanted  for  relieving  the  misery, 
and  improving  the  condition  of  mankind.  6.  Ex- 
amples are  set  to  the  lower  classes,  in  whom  the 
propensity  is  often  mischievous  in  many  ways. 

We  have  run 
Through  ev'ry  change  that  fancy  at  the  loom, 
Exhausted,  has  had  genius  to  supply; 


And,  studious  of  mutation  still,  discard 

A  real  elegance,  a  little  us'd, 

For  monstrous  novelty  and  strange  disguise. 

We  sacrifice  to  dress,  till  household  joys 

And  comforts  cease.     Dress  drains  our  cellar  dry, 

And  keeps  our  larder  lean  ;  puts  out  our  fires; 

And  introduces  hunger,  frost  and  woe, 

Where  peace  and  hospitality  might  reign. 

I  am  aware  it  might  be,  and  is  said,  that  there  may 
be  the  pride  of  singularity,  as  well  as  of  fashion  ; 
the  pride  of  being  covered  with  sober  autumnal 
tints,  as  well  as  of  exhibiting  the  brilliant  hues  of 
the  rainbow ;  the  pride  of  quality  and  of  texture, 
as  well  as  of  color  and  of  form.  I  know  it,  and  i 
do  not  justify  the  one  more  than  I  do  the  other ;  I 
condemn  all  kinds  ;  but  at  any  rate  there  is  a  little 
more  dignity  in  one  kind,  than  in  another.  I  will 
leave  opportunity  for  the  distinctions  of  rank,  for 
the  inventions  of  true  taste,  and  for  the  modest  and 
unobtrusive  displays  of  natural  elegance  and  simple 
beauty;  but  I  cannot  allow  the  propriety  of  Chris- 
tian females  yielding  themselves  to  the  guidance  of 
fashion,  however  expensive,  extravagant,  or  gaudy. 

As  to  the  employment  of  our  artisans  by  the  vari- 
ous changes  of  fashion  ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
this,  in  face  of  an  apostolic  injunction.  The  silver- 
smiths who  made  shrines  for  the  worshippers  of 
Diana,  might  have  pleaded  the  same  objection 
against  the  preachers  of  the  gospel,  who  certainly 
did,  so  far  as  they  were  successful,  ruin  this  trade. 
I  am  only  speaking  to  professors  of  religion,  who 
form  so  small  a  portion  of  society,  that  their  absti- 
nence from  folly  would  uo  but  little  in  diminishing 
the  employment  of  the  work-people;  and  if  it  did, 
let  them  make  it  up  in  some  other  way.  What  I 
contend  for,  then,  is  not  meanness,  not  ugliness,  not 
unvarying  sameness;  no;  but  neatness  opposed  tc 
gaudiness  ;  simplicity  and  becomingness  opposed  to 
extravagance;  modesty  opposed  to  indelicacy ;  eco- 
nomy opposed  to  expensiveness.  Whether  what  I 
contend  for  is  characteristic  of  the  age  in  which  we 
live,  let  any  spectator  determine.  I  am  anxious  to 
see  professors  of  religion  displaying  a  seriuusness 
and  spirituality,  a  dignity  and  sobriety  of  mind,  a 
simplicity  of  habits,  and  a  sedateness  of  manners, 
becoming  their  high  and  holy  profession  ;  and  ail 
this,  united  with  an  economy  in  their  personal  ex- 
penses, which  will  leave  them  a  greater  fund  at  their 
disposal,  for  relieving  the  miseries,  and  promoting 
the  happiness  of  their  fellow-creatures. 

But,  perhaps  after  all,  many  women  may  plead 
that  the  gaiety  and  expensiveness  of  their  dress,  is 
more  to  please  their  husbands  than  themselves  :  but 
even  this  must  have  its  limits.  And  I  really  pity 
the  folly  of  that  man,  who  concerns  himself  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  wife's  wardrobe  and  toilette  ; 
and  who  would  rather  see  her  go  forth  in  all  the 
gorgeousness  of  splendid  apparel,  to  display  herself 
in  the  drawing  rooms  of  her  friends,  than  in  digni- 
fied meekness,  to  visit  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  as 
the  messenger  of  mercy  :  and  who  rejoices  more  to 
contemplate  her  moving  through  the  circles  of  fa- 
shion, the  admiration  of  one  sex,  and  the  envy  of 
the  other,  than  to  see  her  holding  on  her  radiant 
course  in  the  orbit  of  benevolence,  clad  in  [inex- 
pensive simplicity,  and,  with  the  savings  of  her  per- 
sonal expenditure,  clothing  the  naked,  feeding  the 
hungry,  healing  the  sick  ;  and  thus  bringing  upon 
herself  the  blessings  of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish, 
and  causing  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy. 

Not  only  the  ornament,  but  the  person  which  it 
adorns,  is  corruptible.  Accidents  may  distort  the 
finest  form,  diseases  fade  the  loveliest  coloring,  time 
disfigure  the  smoothest  surface,  and  death,  the  spoil- 
er of  beauty,  work  a  change  so  awful  and  appalling, 
as  to  turn  away  the  most  impassioned  admirers  in 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


17 


disgust.  How  soon  will  every  other  dress  be  dis- 
placed by  the  shroud,  and  every  other  decoration 
De  stripped  off  to  make  way  for  the  flowers  that  are 
strewed  in  the  coffin  upon  the  corpse,  as  if  to  hide 
the  deformity  of  death.  But  the  graces  of  the  heart, 
and  the  beauties  of  the  character,  are  imperishable  ; 
such  let  a  wife  be  continually  seeking  to  put  on  ; 
"  for  she  that  has  a  wise  husband,  must  entice  him 
to  an  eternal  dearness,  by  the  veil  of  modesty,  and 
the  robes  of  chastity,  the  ornaments  of  meekness, 
and  the  jewels  of  faith  and  charity  ;  she  must  have 
no  paint  but  blushings  ;  her  brightness  must  be  her 
purity,  and  she  must  shine  round  about  with  sweet- 
nesses and  friendship,  and  then  she  shall  be  plea- 
sant while  she  lives,  and  desired  when  she  dies." 

5.  Economy  and  Order  in  the  management  of  her 
personal  and  domestic  expenditure,  is  the  obvious 
duty  of  a  wife. 

You  are  to  preside  in  the  direction  of  household 
affairs;  and  much  of  the  prosperity  and  comfort  of 
the  iittle  community,  will  depend  upon  your  skilful 
and  prudent  arrangements.  There  is  a  manifest 
disposition  in  this  age,  in  all  classes  of  society,  to 
come  as  close  as  possible  to  the  habits  of  those  above 
them.  The  poor  are  imitating  the  middling  classes, 
and  they  are  copying  the  upper  ranks.  A  showy, 
luxurious,  and  expensive  taste  is  almost  universally 
cherished,  and  is  displayed,  in  innumerable  instan- 
ces, where  there  are  no  means  to  support  it.  A 
large  house,  a  country  residence,  splendid  furniture, 
a  carriage,  a  retinue  of  servants,  and  large  parties, 
are  the  aim  of  many,  whose  creditors  pay  for  all. — 
Christian  families  are  in  most  imminent  peril  of 
worldly  conformity  in  the  present  day  ;  and  the  line 
of  demarcation  between  the  church  and  the  world 
is  fast  wearing  out.  If  is  true  they  have  no  cards, 
they  do  not  frequent  the  theatre,  or  the  ball  room, 
and  perhaps  they  have  no  midnight  routs  ; — but  this 
is  all :  for  many  are  as  anxious  about  the  splendor 
of  their  furniture,  the  fashion  of  their  habits,  the 
expensiveness  of  their  entertainments,  as  the  veriest 
worldling  can  be.  Now  a  wife  has  great  influence 
in  checking  or  promoting  all  this.  It  has  been 
thought  that  this  increasing  disposition  for  domestic 
show  and  gaiety,  is  to  be  attributed  chiefly  to  female 
vanity.  It  is  woman  that  is  generally  regarded  as 
the  presiding  genius  of  such  a  scene :  she  receives 
the  praise  and  the  compliment  of  the  whole,  and  she 
therefore  is  under  the  strongest  temptation  to  pro- 
mote it.  But  let  her  consider,  how  little  all  this  has 
to  do  with  the  happiness  of  the  family,  even  in  its 
most  prosperous  state  ;  and  how  a  recollection  of  it 
aggravates  the  misery  of  adversity  when  a  reverse 
takes  place.  Then  to  be  found  in  debt  for  finery  of 
dress,  or  furniture  ;  then  to  have  it  said  that  her  ex- 
travagance helped  to  ruin  her  husband  ;  then  to 
want  that,  for  bread,  which  was  formerly  wasted  on 
luxury;  then  to  hear  the  whispered  reproach  of 
having  injured  others  by  her  own  thoughtless  ex- 
penditure ! — Avoid,  my  female  friends,  these  mise- 
ries :  do  not  go  on  to  prepare  wormwood  and  gall  to 
embitter  still  more  the  already  bitter  cup  of  adver- 
sity. Endeavor  to  acquire  a  skilfulness  in  domestic 
management,  a  frugality,  a  prudence,  a  love  of  or- 
der and  neatness,  a  mid-way  course  between  mean- 
ness and  luxury,  a  suitableness  to  your  station  in 
life,  to  your  Christian  profession  ;  an  economy  which 
shall  leave  you  more  to  spare  for  the  cause  of  God, 
and  the  miseries  of  man.  Rather  check  than  stimu- 
late the  taste  of  your  husband  for  expense  ;  tell  him 
that  it  is  not  necessary  for  your  happiness,  nor  for 
the  comfort  of  the  family;  draw  him  away  from 
these  adventitious  circumstances,  to  the  mental  im- 
provement, the  moral  culture,  the  religious  instruc- 
tion of  your  children.  Let  knowledge,  piety,  good 
sense,  well-lormed  habits,  harmony,  mutual  love, 
De  the  sources  of  your  domestic  pleasures :  what  is 


spiendor  of  furniture,  or  dress,  or  entertainments,  to 
these  1 

6.  A  Wife  SHOULD  EE  MOST  ATTENTIVE  TO  ALL  THAT 
CONCERNS  THE  WELFARE  AND  COMPORT  OF  THE  CHILD- 
REN, if  there  be  any. 

For  this  purpose,  she  must  be  a  keeper  at  home.  -■ 
"  That  they  may  teach  the  young  wives  to  be  sober, 
to  love  their  husbands,  to  love  their  children,  to  be 
discreet,  chaste,  keepers  at  home."  And  how  can  the 
duties  that  devolve  upon  the  female  head  of  a  fami- 
ly, be  well  discharged  if  she  be  not  a  keeper  at  home'? 
On  this  I  have  dwelt  already  in  a  former  chapter, 
but  its  importance  will  justify  my  returning  to  the 
subject  again.  How  much  has  she  to  attend  to,  how 
many  cares  to  sustain,  how  many  activities  to  sup- 
port, where  there  is  a  young  family  1  Whoever  has 
leisure  for  gossipping,  she  has  none  :  whoever  may 
be  found  wandering  from  house  to  house,  "  hearing 
or  telling  some  new  thing,"  she  must  not.  A  mo- 
ther's place  is  in  the  midst  of  her  family  ;  a  mother's 
duties  are  to  take  care  of  them.  Nothing  can  ex- 
cuse a  neglect  of  these  :  and  yet  we  often  see  such 
neglect.  Some  are  literary  characters,  and  the  wel- 
fare of  the  household  is  neglected  for  books.  Not 
that  I  would  debar  a  female  from  the  luxury  of 
reading,  nor  sink  her  to  a  mere  domestic  drudge, 
whose  ceaseless  toils  must  have  no  intermission,  or 
solace  from  literature;  far  from  it:  but  her  taste 
for  literature  must  be  kept  within  due  bounds,  and 
not  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  her  household  du- 
ties. No  husband  can  be  pleased  to  see  a  book  in 
the  hands  of  a  wife,  while  the  house  is  in  confusion, 
and  the  children's  comfort  unprovided  for.  Much 
less  should  a  taste  for  company  be  allowed  to  draw  a 
wife  too  much  out  of  the  circle  of  her  cares  and  du- 
ties. To  be  wandering  from  house  to  house  in  the 
morning,  or  to  be  engaged  till  a  late  hour,  evening 
after  evening,  at  a  party,  while  the  family  at  home 
are  left  to  themselves,  or  to  the  care  of  servants,  is 
certainly  disgraceful.  Even  attention  to  the  public 
duties  of  religion  must  be  regulated  by  a  due  regard 
to  domestic  claims.  I  am  aware  that  many  are  apt 
to  make  these  claims  an  excuse  for  neglecting  the 
public  means  of  grace  almost  entirely  :  the  house  of 
God  is  unfrequented  ;  sermons,  sacramental  seasons, 
and  all  other  religious  meetings,  are  given  up,  for 
an  absorbing  attention  to  household  affairs.  This 
is  one  extreme ;  and  the  other  is,  such  a  devoted- 
ness  to  religious  meetings,  that  the  wants  of  a  sick 
family,  the  cries  of  a  hungry  infant,  or  the  circum- 
stances of  some  extraordinary  case  of  family  care, 
are  not  allowed  to  have,  any  force  in  detaining  a 
mother  from  a  week-day  sermon,  a  prayer  meeting, 
or  the  anniversary  of  some  public  institution.  It  is 
no  honor  to  religion,  for  a  wife,  under  such  circum- 
stances, to  be  seen  in  the  house  of  God  :  duties  can- 
not be  in  opposition  to  each  other;  and  at  such  a 
time,  her's  lie  at  home.  It  must  be  always  distress- 
ing, and  in  some  cases  disgusting,  for  a  husband  on 
his  returning  to  a  scene  of  domestic  confusion,  and 
seeing  a  neglected  child  in  the  cot,  to  be  told  upon 
inquiring  after  the  mother,  that  she  is  attending  a 
sermon,  or  a  public  meeting.  There  is  great  need 
for  watchfulness  in  the  present  age,  when  female 
agency  is  in  such  requisition,  lest  attention  to  pub- 
lic institutions  should  most  injuriously  interfere 
with  the  duties  of  a  wife  and  a  mother.  I  know 
verv  well,  that  an  active  woman  may,  by  habits  of 
order,  punctuality,  and  despatch,  so  arrange  her 
more  direct  and  immediate  duties  at  home,  as  to  al- 
low of  sufficient  leisure  to  assist  the  noble  societies 
which  solicit  her  patronage,  without  neglecting  her 
husband  and  children :  but  where  this  cannot  be 
done,  no  society  whether  humane  or  religious,  should 
be  allowed  to  take  her  away  from  what  is,  after  all, 
her  first  and  more  appropriate  sphere.    She  must  be 


18 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


a  keeper  at  h.j„^)  n  any  thing  there  demands  her 
presence. 

Such  appear  to  me  to  be  the  leading  duties  of  a 
wife.  Motives  of  a  very  high  and  sacred  character 
may  be  offered  for  a  diligent  performance  of  them. 
Her  own  comfort,  and  that  of  her  husband,  is,  of 
course,  most  vitally  connected  with  a  fulfilment  of 
her  obligations:  and  the  welfare  of  her  children  is 
also  deeply  involved.  And  then,  her  character 
shines  forth  with  peculiar  lustre.  A  good  wife  is 
a  high  attainment  in  female  excellence:  it  is  wo- 
man in  her  brightest  glory  since  the  fall.  But  there 
is  one  consideration  of  supreme  importance  men- 
tioned by  the  apostle,  to  which  I  shall  direct  your 
attention.  "Likewise,  ye  wives,  be  in  subjection  to 
your  own  husbands,  that  if  any  obey  not  the  word, 
they  also  may  without  the  word  be  won  by  the  con- 
versation of  the  wives,  while  they  behold  your 
chaste  conversation,  coupled  with  fear."  Powerful 
and  yet  tender  consideration !  Mark,  my  female 
friends,  the  implied  eulogy  passed  by  the  apostle  on 
your  sex,  where  he  seems  to  take  it  for  granted,  that 
if  one  party  be  destitute  of  religion.it  is  the  hus- 
band. And  facts  prove  that  this  assumption  was 
correct.  Religion  flourishes  most  amongst  the  fe- 
male part  of  our  species:  in  our  congregations,  and 
in  our  churches,  the  greater  number  is  of  them. — 
Can  we  account  for  this  by  natural  causes'?  Partly. 
They  are  more  at  home,  and  therefore  more  within 
reach  of  the  means  of  grace;  they  are  more  sus- 
ceptible :  they  are  less  exposed  to  those  tempta- 
tions that  harden  the  heart  through  the  deceitful- 
ness  of  sin ;  they  are  subject  to  more  affliction,  which 
softens  the  heart,  and  prepares  it  for  the  seed  of  the 
kingdom:  but  all  this  is  not  enough,  for  without 
grace,  all  these  advantages  are  unavailing;  we  must 
resolve  it  therefore  into  divine  purpose,  divine  in- 
terposition, and  the  arrangements  of  divine  wisdom. 
Female  influence  in  all  civilized  states  is  great : 
and  God  has  generally  made  much  use  of  this 
wherever  the  gospel  has  come,  as  one  of  the  means 
for  spreading  religion.  He  pours  his  grace  on  them, 
that  their  influence  may  be  employed  with  others, 
especially  their  husbands  and  their  children.  If 
then,  in  any  case,  a  Christian  woman  be  united  to 
an  unconverted  man,  she  must  cherish  and  display 
a  deep,  and  tender,  and  judicious  solicitude  for  his 
salvation;  and  "what  knowest  thou,  O  wife,  whe- 
ther thou  shalt  save  thy  husband."  I  would  not  en- 
courage unequal  marriages;  I  would  not  have  the 
single  try  the  doubtful  and  dangerous  experiment, 
of  marrying  an  irreligious  man,  in  the  hope  of  con- 
verting him;  in  such  cases,  the  conversion  is  often 
the  other  way;  but  where  the  union  is  formed,  there 
I  say,  nourish  the  anxiety,  and  employ  every  dis- 
creet exertion  for  his  eternal  welfare.  Many  in- 
stances have  occurred,  in  which  the  unbelieving 
husband,  has  been  sanctified  by  the  wife.  She  has 
drawn  him  with  the  cords  of  a  tender  and  judi- 
cious love,  to  a  consideration  of  the  subject  of  per- 
sonal religion.  Think  of  the  value  of  a  soul,  and 
of  the  ineffable  glory  of  being  the  instrument  of  its 
salvation.  But  O !  to  be  the  means  of  saving  the 
soul  of  a  husband  !  Think  how  it  will  strengthen 
the  bond,  and  sanctify  and  sweeten  it,  which  unites 
you  on  earth  and  in  time;  and  at  the  same  time  add 
to  it  a  tie,  by  which  you  shall  "  not  lose  one  another 
in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  but  be  re- 
united as  kindred  spirits,  though  not  as  man  and 
wife,  in  heaven,  and  through  'eternity.  Think,  O 
wife,  of  the  happiness— the  honor  that  awaits  you. 
"What  is  the  triumph  you  have  acquired  over  him 
by  your  charms,  compared  with  the  victory  you  will 
obtain  over  him  by  your  religion  1  What  pleasure 
will  attend  you  the  remainder  of  your  days — now 
you  are  of  "  one  heart  and  one  mind :"  now  you 
"take  sweet  counsel  together."     The  privileged 


language  of  prayer  now  is — "Our  Father:" — ot 
every  motion  made  to  go  and  seek  the  Lord  of  hosts 
there  is  a  ready  acceptance — "  I  will  go  also."  And 
what  will  be  your  joy  and  crown  of  rejoicing  in  that 
day,  when,  before  assembled  men  and  angels,  he 
will  say,  O  blessed  be  the  Providence  which  attach- 
ed us  in  yonder  world,  and  has  still  more  perfectly 
united  us  in  this.  The  woman  thou  gavest  to  be 
with  me,  led  me  not  to  the  tree  of  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil,  but  to  the  tree  of  life  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  paradise  of  God.* 

But  how  is  this  solicitude  to  be  employed  1  The 
apostle  tells  us :  "  that  they  may  be  won  by  the  con- 
versation of  their  wives,  while  they  behold  your 
chaste  conversation,  coupled  with  fear."  Your  re- 
ligion must  be  seen  embodied  in  your  whole  cha- 
racter and  conduct.  It  must  commend  itself  to  their 
judgment,  by  what  they  perceive,  as  sincere.  It 
must  be  consistent;  for  a  want  of  uniformity,  how- 
ever earnest  it  may  in  many  respects  and  at  many 
times  appear,  will  produce  disgust.  You  must  "  let 
your  light  shine  before  them,  that  they  seeing  your 
good  works,  may  glorify  God."  You  must  ever  ap- 
pear invested  with  all  the  beauty  of  a  lovely  exam- 
ple, which,  silent  though  you  be  as  it  respects  your 
tongue,  is  living  eloquence.  Your  religion  must 
diffuse  its  lustre  over  your  whole  character,  and  im- 
press itself  most  deeply  on  your  relation  as  a  wife, 
and  a  mother:  it  must  be  a  new  motive  to  all  that 
respect,  and  reverence,  and  devotedness,  and  meek- 
ness, which  have  been  laid  before  you,  and  it  must 
lead  you  to  carry  every  conjugal  and  maternal  vir- 
tue to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection.  It  must  be 
attended  with  the  most  profound  humility,  for  if 
there  be  any  spiritual  pride,  any  conscious  and  ma- 
nifest sense  of  superiority,  any  thing  approaching 
to  the  pharisaic  temper,  which  says,  "  Stand  by,  I 
am  holier  than  thou,"  any  thing  like  contempt  of 
your  husband,  as  an  unconverted  sinner,  you  will 
excite  an  inveterate  prejudice,  not  only  against  re- 
ligion, but  against  yourself ;  religion  will  be  hated 
by  him  for  your  sake,  and  you  for  religion's  sake. 
When  you  venture  to  speak  to  him  on  the  subject 
of  piety,  it  should  be  as  remotely  as  possible  from 
all  lecturing,  all  dictation,  all  reproach,  all  con- 
scious superiority;  and  with  all  possible  tenderness, 
meekness,  humility,  and  persuasive  affection.  Ne- 
ver talk  to  him  of  his  state  before  others,  and  never 
talk  at  him.  Nor  is  it  likely  to  accomplish  the  ob- 
ject you  have  in  view,  to  weary  him  by  continual 
importunity.  Many  defeat  their  own  end,  by  an  in- 
cessant introduction  of  the  subject,  and  sometimes 
with  an  asperity  which  increases  the  revulsion, 
which  its  own  nature  is  calculated,  in  such  a  mind, 
to  produce.  An  occasional  hint,  and  that  of  the 
most  tender,  respectful,  and  delicate  kind,  is  all 
that  you  should  attempt,  and  then  leave  your  exam- 
ple to  speak.  Occasionally,  you  may  put  an  in- 
structive volume  in  his  way,  and  solicit  his  perusal 
of  it.  Do  not  bring  your  religious  friends  too  much 
about  you,  so  as  to  annoy  him;  especially,  keep 
away  as  much  as  possible,  any  that  may  have  a 
less  portion  of  discretion  than  the  rest;  and  confine 
yourself  to  the  more  judicious  and  best  informed. — 
Never  rudely  interfere  with  his  pursuits,  his  read- 
ing, or  his  company,  although  they  may  not  be  what 
you  can  cordially  approve.  Till  he  is  enlightened 
from  above,  he  will  not  see  the  evil  of  these  things, 
and  to  attempt  to  interrupt  him,  in  any  other  way, 
than  by  the  mildest  and  most  respectful  expostula- 
tion, will  only  do  harm.  Should  he  wish  to  draw 
you  from  the  high  pursuit  of  eternal  life,  you  are 
not,  of  course,  in  this  case,  to  yield  to  his  persua- 
sion, nor  in  any  thing  to  concede,  where  your  con- 
science is  decidedly  concerned  in  the  matter.    You 


*  Mr.  Jay. 


THE  FAMILY   MONITOR. 


19 


must  be  firm,  but  mild.  One  concession  granted  Dy 
you,  would  only  lead  to  another.  But  still,  even  in 
this  extremity,  your  resistance  of  his  attempts  to  in- 
terfere with  your  religion,  must  be  maintained  in 
all  the  meekness  of  wisdom,  and  must  be  attended 
with  fresh  efforts  to  please,  in  all  things  which  are 
lawful.  If  such  a  line  of  conduct  should  subject 
you  to  reproach,  anger,  and  persecution,  a  most 
painful  and  by  no  means  an  uncommon  case,  you 
must  possess  your  soul  in  patience,  and  commit 
your  way  to  Him  that  judgeih  righteously.  Many 
a  persecuting  husband,  has  been  subdued,  if  not  to 
religion,  yet  to  kinder  conduct,  by  the  meek  and 
uncomplaining  temper  of  his  wife. 

To  conclude.  Let.  us  all  seek  after  more  of  the 
spirit  of  true  religion— the  spirit  of  faith,  of  hope, 
of  prayer :  a  faith,  that  really  believes  the  word  of 
God,  and  looketh  habitually  to  the  cross  of  Christ 
by  which  we  obtain  salvation,  and  to  the  eternal 
world  where  we  shall  fully  and  for  ever  enjoy  it :  a 
hope  that  lives  in  the  expectation  and  desire  of 
glory,  honor,  immortality,  and  eternal  life :  and  a 
spirit  of  prayer  which  leads  us  daily  and  hourly  to 
the  throne  of  divine  grace,  for  all  that  aid  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  we  need,  not  only  for  the  duties 
that  refer  to  our  relations  to  another  world,  but  for 
those  which  devolve  upon  us,  in  consequence  of  our 
relation  in  this.  "  Godliness  is  profitable  for  all 
things,  having  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is, 
as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come.''  The  same 
principle  of  divine  grace  which  unites  us  to  God, 
will  bind  us  closer  to  each  other.  Religion  con- 
tains in  it,  not  only  the  seeds  of  immortal  virtues, 
but  of  such  as  are  mortal:  not  only  the  germs  of 
excellences  which  are  to  flourish  in  the  temple  of 
heaven,  but  which  grow  up  in  the  house  of  our  pil- 
grimage upon  earth,  to  enliven  with  their  beauty, 
and  to  refresh  with  their  fragrance,  the  domestic 
circle.  A  good  Christian  cannot  be  a  bad  husband, 
or  father :  and,  other  things  being  equal,  he  who 
has  most  piety,  will  shine  most  in  all  the  relations 
of  life.  A  Bible  placed  between  man  and  wife  as 
the  basis  of  their  union,  the  rule  of  their  conduct, 
and  the  model  of  their  spirit,  will  make  up  many  a 
difference,  comfort  them  under  many  a  cross,  guide 
them  in  many  a  strait,  wherein  flesh  and  blood  will 
be  confounded  and  at  a  loss,  support  them  in  their 
last  sad  parting  from  each  other,  and  re-unite  them 
in  the  world  where  they  shall  go  no  more  out. 

"  Those  married  pairs  that  live,  as  remembering 
that  they  must  part  again,  and  give  an  account  how 
they  treat  themselves  and  each  other,  shall  at  the 
day  of  their  death,  be  admitted  to  glorious  es- 
pousals; and  when  they  shall  live  again,  be  mar- 
ried to  their  Lord,  and  partake  of  his  glories.  All 
those  things  that  now  please  us,  shall  pass  from  us, 
or  we  from  them;  but  those  things  that  concern  the 
other  life,  are  permanent  as  the  numbers  of  eter- 
nity: and  although  at  the  resurrection,  there  shall 
be  no  relation  of  husband  and  wife,  and  no  mar- 
riage shall  be  celebrated  but  the  marriage  of  (he 
Lamb,  yet  then  shall  be  remembered  how  men  and 
women  passed  through  this  state,  which  is  a  type  of 
that;  and  from  this  sacramental  union,  all  holy 
paiis  shall  pass  to  the  spiritual  and  eternal,  where 
love  shall  be  their  portion,  and  joys  shall  crown 
their  heads,  and  they  shall  lie  in  the  bosom  of  Jesus, 
and  in  the  heart  of  God  to  eternal  ages."    Amen. 


CHAPTER  III. 

■OM£  REMARKS  ON   THE   FORMATION  OP  THE    MARRIAGE 
UNION. 

"  Methinks  it  is  a  misfortune  that  the  marriage  state, 
which,  in  its  own  nature,  is  adapted  to  give  us  the 
Number  43 


completest  happiness  this  life  is  capable  of,  should 
be  so  uncomfortable  a  one  to  so  many  as  it  daily 
proves.  But  the  mischief  generally  proceeds  from 
the  unwise  choice  people  make  for  themselves,  and 
an  expectation  of  happiness  from  things  incapable 
of  giving  it.  Nothing  but  the  good  qualities  of  the 
person  beloved,  can  be  a  foundation  for  a  love  of 
judgment  and  discretion  ;  and  whoever  expect  hap- 
piness from  any  thing  but  virtue,  wisdom,  good 
humor,  and  a  similitude  of  manners,  will  find  them- 
selves widely  mistaken." — Spectator. 

The  preceding  chapters  make  it  evident,  that  mar- 
riage is  a  step  of  incalculable  importance,  and 
ought  never  to  be  taken  without  the  greatest  consi- 
deration and  the  utmost  caution.  If  the  duties  of 
this  state  are  so  numerous  and  so  weighty,  and  if 
the  right  discharge  of  these  obligations,  as  well  as 
the  happiness  of  our  whole  life,  and  even  our  safety 
for  eternity,  depend,  as  they  necessarily  must  do,  in 
no  small  measure,  upon  the  choice  we  make  of  a 
husband  or  wife,  then  let  reason  determine,  with 
what  deliberation  we  should  advance  to  such  a  con- 
nection. It  is  obvious,  that  no  decision  of  our 
whole  earthly  existence  requires  moie  of  the  exer- 
cise of  a  calm  judgment  than  this ;  and  yet  ob- 
servation proves  how  rarely  the  judgment  is  al- 
lowed to  give  counsel,  and  how  generally  the  ima- 
gination and  the  passions  settle  the  business.  A 
very  great  portion  of  the  misery  and  of  the  crime 
with  which  society  is  depraved  and  afflicted,  is  the 
result  of  ill-formed  marriages.  If  mere  passion 
without  prudence,  or  covetousness  without  love,  be 
allowed  to  guide  the  choice,  no  wonder  that  it  is 
improperly  done,  or  that  it  is  highly  disastrous  in 
its  consequences ;  and  how  often  are  passion  and 
covetousness  alone  consulted.  To  use  the  beautiful 
language  quoted  by  me  in  another  work,  where  I 
have  treated  briefly  the  subject  of  this  chapter,  I 
would  remark,  "that  they  who  enter  the  marriage 
state,  cast  a  die  of  the  greatest  contingency,  and  yet 
of  the  greatest  interest  in  the  world,  next  to  the  last 
throw  for  eternity.  Life  or  death,  felicity  or  a  last- 
ing sorrow,  are  in  the  power  of  marriage.  A  wo- 
man indeed  ventures  most,  for  she  hath  no  sanc- 
tuary to  retire  to,  from  an  evil  husband  ;  she  must 
dwell  upon  her  sorrow,  which  her  own  folly  hath 
produced ;  and  she  is  more  under  it,  because  her 
tormentor  hath  warrant  of  prerogative,  and  the 
woman  may  complain  to  God,  as  subjects  do  of 
tyrant  princes,  but  otherwise  she  hath  no  appeal  in 
the  causes  of  un kindness.  And  though  the  man 
can  run  from  many  hours  of  sadness,  yet  he  must 
return  to  it  again;  and  when  he  sits  among  his 
neighbors,  he  remembers  the  objection  that  lies  in 
his  bosom,  and  he  sighs  deeply."  If,  however,  it 
were  merely  the  comfort  of  the  married  pair  them- 
selves that  was  concerned,  it  would  be  a  matter  of 
less  consequence,  a  stake  of  less  value ;  but  the 
well  being  of  a  family,  not  only  for  this  world,  but 
for  the  next;  and  equally  so  the  well  being  of  their 
descendants,  even  to  a  remote  period,  depends  upon 
this  union.  In  the  ardor  of  passion,  few  are  dis- 
posed to  listen  to  the  counsels  of  prudence ;  and 
perhaps  there  is  no  advice,  generally  speaking 
more  thrown  away,  than  that  which  is  offered  ort 
the  subject  of  marriage.  Most  persons,  especially 
if  they  are  already  attached  to  a  selected  object, 
even  though  they  have  not  committed  themselves 
by  a  promise  or  even  a  declaration,  will  go  on  in 
the  pursuit,  blinded  by  love  to  the  indiscretion  of 
their  choice ;  or  desperately  determined,  with  the 
knowledge  of  that  indiscretion,  to  accomplish,  if 
possible,  their  purpose.  Upon  such  individuals, 
reasoning  is  wasted,  and  they  must  be  left  to  gain 
wisdom  in  the  only  way  by  wh^h  some  will  a*quire 
it,  painful  experience.    To  others  who  may  be  yet 


20 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


disengaged,  and  disposed  to  hearken  to  the  lan- 
guage of  advice,  the  following  remarks  are  offered. 
In  the  affair  of  marriage,  be  guided  by  the  advice 
of  parents,  or  guakdians.  Parents  have  no  right 
to  select  for  you,  nor  ought  you  to  select  for  yourself, 
without  consulting  with  them.  How  far  they  are 
vested  with  authority  to  prohibit  you  from  marry- 
ing a  person  whom  they  disapprove,  is  a  point  of 
casuistry,  very  difficult  to  determine.  If  you  are 
of  age,  and  able  to  provide  for  yourselves,  or  are 
likely  to  be  well  provided  for  by  those  to  whom  you 
are  about  to  be  united,  it  is  a  question  whether  they 
can  do  any  thing  more  than  advise  and  persuade  ; 
but  till  you  are  of  age,  they  have  positive  authority 
to  forbid;  and  it  is  an  undutiful  act  in  you  to  form 
connections  without  their  knowledge,  and  to  carry 
them  on  against  their  prohibitions.  Their  ob- 
jections ought  always,  I  admit,  to  be  founded  on 
reason,  and  not  on  caprice,  pride,  or  cupidity:  for 
-where  this  is  the  case,  and  children  are  of  full  age, 
and  are  guided  in  their  choice  by  prudence,  by 
piety,  and  by  affection,  they  certainly  may  and  must 
be  left  to  decide  for  themselves.  Where,  however, 
parents  rest  their  objections  on  sufficient  grounds, 
and  show  plain  and  palpable  reasons  for  prohibiting 
a  connection,  there  it  is  the  manifest  duty  of  sons, 
and  especially  of  daughters,  to  give  it  up.  A  union 
formed  in  opposition  to  the  reasonable  objection  of 
a  discreet  father  or  mother,  is  very  rarely  a  happy 
one ;  and  the  bitter  cup  is  rendered  additionally  bit- 
ter in  such  a  case,  by  the  wormwood  and  gall  of 
self-reproach.  What  miseries  of  this  kind  have 
we  all  seen  !  How  many  beacons  are  set  up,  if 
young  people  would  but  look  at  them,  to  warn  them 
against  the  folly  of  giving  themselves  to  the  im- 
pulse of  an  imprudent  attachment,  and  following  it 
to  a  close,  against  the  advice,  remonstrances,  and 
prohibitions  of  their  parents.  Very  seldom  does 
that  connection  prove  otherwise  than  a  source  of 
•wretchedness,  on  which  the  frown  of  an  affection- 
ate and  wise  father  and  mother  fell  from  the  begin- 
ning ;  for  God  seems  to  rise  up  in  judgment,  and  to 
support  the  parent's  authority,  by  confirming  their 
displeasure  with  his  own. 

Marriage  should  in  every  case  be  formed  upon 
the  basis  of  mutual  attachment.  If  there  be  no 
love  before  marriage,  it  cannot  be  expected  there 
should  be  any  after  it.  Lovers,  as  all  are  supposed 
to  be  who  are  looking  forward  to  this  union,  with- 
out love,  have  no  right  to  expect  happiness ;  the 
coldness  of  indifference  is  soon  likely,  in  their  case, 
to  be  changed  into  aversion.  There  ought  to  be 
personal  attachment.  If  there  be  any  thing,  even 
in  the  exterior,  that  excites  disgust,  the  banns  are 
forbidden  by  the  voice  of  nature.  I  do  not  say,  that 
beauty  of  countenance,  or  elegance  of  form,  is  ne- 
cessary ;  by  no  means ;  a  pure  and  strong  attach- 
ment has  often  existed  in  the  absence  of  these;  and 
I  will  not  take  upon  me  to  determine,  that  it  is  ab- 
solutely ivipossible  to  love  deformity;  but  we  cer- 
tainly ought  not  to  unite  ourselves  with  it,  unless 
we  can  love  it;  or,  at  least,  are  so  enamored  with 
the  fascination  of  mental  qualities  that  may  be 
united  with  it,  as  to  lose  sight  of  the  body  in  the 
charms  of  the  mind,  the  heart,  and  the  manners. 
All  I  contend  for  is,  that  to  proceed  to  marriage 
against  absolute  dislike  and  revulsion,  is  irrational, 
base,  and  sinful. 

But  love  .should  respect  the  mind,  as  well  as  the 
body:  for  to  be  attached  to  an  individual  simply  on 
the  ground  of  beauty,  is  to  fall  in  love  with  a  doll, 
a  statue,  or  a  picture;  such  an  attachment  is  lust  or 
fancy,  but  certainly  not  a  rational  affection.  If  we 
love  the  body,  but  do  not  love  the  mind,  the  heart, 
and  the  manners,  our  regard  is  placed  upon  the  in- 
ferior part  of  the  person,  and  therefore,  only  upon 
that  which  by  disease,  may  be  next  year  a  very  dif- 


ferent thing  to  what  it  is  now.  Nothing  fades  so 
soon  as  beauty ;  it  is  but  like  the  delicate  bloom  of 
an  attractive  fruit,  and  if  there  be  nothing  agreea- 
ble underneath,  will  be  thrown  away  in  disgust 
when  that  is  brushed  off;  and  thrown  away,  too,  by 
the  very  hand  of  him  that  plucks  it.  It  is  so  com- 
monly remarked,  as  to  be  proverbial,  that  the 
charms  of  mind  increase  by  acquaintance,  while 
those  of  the  exterior  diminish:  and  that  while  the 
former  easily  reconcile  us  to  a  plain  countenance, 
the  latter  excite,  by  the  power  of  contrast,  a  distaste 
for  the  insipidity,  ignorance,  and  hearilessness  with 
which  they  are  united,  like  gaudy,  sceniless  flowers 
growing  in  a  desert.  Instead  of  determining  to 
stake  our  happiness  upon  the  act  of  gathering  these 
blooming  weeds  to  place  them  in  our  bosom,  let  us 
ask,  how  they  will  look  a  few  years  hence,  or  how 
they  will  adorn  and  bless  our  habitation  1  Let  us 
ask,  will  the  understanding,  united  with  that  coun- 
tenance, render  its  subject  fit  to  be  my  companion, 
and  the  instructer  of  my  children  1  Will  that  tem- 
per patiently  bear  with  my  weaknesses,  kindly  con- 
sult my  tastes,  affectionately  study  my  comfort  1 — 
Will  those  manners  please  me  in  solitude,  as  well 
as  in  society'?  Will  those  habits  render  my  dwel- 
ling pleasant  to  myself  and  to  my  friends  7  We 
must  try  these  matters,  and  hold  our  passions  back, 
that  Ave  may  take  counsel  with  our  judgment,  and 
suffer  reason  to  come  down  and  talk  with  us  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening. 

Such  then,  is  the  love  on  which  marriage  should 
be  contracted :  love  to  the  whole  person  ;  love  to  the 
mind,  and  heart,  and  manners,  as  well  as  to  the 
countenance  and  form  ;  love  tempered  with  respect; 
for  this  only  is  the  attachment  that  is  likely  to  sur- 
vive the  charms  of  novelty,  the  spoliations  of  dis- 
ease, and  the  influence  of  time;  that  is  likely  to  sup- 
port the  tender  sympathies  and  exquisite  sensibili- 
ties of  the  conjugal  state;  and  render  man  and  wife 
to  the  verge  of  extreme  old  age,  what  it  was  the  in- 
tention of  him,  who  instituted  the  marriage  union, 
they  should  be, — the  help  and  the  comfort  of  each 
other. 

By  what  language  then,  sufficiently  strong  and 
indignant,  can  we  reprobate  those  compacts,  so  dis- 
graceful, and  yet  so  common,  by  which  marriage  is 
converted  into  a  money  speculation,  a  trading  enter- 
prise, a  mere  business  cf  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence  ? 
How  cruel  a  part  do  those  parents  act,  who,  for  the 
sake  of  an  advantageous  settlement,  urge  their 
daughters  into  a  union,  from  which  their  hearts  re- 
volt; or  persuade  their  sons  to  marry  women,  to- 
wards whom  they  feel  no  affection,  merely  for  the 
sake  of  a  fortune  !  Unnatural  fathers  and  mothers! 
is  it  thus  ye  would  lead  your  children,  decorated  as 
sacrifices,  to  the  shrine  of  Mammon,  and  act  the 
part  of  priests  and  priestesses  yourselves,  in  the  im- 
molation of  these  hapless  victims  ! !  What,  will  you 
assist  in  the  rites  of  this  legal  prostitution1?  Can 
none  others  be  found  but  you,  the  natural  guardians 
of  your  children's  interest,  to  persuade  them  to  sell 
their  persons,  and  barter  all  the  happiness  of  their 
future  lives  for  gold  1  Will  you  make  yourselves 
responsible  for  all  the  future  miseries  of  your  child- 
ren,  and  your  children's  children,  by  recommend- 
ing such  a  sordid  compact!  Forbear,  I  entreat  you, 
for  your  own  sake,  for  your  children's  sake,  and 
for  the  sake  of  society,  to  recommend  a  marriage, 
which  is  not  founded'on  pure,  and  strong,  and  mu- 
tual attachment. 

Young  people  themselves,  should  be  extremely 
careful  on  their  own  part,  to  let  no  persuasions  of 
others,  no  impulse  of  their  own  covetousness,  no 
anxiety  to  be  their  own  masters  and  mistresses,  no 
ambition  for  secular  splendor,  induce  them  to  enter 
into  a  connection,  to  which  they  are  not  drawn  by 
the  solicitations  of  a  pure  and  virtuous  love.  What 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


21 


will  a  large  house,  splendid  furniture,  a  gay  equip- 
age, and  fashionable  entertainments  do  lor  their 
possessor,  in  the  absence  of  connubial  love  1  "  Is  it 
for  these  baubles,  these  toys,"  exclaims  the  wretched 
heart  as  it  awakens,  alas !  too  late,  in  some  sad 
scene  of  domestic  woe,  "is  it  for  this  I  have  bartered 
away  myself,  my  happiness,  my  honor  1 

"  How  ill  the  scenes  that  ofTer  rest, 
And  heart  that  cannot  rest  agree." 

0  there  is  a  sweetness,  a  charm,  a  power  to 
please,  in  pure  and  mutual  affection,  though  it  be 
cherished  in  the  humblest  abode,  and  maintained 
amidst  the  plainest  circumstances,  and  has  to  con- 
tend with  many  difficulties,  compared  with  which, 
the  elegancies  and  brilliancies  of  worldly  grandeur, 
are  but  as  the  splendor  of  an  eastern  palace,  to  one 
of  tha  bowers  of  the  garden  of  Eden.  Let  the  man 
nobly  determine  to  earn  his  daily  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  and  find  his  daily  task  sweetened 
by  the  thought  that  it  is  for  the  woman  he  loves, 
rather  than  roll  about  in  his  chariot,  and  live  a  life 
of  splendid  indolence  and  misery,  with  the  wo- 
man he  does  not  love  :  and  let  the  other  sex,  as  no- 
bly and  heroically  determine  to  trust  to  their  own 
energies,  but  especially  to  a  gracious  providence, 
rather  than  marry  without  affection,  for  the  sake  of 
a  settlement. 

Then  there  is  another  error  committed  by  some  : 
having  been  disappointed  in  a  connection  which 
they  hoped  to  form,  they  become  reckless  for  the 
future,  and  in  a  temper  of  mind  bordering  upon  re- 
venge, accept  the  first  individual  who  may  present 
himself,  whether  they  love  him  or  not.  This  is  the 
last  degree  of  folly,  and  is  such  an  act  of  suicidal 
violence  upon  her  own  peace,  as  can  neither  be  de- 
scribed nor  reprobated  in  terms  sufficiently  strong. 
This  is  to  act  like  the  enraged  scorpion,  and  to  turn 
their  sting  upon  themselves;  and  in  an  act  of  spleen 
to  sacrifice  their  happiness  to  folly.  And  in  fact,  on 
whom  does  this  mad  spite  falH  Upon  the  indivi- 
dual who  has  done  them  no  harm,  but  that  of  at- 
tempting to  heal  the  breach  that  has  been  made  in 
their  happiness,  and  to  whom  in  return  they  carry 
a  heart,  which  they  have  virtually  given  to  another. 
How  much  more  rational,  how  much  more  condu- 
cive to  their  own  comfort,  and  how  much  more  ho- 
norable is  it  in  a  case  like  this,  to  wait  till  time,  and 
piety  have  healed  the  wound,  and  left  the  heart  at 
liberty  for  another  attachment ;  and  even  to  remain 
in  perpetual  celibacy  rather  than  marry  without 
that  which  alone  can  constitute  a  virtuous  mar- 
riage,— sincere  affection. 

Marriage  should  ever  be  contracted,  with  the 
strictest  regard  to  the  rules  of  prudence.  Dis- 
cretion is  a  virtue,  at  which  none  but  fools  laugh. — 
In  reference  to  no  subject  is  it  more  frequently  set 
aside  and  despised,  than  in  that,  which,  of  all  that 
can  be  mentioned,  most  needs  its  sober  counsels. — 
For  love  to  be  seen  standing  at  the  oracle  of  wis- 
dom, is  thought  by  some  romantic  and  silly  young 
people,  to  be  a  thing  altogether  out  of  place.  If  then 
only  were  concerned,  they  might  be  left  to  their 
folly,  to  be  punished  by  its  fruits;  but  imprudent 
marriages,  as  we  have  already  considered,  spread 
far  and  wide  their  bad  consequences,  and  also  send 
these  consequences  down  to  posterity.  The  under- 
standing is  given  to  us  to  control  the  passions  and 
the  imagination  ;  and  they,  who,  in  an  affair  of  such 
consequence,  as  choosing  a  companion  for  life,  set 
aside  the  testimony  of  the  former,  and  listen  only 
to  the  advice  of  the  latter,  have,  in  that  instance,  at 
least,  forfeited  the  character  of  a  rational  bfing,  and 
sunk  to  the  level  of  those  creatures,  who  are 
wholly  governed  by  appetite,  unchecked  by  reason. 
Prudence  would  prevent,  if  it  were  allowed  to  guide 


the  conduct  of  mankind,  a  very  large  portion  of  hu- 
man misery.  In  the  business  before  us,  it  would  al- 
low none  to  marry  till  they  had  a  prospect  of  sup- 
port. It  is  perfectly  obvious  to  me,  that  the  present 
generation  of  young  people  are  not  distinguished  by 
a  discretion  of  this  kind :  they  are  too  much  in  haste 
to  enter  the  conjugal  state,  and  place  themselves  at 
the  heads  of  families,  before  they  have  any  rational 
hope  of  being  able  to  support  them.  As  soon  almost 
as  they  arrive  at  the  age  of  manhood,  whether  they 
are  in  business  or  not,  before  they  have  ascertained 
whether  their  business  will  succeed  or  not,  they 
look  round  for  a  wife,  and  make  a  hasty,  perhaps  an 
injudicious  selection.  A  family  comes  on  before 
they  have  adequate  means  of  maintaining  it;  their 
affairs  become  embarrassed;  bankruptcy  ensues; 
their  prospects  are  clouded  forever;  they  become 
burdens  upon  their  friends;  and  their  misery,  to- 
gether with  that  of  the  partner  of  their  folly,  and  of 
their  hapless  children,  is  sealed  for  the  term  of 
their  existence  upon  earth.  How  many  instances 
of  this  kind  have  we  known,  and  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  sad,  and  true,  and  impressive  comments 
on  the  imprudence  of  improvident  marriages.  Let 
young  people  exercise  their  reason  and  their  fore- 
sight ;  or  if  they  will  not,  but  are  determined  to  rush 
into  the  expenses  of  housekeeping,  before  they  have 
opened  sources  to  meet  them,  let  them  hear,  in  spite 
of  the  syren  song  of  their  imagination,  the  voice  of 
faithful  warning,  and  prepare  to  eat  the  bitter  herbs 
of  useless  regrets,  for  many  a  long  and  weary  year 
after  the  nuptial  feast  has  passed  away. 

Prudence  forbids  all  unequal  marriages.  There 
should  be  an  equality,  as  near  as  may  be  in  age; 
"  for,"  says  Mr.  Jay, "  how  unnatural,  how  indecent, 
is  it  to  see  an  old  man  surrounded  with  infants  and 
babes,  when  he  can  scarcely  see  or  hear  for  the  in- 
firmities of  age !  How  unnatural,  how  odious  is  it, 
to  see  a  young  man  fastened  to  a  piece  of  antiquity, 
so  as  to  perplex  strangers  to  determine,  whether  he 
is  living  with  a  wife  or  a  mother."  No  one  will 
give  the  woman  in  the  one  case,  or  the  man  in  the 
other,  the  credit  of  marrying  for  love ;  and  the 
world  will  be  ill-natured  enough,  and  one  can 
hardly  help  joining  in  the  censonousness,  to  say 
that  such  matches  are  mere  pecuniary  speculations; 
for  generally  speaking,  the  old  parly  in  the  union, 
is  a  rich  one  ;  and  as  generally,  they  carry  a  scourge 
for  the  other  in  their  purse.  A  fortune  has  often 
thus  been  a  misfortune  for  bo'h. 

Equality  of  rank  is  desirable,  or  as  near  to  it  as 
possible.  Instances  have  occurred,  in  which  re- 
spectable men  have  married  servants,  and  yet  main- 
tained their  respectability,  and  enjoyed  a  full  cupof 
domestic  comfort :  but  these  cases  are  rare,  and  ge- 
nerally contain  some  circumstances  of  peculiarity. 
And  it  is  much  less  perilous  for  a  rich  man  to  de- 
scend into  the  vale  of  poverty  for  a  wife,  than  it  is 
for  a  rich  woman  to  go  down  for  a  husband.  He 
can  much  more  easily  raise  his  companion  to  his 
own  level,  than  she  can.  Society  will  much  mors 
readily  accommodate  themselves  to  his  error,  than 
to  hers.  Much  of  the  happiness  of  the  conjugal 
state,  depends  upon  the  relatives  of  the  parties,  and 
if  the  marriage  has  offended  them,  if  it  hasdegraded 
them,  how  much  of  bitierness  is  it  in  their  power 
to  throw  into  the  cup  of  enjoyment.  Many  a  wife 
has  catried  to  her  grave,  the  sting  inflicted  upon 
her  peace,  by  the  insults  of  her  husband's  friends: 
and  in  all  such  cases,  he  must  receive  a  part  of  the 
venom. 

"  It  has  been  said,  that  no  class  of  men  err  so 
much  in  this  article,  as  ministers.  But  surely  this 
cannot  be  admitted.  It  caur.ot  be  supposed  that 
t!i  se  whose  office  it  -3  to  indicate  prudence,  should 
themselves  bsp.oveibial  for  indiscretion.  It  can- 
not be  supposed  that  those  whose  incomes  are  U- 


22 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


mifed,  and  whose  circumstances  demand  economy, 
-would  bring  into  the  management  of  them,  those 
■who  have  been  trained  up  in  delicacy  and  extrava- 
gance; and  are  helpless  and  profuse.  It  cannot  be 
supposed,  that  men,  whose  office  is  respectable,  and 
productive  of  social  intercourse,  would  select  vul- 
garity and  ignorance,  unfit  to  be  either  seen  or 
heard,  merely  because  it  is  pious.  A  minister  is  to 
inculcate  order  and  regularity;  and  would  he 
marry  a  female  that  would  render  his  house  a  scene 
of  confusion  and  tumult  1  A  minister  is  to  show 
how  the  claims  of  life  and  religion  harmonize,  and 
to  assign  to  the  duties  of  each,  their  own  place  and 
season;  and  would  he  marry  a  rattle-brain,  who  in- 
stead of  being  a  keeper  at  home,  has  been  always 
rambling  after  some  new  preacher ;  who,  instead  of 
quietly  glorifying  God  in  her  own  sphere  of  action, 
has  been  endeavoring  to  excite  public  attention ; 
who  has  been  zealous  in  matters  of  doubtful  dispu- 
tation, but  has  treated  as  beneath  her  regard,  mat- 
ters of  common  and  relative  obligations!  Need  he 
be  told,  that  a  becoming  behavior  in  a  lower  and 
private  station,  is  the  surest  pledge  of,  and  the  best 
preparation  for,  a  proper  behavior  in  a  higher  and 
more  public  situation  !  A  minister  is  to  recommend 
neatness,  and  all  the  decencies  of  life,  and  would 
he  marry  a  slattern  1  A  minister  is  to  show,  that 
the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  is  in  the 
sight  of  God,  of  great  price,  and  would  he  marry  a 
scold  1  A  minister  is  to  stand  in  the  same  relation  to 
all  his  people,  who  demand  his  love  and  service,  and 
would  he  marry  a  female"  who  would  fondly  attach 
herself  to  a  few  cronies,  listen  to  all  their  secrets 
and  divulge  her  own,  and  form  cabals  and  schisms, 
which  will  render  his  residence  unpleasant,  or  oc- 
casion his  removal  1 

To  my  brethren  in  the  ministry  I  do  recommend, 
and  recommend  with  an  earnestness  which  I  have 
no  language  sufficiently  emphatic  to  express,  the 
greatest  caution  in  this  most  delicate  and  important 
affair.  In  their  case,  the  effects  of  an  imprudent 
marriage  are  felt  in  the  church  of  the  living  God. 
If  the  wives  of  the  deacons,  are  to  be  "  grave,  no 
slanderers,  sober,  faithful,  in  all  things,"  what  less 
can  be  required  of  the  wives  of  the  pastors  1  "A 
bishop  must  be  blameless,  one  that  ruleth  well  his 
own  house,  having  his  children  in  subjection  with 
all  gravity.  For  if  a  man  know  not  how  to  rule  his 
own  house,  how  shall  he  take  care  of  the  church  of 
God."  But  how  can  he  exhibit  in  his  domestic  con- 
stitution, the  beautiful  order  and  harmony  which 
should  prevail  in  every  Christian  family,  and  espe- 
cially in  every  minister's  house,  without  the  intelli- 
gent and  industrious  co-operation  of  his  wife:  and 
now  can  this  be  expected  of  one  who  has  no  intelli- 
gence, or  industry  1  Not  only  much  of  the  comfort, 
but  of  the  character  of  a  minister,  depends  upon  his 
wipe  ;  and  what  is  of  still  greater  consequence, 
much  of  his  usefulness.  How  many  have  been 
driven  away  from  scenes  of  successful  labor,  or  ren- 
dered uncomfortable  in  the  midst  of  them,  by  the 
mismanagement  of  wives,  who  have  plunged  their 
husbands  into  debt,  and  thus  blasted  their  respecta- 
bility ;  or  by  that  pride,  petulance,  vulgarity,  mean- 
ness, and  busy  interference,  by  which  they  have  in- 
volved them  in  perpetual  strife,  with  their  neighbors, 
1  radesmen,  or  their  congregation !  considering:,  there- 
fore, how  much  mischief  may  be  done  by  their  in- 
discretion, ministers  should  raise  imprudence  in 
marriage  to  the  rank  of  a  great  sin.  And  then  their 
guilt  in  the  commission  of  this  sin  is  the  greater  as 
they  have  less  excuse  for  it  than  others ;  for  they 
have  only  to  exercise  patience,  and  to  restrain  them- 
selves from  hasty  and  injudicious  entanglements, 
and  to  avail  themselves  of  the  extended  opportunity 
which  their  situation  gives  them,  to  obtain  a  com- 
panion, that  shall  be  to  them,  both  as  men  and  mi- 


nisters, a  helper  of  their  joy.  Some  widowers  in 
selecting  a  second  wife  have  consulted  their  child- 
ren's comfort  more  than  their  own  taste  ;  whether 
this  be  right  or  wrong  in  their  case,  we  shall  pre- 
sently consider ;  but  certainly,  a  minister  while  he 
is  allowed  the  usual  privilege  of  following  his  own 
predilections,  ought  never  to  gratify  his  taste  at  the 
expense  of  his  official  respectability,  or  at  the  risk 
of  his  usefulness,  but  in  the  choice  of  a  wife,  should 
be  guided  by  a  view  to  the  comfort  of  his  church,  as 
well  as  by  a  reference  to  his  own  happiness. 

Marriage  should  always  be  formed,  with  a  due 

REGARD  TO  THE  DICTATES  OF  RELIGION.  A  pioUS  per- 
son should  not  marry  any  one  who  is  not  also  pious. 
It  is  not  desirable  to  be  united  to  an  individual  even 
of  a  different  denomination,  and  who,  as  a  point  of 
conscience,  attends  her  own  place  of  worship.  It  is 
not  pleasant  on  a  Sabbath  morning  to  separate,  and 
go  one  to  one  place  of  worship,  and  the  other  to  an- 
other. The  most  delightful  walk  that  a  holy  couple 
can  take,  is  to  the  house  of  God  in  company,  and 
when,  in  reference  to  the  high  themes  of  redemption 
and  the  invisible  realities  of  eternity,  they  take  sweet 
counsel  together.  No  one  would  willingly  lose  this. 
But  oh  to  walk  separately  in  a  still  more  important 
and  dreadful  sense  !  To  part  at  the  point  where  the 
two  roads  to  eternity  branch  off,  the  one  to  heaven, 
the  other  to  hell ;  and  for  the  believer  "  to  travel  on 
to  glory,"  with  the  dreadful  consciousness,  that  the 
other  party  is  journeying  to  perdition!!  This  is 
indeed  dreadful,  and  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  occasion 
no  small  diminution  of  conjugal  felicity.  If  how- 
ever, the  comfort  of  the  parties  only  were  concerned, 
it  would  be  a  matter  of  less  consequence  :  but  it  is  a 
matter  of  conscience,  and  an  affair  in  which  we  have 
no  option.  "She  is  at  liberty  to  marry  whom  she 
will,"  says  the  apostle,  speaking  to  the  case  of  a 
widow,  "but  only  in  the  Lord."  Now  though  this 
was  said  in  reference  to  a  female,  all  the  reasons  of 
the  law  belong  with  equal  force  to  the  other  sex. — 
This  appears  to  me  to  be  not  only  advice  but  law, 
and  is  as  binding  upon  the  conscience  as  any  other 
law  that  we  find  in  the  word  of  God  ;  and  the  inci- 
dental manner  in  which  this  injunction  occurs,  is, 
as  has  been  very  properly  remarked,  to  the  intelli- 
gent reader  of  Scripture,  the  strongest  confirmation 
of  the  rule  in  all  cases,  where  marriage  is  in  pros- 
pect, and  where  there  has  been  no  engagement  pre- 
vious to  conversion.  As  to  the  other  passage,  where 
the  apostle  commands  us  not  to  be  unequally  yoked 
together  with  unbelievers,  it  does  not  apply  to  mar- 
riage, except  by  inference,  but  to  church  fellowship, 
or  rather  to  association  and  conduct  in  general,  in 
reference  to  which,  professing  Christians  are  not  to 
symbolize  with  unbelievers.  But  if  this  be  improper 
in  regard  to  other  matters,  how  much  more  so  in 
that  connection,  which  has  so  powerful  an  influence 
over  our  character,  as  well  as  our  happiness.  For 
a  Christian,  then,  to  marry  an  individual  who  is  not 
decidedly  and  evidently  a  pious  person,  is  a  direct 
opposition  to  the  word  of  God. 

And  if  Scripture  were  not  against  it,  reason  is; 
for  "  how  can  two  walk  together,  except  they  be 
agreed."  A  difference  of  taste  in  minor  matters  is 
an  impediment  in  the  way  of  domestic  comfort ;  but 
to  be  opposed  to  each  other  on  the  all  important  sub- 
ject of  religion,  is  a  risk,  even  as  it  respects  our  com- 
fort, which  no  considerate  person  should  be  induced, 
on  any  consideration  to  incur.  How  can  the  higher 
ends  of  the  domestic  constitution  be  answered,  where 
one  of  the  parents  has  not  the  spiritual  qualifications 
necessary  for  accomplishing  them  1  How  can  the 
work  of  religious  education  be  conducted,  and  the 
children  be  trained  in  the  nurture  and  admonition 
of  the  Lord  1  And  as  it  respects  individual  and 
personal  assistance  in  religious  matters,  do  we  not 
all  want  helps  instead  of  hinderances  1   A  Christian 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


23 


should  make  every  thing  bend  to  religion,  but  allow 
religion  to  bend  to  nothing.  This  is  the  one  thing 
needful,  to  which  eviry  thing  should  be  subordinate; 
and  surely,  to  place  out  of  consideration,  the  affairs 
of  his  eternal  salvation  in  so  important  an  aflair  as 
marriage,  shows  either  that  the  religion  of  a  person 
who  acts  thus  is  but  profession,  or  likely  soon  to 
become  so. 

The  neglect  of  this  plain  and  reasonable  rule  is 
becoming,  I  am  afraid,  more  and  more  prevalent.  I 
do  not  wonder  at  all,  that  this  subject  should  have 
excited  the  attention  of  the  ministers  of  religion,  and 
that  the  Congregational  Association  for  Wiltshire 
should,  at  their  yearly  meeting,  in  180G,  have  -'ome 
to  the  following  resolution:—"  Deploring  the  little 
regard  of  late  years  paid  by  too  many  professors  of  re- 
ligion to  the  Christian  rule  of  marriage :  and  deem- 
ing it  desirable,  that  the  attention  of  the  public  in  ge- 
neral, and  our  own  churches  in  particular,  should  be 
called  to  this  subject ;  we  do  unanimously  request  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Jay  to  publish  some  strictures  upon  it." 

In  the  excellent  treatise  which  Mr.  Jay  published 
in  compliance  with  this  request,  he  makes  the  fol- 
lowing just  and  important  remarks.  "  How  deplor- 
able is  it  that  this  Christian  rule  of  marriage  is  so 
frequently  trampled  upon.  The  violation  is,  in  the 
degree  of  it  at  least,  peculiar  to  our  own  age.  Our 
pious  ancestors,  especially  among  the  non-conform- 
ists, would  have  been  shocked  at  the  practice,  as 
appears  from  their  invaluable  writings.     And  I  am 

PERSUADED  THAT  IT  IS  VERY  MUCH  OWING  TO  THE  PRE- 
VALENCE OF  THESE  INDISCRIMINATE  AND  UNHALLOWED. 
CONNECTIONS,  THAT  WE  HAVE  FALLEN  SO  FAR  SHORT  OF 
THOSE  MEN  OF  GOD  WHO  ARE  GONE  BEFORE  US,  IN  OUR 
SECLUSION  FROM  THE  WORLD,  IN  THE  SIMPLICITY  OF  OUR 
MANNERS,  IN  THE  UNIFORMITY  OF  OUR  PROFESSION,  IN 
THE  DISCHARGE  OF  FAMILY  WORSHIP,  AND  IN  THE  TRAIN- 
ING UP  OF  OUR  HOUSEHOLDS  IN  THE  NURTURE  AND  ADMO- 
NITION OF  THE  LORD." 

No  one  should  contemplate  the  prospect  of  such  a 
connection  as  marriage,  without  the  greatest  and 
most  serious  deliberation  ;  nor  without  the  most 
earnest  prayer  to  God  for  direction.  Ptayer,  how- 
ever, to  be  acceptable  to  the  Almighty,  should  be 
sincere,  and  should  be  presented  with  a  real  desire 
to  know  and  do  his  will.  Many,  I  believe,  act  to- 
ward the  Deity,  as  they  do  towards  their  friends : 
they  make  up  their  minds,  and  then  ask  to  be  di- 
rected. They  have  some  doubts,  and  very  often 
strong  ones,  of  the  propriety  of  the  step  they  are 
about  to  take,  which  are  gradually  dissipated  by 
their  supplications,  till  they  have  prayed  themselves 
into  a  conviction  that  they  are  quite  right  in  the  de- 
cision, which  they  have  in  fact,  already  made.  To 
pray  for  direction  in  an  affair  which  we  know  to  be 
in  opposition  to  God's  word,  and  on  which  we  have 
already  resolved  to  act,  is  adding  hypocrisy  to  re- 
bellion. If  there  b;  reason  to  believe  that  the  indi- 
vidual who  solicits  a  Christian  to  unite  herself  with 
him  in  marriage,  is  not  truly  pious,  what  need  has 
she  of  praying  to  be  directed  1  This  seems  like 
asking  the  Almighty,  to  be  permitted  to  do  that 
which  he  has  forbidden  to  be  done 

In  the  case  of  widows  and  widowers,  especially 
where  there  is  a  family,  peculiar  prudence  is  neces- 
sary. I  have  known  instances  in  which  .such  per- 
sons have  sacrificed  all  their  own  tastes  and  predi- 
lections, and  have  made  their  selection  with  exclu- 
sive reference  to  their  children.  Such  a  sacrifice  is 
indeed  generous  ;  but  it  may  become  a  question 
whether  it  is  discreet.  It  is  placing  their  own  com- 
fort, and  even  character,  in  some  degree  of  peril, 
neither  of  which  can  be  lost,  without  most  serious 
mischief  to  those  very  children,  whose  interest  they 
have  so  heroically  consulted.  This,  however,  is  an 
error  much  more  rare  and  venial,  than  that  of  the 
opposite  extreme.   How  unseemly  and  inconsiderate 


is  it  for  a  sexagenarian,  to  bring  home  a  young  wife, 
and  place  her  over  daughters  older  than  herself,  and 
introduce  into  the  family  circle,  aunts  and  uncles, 
younger  than  some  of  the  nephews  and  nieces. — 
Rare  is  the  case,  in  which  such  inexpedient  connec- 
tions are  formed,  without  the  authors  of  them  losing 
much  of  their  own  reputation,  and  destroying  much 
of  the  comfort  of  their  families.  Let  not  such  men 
wonder,  if  their  daughters  by  the  first  marriage,  are 
driven  from  their  home  by  the  consequences  of  the 
second ;  and  are  led  to  form  imprudent  matches,  to 
which  they  were  led  by  the  force  of  parental  exam- 
ple, and  urged  by  the  consequences  of  parental  folly. 
In  the  selection  of  a  second  companion  for  life, 
where  the  first  has  been  eminent  for  talents  or  vir- 
tues, much  care  should  be  taken  that  there  be  no 
great  and  striking  inferiority  ;  for  in  such  a  case, 

"  busy,  medling  memory, 

In  barbarous  succession,  musters  up 

The  past  endearments  of  their  softer  hours ;" 

which  form  a  contrast  ever  present,  and  ever  pain- 
ful. The  man  that  never  knew  by  experience  the 
joy  of  a  happy  marriage,  can  never  know  the  ills  of 
an  imprudent  one,  as  aggravated  by  the  power  of 
comparison.  Let  him  that  has  thus  known  them, 
beware  how  he  expose  himself  to  such  helpless, 
hopeless  misery. 

Due  care  should  also  be  exercised  in  reference  lo 
the  children.  Has  the  woman  about  to  be  selected, 
that  principle,  that  prudence,  that  self-control,  that 
good  temper,  which,  if  she  become  herself  a  mother, 
will  help  her  to  conceal  her  partialities,  for  to  sup- 
press them  is  impossible,  and  would  be  unnatural, 
and  to  seem  no  less  kind  to  her  adopted  offspring, 
than  to  her  own  1  That  man  acts  a  most  cruel,  a 
most  wicked  part  towards  the  memory  of  his  first 
wife,  who  does  not  provide  for  her  children,  a  kind 
and  judicious  friend  in  his  second.  What  is  it  but 
a  dread  of  this,  that  has  made  some  women,  when 
upon  their  dying  bed,  break  through  the  rules  of 
propriety,  and  recommend  their  successor  in  the 
arms,  and  heart,  and  house  of  their  husbands  1 — 
They  trembled  for  their  children,  and  seemed  at  that 
sad  moment,  to  have  become  willing  to  be  forgotten, 
provided  their  babes  could  find  a  second  mother  in 
her  that  was  to  fill  their  place.  Let  me  then  become 
the  advocate  of  fatherless,  or  motherless  children, 
and  entreat,  for  the  sake,  both  of  the  living  and  the 
dead,  a  due  regard  to  the  comfort  of  these  orphans. 

Nor  should  less  deliberation  be  exercised  by  the 
party  who  is  about  to  take,  or  invited  to  take  the 
care  of  another  person's  children.  Have  they  love 
enough  for  the  parent,  to  bear  the  burden  of  care 
for  his  sake  "?  Have  they  kindness  enough,  temper 
enough,  discretion  enough,  for  such  a  situation,  and 
for  such  an  office'?  There  is  no  difficulty  where 
the  children  are  lovely  in  person,  and  amiable  in 
temper;  but  when  they  have  no  personal  attractions, 
no  charms  of  mind,  no  endearments  of  character, 
then  is  the  time  to  realize  the  truth  of  Mr.  Jay's  ex- 
pression, "a  wife  may  be  supplied,  a  mother  can- 
not." The  man  or  the  woman  that  can  act  a  parent's 
part  towards  a  frowardand  unlovely  child  must  have 
more  than  nature,  for  this  belongs  only  to  a  real 
parent,  they  must  have  principle  and  kindness,  and 
need  have  grace.  Let  all  who  are  invited  to  take 
the  superintendence  of  a  family,  ask  themselves,  if 
they  possess  the  requisites  for  the  comfortable  and 
satisfactory  discharge  of  its  duties.  Let  them  in- 
quire whether  it  is  likely  they  can  be  happy  in 
such  a  situation  themselves;  for  if  not,  they  had 
far  belter  never  enter  it,  as  their  unhappiness 
must,  inevitably,  fill  the  whole  family  circle  with 
misery. 

It  cannot  be  sufficiently  deplored,  that  all  suitable 


24 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


preparation  for  the  marriage  state,  is  usually  put 
aside  for  the  busy  activities  of  vanity,  which  in  fact, 
are  bat  as  dust  in  the  balance  of  the  conjugal  des- 
tiny. Every  thought,  and  anticipation,  and  anxie- 
ty, is  too  often  absorbed  in  the  selection  of  a  house, 
and  furniture;  and  in  matters  still  more  insignifi- 
cant and  frivolous.  How  common  is  it  for  a  female 
to  spend  those  hours,  day  after  day,  and  week  after 
week,  in  communion  with  her  milliner,  debating 
and  discussing  the  subject  of  the  color,  and  form, 
and  material,  in  which  she  is  to  shine  forth  in  nup- 
tial splendor,  which  ought  to  be  employed  in  medi- 
tating the  eventful  step,  which  is  to  fix  for  life  her 
destiny,  and  that  of  her  intended  husband;  as  if  the 
great  object  were  to  appear  a  gay  and  fashionable 
bride,  rather  than  to  be  a  good  and  happy  wife. — 
And  most  pitiable  is  it  to  see  some  mothers,  minis- 
tering to  this  folly,  and  flattering  the  vanity  of  their 
daughters,  instead  of  preparing  them  by  judicious 
and  seasonable  counsels,  for  discharging  the  duties 
of  that  new  and  important,  connection,  into  which 
they  arc  about  to  enter. 

"  Study,"  said  an  old  author,  "  the  duties  of  mar- 
riage, before  you  enter  into  it.  There  are  crosses 
to  be  borne,  there  are  snares  to  be  avoided,  and  ma- 
nifold obligations  to  be  discharged,  as  well  as  great 
felicity  to  be  enjoyed.  And  should  no  provision  be 
made"?  For  want  of  this,  result  the  frequent  disap- 
pointments of  that  honorable  estate.  Hence  that 
repentance  which  is  at  once  too  soon,  and  too  late. — 
The  husband  knows  not  how  to  rule;  and  the  wife 
knows  not  how  to  obey.  Both  are  ignorant,  both 
conceited,  and  both  miserable." 

In  all  thy  ways  acknowledge  Him,  and  He 
shall  direct  thy  paths. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   DUTIES    OF    PARENTS. 

"  Ye  fathers,  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath  ;  but 
bring  them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord."  Ephes.  vi.  4. 

"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when 
he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it."     Prov.  xxii.  6. 

"And  these  words  which  I  command  thee  this  day, 
shall  be  in  thine  heart,  and  thou  shalt  teach  them 
diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them 
when  thou  sitteth  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way.  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and 
when  thou  riseth  up."  Deut.  vi.  6,  7. 

"And  he  shall  turn  the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  the  child- 
ren, and  the  heart  of  the  children  to  the  fathers,  lest 
I  come  and  smite  the  earth  with  a  curse."  Mat.  iv.  6. 

It  is  an  interesting  and  important  era  in  the  history 
of  domestic  life,  when  the  husband  and  wife  receive 
the  new  names  of  father  and  mother,  and  become 
united  by  the  supplemental  tie,  which  is  furnished 
by  the  little  helpless  stranger,  so  lately  introduced 
into  the  familv.  "Who  that  has  felt  them,  can  ever 
forget  the  emotions  awakened  by  the  first  gaze  upon 
the  face  of  his  child,  by  the  first  embrace  of  his 
babe.  Little  however,  do  the  bulk  of  mankind  con- 
sider, what  a  weight  of  obligation,  what  a  degree 
of  responsibility,  that  child  has  brought  into  the 
world  with  him  for  his  parents.  In  the  joyousness 
with  which  the  mother  lavishes  her  fond  embraces 
upon  her  boy,  and  in  the  paternal  pride  with  which 
the  father  looks  on  this  new  object  of  their  affec- 
tion, how  rarely  does  either  of  them  revolve,  in 
deep  seriousness,  the  future  destiny  of  this  new  idol 
of  their  hearts;  or  consider  how  nearly  that  destiny 
is  connected  with  their  own  conduct.  Parental  ob- 
ligations are  neither  felt  nor  known  by  multitudes. 
How  then  can  they  be  discharged  1     Rushing  into 


the  connection  of  marriage  under  the  mere  impulse 
of  passion,  without  forethought,  without  prudence, 
multitudes  become  parents  before  they  have  one 
right  view,  or  one  right  feeling,  in  reference  to  the 
duties  of  the  parental  relationship  ;  to  which  they 
come  with  scarcely  any  other  preparedness,  than 
that  mere  animal  fondness  for  their  young,  which 
they  partake  of  in  common  with  the  irrational  crea- 
tion; but  not  with  that  same  instinctive  ability,  "  to 
train  them  up  in  the  way  they  should  go."  Who 
can  wonder  at  the  disordered  state  of  society  at 
large,  or  be  surprised  at  the  aboundings  of  evils  and 
miseries  in  our  world,  that  looks  at  the  manner  in 
which  domestic  duties  are  neglected.  When  I  con- 
sider what  poor,  ignorant,  thoughtless,  frivolous, 
wicked  creatures  are  often  seen  at  the  head  of  house- 
holds, I  can  only  ascribe  it  to  the  interference  of  an 
all-wise  and  powerful  providence,  that  society  is  not 
far  more  chaotic  than  it  is. 

My  business  in  this  chapter,  is,  to  endeavor  to 
rectify,  if  possible,  some  of  these  evils,  and  to  lay 
down  a  rule  to  guide  the  parent  in  discharging  his 
truly  important,  and  awfully  responsible  obligation ; 
persuaded  as  I  am,  that  many  of  the  evils  and  mise- 
ries of  society  would  vanish  before  a  right  perform- 
ance of  parental  duties. 

1.  It  is  impossible  for  parents  to  discharge  their 
duty,  without  a  correct  view  of  the  nature  and  de- 
sign of  the  domestic  constitution. 

This  they  should  study,  and  arrive  at  the  conclu- 
sion as  speedily  as  possible,  and  keep  it  ever  before 
the  mind,  that  the  great  design  of  this  compact,  is, 
to  form  well  the  character  of  the  children  ;  to  train  up 
the  citizen  for  the  world,  and  the  Christian  for  the 
church  ;  to  assist  the  child,  as  a  mortal,  to  go  with 
honor  and  comfort  through  this  life,  and  as  an  im- 
mortal, to  reach  life  everlasting.  The  domestic  cir- 
cle is  intended  to  be  the  school  of  character,  where, 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  the  most  important 
business  of  education  is  to  be  conducted;  where  the 
moral  sense  is  to  be  implanted  and  cultivated,  and 
the  conscience,  and  the  temper,  and  the  heart,  are 
all  to  be  trained. 

2.  Parents  should  be  most  deeply  impressed  and 
affected,  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  sta- 
tion they  occupy  in  the  domestic  constitution. 

Their  state  of  mind  should  be  the  very  opposite 
of  that  light  and  frivolous  indifference;  that  ao- 
sence  of  all  anxiety,  which  many  of  them  manifest. 
There  are  some  who  seem  to  regard  their  children 
as  pretty  little  living  playthings,  that  must  be  well 
taken  care  of,  and  be  taught,  by  somebody  or  other, 
whatever  will  set  them  off  to  the  best  advantage; 
but  as  to  any  idea  of  the  formation  of  their  charac- 
ter, especially  their  moral  and  religious  character, 
and  any  of  that  deep,  and  painful,  and  almost  over- 
whelming solicitude,  which  arises  from  a  clear  per- 
ception, and  powerful  impression  of  the  probable 
connection  between  the  child's  destiny,  and  the  pa- 
rents' conduct ;  to  all  this  they  are  utter  strangers. 
Many  horticulturalists  have  far  more  intense  solici- 
tude about  the  developing  of  their  plants,  far  more 
wakeful  and  anxious  care  about  the  fragrance  and 
color  of  a  flower,  or  the  size  and  flavor  of  a  fruit, 
than  many  parents  have  about  the  development  of 
mind,  and  the  formation  of  character,  in  a  child. — 
They  have  plants  of  immortality  in  their  house, 
they  have  young  trees  which  are  to  bear  fruits  to 
eternity,  growing  up  around  them,  the  training  of 
which  is  committed  to  their  care,  and  yet  have 
very  little  solicitude,  and  scarcely  any  thoughtful- 
ness,  whether  they  yield  in  this  world  or  the  next, 
poisonous  or  wholesome  produce.  On  parents,  it 
depends  in  a  great  measure  what  their  children  are 
to  be — miserable  or  happy  in  themselves;  a  com- 
fort or  a  curse  to  their  connections;  an  ornament 
or  a  deformity  to  society ;  a  fiend  or  a  seraph  it 


THE    FAMILY   MONITOR. 


25 


eternity.  It  is  indeed  an  awful  thing  to  be  a  parent, 
and  is  enough  to  awaken  the  anxious,  trembling  in- 
quiry in  every  heart,  "Lord,  who  is  sufficient  for 
these  things'?" 

3.  Parents  should  seek  after  the  possession  of  all 
possible  qualifications  for  their  office. 

What  man  in  his  senses  would  undertake  the  of- 
fice of  a  pilot  upon  a  dangerous  coast,  without  a 
knowledge  of  navigation  "?  Or  that  of  a  general  of 
an  army,  without  a  knowledge  of  military  tactics "? 
Or  that  of  a  physician,  without  a  knowledge  of  me- 
dicine and  diseases  1  And  who  would  go  on  an- 
other hour  in  the  office  of  a  parent,  without  seeking 
to  possess  all  suitable  qualifications  1  And  what 
are  they  1 

Genuine  personal  religion:  for  how  can  they  bring 
up  children  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord,  if  they  do  not  know  the  Lord  for  themselves'? 
In  order  to  teach  religion  with  any  probable  effect, 
we  must  know  it  ourselves.  That  parent  will  have 
little  ability,  and  less  inclination,  to  inculcate  piety 
upon  his  children,  who  has  none  himself.  A  grace- 
less parent  is  a  most  awful  character  !  Oh,  to  see 
the  father  and  mother  of  a  rising  family,  with  a 
crowd  of  young  immortals  growing  up  around 
them,  and  teaching  irreligion  to  their  offspring,  and 
leading  them  to  perdition  by  the  power  of  their  own 
example.  A  sheep  leading  her  twin  lambs  into  the 
covert  of  a  hungry  tiger,  would  be  a  shocking  sight, 
but  to  see  parents  by  their  own  irreligion,  or  want 
of  religion,  conducting  their  family  to  the  bottom- 
less pit,  is  most  horrible  !  No  one,  then,  can  right- 
ly discharge  the  duties  of  a  parent,  in  the  higher 
reference  of  the  family  compact,  without  that  per- 
sonal religion,  which  consists  in  repentance  towards 
God,  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  a  life  of 
habitual  holiness.  In  the  absence  of  this,  the  high- 
est end  of  the  domestic  constitution  must  be  ne- 
glected, the  sublimest  part  of  education  must  be 
abandoned. 

Parents  should  seek  the  entire  government  of  their 
temper ;  a  habit  of  self-control ;  a  meekness  not  to 
be  disturbed  by  the  greatest  provocation  ;  a  patience 
not  to  be  wearied  by  long  continued  opposition.  I 
say  to  any  father  or  mother,  are  you  irritable,  petu- 
lant? If  so,  begin  this  moment  the  work  of  subju- 
gating your  temper.  You  are  in  imminent  peril  of 
ruining  your  family.  A  passionate  mother  or  fa- 
ther, is  like  a  fury  with  a  sceptre  in  one  hand,  and 
a  fire-brand  in  the  other:  and  when  the  king  is  a 
fury,  the  subjects  are  likely  to  be  furies,  too;  for  no- 
thing is  more  contagious  than  bad  temper.  O,  how 
many  parents  have  had  to  bewail,  with  weeping 
eyes,  and  almost  broken  hearts,  the  effects  of  their 
own  irritability,  as  apparent  in  the  headstrong,  pas- 
sionate dispositions  of  their  children.  It  is  against 
this  evil  that  the  admonition  of  the  apostle  is  direct- 
ed, "forbearing  threatening.'"  Passion  blinds  the 
judgment,  leads  to  undue  severity,  fosters  partiali- 
ties, in  short,  is  the  source  of  a  ihousand  evils  in 
the  domestic  government.  An  irritable  person  can 
never  manage  discipline  with  propriety,  but  is  ever 
prone  to  correct,  when  correction  should  never  be 
administered — in  a  rage.  Parents,  I  beseech  you 
to  control  your  temper,  and  acquire  a  calm,  im- 
perturbable disposition,  for  this  only  can  fit  you 
to  rule  your  household  in  wisdom,  justice,  and 
love. 

A  habit  of  discrimination  is  a  very  important 
qualification  in  parents  ;  a  penetrating  insight  into 
character;  an  acuteness  in  judging  of  motives. — 
Such  a  talent  is  of  immense  consequence  in  the  do- 
mestic community;  and  connected  with  this,  a 
quickness  of  discerning  disposition,  together  with 
an  inventive  and  ingenious  faculty  of  adapting 
treatment  to  the  varieties  of  character  and  propen- 
sity which  are  continually  exhibiting  themselves. 


A  kindness  of  manner,  an  affectionate,  persuasive 
address,  is  of  great  importance.  It  is  desirable  for 
parents  to  render  their  company  pleasant  to  their 
children,  to  engage  their  confidence,  to  exert  over 
them  the  influence  of  love,  which  certainly  cannot 
be  done,  by  a  cold,  or  churlish,  or  distant  behavior. 

Prudence  and  good  sense  are  qualities  of  such  in- 
estimable worth,  and  depend  so  much  upon  educa- 
tion, that  all  who  have  the  care  of  children,  should 
perpetually  exhibit  them  for  imitation.  A  rash, 
thoughtless  father,  a  wild  romantic  mother,  do  in- 
calculable mischief  in  a  family. 

Firmness  is  essentially  requisite  in  parents  ;  that 
disposition,  which  though  at  the  remotest  distance 
from  all  that  is  rigid,  stern,  and  cruel,  can  master  its 
own  feelings,  and  amidst  the  strongest  appeals  to  the 
tenderer  emotions  of  the  mind,  can  inflexibly  main- 
tain its  purpose;  and  in  the  way  of  denying  impro- 
per requests,  or  administering  correction,  can  inflict 
pain  on  the  object  of  its  affection,  whenever  duty 
requires  such  an  exercise  of  beneficial  severity.  Foi 
want  of  this  disposition,  of  this  fine  and  noble  qua- 
lity, how  many  have  ruined  their  children  for  ever 
by  indulgence. 

Varied  information  and  extensive  knowledge  are 
very  desirable.  Parents  should  be  able  to  direct  the 
studies,  to  answer  the  inquiries,  to  correct  the  mis- 
takes, to  assist  the  pursuits,  and  in  short,  to  superin- 
tend the  general  instruction  cf  their  families. 

Unvarying  and,  inflexible  consistency  should  be  ex- 
hibited by  all  whom  Providence  has  placed  at  the 
head  of  a  household.  They  should  be  not  only  ex- 
cellent, but  consistently  excellent.  An  unbroken 
uniformity  should  reign  over  their  whole  chaiacter. 
Nothing  contradictory,  inexplicable,  irreconcilable, 
should  ever  be  seen. 

Let  all  who  are  likely  to  become  parents,  look  at 
this  picture,  and  learn  how  they  are  to  prepare  for 
the  performance  of  their  duty;  and  let  those  who 
already  sustain  this  relationship,  correct  their  er- 
rors and  supply  their  defects  by  this  rule. 

4.  Parents  should  settle  with  themselves  what  is 
their  chief  desire,  and  highest  object  of  pursuit,  in 
reference  to  their  children. 

Without  fixing  on  some  end,  we  shall  never,  in 
any  course  of  action,  proceed  with  much  steadiness, 
comfort,  or  success:  and  where  many  ends  arc,  and 
may  be  with  propriety  contemplated  and  sought,  the 
chief  one  must  be  definitely  selected,  and  continually 
kept  in  view,  or  we  shall  ever  be  in  danger  of  misap- 
plying our  energies.  Let  parents  then,  consider  the 
ends  which  they  should  propose  to  themselves,  in  re- 
ference to  their  children,  and  decide  among  all  those 
that  are  lawful,  which  is  supreme,  and  which  are 
subordinate.  There  are  many  lawful  ones,  but  only 
one  of  these  can  be  supreme.  And  what  is  that  ? 
Religion.  What  Christian  can  for  a  moment  hesi- 
tate here"?  What  genuine  believer  can  for  a  mo- 
ment question,  whether  his  children's  eternal  salva- 
tion ought  to  be  the  supreme  solicitude  of  his  heart  1 
If  we  look  to  the  great  bulk  of  mankind,  it  is  per- 
fectly evident  that  religion  hardly  enters  into  their 
view;  they  are  very  willing  that  their  children 
should  go  to  church  or  to  meeting,  according  as  they 
themselves  are  church  people  or  dissenters;  but  as 
to  any  anxiety  about  the  religious  character,  the 
formation  of  pious  habits,  they  are  as  destitute  of 
every  thing  of  this  kind,  as  if  religion  were  a  mere 
fable,  or  were  nothing  more  than  a  mere  Sabbath 
day  form.  Their  chief  object  is,  either  elegant  and 
fashionable  accomplishments,  or  learning  and  sci- 
ence, or  perhaps  prudence  and  good  sense:  and 
provided  their  sons  and  daughters  excel  in  these, 
they  never  make  any  inquiry,  or  feel  any  anxiety 
whether  they  fear  God  ;  and  would  be  not  only  sur- 
prised, but  would  either  laugh  you  to  scorn,  or 
scowl  upon  you  with  indignation,   for  propositi* 


THE   FAMILY  MONITOR. 


26 

such  fanatical  or  method istical  questions  in  refer- 
ence to  (heir  children.  Yes,  this  is  the  way  of  the 
greater  part  of  parents,  even  in  this  religious  coun- 
try. To  train  them  up  to  shine  and  make  a  figure 
in  society  is  all  they  seek.  Amazing  folly !  Dread- 
ful and  murderous  cruelty!  Degrading  and  gro- 
velling ambition  !  To  lose  sight  of  the  soul,  ai\d 
neglect  salvation,  and  forget  immortality  !  To  train 
them  in  every  kind  of  knowledge  but  the  know- 
ledge of  religion ;  to  instruct  them  in  an  acquaint- 
ance with  every  kind  of  subject,  but  to  leave  them 
in  ignorance  of  God  their  Creator,  their  Preserver 
and  Benefactor  !  To  fit  them  to  act  their  part  well 
on  earth,  and  to  leave  them  unprepared  for  heaven  ! 
To  qualify  them  to  go  with  respectability  and  ad- 
vantage through  the  scenes  of  time,  and  then  to 
leave  them  unmeet  for  the  glorious  and  enduring 
scenes  of  eternity  !  O  strange  fondness  of  irreli- 
gious parents  !  O  miserable  destiny  of  their  hap- 
less offspring ! 

In  direct  opposition  to  this,  the  chief  end  of  every 
Christian  parent,  must  be  the  spiritual  interests,  the 
religious  character,  the  eternal  salvation  of  his  chil- 
dren. Believing  that  they  are  sinful  and  immortal 
creatures,  yet  capable  of  being  redeemed  through 
the  mediation  of  Christ,  his  highest  ambition,  his 
most  earnest  prayer,  his  most  vigorous  pursuit, 
should  be  engaged  for  their  eternal  welfare.  His 
eye,  his  heart  and  his  hope  should  be  fixed  on  the 
same  objects  for  them  as  they  are  for  himself,  and 
that  is  upon  eternal  life.  This  should  be  the  nature 
and  exercise  of  his  anxiety.  "I  am  desirous,  if  it 
please  God,  that  my  children  should  be  blessed  with 
the  enjoyment  of  reason,  of  health,  of  such  a  mode- 
rate portion  of  worldly  wealth  and  worldly  respect- 
abiliiy  as  is  compatible  with  their  station  in  life: 
and  with  a  view  to  this,  I  will  give  them  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  suitable  education  :  but  above  and 
beyond  this,  I  far  more  intensely  desire,  and  far 
mure  earnestly  pray,  and  far  more  anxiously  seek, 
that  they  may  have  the  fear  of  God  in  their  hearts, 
be  made  partakers  of  true  religion,  and  be  everlast- 
ingly saved.  And  provided  God  grant  me  the  lat- 
ter, by  bestowing  upon  them  his  grace,  I  shall  feel 
that  my  chief  object  is  accomplished,  and  be  quite 
reconciled  to  any  circumstances  which  may  other- 
wise befall  them  ;  for  rather  would  I  see  them  in 
the  humble  vale  of  poverty,  if  at  the  same  lime  they 
were  true  Christians,  than  on  the  very  pinnacle  of 
worldly  grandeur,  but  destitute  of  true  piety."  Such 
should  be  the  views  and  feelings  and  desires  of 
all  Christian  parents;  religion  should  be  at  the 
very  centre  of  all  their  schemes  and  pursuits  for 
their  offspring.  This  should  be  the  guiding  prin- 
ciple, the  directing  object,  the  great  land-mark  by 
winch  all  their  course  should  be  steered. 

Having  made  these  preliminary  remarks,  I  go  on 
to  enumerate  and  illustrate  the  various  branches  of 
parental  duly. 

First.  There  are  some  which  relate  mere  direct- 
ly TO  THE  PRESENT  LIFE,  AND  THE  FORMATION  OF 
THE   CHARACTER   GENERALLY. 

1.  Maintenance  is  of  course  a  claim  which  every 
child  justly  prefers  upon  his  parents,  till  he  is  of  a 
sufficient  age  to  be  able  to  provide  for  himself. 

2.  Scholastic  instruction  is  another  duty  we  owe 
our  children.  The  dark  ages  are  happily  past 
away,  and  a  flood  of  light  is  now  poured,  and  is 
still  pouring  over  all  classes  of  the  people.  Instruc- 
tion is  become  general,  and  even  they  who  are  too 
poor  to  buy  knowledge  for  their  children,  are  not 
ashamed  to  beg  it  in  our  Sunday  and  charily  schools. 
No  man  should  suffer  his  family  to  be,  in  this  re- 
spect, behind  the  age  in  which  they  live.  To 
grudge  the  money  spent  in  this  way,  is  a  cruel  and 
detestable  niggardliness.    A  good  education  is  a 


portion,  the  only  one  which  some  are  able  to  give 
to  their  children,  and  which  in  many  cases,  has  led 
to  every  other  kind  of  wealth.  In  this,  however, 
we  are  to  be  guided  by  our  rank  in  life,  and  circum- 
stances; and  for  a  laboring  man  or  a  small  trades- 
man to  impoverish  himself  in  order  to  procure  the 
same  kind  and  degrees  of  accomplishment  for  his 
children,  as  a  rich  man  and  a  nobleman  would  for 
theirs,  is  an  ambition  sanctioned  neither  by  reason 
nor  revelation.  Where  it  can  be  accomplished, 
parents  should  prefer  domestic  instruction,  to  send- 
ing their  children  away  from  home  :  no  school  can 
possess  the  advantages  which  are  to  be  enjoyed  un- 
der the  eye  of  a  judicious  father  or  mother.  But 
how  few  are  judicious  :  how  few  are  equal  to  the 
task  of  a  general  superintendence  of  the  business 
of  instruction;  and  how  few  can  command  the  ad- 
vantages of  it  at  home.  Let  all  such  be  careful  in 
the  selection  of  a  school,  for  it  is  a  matter  of  infinite 
consequence.  Let  them  be  guided  in  their  choice, 
not  by  a  mere  regard  to  accomplishments;  not  by  a 
view  to  the  best  drawing,  dancing,  music,  or  Latin 
master.  This  is  an  age  of  gaudy  exterior  decora- 
tion. But  let  them  first  regard  religion,  then,  the 
real  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and  the  formation  of 
good  habits.  Wherever  real  piety  is  inculcated,  a 
thirst  for  knowledge  excited,  and  habits  of  applica- 
tion, reflection,  sobriety  of  judgment,  and  good 
sense  are  formed,  that  is  the  school  to  be  selected 
by  a  wise  and  Christian  parent.  No  word  is  more 
abused  than  that  of  education,  which,  in  the  mind 
of  many,  signifies  nothing  more  than  the  commu- 
nication of  knowledge.  But  this  is  only  a  part,  and 
a  small  part  of  education,  which,  in  fact,  means 
the  formation  of  character.  A  youth  may  have  his 
head  stuffed  full  of  Latin,  Greek,  mathematics,  and 
natural  philosophy ;  a  girl  may  draw,  and  dance, 
and  play,  and  speak  French  exquisitely,  and  yet  be 
miserably  educated  after  all.  Integrity,  good  sense, 
generosity,  and  a  capacity  for  reflection,  are  worth 
all  the  acquirements  which  even  a  university  can 
bestow.  Not,  however,  that  these  are  incompatible 
with  each  other;  by  no  means:  and  the  perfection 
of  education  is  the  union  of  both. 

3.  A  due  regard  to  the  health  of  children  should 
be  maintained. 

Physical  education  is  of  no  small  importance. — 
Knowledge  gained  at  the  expense  of  health,  is  pur- 
chased at  a  dreadful  expense.  And  there  are  other 
ways  of  injuring  the  health  of  children,  besides  a 
too  close  application  to  learning,  which  does  indeed, 
but  rarely  occur.  Fond  and  foolish  mothers  should 
be  warned  against  pampering  their  appetites  with 
sweets,  corrupting  their  blood  with  grossness,  or 
impairing  the  tone  of  their  stomachs  with  ferment- 
ed liquors.  Infanticide  is  practised,  even  in  this 
Christian  land,  by  many  who  never  dream  that  they 
are  child  murderers:  they  do  not  kill  their  babes 
by  strangling  or  poisoning  them  ;  no,  but  by  pam- 
pering or  stuffing  them  to  death.  And  where  they 
go  not  to  this  extreme,  they  breed  up  a  circle  of 
gluttons,  or  drunkards.  Nothing  can  be  more  dis- 
gusting, than  to  see  children  invited  to  eat  all  the 
delicacies  of  the  dinner,  and  to  drink  after  it  the 
health  of  the  company,  and  with  what  their  young 
palates  ought  to  be  strangers  to.  And  lamentably 
injudicious  is  it,  to  make  the  gratification  of  the 
appetite  a  reward  for  good  conduct,  and  to  have 
them  ushered  into  the  parlor  before  they  retire  to 
rest,  to  receive  the  luscious  sweet,  which  is  the 
bribe  for  their  going  quietly  to  bed.  The  mischief 
goes  beyond  the  corruption  of  their  health,  for  it 
brings  them  up  to  be  governed  by  appetite,  rather 
than  by  reason,  which  is,  in  fact,  the  secret  cause 
of  all  the  intemperance  and  profligacy  of  the  world. 
Settle  your  plans  on  this  subject,  and  suffer  neither 
a  favorite  servant,  nor  a  kind  aunt,  nor  a  doating 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


27 


grandpapa,  to  come  between  you  and  the  welfare 
of  your  children. 

4.  Bring  up  your  children  with  low  notions  of  the 
importance  of  riches,  and  worldly  show,  and  of  the 
power  ivhich  these  things  have  either  to  give  respecta- 
bility to  the  character,  or  to  procure  happiness. 

Do  not  let  them  hear  you  magnify  the  value  of 
wealth  by  your  words,  nor  see  you  do  it  by  your  ac- 
tions. Avoid  an  obsequious  attention  to  the  rich 
and  great ;  point  not  to  them  as  the  individuals  most 
to  be  admired  and  envied.  Discover  no  undue  so- 
licitude about  grandeur  of  abode,  or  furniture. — 
From  the  time  that  they  are  capable  of  receiving  an 
idea,  or  an  impression,  teach  them  it  is  character 
that  constitutes  true  respectability:  that  a  good  man 
is  reputable  in  any  circumstances,  a  bad  man  in 
none.  Remind  them  of  the  danger  of  riches,  and 
that  they  are  Satan's  baits  to  tempt  men  to  love  the 
world,  and  lose  their  souls.  Not  that  you  should 
produce  a  cynical  disposition  towards  either  riches 
or  the  rich ;  much  less  repress  industry,  and  foster 
indolence  :  no  ;  but  encourage  them  to  consider  and 
to  seek  wealth,  rather  as  a  means  of  usefulness, 
than  a  source  of  personal  gratification. 

5.  Inculcate  industrious  habits. 

Caution  them  against  sauntering  and  slothful- 
ness.  From  the  dawn  of  reason,  endeavor  to  con- 
vince them,  not  merely  by  argument,  but  by  a  refer- 
ence to  their  own  experience,  that  employment  is 
pleasure,  and  idleness  misery.  Impress  them  with 
the  value  of  time  ;  that  it  is  the  stuff  of  which  life  is 
made,  and  that  we  lose  as  much  of  life,  as  we  do 
of  time.  And  connected  with  this,  enforce  habits 
of  order  and  punctuality.  The  parent  that  neglects 
to  do  this,  is  guilty  of  enormous  unkindness  towards 
his  children  ;  who,  if  they  grow  up  without  these, 
incommode  themselves,  and  are  a  source  of  prodi- 
gious inconvenience  to  their  friends. 

6.  Economy  is  no  less  necessary.  Industry  and 
economy  are  virtues  of  civilized  life.  Savages 
never  possess  them,  but  spend  their  time  in  idleness, 
and  squander  what  comes  in  their  way  in  waste- 
fulness. It  is  reason  overcoming  the  vis  inertia? 
which  is  natural  to  man,  that  produces  industry  and 
economy;  and  when  we  consider  how  important 
they  are  to  the  well  being,  not  only  of  individuals, 
but  of  society,  our  efforts  should  be  employed  to  fos- 
ter them  in  the  minds  of  our  children.  But  in  in- 
culcating economy,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  drive 
the  mind  into  covetousness ;  hence  it  is  of  conse- 
quence, that  with  all  our  endeavors  to  cherish  fru- 
gality, we  should  be  no  less  assiduous  to  encourage 
generositv;  and  to  impress  them  with  the  idea,  that 
the  end  of  saving  is  not  to  hoard,  but  to  distribute  to 
the  wants  of  others. 

7.  Provide  for  your  children  suitable  employment. 
Happily  the  pride  and  indolence  of  feudal  limes  are 
gone  by,  and  it  is  our  felicity  to  live  in  a  country 
where  trade  and  industry  are  accounted  honorable, 
and  where  the  aristocracy  softens  down  into  the  de- 
mocracy, by  almost  insensible  degrees;  where  a 
poor,  proud  gentleman,  that  scorns  the  vulgarity  of 
trade,  begins  to  be  thought  a  very  despicable  cha- 
racter; and  the  diligent,  honest,  and  successful 
tradesman,  regarded  as  an  honorable  member  of 
the  community.  "  The  good,  sound  common  sense 
cf  mankind  will  never  annex  character  to  a  useless 
life.  He  who  merely  hangs  as  a  burden  on  the 
shoulders  of  his  fellow  men,  who  adds  nothing  to 
the  common  stock  of  comfort,  and  merely  spends 
his  time  in  devouring  it,  will  be  invariably,  as  well 
as  justly,  accounted  a  public  nuisance."  Let  pa- 
rents, therefore,  take  care  to  bring  up  their  children 
to  some  suitable  business;  in  the  selection  of  which, 
due  regard  should  be  had  to  their  own  circumstan- 
ces, for  it  is  great  folly,  and  unkindness  also,  to  se- 


lect for  a  child  a  business,  so  much  above  his  fa- 
ther's station  and  property  as  to  leave  no  rational 
hope  that  he  can  ever  enter  upon  it  with  a  prospect 
of  success.  In  the  advance  of  society  we  see  innu- 
merable instances  of  foolish  pride  of  this  kind  ;  and 
indeed  it  is  a  pretty  general  thing  for  parents  to  be 
ambitious  to  obtain  for  their  children  a  higher  grade 
in  society  than  their  own.  Many,  who  have  really 
acquired  wealth  in  a  reputable,  though  perhaps  not 
the  most  genteel  trade,  (for  trades  have  their  aris- 
tocratic distinctions,)  seem  anxious  that  their  sons 
should  be  a  step  higher  than  themselves,  and  in- 
stead of  sending  them  to  business,  look  out  for  a 
profession,  and  there  is  a  wondrous  rage  for  pro- 
fessions in  the  present  day ;  or  if  they  are  retail 
tradesmen,  must  make  their  sons  wholesale  ones; 
or  if  they  are  manufacturers,  must  start  them  as 
merchants  ;  and  if  they  are  merchants,  must  elevate 
them  into  gentlemen.  What  abject  tolly  is  it  for  a 
man  to  turn  away  the  attention  of  his  children  frjin 
any  good  and  honorable  business  which  he  has  fol- 
lowed with  success,  merely  because  it  is  not  gen'eel. 
I  believe  that  great  harm  has  been  done  by  an  inju- 
dicious system  of  scholastic  instruction,  which  hns 
become  too  exclusively  classical.  Literature,  when 
kept  within  due  bounds,  and  properly  united  with 
mercantile  branches,  does  not  in  itself  unfit  a  youth 
for  business,  but  it  is  considered  as  the  acquire- 
ments of  those  who  are  intended  to  be  professional 
men,  or  gentlemen  ;  and  when  almost  Exclusively 
pursued  to  a  late  period  in  boyhood,  it  turns  off  the 
attention  from  business,  and  partially  unfits  for  it. 
A  very  undue  importance  has  been  attached,  in  our 
schools,  to  polite  literature ;  to  the  neglect  of  science 
and  commercial  knowledge.  Let  every  Christian 
tradesman,  who  has  a  business  worth  following, 
keep  as  many  of  his  sons  as  he  can  at  home  with 
him,  and  educate  them  himself  for  trade  in  his  own 
warehouse.  Due  attention  must  of  course  always 
be  paid  in  the  selection  of  a  business,  to  the  physi- 
cal strength,  to  the  mental  capacity,  and  to  the  pre- 
vailing taste  of  a  child. 

7.  Generosity  should  be  most  assiduously  incul- 
cated. 

All  children,  and  consequently  all  mankind,  a-e 
more  or  less  selfish  by  nature.  This  should  be  early 
watched  and  checked  by  a  judicious  parent,  and  aii 
opposite  disposition  inculcated.  Even  infants  ir.ay 
be  made  to  lee]  the  pleasure  of  sharing  their  posses- 
sions with  others.  Let  them  be  taught  that  enjoy- 
ment arises  not  from  individual  gratification,  but 
from  a  communion  in  pleasure.  As  children  ad- 
vance in  years  and  reason,  they  should  hear  much 
of  the  happiness  arising  from  gratifying  others  ;  of 
the  luxury  of  benevolence,  and  of  the  meanness  of 
greediness.  We  should  descant  on  the  beauty  of 
generous  actions,  and  of  beneficent  examples.  An- 
ecdotes of  remarkable  generosity  should  be  redd  to 
them,  and  especially  should  we  dwell  upon  the  won- 
drous love  of  God,  and  the  remarkable  compassion 
of  Jesus  Christ.  We  should  send  them  on  errands 
of  mercy  to  the  poor  and  needy,  that  hei"g  specta- 
tors both  of  their  misery,  and  of  their  tea~s  of  grati- 
tude for  relief,  they  might  acquire  a  disposition  to 
do  good.  We  should  especially  encourage  them  to 
make  sacrifices,  and  to  practise  self-denia!  to  do 
good.  To  give  them  extra  money,  in  order  that 
they  may  relieve  the  poor,  or  support  religions  in- 
stitutions, is  doing  them  very  little  good  ;  for  this  is 
only  being  generous  at  other  people's  expense:  but 
they  should  be  induced  to  save  their  own  pocket 
money,  and  distribute  their  regular  allowance,  and 
thus  forego  the  gratification  of  their  own  palate,  for 
the  purpose  of  relieving  the  wants  of  others.  Dut 
they  should  never  be  compelled  to  give,  never  have 
their  money  stopped  for  this  purpose;  never  be  fined 
for  misconduct,  and  have  their  fines  appropriated 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


to  charity;  for  all  this  is  calculated  to  disgust  them 
■with  benevolence. 

Great  care  should  Le  taken,  at  the  same  time,  not 
to  induce  a  habit  of  indiscriminate  distribution, 
which  would  render  them  the  dupes  of  hypocrisy, 
the  subjects  of  imposition,  and  the  victims  of  extor- 
tii  n.  We  should  teach  them  the  difference  between 
real  benevolence,  and  that  easy  good  nature,  which 
allows  itself  to  be  wheedled  out  of  every  thing;  be- 
tween the  generosity  of  a  correct  judgment,  and 
that  of  a  weak  and  credulous  mind ;  between  princi- 
ple and  mere  feeling. 

8.  Prudence  is  of  vast  consequence  in  the  affairs 
of  life.  This  is,  next  to  piety,  the  most  valuable 
quality  of  character.  Nothing  can  be  a  substitute 
for  it;  and  it  does  more  for  the  comfort  of  its  pos- 
sessor, more  for  the  happiness  of  society,  than  any 
other  attribute  of  mind  that  can  be  mentioned. — 
Half  the  miseries  of  some  persons'  lives,  who  are 
good  peorle  too,  arise  from  a  rash,  thoughtless,  in- 
discreet mind.  They  never  think  before  they  speak 
or  act:  tiiey  have  no  power,  or  exercise  none,  of 
forethought,  deliberation,  or  calculation.  Such  per- 
sons are  firebrands  without  intending  it,  and  commit 
immense  mischief,  without,  perhaps,  a  particle  of 
malice.  How  important,  then,  that  children  should 
be  early  taught  the  nature  and  value  of  discretion. 
Many  parents  most  egregiously  err  on  this  subject: 
some  are  anxious  only  to  communicate  knowledge; 
forgetting  that  ideas  are  worth  nothing,  but  as  they 
are  discreetly  employed  to  produce  happiness. — 
Knowledge  has  only  the  materials  of  comfort;  it  is 
wisdom  that  must  put  them  together  into  form  and 
consistency.  Others  almost  despise  prudence;  it  is 
not  a  classical,  a  scientific,  a  poetic  quality.  It 
cramps  genius,  extinguishes  taste,  prevents  the 
lofty,  though  somewhat  erratic  flights  of  an  ardent 
mind  ;  it  is  cold  and  calculating ;  it  has  nothing  sub- 
lime or  romantic  about  it ;  it  never  soars  into  the 
clouds,  or  plunges  into  the  depths,  but  holds  on  its 
dull  course,  on  the  low  level  of  ordinary  concerns. 
And  therefore,  just  on  this  very  account,  it  is  the 
very  thing  that  is  to  be  coveted.  Foolish,  foolish  crea- 
tures! And  so  you  would  have  your  children  ge- 
niuses, that  disdain  the  restraints  of  wisdom;  and 
resemble  mere  fire  works  that  burn  and  blaze  out 
only  to  please  o.hers  by  their  brilliancy  and  splen- 
dor, without  doing  good  to  any  one  !  O  be  not  so 
cruel  io  yourselves,  to  your  children,  to  society. — 
Teach  them  to  cultivate  a  deliberative,  a  reflecting, 
a  calculating  judgment ;  to  weigh  their  words,  and 
measure  their  actions ;  enforce  upon  them  a  habit  of 
looking  onward  to  the  tendency  and  results  of  con- 
duct ;  the  calm  and  regular  government  of  the  soul, 
which  leads  its  possessor  to  observe  true  measures, 
and  a  suitable  decorum  in  words,  and  thoughts,  and 
actions.  Give  them  all  the  learning  you  can  pro- 
cure for  them;  I  quarrel  not  with  this:  but  in  your 
own  estimation,  and  in  all  your  conduct  towards 
them,  exalt  wisdom  far  above  learning,  genius, 
taste,  accomplishments;  and  in  this  sense  of  the 
word,  teach  them  that  the  price  of  wisdom  is  above 
rubies. 

Now  I  am  anxious  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of 
all  parents,  that  the  inculcation  of  these  disposi- 
tions, forms,  in  fact,  the  very  essence  of  education. 
This  term,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  and  I  re- 
peat the  sentiment  again  and  again,  not  by  accident 
or  oversight,  but  with  the  design  of  more  deeply 
impressing  it,  has  been  very  generally  misapplied, 
because,  in  fact,  misunderstood.  Education,  in  mo- 
dern parlance,  means  nothing  more  than  instruction, 
or  the  communication  of  knowledge  to  the  mind; 
and  a  good,  education  means,  the  opportunity  of  ac- 
quiring all  kinds  of  learning,  science,  and  what  are 
called  accomplishments.  But  properly  speaking, 
education  in  the  true  and  higher  import  of  the  term, 


means,  the  implanting  of  right  dispositions,  the 
cultivation  of  the  heart,  the  guidance  of  the  tem- 
per, the  formation  of  the  character.  Or  allowing, 
as  we  must,  that  education  applies  to  the  whole  soul 
and  character,  and  includes  general  instruction  in 
knowledge.  I  should  say  that  its  most  important 
part  is  that  which  relates  to  the  communication  of 
active  principles,  and  the  formation  of  moral  habits. 

It  is  TRAINING  UP  A  CHILD  IN    THE  WAY    HE    SHOULD  GO. 

Not  merely  the  training  up  a  child  in  the  way  he 
should  think,  or  speculate,  or  translate,  or  dance, 
or  draw,  or  argue,  but  the  way  in  which  he  should 
go.  Every  thing  may  be  taught  which  can  sharpen 
the  faculties,  or  store  the  mind  with  ideas,  or  culti- 
vate the  taste;  but  we  must  not  stop  here,  but  con- 
sider that  the  highest  end  of  education,  is  the  for- 
mation, first  of  the  religious  character,  and  then  of 
the  useful,  amiable,  intelligent,  and  generous  mem- 
ber of  the  social  community. 

If  this  be  true,  and  who  will  venture  to  deny  it, 
then  is  it  perfectly  manifest,  that  the  great  work  of 
education  cannot  be,  and  ought  not  to  be,  transfer- 
red from  parents  to  others.  They  may  purchase 
that  tuition,  which  their  own  circumstances  may 
disqualify  them  from  imparting;  but  the  education 
of  the  character  belongs  to  them,  and  cannot  be 
transferred.  Here  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of 
introducing  a  long  extract  from  Mr.  Anderson's  in- 
comparable work. 

"  Placed  by  the  all-wise  providence  of  heaven  in 
such  a  peculiar  situation,  it  will  be  well  for  you  to 
keep  especially  in  view,  what  may  be  denominated, 
the  education  or  circumstances.  Let  purchased 
tuition  be  carried  up  to  the  very  highest  perfection, 
and  let  neither  money  nor  wisdom  be  spared  in 
reaching  this  height ;  of  such  vital  importance  in  the 
training  of  children  is  that  department  to  which  I 
now  refer,  that  it  can,  and  if  neglected  will,  under- 
mine and  undo  the  whole,  as  well  as  render  many 
efforts  in  educating  the  disposition  altogether  abor- 
tive.    Suffer  me  to  explain  my  meaning. 

"  In  the  laudable  anxiety  of  their  hearts,  two  pa- 
rents, with  a  family  of  infants  playing  around  their 
feet,  are  heard  to  say,  'Oh!  what  will,  what  can 
best  educate  these  dear  children  V  I  reply,  '  Look 
to  yourselves  and  your  circumstances'  Maxims  and 
documents  are  good  in  themselves,  and  especially 
good  for  the  regulation  of  your  conduct  and  your 
behavior  towards  them :  but  with  regard  to  your 
children,  you  have  yet  often  to  remark,  that  many 
maxims  are  good,  precisely  till  they  are  tried,  or 
applied,  and  no  longer.  In  the  hands  of  many  pa- 
rents, they  will  teach  the  children  to  talk,  and  very 
often,  little  more.  I  do  not  mean  to  assert,  that  sen- 
timents inculcated  have  no  influence ;  far  from  it ; 
they  have  much;  though  not  the  most:  but  still, 
after  all,  it  is  the  sentiments  you  let  drop  occasion- 
ally, it  is  the  conversation  they  overhear,  when 
playing  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  which  has  more 
effect  than  many  things  which  are  addressed  to 
them  directly  in  the  tone  of  exhortation.  Besides, 
as  to  maxims,  ever  remember,  that  between  those 
which  you  bring  forward  for  their  use,  and  those  by 
which  you  direct  your  own  conduct,  children  have 
almost  an  intuitive  discernment;  and  it  is  by  the 
latter  they  will  be  mainly  governed,  both  during 
childhood  and  their  future  existence. 

"  The  question  however  returns,  'What  will  edu- 
cate these  children V  And  now  I  answer,  'Your 
example  will  educate  them — your  conversation  with 
your  friends — the  business  they  see  you  transact — 
the  likings  and  dislikings  you  express— these  will 
educate  them;  the  society  you  live  in  will  educate 
them — your  domestics  will  educate  them :  and  what- 
ever be  your  rank  or  situation  in  life,  your  house, 
your  table,  and  your  daily  behavior,  these,  these 
will  educate  them.    To  withdraw  them  from  the 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


2J 


unceasing  and  potent  influence  of  these  things  is 
impossible,  except  you  were  to  withdraw  yourself 
from  them  also.  Some  parents  talk  of  beginning 
the  education  of  their  children;  the  moment  they 
were  capable  of  forming  au  idea,  iheir  education 
was  already  begun — the  education  of  circumstances 
— insensible  education,  which,  like  insensible  per- 
:on,  is  of  more  constant  and  powerful  effect, 
and  of  far  more  consequence  to  the  habit,  than  that 
which  is  direct  and  apparent.  This  education  goes 
on  at  every  instant  of  time;  it  goes  on  like  time — 
you  can  neither  stop  it  nor  turn  its  course.  What- 
ever these,  then,  have  a  tendency  to  make  your 
children,  that,  in  a  great  degree,  you  at  least  should 
be  persuaded  they  will  be.' 

"  The  language,  however,  occasionally  heard  from 
some  fathers,  may  here  not  unseasonably  be  glanced 
at.  They  are  diffuse  in  praise  of  maternal  in- 
fluence ;  and  pleased  at  the  idea  of  its  power  and 
extent,  they  will  exclaim,  'O  yes,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  it,  that  every  thing  depends  upon  the 
mother.'  This,  however,  will  be  found  to  spring 
from  a  selfish  principle,  and  from  anxiety  to  be  re- 
lieved from  mighty  obligations,  which,  after  all, 
cannot  be  transferred  from  the  father's  shoulders, 
to  those  even  of  a  mother:  to  say  nothing-  of  the 
unkindness  involved  in  laying  upon  her  a  burden. 
which  nature  never  intended,  and  never  does.  Her 
influence,  as  an  instrument,  indeed,  a  husband  can- 
not too  highly  prize;  but  let  no  father  imagine, 
that  he  can  neutralize  the  influence  of  his  own  pre- 
sence, and  his  own  example  at  home.  He  cannot, 
if  he  would,  nor  can  he  escape  from  obligation. 
The  patience  and  constancy  of  a  mother,  are  no 
first  mainly  tried,  but  then  tho:>e  of  the  father. 
The  dispositions  in  each  parent  are  fitted  by  nature 
for  this  order  in  the  trial  of  patience  ;  but  from  the 
destined  and  appropriate  share  allotted  to  each, 
neither  of  the  two  parties,  when  in  health,  can  re- 
lieve the  other. 

"Addressing  myself,  therefore,  to  both  parents,  I 
would  say,  '  Contract  to  its  just  and  proper  dimen- 
sions, the  amount  of  all  that  purchased  education 
can  do  for  you,  and  expect  no  more  from  it  than  it 
is  truly  able  to  perform.  It  can  give  instruction. 
There  will  always  be  an  essential  difference  be- 
tween a  human  being  cultivated  and  uncultivated. 
In  the  department  of  purchased  tuition,  you  will 
portion  out  to  the  best  advantage,  many  of  those 
.is  hours  of  youth  which  never  will  return; 
and  such  employment  will  lend  you  powerful  aid 
in  forming  those  personal  habits,  which  lie  within 
the  province  of  parental  education ;  but  rest  as- 
sured, and  lay  it  down  to  yourselves  as  a  cardinal 
principle,  that  the  business  of  education,  properly 
so  called,  is  not  transferable.  You  may  engage  a 
master  or  masters,  as  numerous  as  you  please,  to 
instruct  your  children  in  many  things,  useful  and 
praise worby  in  their  own  place,  but  you  must  by 
the  order  o»  nature,  educate  them  yourselves.  You 
not  only  ought  to  do  it,  but  you  will  perceive,  if  I 
am  correct  in  what  I  have  stated,  and  may  still  ad- 
vance. '  ic  it,  whether  you  intend  it  or  not.' 
'  The  parent,'  says  Cecil, '  is  not  to  stand  reasoning 
and  calculating.  God  has  said,  that  his  charac:er 
shall  have  influence :  and  so  this  appointment  of 
Providence  becomes  often  the  punishment  of  a 
wicked  or  a  careless  man.'  As  education,  in  the 
sense  I  have  explained,  is  a  thin?  necessary  for  all — 
for  the  poor  and  for  the  rich — for  the  illiterate  as 
well  as  the  learned,  Providence  has  not  made  it  de- 
pendant en  systems,  uncertain,  operose,  and  diffi- 
cult of  application.  Every  parent,  therefore,  save 
when  separated  altogether  from  his  family,  may  be 
seen  daily  in  the  act  of  educating  his  children  ;  for 
from  father  and  mother,  and  the  circumstances  in 
which  they  move,  the  children  are  daily  advancing 


in  the  knowledge  of  what  is  good  or  evil.  The 
occupations  of  the  poor  man  at  his  labor,  and  of  the 
man  of  business  in  his  counting-house,  cannot  in- 
terrupt this  education.  In  both  instances,  toe  mo- 
ther is  plying  at  her  uninterrup'ed  avocations,  and 
her  example  is  powerfully  operating  every  hour; 
while  at  certain  intervals  daily,  as  well  as  every 
morning  and  evening,  all  things  come  under  the 
potent  sway  of  the  father  or  the  master,  whether 
that  influence  be  good  or  bad.  Here,  then,  is  one 
school  from  which  there  are  no  truants,  and  ia 
which  there  are  no  holidays. 

"  True,  indeed,  you  send  your  children  to  another 
school,  and  this  is  the  very  best  in  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  character  of  the  master  there,  is 
not  only  unexceptionable,  but  praiseworthy.  When 
your  children  come  home  too,  you  put  a  book  of 
your  own  selection  into  their  hands,  or  even  many 
such  books,  and  they  read  them  with  pleasure  and 
personal  advantage.  Still,  after  all  this,  never  for 
one  day  forget,  that  the  first  book  they  read,  nay, 
that  which  they  continue  to  read,  and  by  far  the 
most  influential,  is  that  of  their  parents'  example 
and  daily  deportment.  If  this  should  be  disreg 
by  you.  or  even  forgotten,  then  be  not  at  al!  sur- 
prised when  you  find,  another  day,  to  your  sorrow 
and  vexation,  and  the  interruption  of  your  business, 
if  not  the  loss  of  all  your  domestic  peace  and  har- 
mony, that  your  children  only  '  know  the  right  path, 
but  still  follow  the  wrong.'  " 

Secondly. — But  I  now  go  on  to  illustrate  and  en- 
force those  duties  which  parents  owe  to  their  child- 

len,  IN  REFERENCE  TO  THEIR  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER, 
AND   THEIR    ETERNAL   WELFARE. 

Not  that  religion  is  to  be  taught  separately  from 
all  other  branches  of  education,  as  an  abstract 
thing  of  itself,  for  it  is  not  an  abstract  thing  of  it- 
self/but  an  integral  part  of  the  character,  the  sub- 
stratum of  all  the  qualities  that  have  been  already 
stated.  "  Bring  them  up  in  the  fear,  and  nurture, 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord  :"  this  is  all  the  apos- 
tle enjoined  on  the  subject  of  education,  and  it  is 
the  substance  of  all  we  are  to  teach:  whatever  is 
opposed  to  this  must  not  be  taught,  and  all  that  is 
taught  or  enjoined  must  be  inculcated  with  a  direct 
or  indirect  reference  to  this.  In  the  selection  of  a 
school  even  for  obtaining  the  elements  of  general 
knowledge,  in  the  branches  of  tuition  that  he  per- 
mits his  children  to  be  taught,  a  Christian  parent 
must  have  his  eye  upon  religion,  and  this  must  be 
the  polar  star  bv  which  he  steers. 

Still,  however,  for  the  sake  of  making  the  matter 
more  clear  and  obvious,  as  the  subject  of  solemn 
obligation,  I  place  religious  education  by  itself :  aud 
it  includes — 

1.  Instruction. 

As  soon  as  reason  dawns,  religions  instruction 
should  commence.  The  subject  matter  of  instruc- 
tion includes  every  thin?  which  forms  the  funda- 
mental points  of  revealed  truth.  The  character  of 
the  spirituality  of  his  law,  the  fall  of  man, 
the  evil  of  sin,  the  person  and  work  of  Christ,  the 
need  of  repentance,  the  justification  of  the  soul  by 
faith,  the  nature  and  necessity  of  regeneration,  the 
operating  power  of  love  to  Christ  as  the  spring  of 
obedience,  the  solemnities  of  judgment,  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  the  punishment  of  the  wicked, 
and"  the  happiness  of  the  righteous.  All  these 
should  be  familiarly  taught,  according  as  the  capa- 
city is  able  to  receive  them.  Our  instruction  should 
no:  be  confined  to  mere  generalities,  but  should  pro- 
ceed from  the  beginning,  on  evangelical  principles. 
The  basis  of  our  teaching  should  be  the  Bible  itself. 
Not  that  I  would  totally  discard  all  catechisms.  I 
do  not  see  why  definitions  and  explanations — and 
what  else  are  the  answers  in  catechisms— may  not 
be  as  useful  in  religion,  as  in  any  other  subject. 


30 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


Catechisms  are  injurious  only  when  they  push  out 
the  Bible,  not  when  they  lead  to  it.  Still  I  admit, 
that  the  Bible  should  be  the  text  book.  Every  child 
should  learn  a  portion  of  Scripture  daily,  and  have 
it  explained  to  him.  A  great  prominency  in  all 
our  instruction  should  be  given  to  the  law  of  God, 
us  binding  the  conscience,  and  the  consequent  ex- 
ceeding sinfulness  of  every  human  being ;  together 
with  the  wonderful  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
as  the  sinner's  only  Saviour.  Much  use  should  be 
made  of  the  historical  parts  of  Scripture,  as  illus- 
trating by  its  facts  the  charactei  of  God,  the  evil  of 
sin,  the  consequences  of  disobedience.  Abstract 
principles  alone  will  not  do.  Children  like  facts, 
and  must  be  taught  through  the  medium  of  their 
imagination.  Instruction  must  be  conveyed  in  a 
pleasing  form.  In  order  to  this,  there  must  be  no 
wearying  them  by  long  lectures;  no  disgusting  them 
by  long  tasks.  I  reprobate  the  practice,  as  a  most 
injurious  one,  of  setting  a  long  lesson  of  catechism 
or  Scripture  to  a  reluctant  child,  and  then  punish- 
ing him  for  not  learniug  it.  If  we  wish  to  disgust 
their  minds  with  the  ways  of  godliness,  this  is  the 
way  to  do  it.  Many  an  injudicious  parent,  in  the 
very  act  of  teaching  piety  towards  God,  calls  into 
existence  and  activity,  the  very  tempers  which  it  is 
the  design  of  religion  to  suppress.  An  angry  and 
scolding  father,  with  a  catechism  in  one  hand,  and 
a  rod  in  the  other,  railing  at  a  stubborn  child  for 
not  learning  his  lesson,  is  not  a  scene  very  calcu- 
lated to  invest  religion  with  an  air  of  loveliness 
and  a  power  of  attraction  for  young  minds:  the 
only  association  which,  in  such  a  circumstance,  a 
child  can  be  expected  to  form  with  learning  to  be 
pious,  is  that  of  a  dark  room  or  cane  ;  pain  of  body 
and  insufferable  disgust  of  mind.  I  would  say  to 
many  a  parent,  "  do  give  over  the  business  of  teach- 
ing religion  till  you  can  command  your  temper, 
and  attract  the  child  to  the  subject  as  that  which  is 
agreeable."  Never  set  religious  tasks  to  your  child- 
ren, as  penalties  for  bad  conduct.  To  be  made  to 
learn  catechism  or  Scripture,  in  solitary  confine- 
ment, and  upon  an  empty  stomach,  and  thus  to  con- 
nect imprisonment  and  fasting  with  the  penance,  is 
a  sure  way  to  finish  the  aversion,  which  the  rod  has 
commenced.  Instead  of  compelling  a  child  to  learn 
religion,  because  he  is  naughty,  which  is  reversing 
the  order  of  things ;  he  ought  not  to  be  permitted 
to  touch  so  holy  a  thing  in  so  evil  a  temper. 

Instruction,  to  be  valuable,  must  always  be  deli- 
vered with  great  seriousness.  The  light  and  trifling 
way  in  which  it  is  sometimes  delivered,  destroys  all 
its  effect,  and  reduces  it  to  the  level  of  a  mere 
science.  It  ought  not  to  be  exclusively  confined  to 
the  Sabbath,  but  be  the  business  of  every  day ;  yet 
it  should  be  especially  attended  to  on  the  day  of 
rest,  when  the  family  should  be  interrogated,  as  to 
what  they  understand  and  remember  of  the  ser- 
mons they  have  heard  in  the  house  of  God.  Child- 
ren cannot  too  early  be  made  to  comprehend  the 
purpose  for  which  they  go  up  to  public  worship, 
and  that  they  have  a  personal  interest  in  all  the  sa- 
cred services  of  our  religious  assemblies.  No  pa- 
rent who  has  a  numerous  family,  and  who  resides 
in  a  large  town,  where  much  time  must  necessarily 
be  occupied  in  going  to,  and  returning  from,  his 
place  of  worship,  should  attend  the  house  of  God 
more  than  twice  on  the  Sabbath  :  the  other  part  of 
the  day  should  be  occupied  in  the  midst  of  his  fa- 
mily. This  is  far  too  generally  neglected  in  this 
dav  of  over  much  preaching. 

Instruction  should  be  adapted  to  the  capacity  of  the 
children,  and  keep  pace,  in  depth  and  variety,  with 
the  strengthening  of  their  faculties.  Provide  for 
them  suitable  books ;  and,  as  they  advance  in  age, 
enter  with  them  more  into  the  depths  of  theological 
truth ;  unfold  to  them  the  beauty,  the  grandeur  and 


sublimity  of  revelation;  instruct  them  in  the  eviden- 
ces of  the  Bible  ;  the  proofs  of  its  fundamental  doc- 
trines. I  am  not  very  fond  of  boys  and  girls  writ- 
ing religious  themes,  or  conducting  any  researches 
of  a  religious  nature,  as  a  mere  exercise  of  inge- 
nuity, except  their  minds  are  already  well  disposed 
towards  religion,  as  a  matter  of  personal  experience. 

2.  Persuasion,  admonition,  and  warning,  are  a 
very  important  part  of  religious  education. 

The  apostles,  "  knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord," 
persuaded  men ;  they  besought  them  to  be  reconciled 
to  God  ;  and  warned  them  of  the  consequences  of 
unbelief.  Parents  must  do  the  same  with  their 
children,  and  not  satisfy  themselves  with  merely 
communicating  ideas.  They  should,  in  the  most 
earnest,  anxious,  affectionate  manner,  represent  to 
them  their  spiritual  condition,  warn  them  of  the 
consequences  of  neglecting  the  great  salvation,  and 
entreat  them  to  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  fear  God.  They  should  address  them  collect- 
ively and  individually,  on  the  subject  of  their  soul's 
concerns;  they  should  manifest  such  a  deep  solici- 
tude for  their  spiritual  welfare,  as  would  constrain 
their  children  to  feel,  that  the  most  anxious  desire 
of  their  parents'  heart,  in  reference  to  them,  was  for 
their  salvation.  This  should  not  however  be  done 
merely  when  their  children  have  offended  tbem,  nor 
should  they,  on  every  slight  occasion  of  misconduct, 
have  a  ready  recourse  to  the  terrors  of  the  Lord. — 
Parental  authority  must  not  be  supported  exclusively 
by  the  thunders  of  heaven,  or  the  torments  of  hell. 

These  subjects  should  never  be  referred  to,  but  in 
seasons  of  solemn  and  affectionate  admonition.  It 
would  also  be  prudent  not  to  be  so  frequent  in  the 
business  of  admonition,  warning,  and  persuasion,  as 
to  excite  nausea  and  disgust.  Many  good,  but  in- 
judicious people,  completely  overdo  the  matter,  and 
defeat  their  own  purpose  ;  they  worry  their  children 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  thus  increase  the 
aversion  that  is  already  felt.  Nothing  in  the  way 
of  bitter  reproach,  or  of  railing  accusation,  for  the 
want  of  piety,  should  ever  be  uttered;  nor  should 
anger  ever  be  manifested.  In  the  case  of  elder 
branches  of  the  family,  a  word  or  two  occasionally 
spoken,  and  always  in  great  mildness  and  tender- 
ness, is  all  that  is  desirable.  Incessant  remonstrance, 
is  in  such  instances,  likely  to  be  heard  with  indiffer- 
ence, if  not  with  dislike.  Such  young  people  should 
be  left  pretty  much  to  their  own  judgment  and  con- 
science, and  to  the  force  of  parental  example. 

3.  Discipline  is  unspeakably  important.  We  have 
considered  the  father  as  the  prophet  of  his  family, 
we  are  now  to  view  him  as  their  king ;  and  his  laws 
are  as  important  as  his  instructions.  By  discipline 
then,  I  mean,  the  maintenance  of  parental  authority, 
and  the  exercise  of  it,  in  the  way  of  restraining  and 
punishing  offences.  Parents,  you  are  invested  by 
God  himself  with  an  almost  absolute  authority  ;  you 
are  constituted  by  him  the  supreme  magistrate  of 
your  household,  and  cannot  have  a  right  idea  of 
your  situation,  without  considering  yourself  as  ap- 
pointed to  rule.  You  must  be  the  sovereign  of  the 
house,  allowing  no  interference  from  without,  no  re- 
sistance from  within.  You  have  no  option  in  the 
matter,  and  aie  not  permitted  to  abdicate  the  throne, 
or  cast  away  your  sceptre.  It  was  mentioned  as  a 
high  commendation  of  Abraham,  that  he  would 
command  his  children  after  him.  But  although  you 
are  to  be  absolute  monarch,  uniting  in  yourself  the 
legislative  and  executive  department,  you  are  to  be 
no  tyrant.  Your  government  must  be  firm,  but 
mild  :  the  love  of  the  parent  must  not  relax  the  reins 
of  the  governor,  nor  the  authority  of  the  governor 
diminish  aught  from  the  love  of  the  parent.  You 
must  have  a  sceptre,  and  always  hold  it,  but  it  must 
not  be  an  iron  one.  You  must  never  suffer  the  yoke 
to  be  thrown  off  from  your  children,  but  then  it  must 


THE   FAMI     Y   MONITOR. 


be  a  yoke  which  they  shall  have  no  inclination  to 
throw  off,  because  it  is  easy,  and  the  burden  light. 
Of  you  in  your  measure,  it  should  be  said,  as  it  is 
of  God, 

"  Sweet  majesty,  and  awful  love, 
Sit  smiling  on  his  brow.': 

Your  authority  must  be  presented  to  your  child- 
ren as  soon  as  reason  is  awake.  The  first  thing  a 
child  should  be  made  to  understand,  is  that  he  is  to 
do,  not  what  he  likes,  but  what  he  is  commanded : 
that  he  is  not  to  govern,  but  to  be  governed.  The 
sceptre  should  be  seen  by  him  before  the  rod;  and 
an  early,  judicious,  and  steady  exhibition  of  the  for- 
mer, would  render  the  latter  almost  unnecessary. — 
He  must  be  made  to  submit,  and  that  while  young, 
and  then  submission  will  become  a  habit :  the  reins 
must  be  felt  by  him  early,  and  he  will  thus  learn  to 
obey  them.  All  commands  should  be  reasonable : 
there  should  be  no  wanton,  capricious  use  of  au- 
thority; we  must  not  thwart  and  cross  the  wills  of 
our  children  merely  to  teach  submission.  They 
should  perceive  clearly  that  love  is  at  the  bottom  of 
all  we  do,  and  that  reason  guides  all  our  conduct. 
We  should  calculate  beforehand,  whether  there  is 
a  necessity  for  the  injunction  we  are  about  to  de- 
liver, and  a  probability  of  our  being  able  to  ensure 
compliance ;  for  a  wise  parent  will  not  enjoin  any 
thing,  if  he  can  help  it,  that  has  not.  these  circum- 
stances connected  with  it.  Commands  should  be 
sacred  things,  not  issued  in  sport,  for  the  child  to 
play  with.     Nothing  but  what  is  wise  should  be  en- 

t'oined,  and  every  injunction  that  is  issued  should 
>e  obeyed.  In  many  cases,  it  is  beyond  our  power 
to  ensure  obedience  :  and  then  nothing  remains  but 
punishment. 

Correction  is  an  essential  part  of  discipline;  for 
rewards  and  punishments  are  as  necessary  in  the 
government  of  a  family,  as  in  that  of  a  state.  What 
saith  the  wisest  of  men  1  "  Foolishness  is  bound  up 
in  the  heart  of  a  child,  but  the  rod  of  correction  will 
drive  it  far  from  him.  Withhold  not  correction 
from  the  child  ;  for  if  thou  beatest  him  with  a  rod, 
he  shall  not  die.  Thou  shalt  beat  him  with  a  rod, 
and  shalt  deliver  his  soul  from  hell.  The  rod  and 
the  reproof  give  wisdom  :  but  a  child  left  to  himself 
bringeth  his  mother  to  shame."  Do  not  many  mo- 
thers know  this  by  bitter  experience  1  Even  in 
lesser  matters,  have  they  not  a  thousand  times  blush- 
ed at  the  rudeness,  ill  manners,  and  impertinence 
of  children  "left  to  themselves:"  and  in  greater 
matters,  have  they  not  lived  to  vent  the  heaviest  re- 
proaches upon  their  most  abject  folly,  in  spoiling 
their  children  by  leaving  them  to  their  own  obsti- 
nate tempers,  self-will,  and  rebellious  conduct,  with- 
out ever  correcting  them  :  "  correct  thy  son,  and  he 
shall  give  thee  rest ;  yea,  he  shall  give  thee  the  de- 
light of  thy  soul."  Inimitably  beautiful  precept ; 
and  as  true  as  it  is  beautiful.  "  He  that  spareth  the 
rod,  hateth  his  son."  How  many  are  there  who 
thus  hate  their  children  1  a  very  strong  expression,  I 
admit :  and  yet  these  verv  persons  would  be  thought 
the  fondest  of  parents.  Would  you  suffer  your  child- 
ren's bodies  to  perish,  rather  than  put  them  to  pain 
in  eradicating  a  disease,  which,  if  suffered  to  re- 
main, would  be  fatal?  Would  not  this  be  hating 
them  1  And  what  do  you  call  that  conduct,  which, 
rather  than  put  them  to  pain  by  correcting  their 
faults,  suffers  all  kinds  of  moral  diseases  to  increase, 
and  fester,  and  corrupt  the  soul  1  Fond  mother,  you 
that  will  never  correct  a  child,  hear  the  charge,  and 
let  it  thrill  through  your  heart,  exciting  emotions 
of  horror — you  are  a  hater  of  your  child  ;  your  fool- 
ish love  is  infanticide;  your  cruel  embraces  are 
hugging  your  child  to  death.  In  not  correcting 
Vim,  you  are  committing  sin  of  the  heaviest  kind, 


and  your  own  wickedness  in  not  correcting  Azr/t 
will  at  last  correct  yourself. 

I  would  not,  however,  be  thought  to  enjoin  a  cruc4 
or  even  a  stern  and  rigid  severity.     I  do  not  thin 
this  compatible  with  the  admonition  given  by  th» 
apostle,  not  to  irritate,  nor  "provoke  our  childrea 
to  wrath,  lest  they  be  discouraged."     We  must  no 
govern  by  punishment :  the  sceptre  must  not  be  con- 
verted into  a  whip.     The  first  object  of  every  parerc 
should  be  to  render  punishment  unnecessary.     It  i» 
better  to  prevent  crimes  than  punish  them.     This 
can  be  done,  certainly,  to  a  very  considerable  extent 
but  it  requires  a  very  early,  very  judicious,  and  verr 
watchful"  system  of  training.     Many  have  very  little 
of  what  may  be  called,  the  faculty  of  government , 
and  late  coercion  and  punishment  come  in  to  supply 
the  place  of  early  guidance.     The  only  time  is  sui- 
fered  to  go  by  without  being  improved,  in  which  ir- 
is possible,  in  most  cases,  so  to  ttain  the  disposition 
as  to  do  in  future  without  much  punishment ;  for  if 
discipline,  wise,  steady,  firm  discipline,  d  •  not  com- 
mence as  soon  as  the  passions  begin  to  develope,  it 
is  too  late  then  to  be  accomplished  without  some 
degree  of  severity. 

Mr.  Anderson  strikingly  illustrates  this  part  of 
the  subject,  by  a  very  familiar  allusion  :  "  I  recollect 
hearing  of  two  coaches  which  used  fc  drive  into 
Newmarket  from  London,  by  a  certain  Lour,  at  a 
time  of  strong  competition.  The  hor-es  of  the 
coach  which  generally  came  in  first,  had  scarcely 
a  wet  hair.  In  the  other,  though  last,  the  horses 
were  jaded  and  heated  to  excess,  and  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  having  made  great  efforts.  The  reader 
perhaps,  understands  the  cause  of  the  difference. — 
The  first  man  did  it  all  of  course,  by  the  reins:  the 
second,  unsteady  in  himself,  or  unskilful  in  the 
reins,  had  induced  bad  habits,  and  then  employed 
the  whip ;  but  he  could  never  cope  with  the  other. 
So  it  will  ever  hold  in  all  government.  If  obe- 
dience to  the  reins  is  found  to  be  most  pleasant  in 
itself,  and  even  the  road  to  enjoyment,  thru  obe- 
dience will  grow  into  a  habit  and  become,  it  fact, 
the  choice  of  the  party." 

This,  then,  is  the  first  thing  to  be  attended  to,  ac- 
quire skill  in  the  management  of  the  reins;  govern 
by  guiding,  not  by  forcing.  But  still,  there  ore  many, 
very  many  cases,  in  which  the  reins  alone  will  not 
prove  to  be  enough  ;  the  whip  is  wanted,  and  where 
it  is  wanted,  it  ought  to  be  supplied.  Not  that  I 
mean  to  enforce  a  system  of  corporeal  punishment ; 
no:  this  may  be  necessary  occasional'y,  <7S  an  ex- 
periment in  difficult  cases,  but  as  a  sxstem  it  is  bad 
and  unavailing,  and  is  usually  :he  resource  of  pas- 
sionate, ignorant,  or  indolent  "parents  and  masters. 
We  should  from  the  dawn  of  reason,  endeavor  to 
make  our  children  feel,  that  our  favor  is  their  rich- 
est reward  for  good  conduct,  our  displeasure  the 
severest  rebuke  for  misbehavior.  Happy  the  pa- 
rent, who  has  attained  to  such  skill  in  government, 
as  to  guide  with  a  look,  to  reward  with  a  smile,  and 
to  punish  with  a  frown. 

Occasions,  I  admit,  sometimes  do  occur,  and  not 
unfrequently,  in  which  the  interposition  of  a  severer 
chastisement  becomes  necessary  ;  and  these  are  the 
emergencies  which  require  the  full  stretch  of  pa- 
rental wisdom.  Take  the  following  rules  for  your 
guidance. — Never  chastise  in  a  state  of  wrath.— 
Some  parents  can  never  punish,  except  when  it 
ought  never  to  be  done, — when  they  are  angry. — 
This  is  passion,  not  principle  ;  and  will  always  ap- 
pear to  the  child  as  if  it  were  intended,  more  to  ap- 
pease and  \  ratify  the  parent's  bad  temper,  than  to 
promote  his  welfare.  No  parent,  in  such  a  state  of 
mind,  can  be  n  a  condition  nicely  to  adjust  the  kind 
and  degree  oi  punishment  to  the  offence ;  it  is  like 
administering  medicine  scalding  hot,  which  rather 
burns  than  cures.     God  waitedtill  t^e  cool  of  tl» 


32 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


evening,  before  he  came  down  to  arraign,  try,  and 
punish  our  first  parents  after  their  fall. 

Patiently  examine  the  offence  before  you  punish 
it.  In  every  case,  let  there  be  ihe  solemnity  of  ju- 
dicial invesiigation  ;  for  justice  always  should  pro- 
ceed with  a  slow  and  measured  step.  Accurately 
discriminate  between  sins  of  presumption,  and  sins 
of  ignorance  or  inadvertence.  Accidents  should  be 
reproved,  but  not  punished,  unless  they  involve  wil- 
ful disobedience.  Most  wisely  and  equitably  appor- 
tion the  sentence  to  the  degree  of  offence  and  the 
disposition  of  the  offender.  Ingenuous  confession, 
and  sincere  penitence,  should  in  most  cases  arrest 
.he  process  of  judgment,  and  the  child  be  made  to 
punish  himself  by  remorse.  Satisfy  not  yourselves 
till  you  have  produced  repentance,  for  till  you  have 
done  this,  scarcely  any  thing  is  done.  Hatred  of 
the  sin  on  the  part  of  the  offender,  is  a  much  more 
effectual  preservative  from  its  repetition,  than  fear 
of  punishment.  Do  not  keep  instruments  of  punish- 
ment, such  as  the  rod  or  the  cane,  constantly  in  sight, 
for  this  is  to  govern  by  fear,  rather  than  by  love. — 
Be  very  cautious  not  to  threaten  what  you  either  do 
not  intend,  or  are  not  able  to  inflict;  yea,  forbear 
threatening  as  much  as  possible.  A  parent's  de- 
nouncement should  not  be  hastily  uttered  for  child- 
ren to  laugh  at.  In  the  case  of  older  children,  the 
greatest  caution  is  necessary,  in  expressing  a  pa- 
rent's displeasure:  reasonable  expostulation,  mild 
rebuke,  tender  reproof,  appeals  to  their  understand- 
ing: and  feelings  and  conscience,  are  all  that  can  be 
allowed  in  this  instance.  If  beating  ever  do  good, 
it  is  only  in  infancy,  before  the  understanding  can 
be  made  sufficiently  to  argue  upon  the  heinousness 
of  the  offence  :  afterwards  it  can  only  provoke  and 
harden.  Through  the  whole  course  of  discipline 
and  government,  let  parents  ever  remember,  that 
their  children  are  rational  creatures,  and  are  to  be 
dealt  with  as  such,  by  having  the  grounds  of  obliga- 
tion laid  open  to  them,  the  criminality  of  disobe- 
dience explained,  and  the  evils  of  insubordination 
aid  before  them.  To  a  parent  storming  or  fretting 
over  the  inefneacy  of  punishment,  I  would  say, 
"  Have  you  treated  that  child  as  a  brute,  or  a  ra- 
tional creature?  Have  you  taken  pains  with  him 
from  infancy,  to  make  him  understand  his  obliga- 
tions, and  to  comprehend  the  criminality  of  disobe- 
dience ;  or  have  you  governed  him  by  threatening 
and  beating  1"  1  again  say,  that  where  necessary 
punishment  is  withheld,  it  is  a  hating  of  the  child"; 
but  the  great  object  should  be  to  render  punishment 
unnecessary.  Put  the  reins  of  guidance  upon  the 
disposition  while  your  children  are  infants,  and  ac- 
quire great  skill  in  these:  and  if  you  manage  the 
reins  well,  you  will  have  less  need  of  the  whip. 

It  is  of  vast  consequence,  that  parents  should  be 
very  careful  not  to  foster,  by  injudicious  treatment, 
those  very  propensities,  which,  when  more  fully  de- 
veloped, they  will  find  it  necessary  to  repress  by 
discipline.  Do  not  encourage  lying  and  ill  nature, 
by  smiling  at  a  false  or  malignant  expression,  be- 
cause it  is  cleverly  said.  Nor  nourish  pride  by  ex- 
cessive flattery  of  commendation.  Nor  vanity,  by 
loading  them  with  finery,  and  both  admiring  them, 
and  teaching  them  to  admire  themselves.  Nor  re- 
venge, by  directing  them  to  vent  their  impotent  an- 
ger upon  the  persons  or  things  that  have  injured 
them.  Nor  cruelty,  by  permitting  them  to  torture 
insects  or  animals.  Nor  insolence  and  oppression, 
by  allowing  them  to  be  rude  to  servants.  Nor  envy, 
by  stimulating  too  powerfully  the  principle  of  emu- 
lation. Infinite  mischief  is  done  by  thus  thought- 
lessly encouraging  the  growth  of  many  of  the  germs 
of  vice. 

Discipline,  to  be  effectual,  should  be  steady  and 
unvarying,  not  fitful  and  ca/pricious :  it  must  be  a 
system  which,  like  the  atmosphere,  shall  press  al- 


ways and  every  where  upon  its  subjects.  Occa- 
sional fits  of  severity,  however  violent,  but  which 
are  followed  by  long  intermissions  of  relaxing  in- 
dulgence, can  do  no  good,  and  may  do  much  harm. 
Each  extreme  is  mischievous,  and  each  prepares 
for  the  mischief  of  the  other.  Both  parents  should 
join  to  support  domestic  authority;  for  a  more  tru- 
ly distressing  and  injurious  spectacle  can  scarcely 
be  seen  in  the  family  circle,  than  a  fond  and  foolish 
mother,  counteracting  the  effects  of  paternal  chas- 
tisement, by  stealing  to  the  little  prisoner  in  his 
captivity,  to  comfort  him  in  his  distress,  to  wipe 
away  his  tears,  and  to  hush  his  sorrows,  by  some 
gratification  of  his  palate.  In  this  way  children 
have  been  sometimes  hardened  in  their  crimes,  set 
against  their  father,  and  led  to  ultimate  and  irre- 
trievable ruin. 

Wonder  not  that  I  have  placed  discipline  under 
the  head  of  religious  education  ;  for,  is  it  not  the 
object  of  domestic  government  to  bend,  as  far  as 
means  can  do  it,  the  will  of  a  child  into  submission 
to  the  authority  of  a  wise  and  holy  parent!  And 
what  is  sin  against  God,  but  the  resistance  of  a 
weaker  will  against  that  which  is  supreme  and  di- 
vine 1  Now  surely  it  may  be  conceived  to  be  in 
the  order  of  God's  appointed  means  of  bringing 
the  child  into  subjection  to  himself,  to  bring  him 
first  into  subjection  to  his  pareias.  Can  any  one 
be  in  a  state  of  mind  more  hardened  against  reli- 
gion, more  opposed  to  all  its  just  and  salutary  re- 
straints, than  he  who  rejects  ihe  mild  yoke  of  pa- 
rental government,  and  sets  at  defiance  the  authori- 
ty of  a  father  1  Obedience  to  parents  is  one  of  the 
laws  of  heaven,  and  the  first  of  all  its  laws,  which  the 
mind  of  an  infant  can  be  made  to  understand  ;  and 
if  parents  enforce  it,  as  they  should  do,  with  a  di- 
rect reference  to  the  appointment  of  God,  they  are 
certainly  taking  a  preliminary  step,  so  far  as  means 
can  be  employed,  for  the  formation  of  the  religious 
character. 

4.  Example  is  necessary  to  give  power  and  influ- 
ence to  all  other  means. 

One  of  the  tritest  of  all  proverbs,  is  the  power 
of  example  ;  but  its  force  is  greatest  upon  the  youth- 
ful mind :  "during  the  minority  of  reason,  imitation 
is  the  regent  of  the  soul,  and  they  who  are  least 
swayed  by  argument,  are  most  governed  by  exam- 
ple." "We  all  learn  of  this  preceptor,  before  we 
can  reason,  yea,  before  we  can  speak.  If  then  we 
would  have  our  children  live  in  the  fear  of  God, 
we  must  ourselves  be  seen  by  them,  steadily  walk- 
ing in  the  way  of  his  commandments.  In  alluring 
them  to  religion,  we  must  be  enabled  to  say,  "Fol- 
low me."  Our  religion  should  not  only  be  upon  the 
whole  sincere,  but  it  should  be  visible:  our  light 
shonld  shine  before  our  family,  that  they,  seeing  our 
good  works,  might  glorify  God.  But  for  our  reli- 
gion to  produce  any  effect,  it  must  be  eminent:  there 
must  be  no  doubt,  no  uncertainty  about  the  matter; 
it  must  not  be  a  thing  of  a  questionable  nature.  It 
should  be  consistent.  I  remember  once  conversing 
with  a  man  of  great  eminence  for  station,  talents, 
and  piety,  who  said  to  me:  "I  owe  every  thing, 
under  God,  to  the  eminent  and  consistent  piety  of 
my  father.  When  I  was  a  young  man,  though  I 
was  not  vicious,  I  was  worldly ;  and  in  order  the 
more  effectually  to  get  rid  of  all  interference  with 
my  pursuits,  from  religion,  I  wished  to  ihink  it  all 
mere  profession  and  hypocrisy.  For  this  purpose, 
I  most  narrowly  watched  the  conduct  of  my  father; 
for  such  was  the  height. on  which  he  stood  as  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion,  that  I  very  naturally  concluded, 
if  I  could  convict  him  of  such  inconsistency  as 
amounted  to  a  proof  of  hypocrisy, — and  a  little 
thing  would  at  that  time  have  sufficed  for  such  a 
purpose, — I  should  have  gained  my  end,  and  have 
concluded  that  all  piety  was  but  a  name  and  a  de- 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


33 


lusion.  But  so  thoroughly  consistent  was  he,  that 
I  could  find  nothing  in  ihe  smallest  degree  at  vari- 
ance with  his  character  as  a  professor  of  religion. 
This  kept  its  hold  upon  me.  I  said  to  myself,  there 
must  be  a  reality  here,  and  I  must  try  to  understand 
and  feel  it;  for  I  have  seen  such  meekness  in  a 
temper  naturally  irritable,  such  comfort  amidst  the 
greatest  agonies,  and  all  this  supported  by  such 
uniform  devotion,  that  I  must  try  to  catch  his  spirit." 
This  beautiful  instance  of  the  influence  of  parental 
example,  is,  perhaps,  not  altogether  unique,  though 
in  all  its  circumstances,  perhaps  rarely  equalled. 

Children  have  their  eyes  always  upon  their  pa- 
rents, and  are  quick  to  discern  any  violations  of 
consistency.  If,  notwithstanding  our  profession  of 
religion,  they  see  us  as  worldly  minded,  as  grasping 
and  anxious  after  riches,  as  solicitous  to  be  sur- 
rounded by  splendid  furniture,  luxurious  gratifica- 
tions, and  fashionable  habits,  as  the  people  of  the 
world; — if  they  see  the  righteous  rarely  at  our 
table,  except  when  they  are  great  people,  or  popular 
characters,  but  observe  there  the  gay,  the  fashiona- 
ble, the  ungodly; — if  they  witness  us  artful,  impla- 
cable or  malicious ; — if  they  know  us  to  be  cruel 
or  neglectful  to  our  wives,  unkind  and  oppressive 
to  our  servants,  cold  and  tyrannical  to  them  ; — if 
they  witness  us  inconstant  in  our  attendance  upon 
private,  family,  or  public  worship — what  can  they 
conclude,  but  that  our  religion  is  mere  profession  1 
In  such  a  case,  of  how  little  service  is  our  attempt 
to  impress  upon  their  minds  those  claims,  which  we 
ourselves  practically  deny  1  It  were  far  better  for 
some  parents  to  say  nothing  to  their  children  about 
religion,  for,  till  they  alter  their  own  conduct,  their 
admonitions  can  produce  no  other  effect,  than  to 
excite  insufferable  disgust.  It  is  enough  to  make 
every  parent  tremble,  to  think  what  a  parent 
should   be. 

And  there  should  be  consistency  also,  between 
our  professions,  and  our  conduct  in  reference  to 
our  families.  We  avow  it  to  be  our  supreme  and 
uliimate  desire,  that  they  should  be  truly  pious; 
and  we  tell  them  so.  Do  we  in  all  things  act  agree- 
ably to  this  principle  1  Do  we  select  schools  and 
situations;  books  and  companions;  pursuits  and 
occupations,  in  reference  to  this  desire  1  Do  we  in 
our  general  conversation  with  them,  and  before 
them,  support  this  declaration"?  Do  not  our  chil- 
dren sometimes  reason  thus? — "My  parents  tell 
me,  that  their  chief  anxiety  is  for  my  salvation,  and 
the  formation  of  my  religious  character;  but  how 
does  this  comport  with  their  selecting  for  me  a 
school  where  religion  is  the  last  thing  attended  to  1 
With  their  instructing  me  in  some  things,  which, 
as  religious  people,  I  hear  them  condemn  1  How 
is  it,  that  all  the  anxiety  of  their  conduct,  whatever 
their  words  mav  say,  appears  to  be,  to  make  me  a 
fine  lady,  that  can  dance  well,  and  exhibit  an  ele- 
gant form,  and  display  polished  manners'?  I  am 
told  that  religion  is  the  first  thing,  but  I  am  edu- 
cated for  the  tforld."  Ah,  if  we  act  thus,  we  are 
not  training  up  onr  children  in  the  way  they  should 
go.  Without  example,  every  thing  else  that  we  do, 
is  most  lamentably  deficient :  as  has  been  often  said, 
it  is  only  pointing  them  the  way  to  heaven,  but 
leading  them  in  the  way  to  hell. 

5.  Diligent,  constant,  and  careful  inspection, 
is  a  most  important  parental  duty. 

There  should  be  in  every  family  a  system  of  do- 
mestic episcopacy.  Parents  should  be  watchful  in 
all  thin;;;.  This  is  the  way  to  preserve  the  good 
seed  of  instruction  which  is  sown,  and  to  prevent 
the  enemy  from  sowing  tares,  which  he  is  ever 
wakeful  to  do  when  the  parent  is  asleep.  This  is 
a  very  difficult,  but  a  very  necessary  duty.  We 
must  never  allow  any  engagements  whatever,  to 
take  off,  long  together,  our  eye  from  our  children. 


As  soon  as  their  character  begins  to  unfold,  we 
should  most  carefully  watch  its  developcment,  that 
we  may  know  what  regimen  to  place  it  under.  We 
should  study  their  propensities,  capacities  and  ten- 
dencies. We  should  watch  them  in  play,  in  their 
intercourse  with  each  other,  with  servants,  with 
their  companions,  and  when  they  art  not  dreaming 
that  our  attention  is  directed  towards  them:  for 
character  is  decided  by  incidents,  which  a  superfi- 
cial mind  would  deem  too  minute  to  be  noticed. — 
We  should  see  how  they  behave  after  punishment 
and  reward:  in  short,  their  whole  character  should 
be  studied  and  inspected  by  us  with  the  most  minute 
and  anxious  care;  just  as  the  different  plants  in  a 
nursery  are  investigated  by  a  gardener,  that  he  may 
know  the  peculiar  nature  which  each  possesses, 
and  the  appropriate  treatment  which  each  requires. 
We  should  also  inspect  our  family,  so  as  to  know 
what  good  or  evil  is  going  on  among  them ;  whether 
the  good  seed  is  growing,  and  what  tares  are  spring- 
ing up.  Like  the  farmer  going  out  to  inspect  his 
fields,  or  the  gardener  his  trees,  to  ascertain  what 
prospect  there  is  of  a  crop,  and  what  weeds  are  to 
be  eradicated,  what  vermin  to  be  destroyed,  what 
gaps  to  be  stopped  to  keep  out  enemies,  what  ex- 
crescences to  be  removed,  what  assistance  to  be  af- 
forded ;  so  must  the  parent  be  and  act  among  his 
children.  One  is  growing  up  with  a  propensity  to 
pride,  he  must  be  taught  with  great  care,  the  beauty 
and  excellence  of  humility;  a  second  is  vain  of 
personal  decorations  and 'acquirements,  5,4c  must 
have  such  fully  exposed,  and  be  saved  from  its  in- 
jurious influence  upon  her  character;  a  third  is 
artful,  equivocating  and  deceitful,  he  must  have  the 
enormity  of  lying  unfolded  to  him,  and  be  encou- 
raged to  practise  more  frankness,  ingenuousness, 
and  regard  to  truth;  one  is  remarkably  curious, 
and  needs  to  have  this  inquisitiveness  checked; 
another  dull,  and  needs  to  have  it  stimulated;  one 
is  skeptical,  and  is  in  danger  of  infidelity;  another 
credulous,  and  is  in  peril  of  imposition.  Now  there 
must  be  a  constant  scrutiny  carried  on  by  the  pa- 
rent, to  ascertain  these  peculiarities,  and  manage 
them  accordingly. 

Inspection  must  extend  to  every  thing.  To  the 
servants  that  are  admitted  into  the  house;  for  how 
much  injury  might  be  done  to  the  youthful  mind, 
by  an  unprincipled  and  artful  servant.  The  com- 
panions of  our  children  should  be  most  narrowly 
watched  :  one  bad  associate  may  ruin  them  for  ever. 
The  very  first  workings  of  the  social  impulse,  even 
in  a  boy  or  girl  of  five  or  six  years  of  age,  should  be 
noticed ;  for  even  thus  early  may  evil  impressions 
be  produced  by  companionship.  At  the  risk  of  of- 
fending the  nearest  relative,  or  most  endeared  friend 
he  has  upon  earth,  a  Christian  parent  ought  not  to 
suffer  his  children  to  associate  with  those,  who  are 
likely  to  do  them  harm.  On  this  account,  domestic 
education  is  decidedly  to  be  preferred,  where  it  can 
be  obtained,  to  schools.  A  system  of  extensive  and 
dreadful  mutual  corruption  is  oftentimes  going  on 
among  young  people,  before  it  is  perceived. 

Parents  should  most  carefully  inspect  the  reading 
of  their  children,  and  keep  out  of  their  way  all  cor- 
rupting books,  and  indecent  pictures.  And  how 
deeply  is  it  to  be  deplored,  that  our  newspapers  are 
oftentimes  so  polluted  with  filthy  details  of  disgust- 
ing occurrences  and  trials,  as  to  be  channels  through 
which  moral  contamination  flows  into  many  a  fa- 
mily, otherwise  well  guarded.  It  becomes  a  serious 
question,  whether  it  is  the  duty  of  a  Christian,  who 
has  sons  and  daughters  growing  up,  to  allow  a 
newspaper  to  come  into  his  house.  News-rooms, 
on  this  account,  are  to  be  decidedly  preferred. 

The  recreations  of  children  should  be  watched, 
and  no  games  be  allowed  that  are  immodest,  or  like- 
ly to  foster  a  spirit  of  gambling. 


34 


Tilt    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


For  want  af  this  diligent,  careful,  and  universal 
inspection,  the  best  instructions,  the  most  earnest 
warnings,  the  most  fervent  prayer,  and  the  most 
consistent  example,  have  been  in  some  cases,  un- 
availing; and  the  children  left  to  themselves,  and 
to  the  corrupting  influence  of  others,  have  grown 
llp> — their  parents'  misery,  and  their  own  dis- 
grace. 

u'.  Prayer  must  crown  all. 

This  duty  commences  with  the  birth  of  a  child, 
ray,  before  that  event;  for  in  the  very  prospect  of 
it?  birth,  there  should  be  eainest  prayer  offered  to 
God  by  the  parent,  for  divine  grace  to  discharge  all 
those  "obligations,  which  the  expected  babe  will 
bring  upon  the  conscience  of  the  father  and  mother. 
And  from  that  time  forward  till  the  death  of  either 
parent  or  child,  earnest,  secret,  believing  prayer, 
should  never  cease  to  be  daily  presented  for  our  off- 
spring. Our  prayers  should  principally  respect  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  our  children.  Daily  we  should 
■wrestle  with  God  for  their  eternal  salvation.  How 
lntle  can  ice  do  at  most  for  their  welfare,  and  how 
ineffectual  without  God's  blessing,  is  all  we  do,  or 
can  do.  That  parent  has  neglected  a  very  import- 
ant branch  of  his  duty,  who  has  suffered  one  single 
day  to  pass  by,  without  bearing  his  children  upon 
his  heart  before  God  in  private  prayer.  Who  can 
subdue  their  tempers,  or  change  their  hearts,  but 
God?  And  though  in  a  way  of  sovereignty,  he 
confers  his  grace  upon  some  who  neither  seek  it 
themselves,  nor  have  it  sought  for  them,  by  their 
friends,  yet  we  are  not  authorized  to  expect  it  with- 
out prayer. 

It  is  necessary,  also,  not  only  to  pray  for  our 
children,  but  vnth  them.  We  should  take  them 
apart  each  by  himself  to  commend  them  to  God,  and 
thus  make  them  the  witnesses  of  our  deep  solicitude 
and  our  intense  agony  for  their  eternal  welfare. — 
If  they  have  been  disobedient  and  wicked,  it  may  be 
well,  when  they  are  brought  to  a  right  mind,  and 
when  we  ourselves  have  forgiven  them,  to  conduct 
them  to  the  throne  of  divine  grace,  to  beg  for  them 
the  divine  forgiveness:  but  this  must  never  be  done 
as  a  punishment,  for  this  is  the  way  to  make  them 
dread  a  parent's  prayers,  as  a  visitation  of  his  dis- 
pleasure. 

But,  besides  this,  there  must  be  family  prayer. 

The  necessity  and  propriety  of  this,  arise  out  of 
the  constitution  of  the  family;  and  were  it  not  en- 
joined in  the  word  of  God,  either  by  precept  or  ex- 
ample, would  still  be  binding  upon  the  conscience 
of  every  parent,  by  the  relation  in  which  he  stands 
to  his  family,  and  the  extent  of  their  dependence 
upon  God.  Do  we  not  want  family  mercies;  and 
who  can  give  them  but  God  1  So  obviously  obli- 
gatory is  this  duty,  and  so  naturally  does  its  per- 
formance arise  out  of  all  our  conjoint  feelings  as  pa- 
rents and  as  Christians,  that  those  who  neglect  it  can- 
not even  pretend  to  feel  the  right  influence  of  god- 
liness. 

No  duty,  however,  has  been  more  abused  than 
this.  By  some  it  is  only  occasionally  performed ;  it 
is  taken  up  perhaps  in  times  of  domestic  distress  or 
solicitude;  by  others  it  is  attended  to  on  a  Sabbath 
evening;  and  by  many,  very  many  others  it  is, 
though  regularly  observed,  nothing  but  a  mere  life- 
less form,  and  thus  felt  not  only  to  be  insipid  but  a 
mere  burden.  The  following  directions  may  be  of 
service  to  guide  the  heads  of  families  in  this  most 
interesting  branch  of  domestic  duty. 

1.  It  should  be  offered  up  morning  and  evening; 
thus  beginning  and  closing  every  day. 

2.  It  should  be  observed  with  the  greatest  regu- 
larity, and  an  uninterrupted  constancy.  What  a 
disgrace  to  a  parent  is  it,  for  a  child  or  a  servant  to 
say,  "are  we  to  have  prayer  this  evening?"  And 
yet,  are  there  not  some  families  in  which  the  prac- 


tice is  so  irregular,  as  to  leave  the  matter  doubtful, 
till  the  bell  rings? 

3.  All  the  members  of  the  family  should  be  pre- 
sent, except  very  young  children,  who  cannot  be 
made  to  sit  still,  and  whose  inquietude  and  restless- 
ness are  a  disturbance  to  all  the  rest,  and  utterly  de- 
stroy the  solemnity  of  the  service. 

4.  It  should  be  attended  to  so  early  in  the  morn- 
ing as  not  to  subject  the  service  to  the  intrusion  and 
interruption  of  visiters  and  secular  business;  and 
so  early  in  the  evening,  as  not  to  be  rendered  the 
mere  form  of  a  drowsy  circle,  who  ought  at  that 
time  to  be  in  bed.  It  is  an  offence  to  the  Almighty, 
to  conduct  a  family  into  his  awful  presence,  merely 
to  sleep  there. 

5.  There  should  be  a  fixed  hour,  and  the  hour 
should  be  most  sacredly  kept,  and  not  be  interfered 
with,  except  at  the  dictate  of  necessity.  In  order  to 
this,  the  heads  of  families  should  not  sup  from  home, 
nor  yield  to  the  modern  practice  of  late  visiting. — 
The  fashionable  hours  of  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  at 
night,  are  driving  out  evening  prayer,  and  the  eager- 
ness of  commercial  pursuits,  putting  a  stop,  in  many 
families,  to  the  morning  sacrifice. 

6.  A  portion  of  holy  Scripture  should  be  read, 
from  the  Old  Testament,  one  part  of  the  day,  and 
from  the  New  Testament,  the  other.  A  bock  should 
be  read  through  in  regular  course,  and  not  a  chap- 
ter picked  out,  or  stumbled  upon  by  accident.  The 
Scriptures  should  be  audibly  read,  and  in  a  reve- 
rential manner,  and  with  a  devotional  spirit,  for 
very  great  evils  result  from  reading  the  Scriptures 
in  a  careless,  slovenly,  and  irreverent  manner.  It 
would  be  well  for  the  parent  to  require  the  children 
and  servants  to  bring  their  Bibles  with  them,  that 
the  eye  may  help  the  ear,  in  fixing  the  attention  of 
the  mind.  The  domestic  prophet  should  also  ac- 
company what  he  reads  with  short  explanatory  and 
hortatory  remarks  of  his  own,  or  the  expository 
comments  of  others. 

7.  When  there  are  persons  in  the  family  that  can 
sing,  family  praise  should  ascend  to  heaven.  The 
morning  or  evening  hymn  of  a  pious  family,  is  one 
of  the  most  touching  sounds  in  our  world. 

"  Lord,  how  delightful 't  is  to  see, 
A  pious  household  worship  thee, 
At  once  they  sing,  at  once  they  pray, 
They  hear  of  heav'n,  and  learn  the  way.-' 

8.  Then  follows  the  prayer,  which  should  be  not 
so  long  as  to  weary,  nor  so  short  as  to  seem  like  a 
mere  form:  it  should  be  fervent,  for  a  dull,  cold, 
heartless  repetition  of  almost  the  same  things  in  al- 
most the  same  words,  is  sure  to  destroy  all  the  in- 
terest of  this  delightful  service,  and  to  render  it  a 
mere  form,  which  wearies  and  burdens,  if  it  do  not 
also  disgust.  How  difficult  is  it  to  keep  up  the  life 
and  vigor  of  this  engagement!  And  why?  Because 
we  do  not  keep  up  the  life  and  vigor  of  our  person- 
al religion.  It  is  worth  while  to  remark,  that  the 
habit  of  reverential  reading  the  Scripture's  tends  to 
feed  the  flame  of  devotion,  and  to  kindle  the  fire  of 
the  sacrifice  of  prayer.  The  prayer  of  the  head  of 
a  family,  should  be  in  a  very  peculiar  degree  fami- 
ly prayer.  It  should  respect  the  children,  the  ser- 
vants, the  circumstances  of  the  household.  All 
should  feel  that  the  service  belongs  to  them,  and  not 
merely  to  the  individual  who  prays,  or  to  the  church 
and  the  world.  But  fervor,  and  life,  and  earnest- 
ness, as  opposed  to  what  is  dull  and  formal,  is  of 
immense  consequence.  A  few  petitions  breathed 
forth  with  a  fervor  that  kindles  the  fire  of  devotion 
in  all  around,  are  far  better  than  half  an  hour's 
talking  about  religion  to  God. 

Oh  !  with  what  dignity,  and  grace,  and  sanctity, 
and  authority,  does  a  holy  and  fervent  father  rise 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


35 


from  his  knees,  and  take  his  seat  in  the  midst  of  his 
family,  while  yet  the  rays  of  divine  glory  play  upon 
his  countenance.  "  Children,"  says  Dr.  Dwight, 
"naturaily  regard  a  parent  with  reverence;  but 
they  cannot  fail  to  reverence  him  more  or  less,  on 
account  of  his  personal  character.  Wherever  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  behold  their  parent  daily 
sustaining  the  office  of  minister  or  servant  of  God, 
they  necessarily  associate  with  every  idea  they  form 
of  his  person  and  character,  this  solemn  and  im- 
portant apprehension.  Every  image  of  this  venera- 
ble relation  presented  to  their  minds,  will  include 
in  it,  that  of  a  divinely  appointed  guardian  of  their 
spiritual  concerns;  a  guide  to  their  duty,  given 
them  from  above:  a  venerated  and  beloved  inter- 
cessor for  their  salvation."  And  the  same  writer, 
in  speaking  of  family  worship,  says,  "  In  the  devo- 
tion of  this  little  assembly,  parents  pray  for  their 
children,  and  children  for  their  parents:  the  hus- 
band for  the  wife,  and  the  wife  for  the  husband ; 
while  brothers  and  sisters  send  up  their  requests  to 
I  he  throne  of  Infinite  Mercy,  to  call  down  bless- 
ings on  each  other.  Who  that  wears  the  name  of 
a  man  can  be  indifferent  here  1  Must  not  the  ve- 
nerable character  of  the  parent,  the  peculiar  ten- 
derness of  the  conjugal  union,  the  affectionate  inti- 
macy of  the  filial  and  fraternal  relations;  must  not 
the  nearness  of  relations  long  existing,  the  inter- 
change of  kindness  long  continued,  and  the  oneness 
of  interests  long  cemented — all  warm  the  heart, 
heighten  the  importance  of  every  petition,  and  in- 
crease the  fervor  of  every  devotional  effort." 

It  may  now  be  proper  to  inquire,  how  it  comes  to 
pass  that  such  a  system  as  this  is  so  often  unsuc- 
cessful 1  For  it  may,  with  very  great  propriety, 
because  with  truth,  be  affirmed,  that  the  families  of 
professors,  are  not  always,  as  might  be  expected, 
the  nurseries  of  the  church.  It  is  not  enough  to  re- 
solve the  matter  into  the  sovereignty  of  divine 
grace,  till  we  have  inquired,  whether  any  thing 
can  be  found  in  the  conduct  of  parents,  which 
can  be  said  with  truth,  to  account  for  the  painful 
fact,  of  irreligious  children  being  found  in  religious 
families. 

Have  parents  really  adopted  and  pursued  a  judi- 
cious system  of  religious  education"?  Can  it  be 
said,  that  means,  such  as  I  have  directed,  or  any 
thing  at  all  like  them,  have  been  regularly  pursued] 
Has  there  been  a  deep,  a  constant  solicitude  for  the 
eternal  welfare  of  their  children? 

In  the  introduction  of  my  volume,  entitled,  "  The 
Christian  Father's  Present  to  his  Children,"  I  have 
stated  the  obstacles  which  often  prevent  the  success 
of  a  religious  education,  and  have  enumerated  the 
following: 

1.  Religious  education  is  oftentimes  very  igno- 
rantly,  negligently,  and  capriciously  maintained: 
where  it  is  not  altogether  omitted.  It  is  not  a  first 
object,  it  is  attended  to  with  no  earnestness,  no  anx- 
iety, no  system,  no  regularity.  It  does  not  run 
through  every  thing,  and  is  opposed  by  manv  things 
at  variance  with  it.  The  parents'  eye  and  heart 
are  more  intently  fixed  upon  the  worldly  prosperity 
and  respectability  of  the  children,  than  on  their  re- 
ligious character. 

2.  The  relaxation  of  domestic  discipline  is  a 
powerful  impediment  in  the  way  of  success.  There 
is,  in  some  households,  no  family  government,  no 
order,  no  subordination.  The  children  are  kept 
under  no  restraint,  but  are  allowed  to  do  what  they 
like;  their  faults  are  unnoiiced  and  unpunished, 
and  their  tempers  allowed  to  grow  wild  and  head- 
strong, till  in  fact,  the  whole  family  become  utterly 
lawless,  rebellious  against  parental  authority,  and 
unamiab'.e  to  all  around  them.  How  many  have 
had  to  curse  the  over  indulgence  of  fond  and  fool- 
ish parents.    How  many,  as  the"  have  ruminaied 

43* 


amidst  the  desolations  of  poverty,  or  the  walls  of  a 
prison,  have  exclaimed,  "  O,  my  cruelly  fond  pa- 
rents, had  you  exercised  that  authority  with  which 
God  entrusted  you,  over  your  children,  and  had 
you  checked  my  childish  corruptions,  and  punished 
my  boyish  disobedience:  had  you  subjected  me  to 
the  salutary  restraint  of  wholesome  laws,  I  had  not 
brought  you  with  a  broken  heart  to  your  grave,  nor 
myself  with  a  ruined  character  to  a  jail." 

Over  indulgence  is  awfully  common,  and  conti- 
nually making  shocking  ravages  in  human  charac- 
ter. It  is  a  system  of  great  cruelty  to  the  children, 
to  the  parents  themselves,  and  to  society.  This 
practice  proceeds  from  various  causes ;  in  some  in- 
stances, from  a  perverted  and  systematic  senti- 
mentalism;  in  others,  from  absolute  indolence,  and 
a  regard  to  present  ease,  which  leads  the  silly 
mother  to  adopt  any  means  of  coaxing,  and  yield- 
ing, and  bribing,  to  keep  the  young  rebels  quiet  for 
the  time;  in  others,  from  a  mistake  as  to  the  time 
when  restraint  should  begin,  or  a  spirit  of  procras- 
tination, which  leads  parents  to  say,  "  I  shall  lake 
them  in  hand  by  and  by :  there  is  no  time  lost ; 
when  their  reason  is  a  little  more  matured,  I  shall 
lay  upon  them  more  restraint ;"  and  in  some  it  is 
"  mere  animal  affection,"  without  the  guidance  of  a 
particle  of  judgment,  a  mere  instinct,  like  that 
which  in  the  irrational  tribes,  leads  to  a  blind  and 
busy  affection.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  parents  to 
treat  the  first  acts  of  puerile  rebellion,  rather  as 
freaks  to  be  smiled  at,  than  as  faults  to  be  reformed. 
"  O,"  says  the  mother,  "it  is  only  play,  he  will 
know  better  soon.  He  does  not  mean  any  harm.  I 
cannot  chide  him."  No;  and  if  the  father,  wiser 
than  herself,  does,  she  cries,  and  perhaps,  in  the 
hearing  of  the  child,  reproves  her  husband  for 
cruelty.  From  whatever  cause  it  proceeds,  it  is  in 
the  highest  degree  injurious  to  the  character  of  the 
children;  let  those  who  are  guilty  of  it  read  the 
fearful  comment  on  this  sin,  which  is  furnished  for 
their  warning,  in  the  history  of  Eli  and  his  family. 

3.  Undue  "severity  is,  perhaps,  more  injurious 
than  over  indulgence;  and  it  is,  perhaps,  a  convic- 
tion of  this,  and  an  observation  of  the  mischievous 
consequences  of  extreme  rigor,  that  has  driven 
many  into  the  opposite  extreme.  I  have  seen  the 
dreadful  effects  of  parental  tyranny,  and  the  reign 
of  household  terror,  in  the  broken  spirits,  the  reck- 
less desperation,  the  hardened  contumacy,  or  the 
deep  and  sullen  melancholy  of  those  who  have  been 
the  subjects  of  these  hard  measures.  It  is  a  truly 
revoking  sight  to  see  a  father  employing  the  iron 
rod  of  the  oppressor  to  beat,  and  bruise,  and  crush 
the  minds  of  his  own  offspring  into  the  most  abject 
submission.  He  may  succeed,  but  let  him  not  won- 
der, if  at  the  same  time  that  he  has  suppressed  re- 
bellion, he  has  extinguished  affection.  I  have  known 
parents,  who,  too  late  have  seen,  their  error,  and 
who  would  give  the  world,  did  thev  possess  it,  if  it 
were  possible  to  do  away  the  ill  effects  which  their 
severity  had  produced  in  the  character  of  their 
children:  but  the  mischief  was  irreparable.  No 
subsequent  kindness  could  expand  the  heart,  which 
they  had  closed  for  ever  against  them,  or  win  that 
confidence  which  they  had  repulsed  from  them.  A 
close,  sullen,  melancholy  disposition  had  been  nur- 
tured :  a  susceptibility  to  the  emotions  of  wretched- 
ness had  been  planted  in  the  bosom,  which  no  future 
tenderness  en  the  part  of  the  parent  could  remove. 
He  saw  it,  and  repented  it,  but  could  not  alter  it. 
"Ye  fathers,  provoke  not  then  your  children  to 
anger,  lest  they  should  be  discouraged."  This  lan- 
gunee  is  really  very  striking,  and  well  deserves  the 
serious  attention  of  every  parent. 

4.  The  inconsistent  conduct  of  parents  who  are 
professors  of  r^lisrion,  is  a  great  hinderance  to  the 
success  of  religious  instruction.      Many  persons 


36 


THE    FAMILY   MONITOR. 


have  no  need  to  wonder  that  their  children  are  not 
pious;  it  would  have  been  a  wonder  with  every 
body  else  if  they  were,  for  they  have  seen  nothing 
at  home,  but  what  was  calculated  to  disgust  them 
with  religion.  They  would  have  been  far  more 
likely  to  have  thought  well  of  the  ways  of  godli- 
ness," if  their  parents  had  said  nothing  about,  them. 

5.  The  bad  conduct  of  an  elder  branch  of  a  fa- 
mily, often  counteracts  all  the  efforts  made  for  the 
benefit  of  the  rest.  Let  parents  see  the  importance 
of  beginning  upon  a  good  system.  Children  are 
creatures  of  imitation,  and  the  models  they  copy 
after,  are  their  elder  brother  or  sister.  A  mother 
should  educate  the  character  of  her  first  child,  with 
the  recollection,  that  he  will  be  a  pattern  which  the 
rest  will,  in  all  probability,  more  or  less  conform  to. 
I  do  not  think  this  has  been  sufficiently  considered. 

6.  Partiality  has  a  very  corrupting  and  fatal  in- 
fluence. The  history  of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  first 
the  victim,  and  afterwards  the  subject  of  this  sin, 
will  remain  for  ever  a  warning  to  all  parents, 
against  the  dangers  of  domestic  favoritism.  The 
balances  of  government  must  be  held  in  every  fa- 
mily, by  even  handed  justice,  or  misery  is  sure  to 
ensue.  Envy  and  jealousy  are  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  partiality.  Father  and  mother  are  some- 
times embroiled,  the  children  are  set  against  each 
other,  and  all  conspire  against  the  favorite. 

Behold  these  obstacles,  and  avoid  them. 

And  now,  can  motives  be  necessary  to  admonish 
Christian  parents  to  the  diligent  performance  of 
their  duty  \    If  so,  take  the  following: — 

1.  Are  you  zealous  for  the  cause  of  religion  in 
the  world,  for  the  prosperity  of  Zion,  for  the  inte- 
rest of  the  Redeemer,  for  the  glory  of  God  1  Be 
diligent  and  anxious  to  train  up  your  children  in 
the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  Would 
you  have  them  the  enemies,  or  the  friends  of  God 
and  his  cause  1  Dare  you  pretend  to  be  the  disci- 
ples of  Christ,  if  this  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
you"?  If  you  are  neglectful  in  this  matter,  you 
may  expect  to  see  your  offspring  united  with  the 
children  of  this  world,  if  not  with  infidels,  scoffers 
or  the  profane.  But  if  you  are  anxious  and  con- 
scientious to  train  them  up  for  God,  that  daughter 
over  whom  you  watch  with  such  parental  care  and 
tenderness,  may  be  joined  with  the  female  worthies, 
who  by  their  chaste  conversation,  and  the  ornament 
of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  and  their  zeal  for  the 
cause  of  Christ,  have  done  so  much  to  diffuse  reli- 
gion in  the  world.  That  son  whom  you  now  train 
with  such  holy  solicitude,  for  future  usefulness,  as 
a  disciple  of  the  Saviour,  may  become  pminent  in 
the  church,  as  a  consistent  and  intelligent  member, 
or  an  able  and  faithful  minister.  "  Many  a  con- 
gregation," says  Baxter,  "  that  is  happily  fed  with 
the  bread  of  life,  may  thank  God  for  the  endeavors 
of  some  poor  man  or  woman,  that  trained  up  a 
child  in  the  ways  of  God,  to  become  their  holy  and 
faithful  teacher."  The  church  of  God  looks  to  the 
families  of  the  righteous,  and  expects  and  asks  from 
thence,  those  supplies  which  are  to  recruit  its  mem- 
bers, and  to  repair  the  ravages  of  death. 

2.  I  urge  this  duty  by  a  due  regard  to  the  tempo- 
ral and  eternal  welfare  of  your  children.  You  love 
your  children,  and  would  deem  it  a  most  cruel  and 
insulting  insinuation  to  have  your  affection  for  a 
moment  questioned.  But  do  what  you  will  for 
them  :  devote  as  you  may  the  energies  of  body  and 
mind ;  the  sleep  of  your  nights  and  the  activities 
of  your  days  to  your  children's  comfort :  wear  out 
vour  strength  in  ceaseless  labor  and  solicitude,  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  neglect  the  religious  education 
of  your  children,  you  are  guilty  of  a  species  of 
most  horrid  cruelty  towards  them,  the  bittei  conse- 
quences of  which  may  begin  in  this  world  in  pro- 
fligacy and  vice,  and  extend  to  the  other  in  all  the 


bitter  pains  of  eternal  death.  Unrestrained  by 
sentiments  of  piety,  uncontrolled  by  a  conscience 
which  has  never  been  enlightened,  what  is  to  pre- 
vent them  from  being  plunged  into  infamy  by  their 
unbridled  passions'?  Have  not  many  young  men 
at  the  hulks,  in  the  land  of  exile,  or  at  the  gallows ; 
and  many  unhappy  females  when  closing  in  misery 
a  course  of  intamy,  cursed  their  parents  for  not 
giving  them  a  religious  education  1  But  even 
though  they  live  and  die  in  worldly  honor  and 
respectability,  what  will  this  do  for  them  amidst 
the  sorrows  of  life,  the  agonies  of  death,  the  so- 
lemnities of  judgment,  and  the  torments  of  perdi- 
tion !  Hear  them  as  they  stand  shuddering  and  af- 
frighted on  the  brink  of  that  gulph  into  which  they 
are  about  to  plunge.  "  Of  what  avail  are  the 
riches  and  honors  and  pleasures  of  the  world, 
which  my  parents  were  so  anxious  to  obtain  for 
me  1  Why  did  they  not  tell  me  that  the  salvation 
of  my  soul  was  of  more  importance  to  me  as  an  im- 
mortal creature,  than  the  possession  of  the  uni- 
verse 1  Cruel,  cruel  parents!  Fool  that  I  was,  to 
be  blinded  and  rendered  careless  by  you:  but  my 
self-reproaches  are  now  unavailing;  I  deservedly 
perish,  but  my  blood  be  upon  the  head  of  those  that 
neglected  me."  Ah,  cruel  parents  indeed,  who  ne- 
glect the  religious  education  of  their  children : 
more  cruel  in  some  respects  than  Herod;  he  slew 
the  bodies  of  children,  these  murder  souls;  he  mur- 
dered the  children  of  others,  these  murder  their 
own ;  he  employed  the  agency  of  his  servants, 
these  do  the  work  of  slaughter  themselves. 

3.  Do  you  regard  your  own  comfort  1  Do  you 
love  yourselves  1  Are  you  anxious  to  avoid  pain- 
ful and  incessant  solicitude,  bitter  reflection,  domes- 
tic disquietude,  dreadful  foreboding  1  Then  bring 
up  your  children  with  the  most  unvarying  regard 
to  their  religious  character.  Should  God  crown 
your  efforts  with  success,  what  a  harvest  of  joys 
will  you  reap  even  in  this  world.  When  you  see 
your  children  enter  the  paths  of  wisdom,  "  Thank 
God,"  you  exclaim,  "  my  highest  ambition  has  at 
length  reached  its  object.  My  children  are  decided 
Christians.  I  am  now  no  longer  distressingly  anx- 
ious for  their  future  prospects  in  this  life.  In  one 
way  or  other,  God  will  provide  for  them.  And  as 
to  eternity,  they  are  safe."  Who  can  describe  the 
pure,  elevated  felicity  with  which  such  parents 
mark  the  course  of  their  children,  in  going  from 
strength  to  strength  in  their  progress  to  Zion. — 
What  a  season  of  delight  is  that,  when  they  pub- 
licly assume  the  profession  of  a  Christian,  and  con- 
nect themselves  with  the  church  !  What  joy  is  felt 
in  beholding  them  at  their  side  at  the  table  of  the 
Lord,  and  holding  communion  with  them  in  the 
joys  of  faith  and  the  anticipations  of  eternity.  And 
what  satisfaction  is  experienced  in  seeing  them  en- 
rolling their  names  as  the  friends  of  God  and  man, 
and  giving  their  support  to  those  institutions  which 
are  formed  to  promote  the  highest  interests  of  the 
human  race.  As  they  grow  in  experience,  in  use- 
fulness, in  respectability  in  the  church,  the  parents' 
joy  and  gratitude  are  continually  increasing,  and 
they  feel  the  honor  of  having  sent  such  members 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful.  Should  God  in 
the  mysteries  of  his  providence  remove  them  by  an 
early  death,  you  will  be  cheered  amidst  the  agonies 
of  separation,  by  their  dying  consolation;  their 
piety  will  wipe  away  your  tears,  and  be  a  balm  to 
the  wounds  of  your  mind ;  and  when  they  have  de- 
parted, you  will  solace  yourselves  with  the  healing 
thought,  that  they  have  gone  to  that  world  of  glory 
in  which  you  will  soon  be  reunited  with  them.  Or 
should  the  order  of  nature  be  observed,  and  you 
precede  them  to  the  tomb,  will  not  their  presence 
and  attentions  in  your  dying  chamber,  be  more 
soothing  by  the  consideration,  that  they  are  so  man} 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


37 


saints,  as  well  as  children,  ministering  to  your  com- 
fort 7  Will  not  their  piety  give  a  sanctity  and  a 
sweetness  to  all  the  offices  of  their  affection  1  "I 
die,"  will  be  your  expression,  as  like  departing 
Jacob,  you  address  yourselves  to  them,  "  but  God 
will  be  with  you,  and  we  shall  meet  again,  where 
there  will  be  no  more  death." 

But  should  you  unhappily  neglect  their  religious 
education,  and  they,  through  your  neglect,  should 
grow  up  without  any  due  sense  of  the  claims  of 
God,  is  there  not  a  danger  of  their  becoming  im- 
moral, as  well  as  irreligious'?  And  how  could  you 
bear  to  witness,  or  to  hear  of  their  profligacy  and 
vice,  if  at  the  same  time,  you  were  conscious  that 
it  was  in  a  measure  through  your  neglect!  Per- 
haps they  may  be  unkind  and  disobedient  to  you ; 
for  God  may  justly  render  that  child  a  scourge  to 
his  parent,  whose  parent  did  not  train  him  up  in 
the  ways  of  religion.  O  what  scenes  of  domestic 
misery,  what  heart-rending  spectacles  of  confusion 
and  wretchedness,  have  profligate  children  occa- 
sioned in  the  families  to  which  they  belong !  How 
many  have  thus  had  their  hearts  suddenly  broken, 
or  their  grey  hairs  brought  down  by  the  slow  pro- 
cess of  withering  sorrow,  to  the  grave:  and  the 
sling  of  all  this,  in  some  cases,  has  been  the  con- 
sciousness of  parental  neglect.  No  sin  more  hea- 
vily punishes  itself  than  this,  nor  mingles  for  its 
subject  a  more  bitter  cup.  But  then,  the  eternal 
consequences,  oh,  the  eternal  consequences  of  this 
neglect.  See  the  heart-stricken  parent,  wringing 
his  hands  over  the  dying  youth,  who  is  departing 
without  repentance.  No,  not  a  syllable  escapes  his 
lips  that  sounds  like  penitence:  the  father  weeps, 
and  prays,  and  entreats,  but  the  son  hearkens  not, 
and  dies,  and  makes  no  sign.  Now  in  what  a 
burst  of  agony  does  he  give  vent  to  his  feelings  over 
the  corpse,  from  which  the  spirit  has  departed,  but 
departed  not  to  the  mansions  of  the  blest.  "  Oh, 
my  son  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  Absalom,  would 
God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my 
son." 

Or,  in  the  event  of  your  own  death,  what  thorns 
will  it  plant  in  your  pillow,  with  what  deeper  shades 
will  it  invest  the  descent  to  that  dark  valley,  to  re- 
flect that  you  had  neglected  the  religious  character 
of  your  children,  and  the  eternal  salvation  of  their 
immortal  souls.  Then,  amidst  these  fearful  scenes, 
to  awake  to  a  sense  of  your  duty,  when  it  is  too 
late,  except  by  one  parting  admonition,  to  perform 
it.  Then  'o  see  those  around  your  bed,  with  whom 
you  had  been  entrusted,  but  whom  you  had  ne- 
glected. 

But  there  are  other  scenes  more  dreadful  still. — 
The  faithless  parent  must  meet  his  neglected  child- 
ren at  the  day  of  judgment,  before  the  bar  of  God. 
Fearful  will  be  the  interview;  and  to  us,  now,  ut- 
terly inconceivable.  No  imagination  can  portray 
the  scene,  and  I  attempt  it  not.  And  then,  eternity, 
oh  !  elernitv  !— who  shall  bring  out  from  the  secrets 
of  that  impenetrable  state,  the  condition  of  children, 
lost  in  some  measure,  through  the  neglect  of  their 
parents;  and  the  condition  of  parents,  hearing 
through  everlasting  ages,  the  imprecation  and  re- 
proaches of  their  own  offspring,  and  all  these  im- 
precations and  reproaches  echoed  back  from  their 
own  conscience.  But  the  picture  is  too  appalling — 
and  if  the  mere  anticipation  chills  with  horror, 
what  must  be  its  reality. 

Look  for  a  few  moments  at  a  brighter  scene,  and 
anticipate  the  meeting  at  the  judgment  day,  of  pi- 
ous parents  and  children  reclaimed,  convened, 
saved,  by  the  blessing  of  Go  1  upon  their  affection- 
ate solicitude,  and  judicious  and  persevering  efforts 
for  their  eternal  welfare:  but  this  is  as  much  too 
bright  for  the  imagination,  as  the  other  is  too  ter- 
rific.    It  is  glory,  honor,  and  felicity  too  great  to  be 


imagined.  And  beyond  all  this,  everlasting  ages 
remain,  for  the  child  to  be  blessed  with  salvation, 
and  the  parent  to  be  blessed  with  the  conciousness 
of  having  been  the  happy  instrument  of  eternal 
blessedness  to  his  own  offspring. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DUTIES    OP   CHILDREN   TO  THEIU  PARENTS. 

"  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord  ;  for  this  is 
right.  Honor  thy  father  and  mother  ;  which  its  the 
first  commandment  with  promise ;  that  it  may  be 
well  with  thee,  and  that  thou  mayest  livelong  on  the 
earth."  Ephes.  vi.  1,  2,  3. 

"  My  son,  keep  thy  father's  commandment,  and  for- 
sake not  the  law  of  thy  mother;  bind  them  continu- 
ally upon  thine  heart,  and  tie  them  about  thy  neck. 
When  thou  goest  it  shall  lead  thee  ;  when  thou 
sleepest  it  shall  keep  thee  ;  and  when  thou  awakest 
it  shall  talk  with  thee."         Proverbs  vi.  20 — 22. 

"  The  father  of  the  righteous  shall  greatly  rejoice ;  and 
he  that  begetteth  a  wise  child  shall  have  joy  of  him. 
Thy  father  and  thy  mother  shall  be  glad,  and  she 
that  bare  thee  shall  rejoice." 

Proverbs  xxiii.  24,  25. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  duty,  the  obligations  of  which 
are  more  generally  acknowledged,  than  filial  piety; 
none  which  in  the  performance  yields  greater  plea- 
sure, or  which,  if  neglected,  brings  a  more  severe  or 
righteous  retribution.  All  nations,  however  sunk  in 
barbarism  or  elevated  by  science,  have  admitted  the 
strength  and  justice  of  parental  claims,  and  the  un- 
happy youth  who  resists  them,  stands  convicted, 
condemned,  and  reprobated  before  the  tribunal  of 
the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  an  eminently  duti- 
ful child  is  an  object  of  delight,  admiration,  and  es- 
teem to  all  who  have  an  opportunity  of  witnessing 
his  conduct;  he  goes  through  society  surrounded  by 
a  glory  purer  than  that  of  fame,  and  far  more  con- 
ducive to  his  own  comfort:  he  is  a  blessing  to  his 
parents,  and  is  blessed  himself.  Children,  may  all 
of  you  be  such:  and  for  that  purpose,  I  ask  your 
most  fixed  attention  to  the  statement  of  your  duties, 
as  set  before  you  in  this  chapter.  The  obligations 
of  social  life  are  reciprocal.  If  your  parents  owe  to 
you  all  that  I  have  enjoined  upon  them,  how  much 
do  you  owe  to  your  parents  1  1  have  been  your  ad- 
vocate with  them,  I  now  become  theirs  with  you. 

Consider  well  the  relation  you  sustain  to  your  pa- 
rents. There  is  a  natural  connection  between  you, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  the  instruments  of  your  very 
existence;  a  circumstance  which  of  itself  seems  to 
invest  them,  as  I  have  already  said,  with  an  almost 
absolute  authority  over  you.  The  commonness,  the 
universality  of  the  tie,  takes  off  'he  mind  from  con- 
templating its  closeness,  its  tenderness,  its  sanctity. 
You  are  literally  parts  of  themselves,  and  cannot 
dwell  for  a  moment  upon  your  descent,  without  be- 
ing struck,  one  should  think,  with  the  amazing 
and  solemn  weight  of  obligation  that  rests  upon  you 
towards  a  father  and  a  mother.  But  consider,  there 
is  not  only  a  natural,  but  in  reference  to  duty,  an 
instituted  connection  between  you  :  Jehovah  him- 
self has  interposed,  and  uniting  the  language  of  re- 
velation with  the  dictates  of  reason,  the  force 
of  authority,  to  the  impulse  of  nature,  has  called 
vou  to  filial  piety,  not  only  as  a  matter  of  feeling-, 
but  of  principle.  Study  then  the  relationship,  look 
narrowly  and  seriously  at  the  connection  subsisting 
between  you.  Weigh  well  the  import  of  the  word 
parent  :  think  how  much  is  implied  in  it  towards  its 
appropriate  object,  how  manv  offices  it  contains  in 
itSelf,— guardian,  ruler,  teacher,  guide,  benetactor, 
provider;  what  then  must  bs  the  obligations  op 

A    CHILD1? 


38 


THE   FAMILY  MONITOR. 


The  following  is  a  brief  summary  of  filial  du- 
ties : — 

1.  You  ought  to  love  your  parents. 

Love  is  the  only  state  of  mind  from  which  all  the 
other  duties  that  you  owe  them  can  arise.  By  love, 
we  mean  complacency :  and  surely  this  is  due  to  a 
father  and  mother.  The  very  relation  in  which  you 
stand  to  them  demands  this.  If  you  are  destitute  of 
this,  if  you  are  without  any  propensity  of  heart  to- 
wards them,  you  are  in  a  strange  and  guilty  state  of 
mind.  Till  you  are  married,  they  ought,  in  most 
cases,  to  be  the  supreme  objects  of  your  earthly  af- 
fections. It  is  not  enough  for  you  to  be  respectful 
and  obedient,  and  even  kind;  but,  where  there  ex- 
ists no  reasons  for  alienating  your  heart,  you  should 
be  fond  of  them.  It  is  of  infinite  importance  that 
you  should  watch  over  the  internal  state  of  your 
mind,  and  not  suffer  dislike,  alienation,  or  indiffer- 
ence, to  extinguish  your  regards.  Do  not  take  up 
a  prejudice  against  them,  nor  allow  an  unfavorable 
impression  to  be  made  upon  your  mind.  Respect 
and  obedience,  if  they  do  not  spring  from  love,  are 
valueless  in  their  nature,  and  very  precarious  in 
their  existence. 

If  you  love  them,  you  will  delight  to  be  in  their 
company,  and  take  pleasure  in  being  at  home  with 
them.  It  is  painful  to  them  to  see  that  you  are 
happier  any  where  than  at  home,  and  fonder  of 
any  other  society  than  theirs.  No  companion 
should  be  so  valued  by  you  as  a  kind  father  or 
mother. 

If  you  love  them,  you  will  strive  in  all  things  to 
please  them.  We  are  always  anxious  to  please  those 
whom  we  regard,  and  to  avoid  whatever  would  give 
them  pain.  If  we  are  careless  whether  we  please 
or  displease  any  one,  it  is  obviously  impossible  that 
we  can  have  any  affection  for  them.  The  essence 
of  piety  towards  God  is  a  deep  solicitude  to  please 
him  ;  and  the  essence  of  filial  piety,  is  a  solicitude 
to  please  your  parents.  Young  people,  dwell  upon 
this  single  simple  thought,  a  child's  pleasure 
shojld  be  to  please  his  parents.  This  is  the  es- 
sence of  love,  and  the  sum  of  all  your  duty.  If  you 
would  adopt  this  rule,  if  you  would  write  this  upon 
your  heart,  if  you  would  make  this  the  standard  of 
your  conduct,  I  might  lay  down  my  pen,  for  it  in- 
cludes every  thing  in  itself.  O  that  you  could  be 
brought  to  reason  and  to  resolve  thus: — "I  am 
bound  by  every  tie  of  God  and  man,  of  reason 
and  revelation,  of  honor  and  gratitude,  to  do  all  I 
can  to  make  my  parents  happy,  by  doing  whatever 
will  give  them  pleasure,  and  by  avoiding  whatever 
will  give  them  pain.  By  God's  help,  I  will  from 
this  hour  study  and  do  whatever  will  promote  their 
comfort.  I  will  make  my  will  to  consist  in  doing 
theirs,  and  my  earthly  happiness  to  arise  from  mak- 
ing them  happy.  I  will  sacrifice  my  own  predilec- 
tions, and  be  satisfied  with  their  choice."  Noble  re- 
sohuinn,  and  just  and  proper!  Adopt  it,  act  upon 
it,  and  you  will  never  repent  of  it.  Do  not  have 
any  earthly  happiness,  that  is  indulged  at  the  ex- 
pense of  theirs. 

If  you  love  them,  yon  will  desire  their  good  opi- 
nion. We  naturally  value  the  esteem  of  those  to 
whom  we  are  attached:  we  wish  to  be  thought 
highly  of  by  them  ;  and  if  we  are  quite  careless 
about  their  respect  for  us,  it  is  a  sure  sign  we  have 
no  regard  for  them.  Children  should  be  desirous, 
and  even  anxious  to  stand  high  in  the  opinion  of 
their  parents,  and  nothing  can  be  a  more  decisive 
proof  of  a  bad  disposition  in  a  son  or  a  daughter, 
than  their  being  quite  indifferent  what  their  parents 
think  of  them.  All  love  must  be  gone  in  such  a 
case  as  this,  and  the  youth  is  in  the  road  to  rebellion 
and  destruction:  commendation  has  lost  its  value, 
censure  its  efficacy,  and  punishment  its  power. 


2.  Reverence  is  the  next  duty. 

"Honor,"  saith  the  commandment,  "thy  father 
and  mother."  This  reverence  has  respect  to  your 
feelings,  your  words  and  your  actions.  It  consists  iu 
part,  of  an  inward  consciousness  of  their  superiori- 
ty, and  an  endeavor  to  cherish  a  reverential  frame 
cif*  mind  towards  them,  as  placed  by  God  over  you. 
There  must  be  high  thoughts  of  their  superiority, 
both  natural  and  instituted,  and  a  submission  of  th« 
heart  to  their  authority  in  a  way  of  sincere  and  pro- 
found respect.  Even  your  love  must  be  that  which 
is  exercised  and  expressed  towards  a  superior.  If 
there  be  no  reverence  of  the  heart,  it  cannot  be  ex- 
pected in  the  conduct.  In  all  virtue,  whether  it  be 
that  higher  kind  which  has  respect  to  God,  or  that 
secondary  kind,  which  relates  to  our  fellow  crea- 
tures, we  must  have  a  right  state  of  heart ;  for  with- 
out this,  virtue  does  not  exist. 

Your  words  should  correspond  with  the  reveren- 
tial feelings  of  the  heart.  When  speaking  to  them, 
your  address,  both  in  language  and  in  tones,  should 
be  modest,  submissive,  and  respectful:  not  loud, 
boisterous,  impertinent,  or  even  familiar :  for  they 
are  not  your  equals,  but  your  superiors.  If  at  any 
time  you  differ  from  them  in  opinion,  your  views 
should  be  expressed,  not  with  the  flippancy  and  per- 
tinaciousness  of  disputants,  but  with  the  meek  inqui- 
sitiveness  of  pupils.  Should  they  reprove,  and  even 
more  sharply  than  you  think  is  due,  you  must  lay 
your  hand  upon  your  mouth,  and  neither  answer 
them  again,  nor  show  resentment.  Your  reverence 
for  them  should  be  so  great,  as  to  impose  a  consider- 
able restraint  upon  your  speech  in  their  company  ; 
for  much  is  due  to  the  presence  of  a  parent.  It  is 
exceedingly  offensive  to  hear  a  pert,  clamorous, 
talkative  young  person,  unchecked  by  the  counte- 
nance of  a  father  or  mother,  and  engaging  much  of 
the  conversation  of  a  party  to  himself.  Young  per- 
sons should  always  be  modest  and  retiring  in  com- 
pany, but  more  especially  when  their  parents  are 
there.  You  should  also  be  careful  about  the  man- 
ner of  speaking  of  them  to  others.  You  should  ne- 
ver talk  of  their  faults,  for  this  is  like  Ham,  unco- 
vering the  nakedness  of  his  father.  You  must  not 
speak  of  them  in  a  jocose  or  familiar  manner,  nor 
say  any  thing  that  would  lead  others  to  think  light- 
ly, or  to  suppose  that  you  thought  lightly  of  them. — 
If  they  are  attacked  in  their  reputation,  you  are 
with  promptitude  and  firmness,  though  with  meek- 
ness, to  defend  them,  so  far  as  truth  will  allow,  and 
even  if  the  charge  be  true,  to  make  all  the  excuses 
that  veracity  will  permit,  and  to  protest  agninst  the 
cruelty  of  degrading  your  parents  in  your  presence. 
Reverence  should  extend  to  all  your  behavior  to- 
wards your  parents.  In  all  your  conduct  towards 
them,  give  them  the  greatest  honor,  let  it  be  observ- 
ed by  others  that  you  pay  them  all  possible  respect, 
and  let  it  also  be  seen  by  themselves,  when  there  is 
no  spectator  near.  Your  conduct  should  always  be 
under  restraint,  when  they  are  within  sight ;  not  the 
restraint  of  dread,  but  of  esteem.  How  would  you 
act  if  the  king  were  in  the  room  7  Would  you  be 
as  free,  as  familiar,  as  noisy,  as  when  he  had  retir- 
ed, or  before  he  had  entered  7  I  am  of  opinion,  that 
parents  let  down  their  dignity,  and  undermine  their 
authority,  by  allowing  the  same  rude  and  boisterous 
behavior  in  their  presence,  as  in  their  absence. — 
This  should  not  be.  When  reason  is  expanding  in 
children,  they  should  be  made  to  understand  and 
feel  the  truth  of  what  I  have  already  affirmed,  that 
there  is  an  outward  respect  due  to  the  very  presence 
of  a  parent.  All  rude  and  noisy  rushing  in  and 
out  of  a  father  or  mother's  company  is  unmeet. — 
It  is  the  etiquette  of  our  court,  that  no  one  shall  en- 
ter the  royal  presence,  when  the  king  is  upon  his 
throne,  without  obeisance  ;  nor  in  retiring,  turn  his 
back  upon  the  throne.    I  do  not  ask  for  the  same 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


39 


obsequiousness  in  families  but  I  ask  for  the  princi- 
ple from  which  it  arises,  g  respectful  deference  for 
authority. 

3.  The  next  duty  is  obedience. 

"  Children,  obey  your  parents,"  says  the  apostle  in 
his  epistle  to  the  Colossians.  This  is  one  of  the 
most  obvious  dictates  of  nature  ;  even  the  irrational 
creatures  are  obedient  by  instinct,  and  follow  the 
signs  of  the  parent  beast,  or  bird,  or  reptile.  Per- 
haps there  is  no  duty  more  generally  acknowledged 
than  this.  Your  obedience  should  begin  early;  the 
younger  you  are,  the  more  you  need  a  guide  and  a 
ruler.  It  should  be  universal;  "Children  obey 
your  parents,"  said  the  apostle,  "in  all  things." — 
The  only  exception  to  this,  is  when  their  commands 
are,  in  tiie  letter  or  spirit  of  them,  opposed  to  the 
commands  of  God.  la  this  case,  as  well  as  in  every 
or  her,  we  must  obey  God.  rather  than  man.  But 
even  here  your  refusal  to  comply  with  the  sinful 
injunction  of  a  parent,  must  be  uttered  in  a  meek 
and  respectful  manner,  so  that  it  shall  be  manifest 
you  are  actuated  by  pure,  conscientious  motives, 
and  not  by  a  mere  rebellious  resistance  of  parental 
authority.  Your  obedience  should  have  no  other 
exception  than  that  which  is  made  by  conscience  : 
in  your  situation,  inclination  and  taste  are  out  of 
the  question  ;  both  must  be  crossed,  opposed,  and 
set  aside  when  opposed  to  parental  authority.  It 
should  be  prompt.  As  soon  as  the  command  is  ut- 
tered, it  should  be  complied  with.  It  is  a  disgrace 
to  any  child  that  it  should  be  necessary  for  a  father 
or  a  mother  to  repeat  a  command.  You  should 
even  anticipate,  if  possible,  their  injunctions,  and 
not  wait  till  their  will  is  announced  in  words.  A 
tardy  obedience  loses  all  its  glory.  It  should  be 
cheerful.  A  reluctant  virtue  is  no  virtue  at  all. — 
Constrained  and  unwilling  obedience,  is  rebellion 
in  principle  ;  it  is  vice  clothed  in  the  garment  of  ho- 
liness. God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver,  and  so  does 
man.  A  child  retiring  from  a  parent's  presence, 
muttering,  sullen,  and  murmuring,  is  one  of  the  ug- 
liest spectacles  in  creation:  of  what  value  is  any 
thins  he  does  in  such  a  temper  as  this"?  It  should 
be  self -denying.  You  must  give  up  ycur  own  wills, 
and  sacrifice  your  own  predilections,  and  perform 
the  things  that  are  difficult,  as  well  as  those  that 
are  easy.  When  a  soldier  receives  a  command,  al- 
though iie  may  be  at  home  in  comfort,  and  he  is  re- 
quired to  go  at  once  into  the  field  of  danger,  he  he- 
sitates not,  he  considers  he  has  no  option.  A  child 
has  no  more  room  for  the  gratification  of  self-will 
than  the  soldier  has:  he  must  obey.  It  should  be 
uniform.  Filial  obedience  is  generally  rendered 
without  much  difficulty  when  the  parents  are  present, 
but  not  always  with  the  same  unreservedness,  when 
they  are  absent.  Young  people,  you  should  despise 
the  meanness,  and  abhor  the  wickedness  of  consult- 
ing the  wishes,  and  obeying  the  injunctions  of  your 
parens,  only  when  they  are  to  witness  your  con- 
duct. Such  hypocrisy  is  detestable.  Act  upon  no- 
bler principles.  Let  it  be  enough  for  you  to  know 
what  is  the  will  of  a  parent,  to  ensure  obedience, 
even  though  continents  laid,  and  oceans  rolled  be- 
tween you  and  your  father.  Carry  his  injunction 
with  you  every  where  ;  let  the  voice  of  conscience 
be  to  you,  instead  of  his  voice,  and  the  conscious- 
ness that  G)d  sees  you,  be  enousrh  to  insure  your 
immediate  compliance.  How  sublimely  simple  and 
striking  was  the  reply  of  the  child,  who,  upon  be- 
in^  pressed  in  company  to  take  something  which 
his  absent  parents  had  forbidden  him  to  touch,  and 
who,  upon  being  reminded  that  they  were  not  there 
to  witness  him,  replied,  "  very  true,  but  God  and 
my  conscience  are  here."  Be  it  your  determination 
to  imitate  this  beautiful  example  of  filial  piety,  and 
obey  in  all  things  even  your  absent  parents. 

4.  Submission    to    the    family    discipline    and 


rule  is  no  less  your  duty  than  obedience  to  com- 
mands. 

In  every  well  ordered  family,  there  is  a  rule  of 
government;  there  is  subordination,  system,  disci- 
pline, reward  and  punishment :  and  to  these,  all  the 
children  must  be  in  subjection.  Submission  requires 
that  if  at  any  time  you  have  behaved  so  as  to  ren- 
der parental  chastisement  necessary,  you  should 
take  it  patiently,  and  not  be  infuriated  by  passion, 
or  excited  to  resistance.  Remember  that  your  pa- 
rents are  commanded  by  God  to  correct  ycur  faults, 
that  they  are  actuated  by  love  in  performing  this 
self-denying  duty,  and  that  it  costs  them  more  pain 
to  inflict  it,  than  it  does  you  to  endure  it.  Ingenu- 
ously confess  your  faults,  and  submit  to  whatever 
punishment  their  authority  and  wisdom  might  ap- 
point. One  of  the  loveliest  sights  in  the  domestic 
economy,  next  to  that  of  a  uniformly  obedient  child, 
is  a  disobedient  one  brought  to  a  right  sense  of  his 
misconduct,  and  quietly  submitting  to  the  penalty 
he  has  incurred.  It  is  a  proof  both  of  strength  of 
mind,  and  of  good  disposition  of  heart,  to  say — "  I 
have  done  wrong,  and  it  is  meet  I  should  bear  chas- 
tisement." 

In  the  case  of  elder  children,  such,  for  instance, 
as  are  fourteen  and  upwards,  all  other  correction 
than  that  of  rebuke,  and  the  expression  by  language 
of  parental  displeasure,  is  of  course  out  of  the  ques- 
tion: but  where  this  is  necessary,  such  young  per- 
sons as  have  merited  it,  should  exercise  profound 
submission.  It  is  exceedingly  painful  when  a  pa- 
rent, in  addition  to  the  extreme  pain  which  it  costs 
him  to  administer  reproof  to  such  children,  has  to 
endure  the  anguish  produced  by  their  utter  indif- 
ference, smiling  contempt,  sullen  murmuring,  or 
insolent  replies.  This  conduct  is  the  more  guilty, 
because  the  authors  of  it  are  arrived  at  an  age  when 
they  may  be  supposed  to  have  advanced  so  far  in 
the  growth  of  their  understanding,  as  to  perceive 
how  deeply  laid  are  the  foundations  of  the  parental 
authority  in  nature,  reason  and  revelation,  and  how 
necessary  it  is  that  the  reins  of  parental  discipline 
should  not  be  relaxed.  If  then,  you  have  commit- 
ted one  error  in  deserving  reproof,  do  not  commit 
another  in  resenting  it.  Keep  all  still  within — let 
not  your  passions  rebel  against  your  judgment — but 
suppress  in  a  moment  the  rising  tumult  of  the  soul. 
The  conduct  of  some  children  after  reproof,  is  a 
deeper  wound  on  the  heart  of  a  parent,  than  that 
which  preceded  and  deserved  reproof.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  know  not  a  greater  mark  of  nobleness  of 
mind,  nor  any  thing  which  tends  to  raise  a  young 
person  higher  in  the  esteem  of  a  parent,  or  to  en- 
dear him  more  to  a  father's  heart,  than  a  humble 
submission  to  reproof,  and  an  ingenuous  confession 
of  his  fault.  A  friend  of  mine  had  a  son,  long  since 
gone  to  join  the  immortals,  who,  having  one  day 
displeased  his  father  before  his  younger  brothers 
and  sisters,  not  only  meekly  submitted  to  parental 
rebuke,  but  when  the  family  were  assembled  at  the 
dinner  table,  rose  before  them  all,  and  after  having 
confessed  his  fault  and  craved  his  father's  forgive- 
ness, admonished  the  junior  branches  of  the  family 
to  take  warning  by  his  example,  and  be  cautious 
never  to  distress  their  parents,  whom  they  were  un- 
der such  obligations  to  love  and  respect.  Nothing 
could  be  more  lovely  or  more  impressive  than  this 
noble  act.  Tie  rose  by  his  apology  to  a  higher  place 
in  the  regard  and  esteem  of  his  parents  and  the  fa- 
mily, than  he  occupied  even  before  his  fault.  Sul- 
lenness,  impertinence,  and  obstinate  resistance,  are 
meanness,  cowardice,  littleness, compared  with  such 
an  action  as  this,  which  combines  an  heroic  mag- 
nanimity with  the  profoundest  humility. 

Subjection  requires  also,  a  due  observance  of  the 
rules  laid  dovrn  for  the  maintenance  of  family  order. 
In  every  well  ordered  family,  things  are  not  left  to 


40 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


chance,  but  regulated  by  fixed  laws  ;  there  is  a  time 
for  every  thing  and  every  thing  in  iis  time  ;  a  place 
for  every  thing  and  every  thing  in  its  place.  Meals, 
prayer,  going  to  bed,  and  rising  in  the  morning,  are 
all  in  their  appointed  season.  To  these  rules  it  is 
the  obvious  duty  of  every  branch  of  the  family  to 
submit.  The  sons  and  daughters  may  be  growing 
up,  or  arrived  at  full  age;  this  matters  not,  they 
must  submit  to  the  law  of  the  house,  and  their  age 
is  an  additional  reason  for  their  submission,  as  it 
supposes  a  maturity  of  judgment,  which  enables 
them  to  perceive  more  clearly  the  grounds  of  all 
moral  obligation.  They  may  think  the  rules  too 
strict;  but  if  the  parent  has  enacted  them,  they 
should  be  in  subjection,  and  that  as  long  as  they 
continue  members  of  the  little  community,  though 
it  be  almost  to  old  age.  It  is  for  the  parents  to  de- 
cide also  what  visiters  shall  be  brought  to  the  house ; 
and  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  unbecoming  for  a 
child  to  introduce,  or  even  wish  or  attempt  to  intro- 
duce, any  companion  contrary  to  the  known  will  of 
a  parent.  The  same  remark  will  apply  to  recrea- 
tions; parents  must  determine  this  point:  and  no 
child  that  has  the  proper  feelings  of  a  child,  would 
desire  to  set  up  any  amusements  that  the  taste,  and 
especially  that  the  conscience  of  a  father  or  mother 
forbids.  Instances  have  occurred  of  young  people 
inviting  such  friends,  and  joining  with  them  in  such 
diversions,  in  the  absence  of  their  parents,  as  they 
know  to  be  decidedly  contrary  to  the  law  of  the  house. 
This  is  such  an  act  of  base  and  wicked  rebellion 
against  parental  authority,  and  such  an  unprinci- 
pled disregard  to  parental  comfort,  as  language  is 
too  weak  to  characterize.  Even  the  books  which 
are  brought  into  the  house  must  be  in  accordance 
with  the"  domestic  rule.  If  the  parent  forbid  the 
introduction  of  novels,  romances,  or  any  other 
books,  a  child  in  most  cases  should  forego  his  own 
predilections,  and  yield  to  an  authority  which  he 
cannot  resist  without  opposing  the  institute  of  na- 
ture and  religion. 
5.  It  is  the  duty  of  children  to  consult  their 

PARENTS. 

They  are  the  guides  of  your  youth,  your  natural 
counsellors,  the  family  oracle,  which  you  are  ever 
to  consult,  and  the  responses  of  which  are  to  be  re- 
ceived with  pious  reverence.  Even  if  you  have  just 
reason  to  suspect  the  solidity  and  penetration  of 
their  judgment,  it  is  due  to  the  relation  in  which 
you  stand  to  them,  to  undertake  nothing  without 
laying  the  matter  before  them,  and  obtaining  their 
opinion.  How  much  more  ready  should  you  be  to 
do  this,  where  you  have  every  reason  to  confide  in 
their  wisdom.  You  are  young  and  inexperienced; 
the  path  of  life  is,  in  a  considerable  degree,  untrod- 
den by  you,  and  contingencies  are  perpetually  aris- 
ing, which  you  have  yet  acquired  no  experience  to 
understand,"  and  to  turn  to  account.  They  have 
travelled  the  road,  and  know  its  turnings,  its  dan- 
gers, and  its  difficulties.  Go  to  your  parents,  then, 
with  every  affair;  consult  them  on  the  subject  of 
compnnions,  books,  recreations.  Let  a  father's  and 
a  mother's  ear  be  the  receptacle  of  all  your  cares. — 
Have  no  secrets  which  you  conceal  from  them. — 
Especially  consult  with  them  on  the  subjects  of  trade 
and  marriage.  On  the  former,  you  perhaps  need 
their  pecuniary  assistance,  and  how  can  you  ex- 
pect this  if  you  take  not  their  advice,  as  to  the  best 
way  of  employing  their  property.  As  to  marriage, 
I  need  not  repeat  at  anv  length  what  I  have  already 
said  on  this  subject.  The  Scripture  has  furnished 
us  with  many  fine  instances  of  the  deference  paid, 
in  patriarchal  times,  by  children  to  their  parents. — 
Isaac  and  Jacob  both  appear  to  have  left  the  selec- 
tion of  their  wives  to  their  parents.  Ruth,  though 
a  daughter-in-law,  was  willing  to  be  guided  entirely 
by  Naomi.    Ishmael  asked  his  mother's  advice,  and 


Sampson  moved  for  his  parents'  consent.  The  sim- 
plicity of  that  age  has  departed,  and  in  the  advance 
of  society,  more  of  the  power  of  selection  now  vests 
in  the  children ;  but  it  should  not  be  exercised  in- 
dependently of  parental  advice.  An  old  divine  said 
thus  to  his  sons:  "When  you  are  youths,  choose 
your  callings,  when  men,  choose  your  wives,  only 
take  me  along  with  you :  it  may  be,  old  men  see 
farther  than  you."  Another  ancient  writer  has  this 
remark:  "It  may  be  considered,  that  parents,  who 
brought  forth  and  bred  up  their  children,  should  by 
no  means  be  bereft  of  them  without  their  consent ; 
and  since  they  are  so  much  their  goods  and  posses- 
sions, it  were  a  kind  of  purloining  to  give  them- 
selves away  without  their  parents'  leave."  And  on 
this  subject*,  a  heathen  may  teach  many  who  pro- 
fess to  be  Christians  ;  for  Cyrus,  on  being  invited 
to  form  a  connection  with  a  particular  individual, 
replied,  "  I  like  the  lady,  her  dowry,  and  family 
but  I  must  have  these  agree  with  my  parents'  will, 
and  then  I  will  marry  her." 

6.  Imitate  the  good  example  of  your  parents. 

I  say  their  good  example,  for  if  they  unhappily  set 
you  a  bad  one,  it  is  at  the  peril  of  your  soul  that  you 
follow  it.  It  was  a  noble  answer  which  Frederick 
IV.,  Elector  Palatine  of  the  Rhine,  returned  to  the 
prince,  who  advised  him  to  follow  the  example  of 
his  father  Lewis  : — "  In  the  business  of  religion  we 
must  follow  the  example  of  parents  and  ancestors, 
only  so  far  as  they  are  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God." 
Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  when  he  came  to  the 
throne  of  Imperial  Rome,  publicly  expressed  his  de- 
termination not  to  follow  the  usual  conduct  of  the 
Caesars,  but  to  act  as  a  disciple  of  the  pious  Anto- 
nine,  and  to  act,  and  speak,  and  think,  as  his  foster 
father  did.  Survey  the  conduct  of  your  parents; 
let  their  failings  be  thrown  back  in  shadow,  their 
excellences  brought  out  in  full  relief.  Where  they 
are  truly  pious,  be  followers  of  their  religious  cha- 
racter. You  bear  the  likeness  of  their  bodies,  re- 
ceive also  the  impress  of  their  minds.  Seek  to  catch 
the  family  feature  of  their  piety.  A  wicked  child 
of  godly  parents,  is  the  most  awful  character  upon 
earth.  With  what  horror  do  I  look  upon  such  an 
one  !  That  he  should  swear,  who  was  taught  to 
pray !  That  he  should  violate  the  Sabbath,  who  was 
led  up,  from  his  infantine  days,  to  the  house  of  God  ! 
That  he  should  despise  religion,  who  has  ever  ^een 
its  beautiful  form,  in  the  example  of  a  godly  father, 
and  a  pious  mother  !  That  he  should  be  a  friend  of 
profane  and  unclean  persons,  who  from  a  child  has 
been  the  companion  of  saints  !  Shocking  spectacle! 
But  even  where  there  may  be  no  actual  irreligion, 
there  is  oftentimes  a  want  of  true  religion  :  and 
this  also,  is  distressing.  What  an  aggravation  is  it 
to  the  sin  of  being  without  piety,  to  have  lived  all 
the  earlier  part  of  life,  with  an  example  of  true  god- 
liness before  our  eyes  !  This  is  a  dreadful  and  ac 
tual  resistance  of  the  most  alluring  means  which 
heaven  ever  employs  for  the  conversion  of  a  sinner. 
It  is  a  resolute  determination  to  neglect  and  forget 
religion,  in  spite  of  an  interesting  and  powerful  me- 
morial of  it  constantly  before  our  eyes.  What  a 
meeting  will  such  children  have  with  their  parents 
at  the  last  day  ! 

7.  The  last  duty  I  shall  mention,  is  kindness. 

This  should  extend  through  the  whole  of  your  de- 
portment, but  there  are  several  cases  in  which  it 
will  have  a  more  enlarged  opportunity  for  display- 
ing its  beauty,  and  exerting  its  energy. 

When  parents  are  greatly  inferior  in  talents  and 
acquirements,  it  is  a  fine  occasion  for  the  exercise  of 
filial  piety.  We  know  instances  in  which  the  fa- 
ther and  mother  are  lamentably  deficient,  not  only 
in  information,  but  in  judgment :  their  weakness  is 
manifest  to  all,  anil  cannot  be  concealed  from  their 
family ;  by  whom,  indeed,  the  sad  effects  of  thei.: 


THE  FAMILY  MONITOR. 


41 


imbecility,  are  daily  felt  and  deplored.  Here  then 
is  an  opportunity  lor  a  display  of  noble  and  exalted 
kindness,  on  the  part  of  children.  Young  people,  if 
you  are  placed  in  such  circumstances,  endeavor  con- 
stantly to  remember,  that  notwithstanding  all  their 
weakness,  they  are  your  parents  still,  and  hold  a 
parent's  claim.  Never,  never,  taunt  them  with  their 
defects,  for  this  is  cruelty  in  the  extreme;  but  on 
the  contrary,  strive  to  the  uttermost  to  prevent  them 
from  suffering  any  painful  consciousness  of  their 
inferiority.  Do  not  laugh  at  their  mistakes,  nor 
ever  suffer  yourselves  so  to  expose  or  to  correct 
ibem,  as  to  wound  their  feelings.  If  they  are  obsti- 
nate, yield  to  them;  if  irritable,  bear  with  them: 
and  when  they  show  their  incapacity  for  governing 
with  wisdom,  instead  of  snatching  the  sceptre  frcm 
their  hand,  insensibly  assist  them  to  wield  it  with 
greater  propriety.  It  is  a  beautiful  sight,  to  behold 
a  fine,  intelligent,  strong-minded  son  or  daughter, 
straining  every  nerve,  and  employing  every  faculty, 
to  endure  and  conceal  the  faults  of  such  a  parent, 
and  to  throw  an  air  of  respectability  over  one,  that 
has  no  respectability  of  his  own. 

"  There  is  often,  especially  in  the  middle  classes 
of  life,  as  great  a  difference  of  mental  culture  in  the 
parents  and  the  child,  as  if  they  had  lived  at  the 
distance  of  many  centuries.  The  wealth  that  has 
been  acquired  by  patient  industry,  or  some  fortunate 
adventure,  may  be  employed  in  diffusing  all  the  re- 
finements of  science  and  literature  to  the  children 
of  those  to  whom  the  very  words,  science  and  litera- 
ture, are  words  of  which  they  would  scarcely  be 
able,  even  with  the  help  of  a  dictionary,  to  under- 
stand the  meaning.  In  a  rank  of  life  still  lower, 
there  are  not  wanting  many  meritorious  individuals, 
who,  uninstructed  themselves,  labor  indefatigably 
to  obtain  the  means  of  liberal  instruction  for  one, 
whose  wisdom  in  after  years,  when  he  is  to  astonish 
the  village,  may  gratify  at  once  their  ambition  and 
love.  It  would  indeed,  be  painful  to  think,  that  any 
one,  whose  superiority  of  knowledge  has  cost  his 
parents  so  much  fatigue,  and  so  many  privations  of 
comforts,  which,  but  for  the  expense  of  themeans 
of  his  acquired  superiority,  they  might  have  enjoy- 
ed, should  turn  against  them,  in  his  own  mind,  the 
acquirements  which  were  to  them  of  so  costly  a  pur- 
chase, despising  them  for  the  very  ignorance  which 
gave  greater  merit  to  their  sacrifice,  and  proud  of  a 
wisdom  far  less  noble,  when  it  can  thus  feel  con- 
tempt, than  the  humble  ignorance  which  it  despises." 

Kindness  will  show  itself  in  generous  attention  to 
poor  parents.  In  the  revolutions  of  this  world,  and 
by  the  vicissitudes  of  human  affairs,  many  children 
have  left  their  parents  behind  them  in  the  humble 
vale  df  poverty  :  and  some  have  lost  their  filial  piety 
in  the  ascent.  Few  more  shocking  scenes  can  be 
presented  to  a  feeling  mind,  than  a  rich  son  or 
daughter  ashamed  of,  and  unkind  to,  his  pour  fa- 
ther or  mother.  Such  wretches  deserve  'he  fate  of 
the  proud  monarch  of  Babylon,  and  would  have  no 
more  than  their  desert  if  they  were  driven  from  the 
company  of  men  to  herd  with  beasts,  to  which  they 
are  more  allied  in  disposition  than  to  human  be- 
ings. How  beautiful  a  scene,  the  very  opposite  of 
that  which  I  have  just  considered,  was  exhibited  in 
the  palace  of  Pharaoh,  wiien  Joseph,  then  the  prime 
minister  of  the  state,  led  in  a  poor  old  shepherd  to 
the  presence  of  the  kins;,  and  before  all  the  lords  of 
the  Egypiian  court,  introduced  the  decrepid  and 
care  worn  pilgrim  as  his  father.  Who,  after  look- 
ing at  this,  will  ever  be  ashamed  of  a  parent  because 
he  is  clad  in  the  garb  of  poverty.  "What  a  halo  of 
glory  did  that  one  act  draw  round  the  honored  brow 
of  Joseph  :  the  lustre  of  the  golden  chain  that  hung 
from  his  neck  was  dim  compared  with  the  biiyht- 
ness  of  this  action,  and  the  chariot  in  which  he  rode 
with  almost  imperial  pomp  before  the  people,  raised 


him  not  to  so  high  an  eminence,  as  that  which  he 
occupied,  when  he  stood  before  the  monarch  with 
the  patriarch  of  Canaan  leaning  on  his  arm.  Never 
be  ashamed  of  your  parents  then,  because  of  their 
poverty. 

Let  your  kindness  operate  in  the  way  of  affording 
them  alt  things  necessary  for  their  comjort.  The  au- 
thor of  the  .lEneid  has  denominated  his  hero  the 
pious  ./Eneas,  because  of  the  heroic  manner  in 
which  he  bote  his  decrepid  lather  from  the  flames 
of  Troy.  Two  inhabitants  of  Sicily  obtained  a  ce- 
lebrity in  ancient  story  for  their  kindness  to  their 
aged  parents  in  carrying  them  upon  their  shoulders 
from  an  eruption  of  Mount  iElna. 

We  have  another  instance  of  modern  times.  Mr. 
Robert  Tillotson  went  up  to  London  on  a  visit  to 
his  son,  then  Dean  of  Canterbury,  and  being  in  the 
dress  of  a  plain  countryman  was  insulted  by  one  of 
the  Dean's  servants  for  inquiring  if  John  Tillotson 
was  at  home.  His  person  however,  being  described 
to  the  Dean,  he  immediately  exclaimed,  "  It  is  my 
worthy  lather ;"  and  running  down  to  the  door  to 
receive  him,  he  fell  down  upon  his  knees,  in  the 
presence  of  his  servants,  to  ask  his  father's  blessing. 

And  how  has  the  poet,  the  historian  and  the  paint- 
er, loved  to  exhibit  that  beautiful  picture  of  filial 
piety,  first  given  by  Pliny,  of  a  daughter,  who,  when 
her  mother  was  condemned  to  be  starved  to  death, 
obtained  leave  from  the  keeper  to  visit  the  prison 
daily,  and  there  nourished  her  parent  from  her  own 
breast.  A  similar  occurrence  took  place  afterwards, 
in  which  a  daughter  nourished  her  father  in  the 
same  manner ;  the  action  was  considered  so  strik- 
ing, that  it  obtained  the  honorable  appellation  of 
The  Roman  charity.  The  senate  decreed  that  the 
father  should  be  restored  to  his  child,  and  that  on 
the  spot  where  the  prison  stood,  a  temple  should  be 
erected  to  Filial  Piety. 

There  are  however  few  instances  of  more  touch- 
ing kindness  t"  parents,  than  that  mentioned  by  Mr. 
Bruce  in  his  Juvenile  Anecdotes. 

"  An  officer,  having  remained  some  time  at  King- 
ston, in  Surrey,  lor  the  purpose  of  raising  recruits, 
received  orders  to  join  his  regiment.  On  the  even- 
ing before  his  departure,  a  young  man  of  the  most 
engaging  aspect  made  his  appearance,  und  desired 
to  be  enlisted  into  his  company.  His  air  at  once 
indicated  a  well  cultivated  mind,  and  commanded 
respect. 

"  He  betrayed,  however,  evident  marks  of  pertur- 
bation, and  was  greatly  embarrassed  ;  the  officer 
asked  the  cause  of  it :  'I  tremble,'  said  lie,  '  lest  you 
should  deny  my  request.'  Whilst  he  was  speaking, 
the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  'No,'  answered 
the  officer,  '  I  accept  your  offer  most  heartily;  but 
why  should  you  imag.ne  a  refusal  V  '  Because  the 
bounty  which  I  expect  may  perhaps  be  too  high.' — 
'  How  much  then  do  you  demand  V  said  the  officer. 
'  It  is  no  unworthy  motive,  but  an  urgent  claim  that 
compels  me  to  ask  ten  guineas;  and  1  shall  be  the 
most  miserable  of  mankind  it' you  refuse  me.'  '  Ten 
guineas!'  said  the  officer,  'that  indeed  is  very  high  ; 
but  I  am  pleased  with  you  :  I  trust  to  your  honor  for 
the  discharge  of  your  duty,  and  will  strike  the  bar- 
gain at  once.  Here  are  ten  guineas;  to-morrow 
we  depart.' 

"  The  young  man,  overwhelmed  with  joy,  begged 
permission  to  return  home,  to  perform  a  sacred  duly, 
and  promised  to  be  back  within  an  hour.  The  offi- 
cer, impressed  by  the  honesty  of  his  countenance, 
yielded  to  his  desire  ;  but  observing  something  mys- 
terious in  his  manner,  he  was  induced,  by  curiosity, 
to  follow  him  at  some  distance.  He  saw  him  has- 
tening towards  the  town  prison,  where  he  knocked 
and  was  admitted.  The  officer  quickened  his  pace: 
and  when  he  came  to  the  door  of  the  prison,  he  over- 
heard the  young  man  say  to  the  jailer  :  '  Here  is  the 


42 


THi:    FAMILY  MO  NIT  I)  11. 


money  for  winch  my  father  is  imprisoned;  I  put  it 
into  your  bands,  ana  I  request  you  will  conduct  me 
to  him  immediately  that  I  may  release  bim  from  his 
misery.'    The  jailer  did  as  he  requested. 

"  The  officer  delayed  a  few  minutes,  that  the 
young  man  might  have  bo  opportunity  of  being 
alone  with  bis  father;  h<'  then  followed  him. — 
What  a  scene  I  he  saw  the  son  in  the  at  ms  ni  n  vc 
nerable  and  aged  father,  who,  without  uttering  a 
word,  pressed  bim  to  his  heart,  and  bedewed  him 
with  tears.  A  few  minutes  passed  before  be  observ- 
ed the  officer,  who,  deeply  affected,  approached 
them,  and  said  to  the  old  man,  '  Compose  yourself; 
I  will  not  deprive  vou  of  so  worthy  a  son.  Permit 
me  to  restore  him  to  you,  that  I  may  not  regret  the 

money  wlneh  he  has  employed  in  so  virtuous  a 
manner.' 

"  The  lather  and  son  fell  upon  their  knees  at  his 

feet  The  young  man  refused,  at  first,  to  accept  of 
In  .  proffered  freedom  ;  but  the  worthy  officer  insist- 
ed thai  he  should  remain  with  his  lather.  He  ac- 
companied  them  both  from  the  prison,  anil  look  Ins 

Leave  with  the  pleasing  reflection  of  having  contri- 
buted to  tin-  happiness  of  a  worthy  son  ami  an  on- 
fortunate  father  " 

What  mind  is  not   enamored,  what    heart    is  not 

ni  i  led,  by  such  touching  instances  of  filial  kind- 

Aed  what  child  is  nol  ready  t>>  exclaim, 

"  0  my  father,  my  mother,  1  will  share  with  you 

ray  last  crust,  and    feel    at    once,  both   honored  and 

happy,  to  return  upon  you  in  your  old  age,  the  kind- 
ness you  bestowed  upon  me  in  my  youth,  my  child- 
hood and  infancy." 

Kindness  will  manifest  itself  by  afftclionate  atten- 
tion and  lundtt  suui/xi/hi/,  in  their  sickness,    I  do  not 

know  wle-re  m  all  our  world,  to  find  a  lovelier,  ho- 
lier, sweeter  scene,  than   that  of  a  pious  and  alfee- 

tionai  ter,  devoting  her  time,  and  strength, 

md  oventive  assiduities  to  the  comfort  of  a  mother 
or  a  father,  confined  for  years  to  the  room  and  the 

bed  <^'  sickness.     Such  children  I  have  known,  and 

ineffablj  admired:  who  at  an  age  when  there  is 
usually  a  I  i  te  and  capacity  for  the  pleasures  of  so- 
ciety, nave  abstracted  themselves  from  all  company, 
to  be  tl  in,  and  almost  sole  companion  or 

thai  dear  sufferer,  to  alleviate  whose  sorrows,  was 
then  nulv  happiness.  Scarcely  have  they  permit 
ted  thetnsi  Ive  to  walk  abroad  and  enjoy  the  scenes 
o\  nature,  even  to  recruit  then-  wasting  strength 
and  prepare  for  fresh  activities  m  the  sick  cham- 
ber, lest  m  their  absence  a  pang  should  be  felt  which 

none  could  so  well  mitigate  as  they,  Or  B  want  en- 
dured which  they  could  best  supplv.  I  knew  one 
such,  who,  had  a  side  lather  lived  much  longer, 
would  have  preceded  him  to  the   grave,  and   died   a 

martyr  to  filial  piety.  Nothing  could  ever  tempt 
her  away  from  his  side  by  day,  and  nol  often  did  a 
night  pass  without  her  stealing  quietly  to  his  chain- 

b   i  door,  at  which,  Unconscious  Of  tin*   frost   which 

was  assailing  her  delicate  frame,  she  stood  listen- 
ing to  ascertain  if  all  was  still,  not  daring  to  enter, 
lest  she  should  disturb  that  slumber  which   perhaps 

be  was  enjoying,  l  remember  in  another  ease,  vi- 
siting a  cottage,  in  which  a  sick  man  lav  dying, 
who  had  been  long  ill;  his  wife  was  ministering  to 
his  comfort,  and  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  there 
waa  a  girl  of  twelve  years  of  age  busily  employed 
at  her  needle.  On  my  asking  how  they  were  sup- 
ported m  their  affliction,  the  mother  replied,  "pun 
cipally,  sir,  by  that  child's  work:  she  is  op  every 
morning  at  four  o'clock,  and  is  diligently  employed 

till  late  at  night  ;  she  cheerfullv  bears  all  this  labor, 

and  (fives  us  produi  c  to  sustain  us."    Young  people, 

read  and  ponder  these  interesting  details,  and  imi- 
tate these  beautiful  examples.  Put  forth  all  your 
tenderness,  shrink  from  in.  self-denial,  endure,  not 
only  without  murmuring  but  with  cheerfulness,  any 


BBCrificeS  to  Comfort  a  sicll  parent.     Aspire  to  the  ch  i- 

racier  ol  being  a  ministering  angel  toa  fatheror  mo- 
ther. Let  them  sec  that  you  account  it  no  hardship, 
but  a  felicity  to  wail  upon  them.  It  is  in  your  pow- 
er to  alleviate  or  aggravate  to  .m  inconceivable  de- 
gree their  Sufferings,  according  as  yOU  are  kind  or 
unkind.  Covet  the  testimony  which  inanv  a  one 
has  received,  when  the  sufferer  has  said  With  tears 
ill  her  eyes,  "ilia:  dear  child  is  my  companion,  my 

friend,  my  nurse, and  nil  my  earthly  deligltt.     O 

what  is  the  concord  of  sweet  sounds  at  the  concert. 
what  (he  gay  and  glittering  attractions  of  the  ball 
room,  what  the  dazzling  scenes  of  the  theatre,  ot- 
to come  to  mote  I  .wful  enjoyments,  what  the  exhi- 
laration of  the  public  meeting,  compared  with  the 
consciousness  of  having  smoothed  the  bed  of  sick- 
ness, and  alleviated  (he  sufferings  of  disease,  for 
an  afflicted  parent.  If  the  conscience  of  anv  that 
shall  read  these  pages  shall  reproach  them  lor  ne- 
glect j  if  they  know  that  they  have  heard  their  pa- 
rents mildly  reprove  them  tor  their  wanl  ot 'sympa- 
thy, let  them  consider  w  hat  must  be  the  anguish  of 
those  parents'  hearts,  who  have  to  say  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  (heir  soul,  to  their  0WH  children,  "  Is  it  no- 
thing to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by,  come  see  ifthere  was 

ever  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow,"  and  who,  disap- 
pointed in  the  hope  of  icndei  ness  from  their  own  oil- 
spring,  turn  for  help  to  their  neighbors;  and  taking 
up  the  piteOUS  complaint  of  Job,  say,  "  Pity  me,  pity 

me,Omy  friends,  for  the  hand  of  God  hath  touched 
me."  Unfeeling  youth,  your  neglect  will  one  day  find 

you  out,  and  at  sonic  future  tune  may  be,  perhaps, 
returned  upon  you,  by  the  cruel  conduct  of  your 
own  children. 

Kindness  will  often  be  put  to  a  severe  test,  hi/  (he 

bad  temper  or  the  stern  mnl  t iiriDi ii ;>.i I  government 

of  parents.      It    is   difficult,   !    know,  to  be    kind    (o 

those  who  are  unkind  to  us :  but  it  is  our  duty  in  all 

Cases, much  more  toa  parent.     N'lthimr  must  allow 

you  to  be  otherwise  than  the  dutiful,  affectionate 
child.    No  ebullitions  of  passion,  no  manifestation 

Of  unreasonable  discontent,  no  caprice,  no  unmerit- 
ed   reproach   on    their   part,  should    throw   vou    off 

your  guard,  it  may  be  sometimes  necessary  to  re- 
monstrate, hut  never  can  be  proper  (o  return  railing 
for  railing,  Kindness  may  o\o  more,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, i(>  soften  and  remove  the  evil,  than  an- 
gry    resistance; — "A    soft     answer    lurnelh    away 

u  rath." 

"  Lovely  as  virtue  is,"  says  Dr.  Brown,  "  in  all 
its  forms,  there  is  no  form  in  which  il  is  more  love- 
ly, than  in  this  tender  ministry  of  offices  of  kind- 
ness ;  where  the  kindness,  peihaps,  is  scarcely  felt, 
or  considered  less  as  kindness,  than  as  the  duly 
which  might  have  been  fairly  demanded,  and  which 

there  is  no  merit,  therefore,  in  having  paid.  Though 
we  have  often  the  gratification  of  seeing,  in  the 
progress  of  life,  many  beautiful  examples  of  age, 
that  is  not  more  venerable  tor  its  past  virtues,  than 

amiable,  with  a  lasting  and  still  increasing  gentle- 
ness, which  softens  the  veneration  indeed,  but  aug- 
ments it  even  while  il  softens  it,  it   is  not  always 

thai  the  last  years  of  life  present  lo  us  this  delight- 
ful ,  ispeel  ;  and  when  the  temper  is,  in  these  last 
years,   unfortunately    clouded, — when    there    is    no 

smile  of  kindness  in  the  faded  eye,  that  grows  bright 
again  for  moments  only  when  there  is  fretfulness 

in  (he  heart,— when  the  voice  that  is  feeble,  only  in 

the  utterance  of  grateful  regard,  is  still  sometimes 
loud  with  tones  of  a  very  different  expression,    the 

kindness,  which,  in  ns  unremittin";  attention,  never 
shows  by  a  word  or  look,  tin-  sadness  that  is  fell  on 

these  undeserved  reproaches,  and  that  regards  them 

only  as  proofs  of  a  weakness  (hat  requires  s:ill  more 
to  be  comforted,  is  a  kindness  which  virtue  alone 
can  inspire  and  animate,  but  which,  m  the  bosom 
that  is  capable  i^f  it,  virtue  must  already  have  well 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


4,? 


rewarded.  How  delightful  is  the  spectacle,  when 
amid  all  the  temptations  of  youth  and  beauty,  we 
witness  some  gentle  heart,  thai  fives  to  the  oouch 
of  the  feeble,  and  perhaps,  of  the  thankless  sad  re- 
pining, those  hours,  which  others  find  too  short  tat 
the  successive  gaieties  with  which  an  evening  can 
be  filled,  and  thai  prefers  to  the  smile  of  anirersal 
admiration,  the  single  smile  of  enjoyment,  which, 
after  many  vain  efforts,  has  ai  last  been  kindled  on 
one  solitai  y  cheek  !" 

Another  circumstance  remains  to  be  mentioned, 
which  will  render  if  extremely  difficult,  sometimes, 
it>  be  al  once  obedienl  to  Qod,  and  to  your  parent ; 
difficult  to  manifest  all  the  kindness  which  they 
may  expect,  add  ai  the  same  time,  to  regard  the 
dii  i  es  of  conscience;  I  mean,  where  the  children 
are  pious,  and  the  parents  ore  still  m  an  unconverttd 
statu.  Tins  is  no  uncommon  case,  and  always  a 
try  ins  one  wherever  it  oecurs.  Those  who  are 
placed  in  such  s  situation,  need  much  wisdom  and 
much  grace  to  conduct  themselves  with  propriety, 
st>  as  to  give  no  unnecessary  pain  to  their  parents; 
and  yel  al  the  same  time,  to  maintain  their  consist- 
ent j  i  •  I  Ihristians.  To  young  persona  in  such  cir. 
cumstances,  I  say,  lei  there  be  deep  and  unaffected 
humility,  no  spiritual  pride,  no  apparent  conscious- 
ness of  mmai  superiority,  no  saying,  " stand  by,  I 
am  holier  than  thou  -,"  nothing  approaching  in  the 
moat  distant  mannei  to  contempt  of  your  parents, 
on  account  of  their  state.  When  ii  is  nece  Bnry. 
as  it  sometimes  may  be,  to  oppose  then-  wishes,  and 
refuse  their  requests,  because  they  interfere  with 
your  duty  to  Qod,  lei  your  dissent  not  assume  the 
shape  of  disobedience  to  them,  Let  ii  be  expressed 
in  a  mild  and  respectful  manner,  and  be  made  ob- 
viously If  appear  In  be    the    resnll    of  eom.eienl  inns 

motives,  and  not  of  caprice,  or  any  wani  of  righl 
feeling  towards  them.  In  ail  other  things,  in  n  hich 
religion  is  noi  concerned,  let  there  be  additional  ef 

fori  and  ingenuity  to  please  them,  30  thai    ihcv   may 

have  nothing  against  you,  bui  as  touching  the  law 
of  your  Qod,  it  may  be  sometimes  necessary  for 
vim  to  expression  solicitude  which  you  ought  al 
to  feel  for  their  spiritual  welfare;  you  must 
then  be  careful  to  avoid  the  appearand  of  dictation, 
lecturing,  and  reproach,  and  address  yourselves  to 

them    in    a    I Die    and    prudent     manner.       Ynti 

should  put  suitable  books  in  their  way,  and  if  they 
are  noi  in  the  habit  of  hearing  the  gospel  preached, 
you  m  n  invite  l hem  to  hear  the  joyful  Bound 
Wnli  ail  t his,  you  musi  take  especial  pains,  thai 
your  own  n  ligion  may  be  consistent  and  practical; 
visible  in  all  your  conduct,  and  more  particularly 
conspicuou  ,  in  the  kind,  and  tender,  and  dutiful 
manner,  in  which  you  discharge  your  obligations 
to  them 

Sin  1 1  is  a  compendium  of  filial  tin  ties,  i  ,ei  child- 
ren res  I  them,  study  them,  sincerely  desire  to  per- 
form them,  and  pray  to  Almighty  Qod  for  the  grace 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  toaasisi  then  in  discharging 
their  obligations, 

Many  md  cogenl  motivbs  may  be  brought  for- 
ward lo  enforce  the  performance  of  these  duties. 

Observe  the  maimer  in  which  thru  are  enjoined  in 
Scripture,  Perhaps  there  are  tew  brauches  of 
moral  obligation,  more  frequently  alluded  to,  or 
more  variously  enjoined,  than  thai  of  filial  piety. 
The  lives  of  the  pan  iar<  hs  from  the  beginning  of 
the  world,  are  bo  drawn  up,  i  to  n nihil  and  i e- 
c  imniend  this  virtue.     It  is  commanded  in  one  of 

the  pr< ptsofthe  moral  law.     By  the  Mosaic  law, 

stubborn  dis  ihedience  lo  parental  authority,  was 
punished  with  death.  The  book  oi  Proverbs  con 
tains  almost  innumerable  apothegms  on  this  sub 
jeei.  The  prophets  very  frequently  allude  to  it; 
and  Jeremiah,  in  the  history  oi  the  Rechabites,  'n.\'. 
i  very  extraordinary  instance  of  beredi 


tary  filial  obedienoe.  perpetuated  through  a  period, 
which  m  the  time  or  thai  prophet,  had  lasted  three 
centuries;  and  which  was  rewarded  by  the  follow- 
ing testimony    and    promise   of  the   Lord:     "  Thu? 

sniili  Jehovah  of  Hosts,  the  God  of  Israel;  because 
ye  have  obeyed  the  commandment  of  Jonadab,  your 

lather,  and  kept  all  his  precepts,  ami  done  accord- 
ing to  all  thai  he  hath  commanded  yon  ;   therefore, 

thus   sailh    Jehovah    of    Hosts,   thelJod    of    Lia-d, 

Jonadab,  the  son  of  Elechab,  shall  not  want  a  man 
to  stand  before  me  lor  ever."  If  we  come  forward 
to  the  New  Testament,  we  find  ii  again  and  again 
brought  into  view.  We  see  n  embodied  and  en 
forced  in  the  example  of  Christ;   of  whom  it  i* 

said,  Jesus  weni    down    and    was  SUOJeCl    unio   lus 

patents.  x*es,  in  the  matchless  constellation  of 
perfect  moral  excellences  thai  formed  ins  chat  ic 
tor,  and  are  presented  for  our  admiration  and  i mi- 

lalloli,  one  brighl  and  heauleous  star  is    filial    piety 

Fix.  young  people,  your  eye  upon  thai  star,  so 
mildly  beaming,  and  so  radiantly  shining,  as  an 

example  for  you.      Thai   w  oiulei Till  pel  .oiei-e,  (  ion 

ma  Kir  est  in  the  ri.K.su,  was  subject,  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  to  his  parents,  til]  al  the  age  of  thirty, 
he  entered  upon  his  public  ministi  v ;   ami  those  pa 

rents,  he  it   I  fine  mhei  t  d     were  fl    poor  hut    pioii  .  eoli 

pie,  who  earned  their  daily  bread  by  the  sweai  of 
l heir  brow,  With  them  he  dwelt  m  their  humble 
abode,  and  labored,  in  all  probability,  Cor  then  sup 
port.    And  even  amidst  the  agonies  of  the  cross, 

neither    his    own    pei.oual    sufferings,  nor    I  lit"    sllh- 

inne  and  glorious  scenes  connected  with  the  re 
demption  of  a  world,  abstracted  his  thoughts  and 
solicitude  from  the  mother  of  he.  human  nature; 
and  even  then  did  filial  piety  shine  forth,  a  brighl 
speck  still  visible  upon  the  orb  of  glory,  which  was 
rising  upon  the  world,  The  apostles  enforced  ii  by 
various  commendations,  "  Children,  obey  yoni  pu 

rents,"  says  l\iul  in  t place,  "  fot  il  is   nght  ;"    :i 

thing  noi  obligatory  merely  because  it  is  command 
etl,  bui  commanded  because  ii  is  right;  noi  n  i<  re 
positive  institute,  bui  wholly  moral,  a  duty  i     i  in 

ed  no1  only  by   revelation,  bui  by   rei ;    one  of 

the  firsi  lessons  laughi  by  nature  to  a  ration  il  ren 
lure.  So  righl  and  proper  is  it,  i hat  all  nation  ,  an- 
cient and  modern,  civilized  and  savage,  admil  its 
obligations,  lu  another  place,  ii  is  declared  to  be 
"  well  pleasing  unto  the  Lord."  It  is  thai  in  which 
he  delights,  because  il  is  the  very  disposition  to- 
wards himself  whioh  he  requires.  Ami  then,  In 
his  catalogues  uf  dark  deeds,  and  horrid  disposi- 
tions, ami  atrocious  characters,  the  apostle  places 

disobedience  to  parents,    The  I I,  strong  voice 

oi  revelation  is  lifted  to  proclaim  over  the  surface  of 
the  globe,  "Children  obey  youi  parents,  and  honoi 
your  lather  ami  mother  ;  for  this  is  weu  pleasing  to 
the  Lord  ,■"  while  the  voice  of  nature  echoes  back 

the  e<  mi  m  a  ml,  "  (  'hihlren  ohev  youi  pa  I  en  Is,  /h/  //lis 
is  ri^lil" 

A  child  of  any  degree  of  generosity  will  be  influ 
eiieeti  to  obey  his  parents,  by  a  oonsideraHon  oj  their 
om  foi  i . 

The  earthly  happiness  of  a  ftwthel  and  s  mother, 
depend    I  ir  more  upon  the  conduct  of  their  child* 

ren,  than   upon    any    thing  else.      Their    Irule    may 

prosper,  their  wealth  accumulate;  they  may  dwell 
ami. i  i  every  kind  of  luxury  and  splendor,  in  the 
most  beautiful  spot  which  creation  can  present,  vet 
an  undntiful  child  may,  by  his  disobedience  and 

imkindness,  throw  a  dai  k  anil  chilling  shadow  ..\  er 

all,  and  envelope  every  thing  in  gloom,  On  the 
other  hand,  affectionate  and  obedienl  children  up 
ply  the  lack  of  riches,  soften  the  weigh)  of  care, 
sweeten  the  cup  of  affliction,  and  shed  a  pleasing 

Ijflht  over  what  would  lie  Otherwise  a  tlaik  ami 
dreary   seene   of  human    wo.      Children    have    their 

parents'  happiness  in  then-  keeping,    They  •  land  at 


44 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


the  fountains  of  our  earthly  destiny,  and  send  into 
our  dwelling  the  waters  of  bitterness  or  of  sweet- 
ness, as  their  conduct  towards  us  shall  be  dutiful  or 
unkind.  They  cannot  know,  till  experience  shall 
teach  them,  the  trembling  and  exquisite  sensitive- 
ness of  our  hearts,  and  how  slight  a  puncture  draws 
th-i  life's  blood  of  our  peace.  So  true  is  it,  as  was 
said  by  the  wise  man,  that  "a  foolish  son  is  the  hea- 
viness <".£  his  mother,"  aye,  and  of  his  father  too; 
he  is  a  spot  on  their  character ;  a  blast  upon  their 
hopes;  a  nuisance  to  their  family;  and  a  thorn  in 
their  hearts. 

Nearly  connected  with  this,  as  another  motive, 
is  gratitude.  No  child  can  know,  till  he  becomes  a 
parent  himself,  what  he  owes  to  his  parents;  and 
not  then  till  he  has  added  all  the  cares,  and  toils, 
and  anxieties  which  are  excited  by  the  child,  the 
boy,  the  youth,  the  man,  in  addition  to  those  which 
are  awakened  by  the  infant  of  days.  Parental  so- 
licitude is  of  course  produced  by  the  first  sight  of 
the  child ;  but  the  infancy  of  the  babe  is  but  the 
infancy  of  our  solicitude,  which  grows  with  his 
growth,  and  strengthens  with  his  strength.  Child- 
ren are  ever  contracting  obligations  from  the  first 
moment  of  their  existence.  What  owes  not  the 
babe  to  his  mother,  for  that  watchfulness,  and  labor, 
and  anxiety,  which  scatcely  rest  by  day  or  sleep  by 
night.  Oiher  animals,  though  nourished  by  their 
parents,  are  taught  many  things  by  instinct ;  but 
man,  the  most  helpless  of  all  creatures,  must  learn 
every  thing  from  his  parents,  in  the  first  stage  of 
his  existence.  Let  any  one  calculate,  if  he  can, 
the  hours  of  labor,  sleeplessness,  and  anxiety;  the 
tears,  the  tremblings,  the  alarms  which  one  weakly 
infant  costs  a  mother,  before  he  leaves  her  arms, 
and  stands  erect  upon  his  feet  in  his  own  strength. 
My  young  friend,  iiad  your  mother  remitted  her 
care  for  one  single  hour,  or  ceased  but  for  a  short 
season,  her  vigilant  inspection,  you  might  have  been 
consumed  in  your  cradle,  or  have  been  now  a  crip- 
ple or  an  idiot.  How  many  months  rolled  by,  be- 
fore you  could  wash  away  a  speck  of  defilement 
from  your  frame,  help  yourself  to  medicine,  or  to 
food,  express  in  articulate  language  a  single  want, 
put  on  a  garment,  or  defend  yourself  against  an 
enemy  so  feeble  as  a  wasp.  What  then  are  your 
obligations  to  the  woman  who  did  all  this  for  you, 
and  delighted  to  do  it  1  I  cannot  follow  you  through 
the  successive  stages  of  your  existence,  at  each  of 
which  you  were  accumulating  fresh  obligations  to 
both  father  and  mother  for  education,  with  all  its 
advantages ;  for  instruction  in  trade,  and  that  capa- 
city you  now  possess  for  attaining  to  respectability 
in  life;  but  above  all  for  that  ceaseless,  and  mani- 
fest, and  earnest  solicitude  for  your  eternal  happi- 
ness, by  which  you  have  had  the  road  to  glory, 
honor,  and  immortality,  opened  to  your  view,  and 
have  been  admonished  to  walk  in  it!  O,  sum  up, 
if  yon  can,  your  obligations  to  your  parents;  but 
you  cannot.  And  can  you  resist  this  motive  to  obe- 
dience ]  What,  has  gratitude  perished  in  your 
soul,  till  its  very  root  has  died  in  the  soil  of  your 
depraved  nature  1  Yes;  it  must  be  so,  if  you  are 
unkind  to  your  parents:  you  stand  proved  before  the 
universe,  to  have  nothing  of  a  child,  but  the  name 
and  the  mere  fleshly  relation,  which  you  possess 
in  common  with  the  tiger,  or  the  serpent,  or  the 
toad,  but  you  have  not  the  feelings  of  a  child;  you 
are  a  kind  of  monstrous  production,  out  of  the 
course  of  nature,  and  like  all  such  productions,  fill 
the  mind  with  loathing  and  horror.  Few  there  are, 
I  hope,  that  will  read  these  pages,  to  whom  such  an 
expostulation  is  applicable  ;  on  the  contrary,  many  I 
believe,  will  experience  as  they  proceed,  the  gene- 
rous emotions  of  gratitude  swelling  higher  and 
higher  in  their  bosom,  till,  with  a  burst  of  virtuous 
feeling,  they  exclaim,  "Accept,  my  parents,  of  the 


surrender,  which  a  sense  of  my  obligation  to  you 
compels  me  to  make,  of  my  whole  future  life,  to  the 
promotion  of  your  comfort." 

Interest  pleads  with  children  for  their  dutiful  be- 
havior to  their  parents. 

An  undutiful  child  cannot  be  a  happy  one.  Peace 
must  leave  the  breast  with  filial  piety,  whenever  it 
departs;  and  uneasiness  and  misery,  and  occasional 
shame  and  remorse,  enter  to  dwell  in  the  wretched 
bosom;  while  the  affectionate  and  dutiful  child  has 
a  perpetual  feast  within.  And  mark  the  language 
of  the  apostle.  "  Honor  thy  father  and  mother ; 
which  is  the  first  commandment  with  promise  ;  that  it 
may  be  well  with  thee,  and  that  thou  maryesi  live  long 
on  the  earth."  This  is  an  allusion,  it  is  true,  to  the 
temporal  promises  of  the  Sinai  Covenant,  and  per- 
haps to  the  law  which  doomed  the  disobedient  son 
to  be  judicially  cut  off  from  the  people.  But  still, 
as  repeated  by  a  Neio  Testament  writer,  it  must,  to 
a  certain  extent,  be  in  force  still.  Dr.  D  wight  has 
the  following  remarks  on  this  passage  which  de- 
serve consideration.  "  In  conversing  with  the  plain 
people  of  this  country,  distinguished  for  their  good 
sense,  and  careful  observation  of  facts,  I  have  found 
them,  to  a  great  extent  firmly  persuaded  of  the  ve- 
rification of  this  promise  in  our  own  times;  and 
ready  to  produce  a  variety  of  proofs  from  cases,  in 
which  they  have  seen  the  blessing  realized.  Their 
opinion  is  mine,  and  with  their  experience  my  own 
has  coincided. 

"  Indeed  no  small  measure  of  prosperity  seems 
ordinarily  interwoven  with  a  course  of  filial  piety. 
The  comfort  which  it  ensures  to  parents,  the  har- 
mony which  it  produces  in  the  family,  the  peace 
which  it  yields  in  the  conscience,  are  all  essential 
ingredients  of  happiness.  To  these  it  adds  the  ap- 
probation of  every  beholder,  the  possession  of  a  fair 
and  lasting  reputation,  the  confidence  and  good  will 
of  every  worthy  man,  and  of  consequence  an  oppor- 
tunity of  easily  gaining  those  useful  employments 
which  good  men  have  to  give.  Beyond  this  it  na- 
turally associates  itself  with  temperance,  modera- 
tion, and  sobriety,  which  furnish  a  solid  foundation 
for  health  and  long  life.  In  my  own  apprehension, 
however,  these  are  not  all  its  blessings.  I  do  not 
say  that  miracles  are  wrought  for  its  reward.  Nei- 
ther will  I  say  that  purer  gales  breathe  to  preserve 
its  health  ;  nor  that  softer  suns  arise,  or  more  timely 
rains  descend  to  mature  its  harvests;  nor  that  more 
propitious  winds  blow,  to  waft  its  ships  home  in 
safety.  But  I  will  say,  that  on  the  tide  of  Provi- 
dence, multiplied  blessings  are  borne  into  its  pos- 
session, at  seasons  when  they  are  unexyiected,  in 
ways  unforeseen,  and  by  means  unprovided  by  its 
own  forecast,  which  are  often  of  high  importance  ; 
which,  altogether,  constitute  a  rich  proportion  of 
prosperity;  and  which,  usually  are  not  found  by 
persons  of  the  contrary  character.  At  the  same  time, 
those  who  act  well  as  children,  almost  of  course, 
act  well  as  men  and  women  ;  and  thus  have  taken, 
without  design,  the  scion  of  happiness  from  the  pa- 
rental stock,  and  grafted  it  upon  other  stems,  which 
bear  fruit  abundantly  to  themselves.  Here,  in  the 
language  of  Dr.  Watts, 

'  It  revives,  and  bears, 
A  truin  of  blessings  for  their  heirs.'  " 

If  motives  so  forcible  and  tender  as  these,  havi 
no  effect,  nothing  is  left  me  to  do,  but  to  remind  the 
children  of  disobedience,  of  that  day  of  judgment, 
which  God  hath  appointed  to  judge  the  world  in 
righteousness,  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  give  to  every 
one  according  to  the  things  done  in  the  body,  whe- 
ther they  are  good  or  bad.  "  In  that  most  awful 
season,  when  the  wicked  shall  see  the  judge  sit 
above  them,  angry,  and  severe,  inexorable  and  terri- 


THE    FAMILY   MONITOR 


45 


ble ;  under  them  an  intolerable  hell;  within  them 
their  consciences  clamorous  and  diseased;  without 
tkem,  all  the  world  on  fire;  on  the  right  hand,  those 
men  glorified,  whom  they  persecuted  and  despised; 
on  the  left  hand,  the  devils  accusing;"  then  shall  it 
be  found  that  the  severest  sentence  of  the  Almighty, 
and  the  bitterest  dregs  of  the  vials  of  his  wrath,  will 
be  poured  out  on  the  disobedient  and  ungodly  child 
of  those  parents  who  trained  him  up  in  the  nurture 
of  the  Lord. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    DUTIES    OF   MASTERS. 


"  Ye  masters,  do  the  same  things  unto  them,  forbear- 
ing threatening  ;  knowing  that  your  master  also  is 
in  heaven  :  neither  is  there  respect  of  persons  with 
him."  Ephes.  vi.  9. 

"  Masters  give  unto  your  servants,  that  which  is  just 

and  equal."  Col.  iv.  1. 

"A  party  of  friends  setting  out  together  upon  a  jour- 
ney, soon  find  it  to  be  best  for  all  sides,  that  while 
they  are  upon  the  road,  one  of  the  company  should 
wait  upon  the  rest,  another  ride  forward  to  seek  out 
lodging  and  entertainment;  a  third  carry  the  port- 
manteau ;  a  fourth  take  charge  of  the  horses  ;  a  fifth 
bear  the  purse,  conduct  and  direct  the  route ;  not 
forgetting,  however,  that  as  they  were  equal  and  in- 
dependent when  they  set  out.  so  they  are  all  to  return 
to  a  level  again  at  their  journey's  end.  The  same 
regard  and  respect;  the  same  forbearance,  lenity,  and 
reserve,  in  using  their  service  ;  the  same  mildness 
in  delivering  commands;  the  same  study  to  make 
their  journey  comfortable  and  pleasant,  which  he 
whose  lot  it  was  to  direct  the  rest,  would  in  common 
decency  think  himself  bound  to  observe  towards 
them,  ought  we  to  show  towards  those,  who,  iti  the 
casting  of  the  parts  of  human  society,  happen  to  be 
placed  within  our  power,  or  to  depend  upon  us." 

Paley. 
"  There  are  duties  which  we  owe  to  the  lowest  of  those 
who  serve  us,  that  are  not  fulfilled  by  the  most 
bountiful  allotment  of  wages,  and  lodging,  and  sus- 
tenance. Of  these  duties,  which  are  not  duties  of 
supererogation,  but  flow  from  the  very  nature  of 
the  bond  which  connects  the  master  and  the  ser- 
vant by  reciprocal  benefits,  the  surest  ride  is  to  be 
found  in  that  brief  direction  which  Seneca,  in  the 
spirit  of  the  noble  Christian  precept  of  morals,  has 
so  happily  given  us  in  one  of  his  epistles,  in  which 
he  treats  of  the  cruelty  and  contumely  of  Roman 
masters. — '  So  live  with  your  inferior,  as  you  would 
wish  your  superior  to  live  with  you.'  " 

Dr.  Thomas  Brown. 
"  It  lias  been  justly  remarked,  that  all  authority  over 
others,  is  in  fact,  a  talent  with  which  we  are  en- 
trusted for  their  benefit,  as  well  as  our  own  ;  and 
so  the  discharge  of  our  duty  to  them  is  only,  in  other 
winds,  securing  our  own  interest  as  well  as  theirs. 
This,  however,  is  especially  manifest  in  the  case  of 
servants,  dwelling  under  our  roof,  as  members  of 
the  same  family.  Thereby  how  much  our  care  over 
the  souls  of  our  servants  contributes  to  their  know- 
ledge of  God  and  themselves,  so  far  have  we  secured 
their  conscientious  regard  to  our  interests,  and  fur- 
nished them  with  principles,  which  will  not  only 
augment  the  stock  of  domestic  happiness,  but  cer- 
tainly contribute  towards  the  divine  favor  resting 
on  our  dwelling,  as  well  as  on  all  we  possess.  Thus, 
then,  is  the  fear  of  God  in  the  master  and  servant, 
found  to  be  at  once  the  only  foundation  of  relative 
duty,  and  the  only  effectual  security  for  the  dis- 
charge of  it."  Anderson. 
,:  The  highest  panegyric  that  private  virtue  can  re- 
ceive, is  the  praise  of  servants,  for  they  see  a  man 


without  any  restraint  or  ruie  of  conduct,  hut  such 
as  he  voluntarily  prescribes  to  himself.  And  how- 
ever vanity  or  insolence  may  look  down  with  con- 
tempt on  the  suffrage  of  men  undignified  by  wealth, 
and  unenlightened  by  education,  it  very  seldom  hap- 
pens that  they  commend  or  blame  without  justice. 
'  The  danger  of  betraying  our  weakness  to  our  ser- 
vants, and  the  impossibility  of  concealing  it  from 
them,  may  be  justly  considered  as  one  motive  to  a 
regular  and  irreproachable  life.  For  no  condition 
is  more  hurtful  and  despicable,  than  his  who  has  put 
himself  in  the  power  of  him,  whom,  perhaps,  he  has 
first  corrupted,  by.  making  him  subservient  to  his 
vices,  and  whose  fidelity  he  therefore  cannot  enforce 
by  any  precepts  of  honesty  or  reason.  From  that 
fatal  hour  when  he  sacrificed  his  dignity  to  his  pas- 
sions, he  is  in  perpetual  dread  of  insolence  or  defa- 
mation ;  of  a  controller  at  home,  or  an  accuser 
abroad."  Johnson. 

Of  all  the  domestic  connections,  that  between  master 
and  servant  is  perhaps  least  understood,  or  at  any  rate, 
most  neglected.  In  the  two  preceding  cases,  nature, 
imperfect  and  corrupt  as  she  is,  has  come  in  with 
her  aid  :  but  this  is  a  connection,  affecting  very  exten- 
sively the  vital  interest  of  the  family,  but  which  is 
left  by  God  to  conscience  and  Scripture  alone.  Should 
these  two  be  neglected,  what  wonder,  if  the  duty  on 
either  side  is  not  fulfilled.  It  is  not  a  connection 
founded  in  mutual  love,  like  that  of  man  and  wife; 
nor  in  consanguinity,  like  that  ol"  parent  and  child,  or 
brother  and  sister ;  but  in  mere  convenience.  It 
seems  at  first  sight,  a  destruction  of  the  natural  equa- 
lity of  the  human  race,  and  an  invasion  by  one 
party,  of  the  rights  of  the  other.  It  did  not  exist  ori- 
ginally, but  soon  grew  out  of  the  natural  course  of 
things,  such  as  the  varied  degrees  of  men's  acquired 
property;  the  love  of  ease  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
urgency  of  necessity  on  the  other.  It  was  wealth  or 
power  that  made  the  first  master,  and  want  or  weak- 
ness that  made  the  first  servant ;  and  the  very  same 
circumstances  which  originated  the  relation,  preserves 
it.  No  one  is  a  servant  by  choice,  but  of  necessity, 
and  becomes  a  master  as  soon  as  he  can.  All  this 
shows  that  there  is  great  propriety  and  importance  in 
stating  with  clearness,  and  enjoining  with  frequency, 
the  duties  of  this  connection  ;  and  that  there  needs 
great  impartiality  in  adjusting  the  claims  of  both  par 
ties  so  as  to  prevent  the  master  from  becoming  a  ty- 
rant, and  the  servant  from  becoming  a  rebel ;  in  other 
words  to  guard  the  master  against  the  disobedience 
and  dishonesty  of  the  servant,  and  the  servant  against 
the  oppression  and  cruelty  of  the  master. 

To  the  right  performance  of  the  Duties  of  Masters 
and  Mistresses,  the  following  qualifications  are  ne- 
cessary. 

1.  A  correct  view  of  the  nature  and  design  of  the 
family  compact,  as  intended  to  train  up  all  the  mem- 
bers that  compose  it,  to  be  good  members  of  the  civil 
community,  and  of  the  church  of  Christ.  They  must 
keep  in  constant  recollection,  that  the  domestic  con 
stitution  has  a  reference  to  religion,  to  heaven,  and  to 
eternity;  and  that  they  who  are  appointed  to  be  the 
head  of  it,  are  accountable  to  God  for  the  manner  in 
which  they  give  it  this  direction.  Every  household  is 
intended  to  be  a  seminary  for  virtue  and  piety,  of 
which  the  master  and  mistress  are  the  teachers ;  the 
servants  and  children  the  pupils. 

2.  They  should  be  partakers  of  true  religion. 
Hence  you  see  they  are  directed  to  consider,  that 

they  have  a  master  in  heaven,  and  to  perform  their 
duties  with  a  believing  and  constant  reference  to  their 
accountability  to  Christ.  Without  personal  religion, 
they  cannot  of  course  seek  on  behalf  of  their  servants 
the  highest  end  of  the  domestic  constitution,  i.  e.  their 
spiritual  and  eternal  welfare.     Nor  can  they,  without 


THE    FAMILY   MONITOR. 


religio.j,  be  so  well  prepared  to  discharge  even  trie 
ordina.y  duties  of  iheir  station  True  religion  will 
not  fail,  wherever  it  exists  in  full  vigtir  and  operation. 
to  teac'i  a  man  in  reference  'o  every  thing,  the  best 
rules  and  ends,  and  n  easures  of  action  :  and  espe- 
cially will  tho  grace  of  God.  in  this  case,  prevent  that 
p'ide,  passion,  cruelty,  and  unkindness,  which  make  a 
man  a  bad  master,  and  at  the  same  time  it  will  im- 
plant th„se  virtues  wk'uh  are  the  germs  of  a  master's 
greatest  excellence.  Religion  is  the  strongest  basis 
and  the  firmest  support  of  authority ;  it  not  only  ren- 
ders all  the  commandments  which  are  delivered,  holy, 
and  just,  and  good ;  not  only  infuses  wisdom  and  equity 
into  all  the  laws  which  are  enjoined,  but  invests  the 
lawgiver  himself  with  the  beauty  of  goodness  and  the 
awful  power  of  sanctity.  A  peculiar  we  and  dread 
6eem  to  have  been  upon  the  inferior  creatures,  for 
man  in  his  innocence,  as  a  kii-d  of  reverence  for  the 
divine  image  which  man  bore:  and  'he  more  holiness 
there  is  in  a  man's  character  now,  the  more  power  is 
there  in  his  authority,  and  the  more  nearly  does  he 
come  back  to  his  original  dominion,  at  L'ast  over  the 
rational  creation.  If  we  would  ^ovca  well,  and 
easily,  and  pleasantly,  vt  e  must  inspire  "everei.^e 
rather  than  fear,  and  no'hing  does  this  like  religion. 
"  Them  that  honor  me,  saith  God,  I  will  honor:"  this 
is  never  more  remarkably  exemplified,  than  in  ue 
case  of  eminently  holy  masters  and  mistresses. 

3.  They  should  entertain  correct  notions  of  the  na- 
ture and  design  of  the  relation  they  stand  in  to  their 
servants,  who  are  to  be  considered  as  their  equals  in 
nature,  though  their  inferiors  in  rank  ;  and  not  as 
beings  of  another  and  inferior  race. 

Servants  are  not  mere  speaking  brutes,  but  rational 
men  and  women,  who  are  bone  of  your  bone  and  flesh 
of  your  flesh,  and  who  on  the  ground  of  natural  equa- 
lity, covenant  with  you  to  deliver  to  you  so  much  ser- 
vice, for  so  much  wages.  They  are  your  equals  in 
the  eye  of  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  are  as  much  pro- 
tected as  you  are;  equal  in  the  eye  of  God,  who  is  no 
respecter  of  persons;  equal  in  personal  formation, 
having  the  same  corporeal  senses,  members  and 
beauty,  and  the  same  mental  faculties  ;  equal  in  the 
church  of  God,  being  redeemed  by  the  same  blood 
of  atonement,  regenerated  by  the  same  Holy  Spirit, 
and  entitled  to  the  same  heaven  ;  and  on  all  these 
grounds  entitled  to  the  respect  that  is  due  to  a  man 
and  a  Christian  :  as  such  they  are  to  be  addressed  and 
treated  ;  and  not  spoken  to  and  oppressed  like  beasts. 

I  now  lay  down  one  or  two  preliminary  remarks. 

1.  Professing  Christians  should  be  very  careful  in 
the  selection  of  their  servants. 

It  is  desirable,  where  it  can  be  done,  to  engage  such 
servants  as  are  truly  and  consistently  pious.  I  know 
that  this  cannot  always  be  accomplished,  in  reference 
to  the  household,  much  less  in  the  manufactory  and 
the  shop.  In  a  business  that  depends  upon  the  skill 
of  the  workmen,  a  master  must  have  such  as  will  suit 
his  purpose,  whether  they  possess  moral  qualifications 
ur  not.  But  when  he  cannot  get  good  men,  he  should 
endeavor  to  reform,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  such 
is  are  bad.  It  must  be  admitted  that  there  are  many, 
both  men  and  women,  who,  as  to  their  general  quali- 
fications, are  most  excellent  servants,  who  yet  do  not 
possess  true  piety  :  they  are  industrious,  good  temper- 
ed, honest,  and  cleanly,  and  contribute  far  more  to  the 
comfort  of  the  families  that  employ  them,  than  some 
conceited,  cross,  and  indolent  professors  of  religion. 
Notwithstanding  this,  it  is  every  way  desirable  to  ob- 
tain, if  we  can,  those  to  serve  us,  who,  we  have  every 
reason  to  believe,  serve  the  Lord  Christ. 

Other  things  being  equal,  pious  servants  are  much 
to  be  preferred  to  those  that  are  without  the  fear  of 
God.  They  may  bring  the  blessing  of  God  with  them 
into  your  house.  You  have  the  benefit  of  theirexam- 
ple  and  of  their  prayers  :  in  the  time  of  sickness;  you 


have  the  consolation  of  their  remarks  as  well  as  their 
sympathy  :  and  hence  they  have  been,  in  many  cases, 
sources  of  inconceivable  comfort  to  the  households,  in 
which  they  have  been  placed.  If  you  have  a  family, 
how  immensely  important  is  this  matter.  Think  of 
what  incalculable  mischief  one  unprincipled  servant 
may  be  the  author,  in  a  circle  of  young  children.  On 
this  account,  if  a  person  of  decided  piety  cannot  be 
found,  at  least  determine  that  none  but  such  as  are 
strictly  moral,  shall  be  inmates  of  your  habitation. 
David  determined  that  no  liar  should  dwell  in  Ins 
family.  The  utmost  caution  should  be  exercised,  to 
keep  from  the  nursery  all  improper  persons.  Nor 
ought  any  mother  to  trust  her  children  too  much  to 
any  servants,  however  excellent;  and  on  admitting 
them,  she  should  very  minutely  instruct  them  in  all 
those  points  of  conduct  towards  their  minds,  as  well 
as  to  their  bodies,  which  they  are  to  avoid,  as  well  as 
those  which  they  are  to  observe.  I  would  sooner 
take  a  toad  into  my  bosom,  said  an  old  author,  than 
a  wicked  servant  into  my  family.  Well  might  he 
say  this,  for  the  poor  reptile  is  belied  in  being  said 
to  be  armed  with  poison,  but  the  wicked  servaut  has 
poison  for  the  mind  both  of  her  fellow  servants  a. id 
the  children.  Christian  parents  are  not  perhaps  suf- 
ficiently cautious  on  this  head.  They  ate  not  suffi- 
ciently impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  subject, 
till  they  learn  it  by  the  various  kinds  of  mischief  ti.at 
have  Jeen  done.  The  present  age  has  peculiar  ad- 
vantages on  this  point,  inasmuch  as  by  the  extension 
of  education,  many  young  women,  of  considerable  re- 
spectability, are  trained  for  the  important  situation  of 
nursery  governesses. 

2.  When  you  engage  a  servant  let  there  be  a  very 
explicit  statement,  of  what  each  party  expects  from 
the  other. 

The  master  or  mistress  should  most  fully  explain  to 
the  servant,  all  that  will  be  demanded  in  the  way  of 
service,  and  all  that  will  be  given  in  the  way  of  wages 
and  of  privilege,  both  temporal  and  spiritual.  Nothing 
should  be  concealed  or  omitted,  to  be  brought  forward 
at  some  future  time  :  this  is  in  the  highest  degree  dis- 
honorable, and  subjects  the  encroaching  party  to  the 
justest  reproach.  It  would  be  well  for  you  to  inform 
your  servants,  in  a  very  minute  and  particular  manner, 
all  the  religions  habits  of  your  family,  and  what  com- 
pliance with  these  you  will  expect  from  them. 

The  duties  of  Masters  and  Mistresses  may  be  class- 
ed under  three  heads. 

First.  You  owe  them  a  duty  of  justice. 

This  demands,  that  you  should  give  them  a  fair  remu- 
neration fur  their  lubor.  The  amount  should  not  only 
be  enough  to  support  them  in  mere  existence,  but 
in  comfort.  It  is  an  utter  disgrace  to  any  man,  much 
more  to  a  professing  Christian,  to  abate  and  screw 
down  those  whom  he  employs,  till  they  cannot  earn 
enough  for  their  decent  clothing,  and  the  nourish- 
ment of  their  strength.  Is  not  this  to  grind  the  faces 
of  the  poor?  But,  as  in  trade,  there  are  certain  rates 
of  wages,  from  which  it  may  be  difficult  for  a  master, 
however  pious  or  humane,  to  vary,  I  shall  merely  re- 
mark, that  such  men  ought  never  to  be  forward  in 
lowering  the  price  of  labor,  beyond  what  is  actually 
necessary  to  keep  possession  of  the  market.  As  to 
household  servants,  to  whom  this  chapter  more  espe- 
cially applies,  it  is  very  dishonorable  to  a  mistress  to 
higgle  about  a  few  shillings,  with  a  poor  dependant 
creature,  whom  she  is  sca/cely  willing  should  earn 
enough  to  procure  herself  reputable  apparel.  I  do  not 
wish  servants  to  be  encouraged  in  dress,  and  in  expen- 
sive habits:  there  is  too  great  a  propensity  to  this  in 
many  young  women,  which  ought  to  be  checked,  and 
if  it  can  be  done  by  no  other  means,  by  a  reduction  of 
wages.  But  enough  ought  to  be  afforded  in  all  cases, 
for  suitable  attire,  and  for  a  little  surplus  fund,  which 
they  should  be  encouraged  to  make  against  a  time  of 


THE   FAMILY    MONITOR. 


47 


destitution  and  helplessness.  If  we  do  not  furnish 
iliein  by  a  sufficiency  of  wages,  with  the  means  of 
honestly  supplying  their  wants,  are  we  not  tempting 
them  to  make  up  the  deficiency  by  dishonesty?  And 
of  course,  their  wages  should  be  regularly  paid.  It  is 
disreputable  to  he  long  in  debt  to  any  one,  but  utterly 
scandalous,  when  such  creditors  are  unpaid  servants, 
who  ask,  without  success,  for  what  has  been  due  to 
them  for  months.  I  wonder  the  pride,  if  not  the  prin- 
ciple of  some  people,  does  not  prevent  them  from  put- 
ting on  new  finery,  while  the  servants  in  the  kitchen 
lire  saying,  "That  bonnet  and  gown  are  mine,  for  I 
tmi  owed  the  money  which  paid  for  them,  if  indeed 
they  be.  paid  for." 

Justice  demands  that  you  should  pay  your  servants 
for  all  the  work  they  do ;  and  that  every  thing,  which 
in  respect  of  time  or  labor,  is  above  the  stipulated  or 
usual  quantity  of  service  rendered  for  a  given  sum, 
should  be  most  equitably  paid  for.  There  are  some 
persons  who  are  proverbially  mean,  for  exacting,  not 
only  what  is  actually  due  to  them  for  the  wages  they 
pav,  but  for  getting,  if  possible,  a  little  extra  service, 
without  paying  for  it:  this  remark  applies,  of  course, 
to  the  case  of  day  work.  If  a  woman  be  hired  to  work 
in  the  parlor,  or  the  kitchen,  or  a  man  be  engaged  for 
the  garden,  such  persons  will  generally  detain  them  if 
they  can,  an  hour  or  two  beyond  the  usual  time,  on 
pretence,  perhaps  of  finishing  up  the  matter,  or  get- 
ting ready  something  of  importance.  This  would  be 
all  very  fair,  if  they  paid  an  extra  sum  for  the  extra 
work;  but  no;  they  want  the  additional  hour  or  two 
to  be  thrown  in  for  nothing.  But  when  the  case  is  re- 
versed, and  the  workman  or  woman  is  obliged  to  go 
away  an  hour  or  two  earlier  than  the  usual  time,  they 
are  then  forward  enough  to  make  a  deduction  from  the 
amount  paid  to  them.  This  is  not  only  detestably  mean 
but  actually  dishonest,  for  it  is  taking  the  laboring  per- 
son's work  without  paying  for  it.  Many  persons,  and 
some  of  them,  professors  of  religion,  have  no  conscience 
in  this  matter,  and  get  a  character  for  extortionate 
selfishness  from  all  whom  they  employ.  In  our  money 
transactions  with  those  who  serve  us,  we  should 
always  lean  to  the  side  of  generosity,  or  at  least,  should 
pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing,  for  all  the  work  which  is 
done  for  us. 

Justice  requires,  that  your  domestic  servants  he  iccll 
prodded  for  in  all  tlte  necessaries  and  accommodations  of 
life.  Their  food  should  be  wholesome  and  sufficient; 
their  lodging  should  be  such  as  is  convenient  for  them 
in  respect  to  warmth  and  protection,  and  not  such  as  a 
person  of  even  tolerable  humanity  would  scarcely  allot 
to  the  dogs  of  his  flock.  If  people  cannot  really  afford 
to  give  such  wages  as  will  procure  decent  attire,  nor 
such  food,  both  as  to  quantity  and  quality,  as  is  neces- 
sary to  keep  up  the  strength  of  a  servant,  they  ought 
not  to  have  one,  and  should  do  the  work  themselves. 
I  pity  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart  some  poor 
orphans,  hired  perhaps,  if  not  from  the  workhouse, 
yet  from  friends  that  are  glad  to  get  them  off  their 
hands  at  any  price,  who  although  burdened  with  ex- 
cessive labor,  are  not  allowed  meat  and  drink  suffici- 
ent to  support  their  strength,  and  nourish  their  stunted 
frame,  and  are  in  a  condition,  which,  with  the  single 
exception  of  liberty,  is  more  pitiable  than  that  of  many 
African  slaves.  Medicine  and  surgical  assistance,  also 
should  be  procured  for  our  domestic  servants  at  our 
cost,  as  long  as  they  are  in  our  employ.  I  do  not  like 
the  practice  of  hurrying  them  off,  except  in  the  case  of 
contagious  diseases,  to  hospitals  and  dispensaries,  and 
thus  calling  upon  the  public  to  provide  for  the  relief  of 
those,  whose  cases  belong  to  us.  Much  less  is  it 
equitable  to  make  them  pay  theexpenses  of  their  own 
allliction.  I  have  known  servants,  who  were  half 
beggared  by  doctors'  bills,  which  ought  to  have  been 
discharged  by  those,  in  whose  service  they  contracted  the 
ailments  which  reduced  them  to  suffering  and  poverty. 


Justice  also  equally  demands,  in  the  case  of  appren- 
tices, that  tluy  should  he  well  taught  the  business  which 
they  come  to  you  to  learn  ;  especially,  where  as  in  many 
eases,  a  high  pn  mittm  is  paid  for  this  very  purpose.  No 
man  can  honestly  retail)  such  property,  or  indeed  such 
apprentice  with  whom  it  is  given,  if  he  do  not  even 
take  pains  to  instruct  him.  If  there  be  any  secret  in 
the  trade,  it  must  be  thrown  open  to  him,  for  be  comes 
to  you  for  that  very  purpose.  Nor  is  it  enough  not  to 
hinder  him  from  acquiring  the  business,  but  yon  must 
take  pains  to  help  him.  I  do  think  that  this  circum- 
stance is  very  much  forgotten  by  masters,  not  except- 
ing those  that  make  a  profession  of  religion.  Appren- 
tices, I  know,  are  taken  with  the  primary  view  to  iho 
master's  interest;  but  in  return  for  the  help  which  a 
servant  affords  towards  the  accomplishment  of  this  ob- 
ject, a  master  covenants  to  instruct  him  in  the  trade, 
and  the  man  who  employs  an  apprentice  in  any  thing 
else  than  that  which  lie  came  to  learn,  and  suffers  him 
through  his  neglect,  to  remain  ignorant  of  the  trade,  is 
guilty  of  a  double  act  of  robbery  ;  he  robs  the  parent  of 
the  youth  of  his  property,  and  at  the  same  time,  robs 
the  youth  himself  of  all  his  future  means  and  opportu- 
nities of  success. 

Justice  demands,  that  when  they  leave  your  service,  you 
should  dismiss  them,  as  far  as  you  are  able,  consistently 
with  truth,  with  a  good  character.  Their  character  is 
their  wealth,  and  if  this  be  gone,  their  means  of  sub- 
sistence have  all  vanished.  Do  not  disallow  them 
the  right  of  leaving  you  when  they  please,  nor  avenge 
yourselves  upon  them  by  insinuating  any  thing  to 
their  disadvantage.  On  the  contrary,  do  all  yon  can 
to  raise  their  reputation,  and  say  all  the  good  you  can 
in  their  favor. 

"  There  is  a  carelessness  and  facility  in  '  giving  cha- 
racters,' as  it  is  called,"  says  Paley,  "  especially  when 
given  in  writing,  or  according  to  some  established  form, 
which,  to  speak  plainly  of  it,  is  a  cheat  upon  those  who 
accept  them  "  They  are  given  with  so  little  reserve 
and  veracity,  "  that  I  should  as  soon  depend,  (says 
the  author  of  the  Rambler,)  upon  an  acquilal  at  the 
Old  Bailey  by  way  of  recommendation  of  a  servant's 
honesty,  as  upon  one  of  these  '  characters.'  "  It  is 
sometimes  carelessness ;  and  sometimes  to  get  rid  of 
a  bad  servant,  without  the  uneasiness  of  a  dispute  ;  for 
which  nothing  can  be  pleaded,  but  the  most  ungene 
rous  of  all  excuses,  that  the  person  whom  we  deceivo 
is  a  stranger. 

There  is  a  conduct  the  reverse  of  this,  but  more 
injurious,  because  the  injury  falls  where  there  is  no 
remedy  ;  I  mean  the  obstructing  of  a  servant's  ad- 
vancement, because  you  are  unwilling  to  spare  his 
service.  To  stand  in  the  way  of  your  servant's  inte- 
rest, is  a  poor  return  for  his  fidelity,  and  affords  slen- 
der encouragement  for  good  behavior,  in  this  nume- 
rous, and  therefore,  important  part  of  the  community. 
It  is  a  piece  of  injustice,  which,  if  practised  towards  an 
equal,  the  law  of  honor  would  lay  hold  of;  as  it  is,  it  is 
neither  uncommon,  nor  disreputable. 

It  is  but  common  justice,  also,  todo  something  for  the 
provision  of  servants  who  have  worn  themselves  out  in  your 
service.  To  leave  such  to  penury  and  want  in  the 
wintry  season  of  their  old  age,  is  an  instance  of  great 
and  disgraceful  cruelty.  How  much  have  they  con- 
tributed either  to  your  wealth  or  to  your  comfort,  and 
perhaps  to  both.  By  the  Levitical  law  it  was  provid- 
ed that  the  servant  who  had  been  six  years  in  the  em- 
ploy of  a  master  should  be  treated  with  great  generosi- 
ty. "  He  shall  not,"  said  the  Lord,  "  be  sent  empty 
away;  but  thou  shalt  furnish  him  liberally  out  of  thy 
flock,  out  of  thy  floor,  and  out  of  thy  wine  press;  and 
that  wherewith  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  blessed  thee, 
thou  shalt  give  unto  him."  (Deut.  xv.  13,  J4.)  Now 
if  six  years'  service,  under  the  law,  were  considered  to 
entitle  a  servant  to  such  an  acknowledgment,  surely 
a  whole  life's  labor  under  the  gospel  dispensation,  en- 


43 


THE  FAMILY  MONITOR. 


titles  them  in  their  old  age  to  no  less.  I  ask  this,  not 
on  the  ground  of  kindness,  but  of  justice;  for  it  par- 
takes of  oppression  and  extortion,  to  give  them  no 
more  for  their  time  and  strength  than  they  need  for  the 
passing  moment,  and  then  to  cast  them  upon  the 
parish,  when  we  can  no  longer  render  them  subservi- 
ent to  our  interests. 

Secondly.  Kindness  comprehends  another  extensive 
class  of  duties  owed  by  masters  and  mistresses  to  their 
servants. 

You  must  be  careful  not  to  overwork  l/iem. 

A  merciful  man  will  not  overload  his  beast.  We 
have  been  often  shocked  to  see  in  our  streets,  or  on 
the  public  road,  how  cruelly  some  weak,  half-starved 
animals  have  been  used,  in  being  compelled  to  drag 
along  burthens  much  beyond  their  strength:  but  are 
there  not  scenes  of  equal  cruelty,  to  be  witnessed  in 
some  houses,  where  is  to  be  found  a  poor,  young, 
friendless  girl,  whose  pallid  looks  and  delicate  frame 
indicate,  to  every  one,  but  her  hard  hearted  mistress, 
that  she  is  incompetent  to  the  tasks,  which,  without 
cessation,  she  is  mercilessly  compelled  to  sustain? 
Her  toil  commences,  perhaps,  at  five  or  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  continues  without  intermission  till 
e.eveti  at  night.  Of  work,  she  has  too  much  for  the 
rob'ist  and  well  nourished  frame,  especially  for  her 
weak  and  ill  fed  constitution.  Some  unfeeling  crea- 
tures seem  to  think  that  the  payment  of  five  or  six 
pounds  a  year,  gives  them  a  right  to  exhaust  all  the 
energies  of  the  poor  helpless  creatures  who  are  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  be  employed  by  them.  And  even 
where  nnkindness  is  not  carried  to  this  extent,  I  am 
persuaded,  that  servants  are  in  very  many  cases,  quite 
overworked  ;  they  are  so  urged  by  incessant  demands 
for  their  labor,  that  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of 
the  week,  they  have  scarcely  a  moment  to  keep  their 
own  clothing  in  proper  repair,  much  less  to  attend  to 
the  concerns  of  their  souls;  their  employers  seem  to 
think,  that  every  moment  they  sit  down,  is  so  much 
lime  stolen  from  them.  Are  there  any  professing  Chris- 
tians, who  act  thus!  Yes;  and  in  so  far  they  are  a 
disgrace  to  the  Christian  name. 

Your  method  of  addressing  them,  ichilc  it  accords  with 
your  station,  and  partakes  of  the  dignity  of  superiority, 
should  be  as  remote  from  bitterness  and  contemptuous 
pride,  as  it  is  from  familiarity.  Do  not  speak  to  them 
as  if  they  were  a  race  of  inferior  creatures,  whom  it 
almost  demeaned  you  to  notice.  There  are  some  mas- 
ters and  mistresses,  who,  though  they  do  not  swear,  or 
storm,  or  call  reproachful  names,  yet  have  a  method  of 
addressing  their  servants,  which  they  would  scarcely 
use  to  a  brute  animal.  I  have  myself  heard  tones,  and 
seen  looks,  which  the  authors  of  them  would  not,  and 
did  not  give  to  their  dogs.  Servants  are  not  stocks 
and  stones,  but  men  and  women;  and  how  galling  to 
their  feelings,  how  insulting  to  their  rank  as  rational 
creatures,  must  it  be  to  be  addressed  as  a  reptile  race, 
who  were  scarcely  entitled  to  the  most  common  civili- 
ties. And  as  pride  is  improper,  so  is  passion.  Mas- 
ters are  commanded  to  "  forbear  threatening."  This 
is  particularly  specified,  because  there  is  a  great  prone- 
nesstothis  in  many,  if  not  in  most  persons.  When  an 
inferior  displeases  us,  the  temptation  to  undue  sallies 
of  wrath,  gusts  of  passion,  and  threatening  words  is 
peculiarly  strong.  The  individual  is  so  much  below 
us,  and  in  our  power,  that  let  us  say  what  we  will,  we 
have  nothing  to  fear  in  return.  But  how  mean,  and 
cowardly,  and  execrable  is  it,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
wickedness  of  such  conduct,  for  any  one  to  hector, 
and  bully,  and  threaten  a  poor,  defenceless  creature, 
because  we  have  no  need  to  apprehend  any  thing  in 
the  way  of  revenge.  We  must,  as  Christians,  not  only 
be  meek,  and  gentle,  and  patient,  but  be  gentle 
towards  all,  to  those  who  are  below  us,  as  well  as  to 
those  who  are  above  us.  Occasions,  will  of  course, 
often  present  themselves,  when  it  will  be  necessary  to 


find  fault,  and  to  express  displeasure  ;  but  this  should 
never  be  done  in  a  passion.  A  Fury  never  can  be 
respectable ;  we  never  go  into  a  rage  without  dis- 
gracing ourselves  in  the  eyes  of  our  servants:  at  such 
times  we  may  be  terrible,  but  we  cannot  be  reputable. 
Abusive  epithets  and  ill  names  lower  our  dignity,  and 
undermine  our  authority.  Mild  firmness,  rational  ex- 
postulation, and  meek  reproof,  will  do  far  more  both 
in  the  way  of  punishing  faults,  and  of  reforming  them, 
than  petulance  and  passion.  Speak  kindly  to  them, 
then,  at  all  times.  Let  your  words,  and  even  your 
tones,  partake  of  a  dignified  courtesy,  blending  and 
softening  authority  with  good  will.  At  the  same  time, 
avoid  all  familiarity,  and  do  not  encourage  an  obtrusive 
and  encroaching  boldness.  You  must  keep  them  in 
their  place,  and  in  order  to  this,  you  must  keep  yours. 
Do  nothingto  remove  the  line  of  demarcation  between 
you,  nor  encourage  them  to  step  over  it.  You  must 
not  joke  with  them,  nor  make  yourselves  merry  with 
them  ;  you  must  not  enter  into  gossip  with  them  about 
the  floating  occurrences  of  the  neighborhood,  nor  en- 
courage them  to  bring  you  tales,  nor  employ  them  as 
your  purveyors  of  scandal.  Some  persons,  who  would 
not  run  the  risk  of  being  thought  busy  bodies  them- 
selves, scruple  not  to  encourage  their  servants  to  bring 
them  all  the  news  of  the  town.  All  this  is  mischievous 
in  the  highest  degree,  and  tends  to  degrade  those  who 
are  foolish  enough  to  indulge  in  it,  in  the  eyes  of  those 
who  should  be  taught  to  respect  them. 

You  should  manifest  an  unvarying  regard  for  their 
comfort.  Take  a  deep  interest  in  their  welfare,  and 
make  it  clear  to  them  that  you  wish  to  see  them  happy. 
Watch  over  their  health,  tenderly  inquire  into  the 
cause  of  their  ailments,  and  by  mitigating  their  labor, 
and  procuring  them  medical  assistance,  do  all  you  can 
for  their  recovery.  Advise  them  for  their  good,  and 
refuse  not  your  counsel  whenever  it  can  be  of  service 
to  them.  Convince  them  by  the  whole  of  your  con- 
duct, that  you  are  their  real  friends,  and  truly  anxious 
to  make  them  happy  and  respectable. 

Bear  icith  patience  those  teaser  infirmities  ichich  may 
comport  with  substantial  excellences.  Do  not  be  strict 
to  mark,  at  least  with  severity,  their  more  trivial  faults. 
Some  mistresses  render  their  servants  miserable  by  in- 
cessant complaint :  they  are  such  slaves  to  excessive 
neatness,  that  they  are  always  in  bondage  themselves, 
and  make  every  body  miserable  around  them.  No 
one  can  please  them  ;  a  speck  of  dust,  or  a  drop  of 
rain  blown  in  through  the  window  upon  the  furniture, 
is  sure  to  bring  a  cross  look  or  word  upon  the  poor, 
wretched  house-maid,  who  was  no  more  to  blame  than 
her  mistress. 

Kindness  to  servants,  would  lead  us,  to  administer 
commendation  as  often  as  possible,  and  censure  with  as 
much  lenity,  as  a  due  regard  to  justice  will  allow. 

"  There  is  a  certain  moral  pleasure  which  we  par- 
ticularly owe  them.  They  may  do  well,  and  in  doing 
well,  they  have  the  same  title  to  our  praise,  which  our 
best  actions  have  to  the  glory  with  which  we  expect 
the  world  to  be  ready  to  reward  us.  If  we  withhold 
the  approbation  which  is  due,  we  take  from  them  one 
powerful  incentive  to  continuance  of  that  species  ol 
conduct  which  rendered  them  worthy  of  approbation  ; 
and  at  the  same  time,  we  take  from  them  one  of  the 
most  delightful  feelings  of  which  he  who  has  sold  his 
freedom  is  still  capable — the  feeling  that  he  has  done 
something,  which  was  not  actually  sold  with  the  very 
labor  of  his  hands — that  in  the  additional  duties  per- 
formed by  him,  he  has  been  free  still,  and  that  our 
praise  is  something,  which,  as  it  was  not  an  actual  con- 
dition, like  the  livery  and  the  daily  bread,  is  an  oll'ur- 
ing  to  his  own  gratuitous  virtue.  The  duty  ofappro- 
bation,  then,  when  approbation  is  due,  is  another  of 
the  duties  which  the  master  owes  to  the  servant ;  and  a 
duty  which,  though  he  may  legally  withhold  it.  he  is 
not  entitled  morally  to  withhold. 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


49 


"  But  servants  share  not  our  love  of  praise  only,  but 
passions  of  a  less  commendable  kind.  They  are  as- 
sailed by  temptations,  like  those  which  assail  as  ;  and 
they  sometimes  fall,  as  we  too  fall.  They  neglect  to 
do  what  we  have  desired  ;  and  they  often  do  what  is 
positively  injurious  to  us.  In  such  cases,  they  might 
deserve  all  our  severity  of  punishment,  if  we  were  not 
men,  and  they  were  not  men.  Our  reproof  they  un- 
questionably deserve,  not  merely  because  they  have 
failed  in  their  part  of  our  mutual  compact,  but  also, 
because  our  reproof  may.  even  to  them,  be  attended 
with  moral  advantage.  Yet  though  our  reproof  of 
any  gross  inattention  is  not  excusable  only,  but,  if  we 
consider  all  its  consequences,  an  act  of  humanity,  it 
is  not  to  be  the  reproof  of  one  who  seems  almost 
pleased  with  the  offence  itself,  in  the  eagerness 
which  is  shown  to  reprehend  it.  In  censuring,  we 
are  silently  to  have  in  mind  the  human  weaknesses 
of  our  own  moral  nature  ;  and  to  remember,  that  if 
even  we,  with  better  light,  and  nobler  recreations, 
err,  the  ignorant,  who  by  their  very  ignorance,  are 
incapable  of  seeing  many  of  the  consequences  of  ac- 
tions, and  who  have  few  recreations,  but  those  which 
seduce  them  from  what  is  good,  may  still  more  natu- 
rally be  imagined  to  err.  In  condemning  them, 
therefore,  we  condemn  ourselves;  or  we  declare  that 
we  are  frail  creatures,  of  whom  less  knowledge  and 
less  virtue  are  to  be  expected  than  from  them.  There 
are  beings  with  gentle  voices,  and  still  gentler  eyes, 
and  with  smiles  that  seem  never  to  be  willed,  and 
scarcely  even  to  fade  and  brighten  again,  but  to  be 
almost  the  native  character  of  the  countenance,  like 
the  very  lustre  that  is  ever  blooming  on  the  iip  and 
on  the  cheek  ; — there  are  beings  who  seem  to  exist 
thus  only  in  a  perpetual  moral  atmosphere  of  radiance 
and  serenity,  that  on  the  sight  of  a  single  particle  of 
dust  on  a  book,  or  a  table,  or  a  chair,  as  if  in  that  par- 
ticle, a  whole  mountain  of  misery  were  before  them, 
can  assume  in  an  instant,  all  the  frowns  and  thunders 
of  all  the  furies ;  whose  delicate  frame  is  too  weak  to 
bear  the  violent  opening  of  a  door,  but  not  too  weak, 
after  the  door  is  opened,  to  shake  the  very  floor  with 
the  violence  of  their  own  wrath  on  the  unfortunate 
opener  of  it."" 

Kindness  should  lead  us  to  allow  our  servants  all  pos- 
sible iwlulgences  and  recreations  that  are  not  incompati- 
ble with  religion. 

They  are  capable  of  gratification  like  ourselves,  and 
have  the  same  desire  of  it ;  while  at  the  same  time, 
are  denied  by  their  very  circumstances  access  to 
many  of  those  sources  of  delight  which  are  continu- 
ally open  to  us.  Those  who  seem  to  grudge  domestic 
servants  an  occasional  remission  of  their  labor,  that 
they  may  have  communion  with  others  at  the  feast  of 
innocent  enjoyment,  convert  theirservice  into  slavery, 
and  render  the  oppression  additionally  bitter  by  the 
circumstance,  that  it  is  exercised  in  the  land  of  free- 
men. I  have  often  been  delighted  to  see  the  cheerful 
faces  of  female  servants  at  those  meetings  which  are 
convened  for  promoting  the  various  objects  connected 
with  the  cause  of  religion  and  humanity,  and  who 
seemed  to  drink  in  the  streams  of  eloquence  and 
piety,  with  as  eager  a  thirst,  and  as  exquisite  an  en- 
joyment, as  their  more  enlightened  and  better  educat- 
ed masters  and  mistresses.  And  I  have  known  those, 
who,  when  going  to  some  neighboring  town  or  village, 
to  attend,  perhaps,  a  religious  service  of  a  public  na- 
ture, have  placed  a  female  servant  on  the  box  seat  of 
the  carriage  that  conveyed  them,  that  she  might  share 
the  pleasures  of  the  day.  It  is  our  duty,  of  course,  to 
keep  them  from  all  polluting  and  vitiating  amusements, 
but  it  is  not  less  a  duty  of  benevolence,  to  give  them 
as  often  as  is  convenient  to  us,  and  consistent  with 


*  Dr.  Brown's  Lectures. 


their  interests,  an  opportunity  of  enjoying  the  liberty 
and  sunshine  of  innocent  and  holy  pleasure. 

It  is  no  credit,  hut  very  much  otherwise,  to  any  fandly, 
to  be  always  changing  their  servants.  Some  pursons 
have  as  many  as  there  are  months  in  the  year.  Their 
place  has  acquired  so  bad  a  reputation,  that  no  good 
servant  will  oiler  herself  for  it.  It  is  astonishing  how 
extensively  the  character  of  every  household  is  known 
amongst  persons  of  this  description.  Those  who  keep 
register  offices  can  tell,  perhaps,  the  repute  in  which 
most  of  the  families  in  a  town  are  held,  for  oftentimes 
upon  mentioning  a  house  to  one  who  has  applied  for  a 
place  of  service,  they  receive  some  such  reply  as  this: 
— "  I  will  not  offer  myself  there,  for  I  shall  not  be  kept 
above  a  month  or  two  if  I  go."  This  is  not  to  the 
honor  of  any  one,  much  less  to  the  professor  of  reli- 
gion: for,  as  those  who  leave  the  place,  are  naturally 
enough  anxious  to  justify  themselves  to  their  frieiias, 
they  scruple  not  to  tell  all  the  faults  of  the  mistress, 
and  oftentimes,  of  course,  with  great  exaggeration, 
and  thus  the  credit  of  religion  suffers.  Besides,  what 
a  risk  is  it,  where  there  are  children,  to  be  always  re- 
ceiving fresh  servants  into  the  family;  and  what  an 
interruption  also  to  domestic  comfort.  Avoid  then, 
unnecessary  changes,  and  every  thing  that  leads  to 
them,  whether  it  be  bad  temper,  inflicting  excessive 
labor,  or  striving  after  unattainable  perfection. 

A  kind  master  or  mistress  will  prevent  their  servants 
from  being  insulted  or  oppressed  by  the  child- 
ren. It  is  really  affecting  to  see  what  cruel  scorn 
and  impertinence  are,  in  some  families,  allowed  to  be 
practised  towards  respectable  men  and  women,  by 
those  little  tyrant  masters  and  misses,  whose  weak 
parents  never  allow  them  to  be  opposed  in  any  thing. 
They  may  utter  the  grossest  falsehoods,  indulge  in 
the  most  wanton  and  distressing  vexation,  vent  the 
most  scurrilous  abuse,  and  utter  the  foulest  epitheta 
against  the  servants,  and  their  pitiless  and  unjust 
mother  or  father,  with  the  full  knowledge  of  the  fact, 
allow  this  cruel  insolence  to  continue.  Children 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  in  any  kind  or  degree  to  be 
guilty  of  such  impropriety  as  this.  They  should  be 
kept  from  being  familiar,  but  equally  so  from  being 
impertinent.  I  would  never  allow  a  servant  to  strike 
children,  nor  to  be  struck  or  in  any  way  oppressed  by 
them. 

Peculiar  attention,  partaking  at  once  of  respect  and 
kindness,  should  be  shown  to  those  who  have  served  us 
long  and  faithfully.  "  Reckon,"  says  Mr.  Jane- 
way,  "  that  one  has  been  a  faithful  servant  to  you 
seven  years,  deserves  to  be  esteemed  next  to  a  child 
ever  after."  Tried  fidelity  should  be  marked  with  pe- 
culiar approbation.  At  the  end  of  each  seven  years 
of  faithful  service  you  should  present  them  with  some 
substantial  present,  as  a  token  of  your  respect  and 
gratitude,  and  the  present  should  increase  in  value  at 
the  close  of  each  septennial  period.  Where  there  is 
wealth  to  be  disposed  of  by  will,  I  think  that  aged  and 
valuable  servants  should  be  remembered.  Think  how 
much  you  owe  to  their  faithfulness,  how  long  your 
property  has  been  in  their  power,  which  they  have 
neither  embezzled  nor  wasted,  how  constantly  you 
have  been  served  by  them,  how  much  they  have  con- 
tributed to  your  domestic  comfort,  perhaps  to  your 
success.     You  owe  them  not  only  wages  but  esteem. 

Thirdly.  But  there  are  duties  of  a  still  higher  and 
more  sacred  character,  owed  by  you  to  your  servants, 
I  mean  those  of  religion. 

They  have  souls,  as  well  as  you;  like  you,  «°.«re  im- 
mortal creatures;  like  you,  are  sinners;  and  like  you, 
the  objects  of  redeeming  mercy.  The  \ery  circum- 
stance of  their  being  brought  within  the  comprehen- 
sion of  your  domestic  circle,  has  made  them  a  part  of 
that  little  community,  the  spiritual  welfare  of  which, 
you  are  to  promote  and  to  watch,  with  all  possible  so- 
licitude.    They  are  members  of  the  domestic  consu- 


50 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


ration,  as  well  as  hirrj.l  servants.  We  surely  cannot 
suppose,  that  the  fine  and  extensive  power,  which  is 
lodged  by  the  family  compact  in  the  master's  hand, 
was  vested  there  for  so  trivial  a  purpose  as  the  mere 
payment  of  those  wages  and  the  affording  of  that 
sustenance,  which  are  necessary  for  supplying  the 
servant's  bodily  wants.  It  is  also  to  be  recollected, 
that  mural  duties  arc  required  from  servants,  and  ought 
therefore  to  be  taught.  With  what  propriety  can  we 
look  for  truth,  honesty,  temperance,  chastity,  if  we 
have  never  inculcated  these  virtues.  How  can  we 
expect  they  will  be  faithful  in  serving  MS,  if  we 
have  never  taught  them  to  serve  God  in  sincerity 
and  truth  ? 

J .  Our  first  care  must  be  not  to  oppose  their  religion, 
or  to  hinder  their  salvation.  We  may  do  this  by  the 
influence  of  a  bad  example.  In  what  a  heathenish 
state  do  some  families  live!  Heathenish!  No — for 
pagans  nave  their  household  deities,  and  make  some 
snow  of  religion,  though  it  be  a  false  one,  in  their 
houses:  but  great  multitudes  in  this  Christian  land, 
live  as  if  there  were  no  God,  and  are,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  practical  atheists.  There  is  no  family  pray- 
er, no  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  no  observance  of  the 
Sabbath,  no  regular  attendance  upon  public  worship. 
The  holy  day  of  rest  is  to  them,  as  other  days;  they 
kdep  the  same  company,  and  seek  the  same  recrea- 
tioi.s  then  as  at  any  time  besides.  Religion  is  rarely 
introduced,  but  to  be  an  object  of  contempt,  and  a 
source  of  ridicule.  The  servants  in  such  families  hear 
swearing,  perhaps,  but  no  prayer;  see  drunkenness, 
but  no  worship ;  witness  card  playing,  dancing,  atid 
conviviality,  but  no  acknowledgment  of  God.  How 
can  such  masters  expect  good  servants?  If  they  ha- 
bitually break  God's  commands,  how  can  they  expect 
their  servants  to  keep  theirs?  Unreasonable  men, 
can  you  look  for  sobriety  in  them,  if  you  set  them  the 
example  of  intoxication?  For  chastity,  if  you  teach 
them  lewdness?  For  truth,  if  yon  teach  them  false- 
hood? For  religion,  if  you  teach  them  irreligion?  O 
that  you  would  consider  that  your  wickedness  ensures 
not  only  your  own  damnation,  but  hazards  that  of  all 
the  persons  under  your  charge.  Is  it  not  enough  to 
have  your  own  sins  laid  to  your  charge,  but  that  you 
must  be  answerable  for  your  servants  sins  also?  Is 
one  curse  too  light,  but  you  must  seek  to  multiply  it? 
Are  the  flames  of  hell  so  cool  and  tolerable,  that  you 
are  busy  in  adding  fuel  to  that  terrible  fire,  to  make  it 
burn  seven  times  hotter?  Yours  will  not  be  the  privi- 
lege of  perishing  alone,  but  will  be  the  fate  of  the  pilot 
who  sinks  others  with  himself. 

Some  carry  the  matter  so  far,  as  to  hinder  the  salva- 
tion of  others,  not  only  hy  example,  but  by  direct 
temptation.  How  many  masters  have  by  their 
atrocious  and  murderous  arts,  corrupted  the  virtue, 
blasted  the  reputation,  and  ruined  the  souls  of  those 
females,  whom,  having  received  into  their  house, 
they  were  bound,  by  every  principle  of  honor,  as 
well  as  of  religion,  to  protect.  Such  wretches  de- 
serve the  gallows  far  more  than  many  who  suffer 
there.  How  many  poor,  unhappy  women,  have 
been  sent,  by  such  vile  transgressors,  into  the  ca- 
reer of  prostitution,  to  an  early  grave,  and  to  that 
place  of  punishment,  where  they  will  meet  their 
seducer  to  be  his  tormentor,  through  eternity. — 
Neither  a  word,  nor  a  look,  should  ever  be  given  'to  a 
servant,  which  has  the  remotest  tendency  to  injure  her 
modesty. 

Nor  ought  you  to  tempt  them  to  sin,  hy  employing 
them  to  practise  dishonesty  and  falsehood  in  the  way  of 
trade.  Do  not  engage  them  in  acts  of  fraud  upon  the 
revenue;  nor  make  them  the  spectators  of  your  own 
evasion  of  the  laws  which  regulate  the  taxes  ;  for  all 
such  conduct  as  this,  is  laying  a  snare  in  their  way, 
and  tempting  them  to  sin.  And  by  what  sophistry 
can  any  one  attempt  to  justify  that  wicked  practice  of 


commanding  their  servants  to  say  to  visiters  that  they  are 
not  at  home,  while  they  are  in  the  house  at  the  very 
time?  This  is  teaching  falsehood  by  system,  and 
ought  we  to  wonder  if  our  servants  should  lie  to  us, 
when  we  have  thus  taught  them  to  We  for  us?  People 
that  make  any  profession  of  religion,  cannot,  of 
course,  adopt  this  iniquitous  custom,  for  :t  disgraces 
the  most  general  acknowledgment  of  piety  ;  but  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  some,  who  pass  for  real  Christians, 
and  wish  to  be  thought  such,  are  guilty  of  many  things 
which  are  quite  unworthy  of  their  character,  in  refer 
ence  to  their  servants,  either  by  making  them  the 
witnesses  or  instruments  of  many  evasions,  artifices, 
and  dishonorable  acts;  and  by  which  they  really  tempt 
them  to  go  much  farther  astray  on  their  own  account. 
We  can  easily  conceive  with  what  insufferable  loath- 
ing and  disgust  some  such  servants  must  come  to  the 
domestic  altar  at  the  time  of  the  morning  or  evening 
sacrifice.  It  is  a  most  shocking  instance  of  hypocrisy 
when  a  master  says  to  his  servants,  "  After  you  have 
done  so  and  so" — alluding  to  some  act  of  imposition 
upon  others — "'  come  to  prayer."  "  Come  to  prayer," 
one  might  imagine  they  reply,  "  thou  hypocrite,  what 
to  sanctify  the  dishonesty  thou  hast  just  commanded 
us  to  perform?"  Many  who  have  witnessed  these 
things,  or  any  thing  like  them,  have  taken  an  invete- 
rate prejudice  against  religion,  by  concluding  that  all 
its  professors  are  alike,  and  that  all  are  hypocrites  to- 
gether. 

We  hinder  their  salvation,  when  we  keep  them  away 
from  the,  means  of  grace.  Their  work  should  not  be  so 
oppressive,  even  on  week  days,  as  to  allow  them  no 
time  for  reading  the  Scriptures  and  prayer;  but  to 
compel  them  to  spend  even  their  Sabbaths  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  deprive  them  of  an  opportunity  to  hear 
the  word  of  God  explained  and  enforced  by  the  faith- 
ful preaching  of  the  gospel,  is  to  place  a  most  powerful 
hinderance  in  the  way  of  their  salvation.  How  ex- 
ceedingly cruel  and  disgraceful  is  it  to  keep  them  from 
public  worship  to  dress  a  warm  dinner.  Without 
affirming  that  the  Christian  Sabbath  is  to  be  observed 
with  the  same  ceremonial  strictness  as  the  Jewish  Sab- 
bath was,  we  do  contend  that  no  unnecessary  work 
should  be  done  on  that  day  in  our  dwellings.  I  sup 
pose  no  one  will  contend  that  a  tcarm  dinner  is  neces- 
sary. Is  it  not  a  crime,  then,  against  the  spiritual  wel- 
fare of  our  servants,  as  well  as  against  God,  to  occupy 
their  Sabbath  in  preparing  for  our  luxurious  gratifica- 
tion ?  Even  as  it  respects  their  bodies,  it  is  an  act  of 
great  oppression,  for  they  must  need  rest  from  their 
labor,  far  more  than  we  do ;  and  as  it  respects  their 
souls,  it  takes  away  both  the  opportunity  and  the  incli- 
nation to  attend  to  these  :  it  occupies  their  time  in  the 
morning,  and  unfits  them  for  attention  in  the  after- 
noon. All  who  thus  employ  their  domestics  on  the 
Sabbath,  may  be  truly  said  to  feast  upon  their  ser- 
vants' birth-right,  and  to  gratify  their  palate  at  the  ex- 
pense of  their  fellow  creatures'  spiritual  and  eternal 
welfare.  How  long  and  how  loudly  shall  the  voice 
of  indignant  and  faithful  reprobation  be  raised  in  vain 
against  this  sinful  practice  ?  I  put  it  to  any  professing 
Christian's  conscience,  how  he  can  any  ionger  deter 
mine  thus  to  hinder  the  salvation  of  those  who  are 
under  his  care  ?  Will  he  not  make  even  this  small 
sacrifice  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  members  of  bis 
domestic  constitution?  Is  this  his  professed  zeal  for 
God,  and  compassion  for  souls?  But,  perhaps,  he 
will  reply,  somebody  must  be  at  home  to  guard  the 
house.  Be  it  so.  But  need  they  be  slavishly  occu- 
pied in  the  drudgery  of  cookery  ?  If  they  must  be  de- 
prived of  the  public  means  of  grace,  is  it  necessary 
that  they  should  be  deprived  of  those  that  are  private 
also?  But  they  will  not  improve  their  time  at  home. 
How  do  you  know  ?  Have  you  tried  them  ?  Have 
you,  before  you  left  home,  furnished  them  with  a  suita- 
ble portion  of  reading  ? 


THE   FAMILY    MONITOR. 


51 


In  some  families  the  servants  are  kept  away  from 
die  house  of  God  far  more  than  they  need  to  he,  for 
other  purposes  hesides  cooking.  If  there  are  two 
children,  one  must  he  detained  from  public  worship 
for  each,  and  perhaps  a  third  to  guard  the  house.  But 
is  this  necessary !  I  would  have  all  proper  care 
taken,  both  of  the  children,  and  of  the  property  ;  but 
then  I  would  not  have  more  servants  than  are  abso- 
lutely requisite,  kept  away  from  the  house  of  God. 
The  Sabbath  is  of  more  importance  to  them  than  it  is 
even  to  us.  Their  incessant  occupation  through  the 
week,  renders  it  more  necessary  for  them  to  have  a  day 
of  rest  and  of  leisure  to  attend  to  their  soul's  concerns, 
than  it  is  for  us.  Nor  do  I  think  it  enough  to  grant 
them  merely  the  afternoon  of  the  Lord's  day  :  for  that 
is  the  very  part  of  the  Sabbath,  which  we  find  to  be 
the  least  edifying  to  ourselves,  and  if  this  be  the  case 
with  us,  how  much  more  so  must  it  be  with  them  ?  If, 
then,  we  keep  away  our  servants  from  suitable  public 
means  of  grace,  we  are  placing  a  hinderance  in  the 
way  of  their  salvation  ;  for  we  know  that  "  faith  conieth 
by  hearing,  and  hearing  by  the  word  of  God ;"  and 
that  God  hath  ordained  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  for 
the  salvation  of  men's  souls. 

It  appears  to  me,  that  we  tempt  our  servants  to  sin 
also,  by  unproper  negligence  and  carelessness  about  many 
of  the  more  covetable  parts  of  our  property.     Some  per- 
sons are  too  much  away  from  home,  and  leave  their 
servants  too  much  to  themselves:  and  when  they  are 
idle  abroad,  is    it    any  wonder  that  their   domestics 
should    be  dishonest  at    home?     If  they  will    gossip 
away  their  time  by  hours,  and  days,  and  weeks  together, 
can  it  be  wondered  at,  that  their  property  should  be 
wasted  by  those  who  are  only  hired  to  watch  it  ?     If 
you  are  so  much  from  home,  is  it  not  a  temptation  to 
them  to  invite  company  ?     Is  this  habit  of  neglecting 
them  the  way  to  make  them  faithful  ?     Will  they  not 
learn  idleness  from  you,  and  do  you  not  know  that 
idleness  is  a  parent  of  sin  ?     Or  if  yon  tempt  them  not 
to  sin  by  being  too  much  from  home,  do  you  not  do  it 
by  giving  them  too  little  employment?     If  you  over- 
work them,  you  oppress  their  bodies;  if  you  under- 
work them,  you  endanger  their  souls.     It  is  said  of 
the  wise  and  virtuous  woman,  that  she  would  suffer 
none  of  her  household  to  eat  the   bread  of  idleness. 
You  must  account,  not  only  for  your  own  time,  but 
for  theirs  also.     When  your  servants  are  idle,  said  an 
old  author,  the  devil  is  at  work  ;  and  our  idle  days  are 
his  busy  ones ;  if  you  find  them  nothing  to  do,  he  will. 
Many  have  been  ruined  for  both  worlds,  by  having 
nothing  to  do — but  mischief.     Do  not  tempt  them  to 
sin,  by  never  calling  them  to  account  for  what  is  entrusted 
to  their  care;  especially  in  pecuniary  matters.     They 
may  be  honest;  then  keep  them  so,  and  put  no  temp- 
tation in  their  way  to  be  otherwise,  by  not  examining 
their  accounts.     Never  let  them  feel  that  they  are  irre- 
sponsible.    If  you  keep  not  your  eye  upon  them  you 
1 1 i:iy  find  a  thief,  where  you  expected  to  find  an  honest 
man.     Iris  your  prayer  for  yourself,  "lead  me  not 
into  temptation  ;"  act  upon  this  same  principle  towards 
them.     Honesty  itself  should  always  be  required   to 
account  for  the  uttermost  farthing,  and  will  wish  to  do 
it.     Do  not  leave  your  property  too  much  exposed. 
Some  go  to  one  extreme,  and  lock  up  every  thing, 
others  go  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  lock  up  nothing  ; 
and  here,  as  in  many  other  cases,  extremes  meet ;  for 
one  tempts  to  dishonesty  by  trusting  too  little,  the  other 
by  trusting  too  much.     Money,  drinkables,  and  the 
lighter  articles  of  female  dress  and  decoration,  should 
not  be  left  too  carelessly  about.     Norshould  one  party 
in  married  life,  ever  make  a  confederacy  with  servants 
to  deceive   the   other.     Wives  should  never  engage 
their  maids  in  a  scheme  of  falsehood,  imposition,  or 
concealment    of  any    kind    against  their    husbands, 
though  it  be  but  in  trifling  matters,  for  this  is  teaching 
thorn  intrigue  and  duplicity,  which  may  not  only  be 
Number  44 


injurious  to  their  own  character,  but  seriously  detri- 
mental in  the  end  to  the  interests  of  the  family.  If  a 
servant  be  employed  by  the  wife  to  assist  her  to  con- 
ceal any  part  of  the  husband's  property,  or  appropriate 
it  any  way  unknown  to  him,  she  is  in  that  act  tempted 
by  her  mistress,  so  far  as  the  influence  of  example 
goes,  to  take  the  same  liberty  on  her  own  account- 
for  she  who  is  employed  to  purloin  for  another,  will 
soon  feel  no  scruples  to  steal  for  herself. 

2.  It  is  our  duty,  not  only  not  to  hinder  the  salva- 
tion of  our  servants,  but  to  do  every  thing  in  our  power 
to  promote  it. 

Seriously  consider  your  obligation  in  this  particular, 
and  that  as  God  sent  them  under  your  roof,  that  you 
might  care  for  their  souls  so  he  will  require  their 
souls  at  your  hands.  Yes,  at  the  day  of  judgment 
he  will  say  to  you,  "  Give  an  account  of  tho3e  immor- 
tal beings  which  were  placed  under  your  instruction, 
inspection,  and  anxiety."  Cherish,  then,  I  entreat 
you,  a  deep  solicitude  for  their  spiritual  welfare,  and 
feel  desirous  to  become  the  instruments  of  their  salva- 
tion. In  order  to  this,  take  care  to  set  them  a  good 
example,  and  let  them  see  in  you,  not  only  nothing 
that  is  contrary  to  religion,  but  every  thing  that  can 
recommend  it,  that  so  an  attractive  influence  may 
ever  be  exerted  by  your  character  on  theirs.  Many 
have  learnt  more  of  religion  by  what  they  have  seen  in 
their  masters  and  mistresses,  than  by  all  they  have 
heard  from  their  ministers.  They  will  never  forget 
their  example.  Call  them  regularly  to  family  prayer, 
and  make  them  the  peculiar  subjects  of  your  earnest 
supplications,  that  they  may  hear  your  entreaties  with 
God  on  their  account,  and  be  the  witnesses  of  your 
solicitude  for  their  welfare.  See  to  it  that  they  have 
bibles,  and  take  care  that  they  are  able  to  read,  for  if 
this  be  not  the  case,  it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  leach 
them.  Furnish  them  with  a  few  well  selected  books, 
and  thus  provide  for  them  a  kitchen  library.  Give 
them  opportunities  to  attend  public  worship,  and  to 
keep  holy  the  Sabbath  day.  Keep  them  not  too  late  at 
work  on  Saturday  evening,  lest  their  worldly  business 
trench  upon  the  Sabbath,  or  unfit  them,  by  excessive 
fatigue,  for  its  hallowed  occupations.  Instruct  them 
in  the  principles  of  true  religion,  that  they  may  have 
their  judgments  rightly  informed,  and  that  they  may 
not  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge.  If  is  a  great  dis- 
grace to  a  Christian  master  or  mistress,  if  any  servants 
leave  their  house,  without  knowing1,  at  least  in  theory, 
the  way  of  salvation.  In  addition  to  this,  you  should 
talk  to  them  in  the  most  affectionate  manner  on  their 
soul's  concerns,  warning  them  to  flee  from  the  wrath 
to  come,  and  directing  them  to  the  Lamb  of  God  who 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world.  Give  them  no  rest 
till  you  have  prevailed  upon  them  to  seek  in  good 
earnest,  the  one  thiwg  needful.  Observe  what  com- 
pany they  keep,  and  caution  them  against  such  as 
would  lead  them  astray.  Acquaint  yourselves  with 
the  books  they  read,  and  examine  what  they  under- 
stand and  remember  of  the  sermons  they  hear.  Do 
all  you  can  to  convince  them  of  the  reasonableness, 
profit,  and  sweetness  of  true  religion,  and  of  the  folly, 
and  danger,  and  misery  of  living  without  it.  If  you 
see  no  fruit  of  your  exertions  at  first,  do  not  be  weary 
of  well  doing,  but  persevere  in  your  anxious  and  judi- 
cious efforts.  Should  you  notice  any  solicitude  about 
their  souls,  nourish  to  the  uttermost  their  impressions, 
by  giving  suitable  advice  and  proper  books.  Encour- 
age them,  when  you  are  convinced  of  their  true  con- 
version, to  connect  themselves  with  the  church  of 
Christ,  and  thus  to  make  a  public  profession  of 
religion.  O,  if  you  should  be  the  instrument  of  sav- 
ing the  souls  of  your  servants,  what  an  honor  and  a 
happiness  will  be  conferred  upon  you!  How  many 
have  been  so  honored :  and  in  what  bonds  have  their 
servEtnts  been  held  to  them  for  ever  after  in  this 
life. 


52 


THE  FAMILY  MONITOR. 


To  influence  yon  to  the  performance  of  these 
duties,  I  maycall  upon  you,  to  remeinlier  that  your  Mus- 
ter also  is  in  heaven,  and  to  consider  what  a  muster  he  is 
to  you.  Meditate  upon  his  attributes,  and  upon  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  manifested  in  all  ins  con- 
duct towards  you.  How  righteous,  how  faithful,  how 
ho'y,  how  true,  how  merciful  is  he  in  his  dealings  to- 
wards /lis  servants.  And  it  is  your  duty  to  be  like  him. 
When  in  danger  of  acting  improperly,  either  by  want 
of  equity  or  kindness,  O  think  of  God  ;  meditate  on 
his  matchless  grace,  and  surely  such  a  reflection  will 
be  an  immediate  check  to  every  kind,  and  every  de- 
gree of  impropriety.  To  him  also  you  are  accounta- 
ble, and  accountable,  as  for  your  conduct  in  general, 
so  also  for  your  behavior  to  your  servants.  Prepare  to 
meet  Him  in  that  awful  day,  and  to  meet  them,  also  at 
his  bar ! ! 

Consider  how  much  your  servants  need  this  land  inter- 
position for  their  welfare.  They  are  often  young,  in- 
experienced, and  ignorant ;  rash,  and  imprudent ; 
and  they  are  also  an  unprotected  and  dependant  race. 
I  know  not  a  class  of  persons  whose  situation  is  more 
calculated  to  awaken  our  tenderest  sympathies,  than 
domestic  female  servants.  Many  of  them  are  orphans, 
and  have  no  friend  in  the  world  beyond  their  employ- 
ers ;  and  no  home  but  what  they  find  in  their  master's 
house.  When  they  leave  one  place  of  service,  they 
often  know  not  where  to  find  their  next  home,  and  are 
thus  repeatedly  beginning  the  world,  and  setting  out 
on  the  journey  of  life  afresh.  How  many  dangers  are 
they  exposed  to  !  How  many  snares  are  laid  for  their 
feet !  Masters  and  mistresses,  be  kind  to  them,  they 
have  found  a  refuge  in  your  house,  and  let  them  find 
friends  in  you.  Pity  their  condition,  and  labor  to  the 
uttermost  for  their  welfare.  You  may  be  the  means 
of  blessing  them  for  both  worlds,  and  become  their 
spiritual  fathers  and  mothers,  as  well  as  their  temporal 
masters  and  mistresses.  Their  souls  may  be  given  to 
your  kind  solicitude,  to  be  your  crown  of  rejoicing  in 
the  day  of  eternity. 

1'he  honor  of  religion  is  most  deeply  involved  in  the 
way  in  which  you  discharge  your  duties.  Bad  masters 
and  mistresses  bring  great  dishonor  upon  Christianity  ; 
while  on  the  other  hand,  they  who  in  this  situation,  ex- 
hibit whatsoever  things  are  pure,  and  true,  and  honest, 
and  just,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report;  who  abound 
in  that  love  wt.ich  is  not  easily  provoked,  and  thinketh 
no  evil,  and  is  kind;  who  have  the  meekness  and  gen- 
tleness of  Christ;  and  who  put  on  bowels  of  mercy, 
are  bright  ornaments  of  their  profession,  and  adorn  the 
doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour  in  all  things.  A  good 
master  or  mistress  is  indeed  a  most  honorable  character 
— good  men  esteem  it,  bad  men  admire  it,  the  world 
values  it,  the  church  applauds  it,  angels  delight  in  it, 
and  God  commends  and  rewatJs  it.  Eyes  too  dim  to 
see  the  beauties  of  holiness  in  the  abstract,  discern  the 
excellence  of  this,  and  tongues  thai  never  speak  of  re- 
ligion generally,  but  to  scotf  at  it,  are  eloquent  in  the 
praise  of  this.  I  conjure  you,  then,  by  all  the  regard 
you  bear  to  the  honor  of  religion,  strive  to  excel  in  this 
your  appropriate  duty. 

Interest  pleads  with  you  for  this.  Consider  how 
much  your  own  happiness  will  be  promoted,  by  see- 
ing others  happy  around  you.  The  heart  of  that  man 
cannot  be  in  the  state  in  which  it  ought  to  be,  who  is 
not  pleased  to  see  around  him  in  his  dwelling,  a  circle 
of  happy  minds  and  smiling  countenances.  A  good 
master,  or  a  kind  mistress,  is  a  kind  of  central  lumina- 
ry in  the  domestic  system,  and  ev^ry  child  and  every 
servant  an  attendant  satellite,  revolving  in  the  force 
of  his  attraction,  and  reflecting  the  brightness  of  his 
glory.  Or  to  change  the  metaphor,  he  is  a  fountain 
of  gladness,  continually  sending  forth  in  kindness  and 
kind  actions,  streams  of  pleasure  to  all  that  are  in  the 
house.  And  then  good  masters  and  mistresses  make 
good  servants,  or  find  them.     When  I  hear  persons 


complain,  that  they  cannot  find  good  servants,  I  sus- 
pect the  fault  is  their  own,  and  that  they  have  a  bad 
character,  for  their  conduct  towards  their  domestics. 
If  they  are  tormented,  have  they  not  been  tormentors? 
Iftheycanget  no  one  to  serve  them  willingly,  and 
honestly,  have  they  been  generous  and  kind  '!  If  they 
find  none  but  such  as  are  wicked,  have  they  tried  to 
make  them  holy?  If  they  complain  of  their  lying, 
their  lewdness,  their  theft,  have  they  not  been  so  sel- 
fish as  to  seek  to  produce  right  dispositions  towards 
themselves,  without  endeavoring  to  found  these  dispo- 
sitions on  a  right  state  of  mind  towards  God?  Try, 
then,  to  conduct  yourselves  rightly  to  those,  whom 
you  have  so  much  interest  in  making  what  they  should 
be.  Body,  soul,  estate,  wife,  children,  character, 
comfort,  all  are  more  or  less  concerned  in  this  matter. 
Your  servants  may  rob  or  enrich  you  ;  may  defend 
your  reputation  or  blast  it;  may  corrupt  your  children, 
or  improve  them  ;  may  tempt  you  to  sin,  or  warn  you 
against  it;  may  injure  your  health  or  protect  it;  may 
bless  you  by  their  prayers,  or  curse  you  by  their  vices  ; 
may  render  your  dwelling  continually  pleasant,  or 
perpetually  miserable:  your  own  interest,  therefore, 
unites  with  God's  commands,  to  make  it  your  wisdom 
and  your  duty,  to  train  your  servants  ae  well  as 
your  children  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  against  what  I  have  been 
persuading  you  to  ?  Will  you  not  now,  without  de- 
lay, bewail  your  former  neglect,  and  in  good  earnest 
set  to  your  work,  like  persons  that  in  some  measure, 
know  the  power  of  divine  precepts,  the  worth  of 
souls,  and  the  greatness  of  the  charge  that  lieth  upon 
you  ?  O  that  there  were  in  you  such  a  heart.  O 
that  all  masters  of  families  were  resolved  for  that 
which  humanity,  reason,  interest,  reputation,  and  their 
comfort  call  for,  as  well  as  the  law  of  God,  and  men 
oblige  them  to.  What  blessed  families  then  should 
we  have  !  What  noble  corporations  !  What  glorious 
cities !  Might  not  holiness  to  the  Lord,  be  writ- 
ten upon  every  door  ?     O,  when  shall  it  once  bo  '' 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    DUTIES    OF    SERVANTS. 


"  Servants,  be  obedient  unto  them  that  are  your  mas- 
ters, according  to  the  flesh,  with  fear  and  trembling, 
in  singleness  of  your  heart,  as  unto  Christ :  not  with 
eye  service,  as  men  pleasers  ;  but  as  the  servants  of 
Christ,  doing  the  will  of  God  from  the  heart;  with 
good  will,  doing  service,  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not  to 
men ;  knowing,  that  whatsoever  good  thing  any 
man  doeth,  the  same  shall  he  receive  of  the  Lord, 
whether  he  be  bond  or  free."       Ephes.  vi.  5 — 8. 

•'  Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise, 
Act  well  your  part — there  all  the  honor  lies." 

God  is  the  creator  of  all  things,  and  the  disposer  of 
all  events ;  he  is,  therefore,  the  author  of  all  those 
varieties  which  are  to  be  found  in  nature,  and  of  all 
those  differences  which  exist  in  society.  He  that 
formed  the  sun  to  illuminate,  and  to  rule,  formed  also 
the  planets  to  be  enlightened  and  to  be  governed ;  and 
he  that  raiseth  the  king  to  the  throne,  ordaineth  the 
lot  of  the  servant  in  the  house,  and  of  the  laborer  in 
the  field.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  chance  ;  no  not 
in  the  material  universe,  where  each  bird  that  flies, 
each  insect  that  crawls,  each  flower  that  blooms, 
amidst  the  desert,  which  man's  eye  never  explores,  is 
the  separate  production  of  divine  power  and  skill,  no 
less  than  the  Alpine  height  which  lilts  its  snow  crowned 
summit  to  the  skies,  and  receives  the  admiring  con- 
templation of  millions.  Nor  is  there  any  such  thing 
as  chance  in  society :  the  rank  and  station  of  the  poor 
little  servant  girl  in  the  humblest  dwelling  of  the  most 


Till:  FAMILY  MONITOR. 


53 


obscure  village,  are  as  certainly  determined  by  God, 
as  the  elevation  of  the  conqueror  and  ruler  of  nations. 
"  The  lot  is  cast  into  the  lap,  but  the  disposal  thereof 
is  from  the  Lord."  "  The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  to- 
gether, but  the  Lord  is  the  disposer  of  them  all ;"  i.  e. 
not  simply  their  creator,  as  men,  but  the  disposer  of 
their  circumstances  as  rich  and  poor.  This  is  com- 
lorimg,  this  is  reconciling.  It  prevents  the  poor  from 
being  degraded  in  their  own  eyes,  or  in  the  eyes  of 
others.  They  are  not  like  the  dust,  or  the  chips,  or  the 
dried  and  withered  leaves  in  autumn,  which,  amidst  the 
more  stately  objects  of  nature  or  art,  are  blown  about 
by  the  gusts  which  sweep  along  the  surface  ;  but  they 
are  in  the  place  which  God  intended  for  them  ;  and 
God  hath  made  every  thing  beautiful  in  its  place  and 
season.  Who  could  have  mended  what  he  hath  done  ? 
What  cause  have  we  to  sit  down  contented  and  thank- 
ful in  the  place  which  he  hath  ordained  for  us!  What 
obligation  was  he  under  to  give  us  existence?  And 
what  did  he  owe  to  us  that  he  should  have  made  us 
rational  creatures,  and  not  formed  us  a  beast,  or  a 
reptile  ?  "  Shall  the  thing  formed  say  to  him  that 
formed  it,  Why  hast  thou  made  nie  thus?" 

As  God  disposeth  every  thing,  so  it  is  the  highest 
excellence  of  a  creature,  to  discharge  the  duties  of  his 
station,  and  to  shine  in  the  orbit,  and  move  with  regu- 
larity through  the  course  allotted  to  him.  A  good  ser- 
vant is  more  honorable  than  a  bad  master;  and  a  valu- 
able subject  than  a  worthless  prince.  He  that  is  not 
relatively  good,  is  not  really  so;  while  he  that  acts  his 
part  well,  is  more  truly  dignified,  though  his  rank  be 
low,  than  he  that  stands  on  a  pinnacle,  but  fails  in  the 
duty  of  his  elevated  station.  What  is  true  honor  ? 
Not  riches,  not  rank,  not  beauty,  not  learning,  not 
courage.  No.  But  virtue;  whether  it  he  clad  in  the 
garb  of  poverty,  or  the  robe  of  affluence  :  whether  it 
hold  the  plough  or  grasp  the  sceptre ;  whether  it  be 
seated  at  the  table,  or  stand  behind  the  chair.  Vir- 
ti/e  is  honor  ;  let  all  servants  write  this  sentiment  on 
the  heart,  and  ever  act  under  its  influence,  as  the  living 
principle  of  all  their  conduct. 

In  stating,  after  these  preliminary  remarks,  the  du- 
ties of  servants,  I  would  remind  them, 

First.  That  there  are  some  which  they  owe  to  them- 
selves, the  performance  of  which  will  constitute  the 
best  and  surest  foundation  of  those  which  they  owe  to 
others. 

1.  Religion  takes  the  lead  of  all. 

Religion  is  as  much  your  business  as  it  is  ours. 
You  are  immortal  creatures,  yon  are  sinners,  you  are 
the  objects  of  God's  mercy  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  invited 
to  seek  pardon,  peace,  and  eternal  life,  as  well  as  we 
your  employers.  You  have  souls  that  must  sutler 
eternal  torments  in  hell,  or  enjoy  everlasting  happiness 
in  heaven.  Yon  must  be  convinced  of  sin,  repent, 
confess  to  God,  cry  for  mercy,  commit  your  souls  into 
the  hinds  of  Christ  by  faith,  be  born  again  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  lead  a  sober,  righteous,  and  godly  life,  or 
you  must  depart  accursed  into  everlasting  fire,  pre- 
pared for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  God  is  as  willing 
to  have  mercy  upon  you;  Jesus  Christ  is  as  leady  to 
receive  you,  as  he  is  us.  Your  soul  is  as  precious  in 
the  eye  of  heaven  as  ours.  God  is  no  respecter  of 
persons,  and  is  not  to  be  considered  as  less  friendly  to 
your  be>t  interests,  because  he  has  placed  you  in  ser- 
vice. Your  situation  is  no  excuse,  therefore,  for  your 
neglecting  the  claims  of  religion.  You  are  not  to  ima- 
gine that  attention  to  your  souls'  concerns  is  not  re- 
quired from  you;  for  it  is  required:  and  I  repeat  it, 
unless  you  repent,  and  are  born  again,  and  believe  in 
Christ,  you  will  perish  eternally.  Your  soul  is  your 
first  concern,  and  must  not  be  neglected  for  any  thing. 
Think  not  that  it  is  impossible  for  a  person  in  your 
situation  to  attend  to  religion  ;  fir  his  possible.  Great 
multitudes  of  servants,  both  male  and  female,  are  truly 
pious.     I  have  twenty  or  thirty  in  the  church  under 


my  care,  who  are  among  its  most  consistent  mem- 
bers. I  charge  you  all  to  live  in  the  fear  of  God.  Re- 
member your  Creator.  Set  the  Lord  always  before 
you.  Consider  that  he  is  ever  about  your  path,  and 
that  you  act,  speak  and  think  in  his  presence.  He  is 
now  the  holy  and  ever  present  witness,  and  will  here- 
after be  the  inflexibb  judge  of  your  actions. 

In  order  to  cultivate  religion,  go  not  into  wicked 
families,  where  the  Sabbath  is  profaned,  the  claims  of 
piety  are  despised  and  rejected,  and  you  can  have  no 
opportunity  of  going  to  public  worship.  Do  not  dwell 
in  a  place  where  your  Sabbath  is  taken  away  from  yon  ; 
let  no  amount  of  wages  tempt  you  to  go  or  to  remain 
in  such  a  situation.  Always  stipulate  for  the  privilege 
of  going  at  least  one  part  of  the  Lord's  day,  to  the  house 
oi  God.  Insist  upon  it  as  your  right,  and  suffer 
nothing  to  deprive  you  of  it.  Endeavor  to  find  a  little 
time  for  reading  the  Bible,  and  for  prayer.  Never  go 
out  of  your  room  in  the  morning,  nor  lie  down  on 
yoar  pillow  at  night,  without  reading  a  portion,  even 
though  it  be  a  short  one,  of  God's  holy  word,  and  ear- 
nestly praying  for  his  mercy.  Let  religion  be  the 
basis  of  all  your  conduct,  the  very  frame-work  of  your 
character,  leading  you  to  practise  "  whatsoever 
things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  what- 
soever things  are  just,  and  pure,  and  lovely,  and  of 
good  report."  Do  not,  then,  as  you  would  escape  the 
torments  of  hell,  do  not,  as  you  would  be  brought  at 
last  to  the  felicities  of  heaven,  do  not  neglect  youh 
souls.  "  Godliness  is  profitable  for  all  things,  having 
the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that 
which  is  to  come."  Your  situation  is  a  very  danger- 
ous one;  you  are  in  a  very  unprotected  state;  and 
yon  need  the  fear  of  God  to  enable  you  to  depart  from 
evil.  Men,  and  women  too,  of  bad  principles,  are 
lying  in  wait  for  you,  spreading  snares  for  your  feet, 
and  seeking  your  ruin.  Religion  will  guard  you,  and 
guide  you,  and  comfort  you  :  it  will  keep  yon  in  safety, 
and  raise  you  to  respectability.  '•'  Exalt  her,  and  she 
shall  promote  thee,  she  shall  lead  thee  to  honor  when 
thou  dost  embrace  her." 

2.  A  regard  to  truth,  is  another  very  important 
duty,  and  which  you  will  be  sure  to  perforin  if  you  fear 
God.  This  duty  you  owe  to  your  employers  also; 
hut  while  the  inconvenience,  of  the  neglect  of  it  will  be 
felt  by  them,  the  more  dreadful  consequence  of  tiiat 
neglect  will  be  yours. 

Lying  is  a  most  hateful  and  wicked  practice.  And 
it  is  said,  that  "  all  liars  shall  have  their  portion  in  the 
lake  that  burnetii  with  fire."  Strive  to  avoid  every 
thing  in  your  conduct  that  needs  a  sin  to  cover  it :  but 
if  you  havf  at  any  time  done  any  thing  wrong,  do  not 
make  one  sin  two,  by  telling  a  falsehood  to  conceal 
the  matter.  Let  no  temptation  induce  you  to  violate 
a  truth;  rather  endure  the  passion,  or  (he  bitterest 
wrath  of  the  severest  master  or  mistress,  than  strive  to 
avert  it  by  a  falsehood.  Lying  is  bad  policy,  as  well 
as  great  wickedness  ;  for,  when  once  detected  in  this 
vice,  you  will  ever  afterwards  be  suspected,  even 
when  you  tell  the  truth.  A  servant,  whose  word  can 
be  implicitly  relied  upon,  will  always  be  esteemed. 
Such  a  virtue  will  be  made  to  extend  a  friendly  cover- 
ing over  many  little  faults.  Never  allow  yourselves 
to  be  tempted  by  your  master  or  mistress  to  commit  a 
breach  of  truth.  Inform  them  at  once,  (hat  they  must 
tell  their  own  falsehoods,  for  that  you  cannot  do  it  for 
them.  A  clerk  once  waited  upon  me,  to  ask  me  what 
he  was  to  do  in  a  situation,  where  he  was  obliged 
weekly  to  make  a  false  written  return  in  his  own 
nam'',  to  defraud  a  public  company,  for  the  benefit  of 
his  employer.  "  Do,"  said  I,  with  surprise  that  the 
question  should  hare  been  asked  me,  "  instantly  re- 
fine; and  rather  cast  yourself  and  your  family  the  next 
hour  upon  Providence,  than  ever  repeat  the  falsehood." 
Yon  must  not,  dare  not,  lie  for  others  any  more  than 
for  yourselves.     If  required  to  adopt  the  modern  prac. 


54 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


tice,  of  saying,  your  mistress  is  not  at  home,  when  she 
is  at  the  same  time  in  ihe  house;  you  dare  not  com- 
ply, for  it  is  a  falsehood,  and  as  such,  is  a  sin  against 
God.  When  you  are  put  by  your  employers  upon 
committing  any  sin,  whether  it  be  cheating,  calumny, 
lying,  or  any  thing  else  forbidden  by  the  Scriptures, 
let  your  reply  be,  "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wicked- 
ness, and  sin  against  God." 

3.  Sobriety  is  a  virtue  you  owe  to  yourselves,  and 
also  to  your  masters  ;  but,  as  in  the  case  of  Jying,  the 
injury  done  by  intoxication  to  yourselves,  is  far  greater 
than  that  which  you  inflict  upon  them. 

Beware  of  the  besotting,  impoverishing,  damning 
sin  of  drunkenness,  and  of  every  thing  that  leads  to  it. 
Household  servants  have  many  opportunities,  and 
many  temptations  to  practise  this  vice,  if  there  be  any 
propensity  to  indulge  in  it.  It  is  impossible  even  for 
the  most  rigid  watchfulness  always  to  keep  out  of  their 
reach  the  mault  liquor,  the  spirits,  and  the  wine;  there 
are  means  of  gaining  access  by  stealth,  to  these  things. 
on  tiie  part  of  a  vicious  and  ingenious  servant,  which 
no  vigilant  mistress  can  altogether  prevent.  If  we 
cannot  trust  these  things  to  the  guardianship  of  your 
principles,  our  locks  and  keys  will  often  he  found  an 
insufficient  security.  Do,  do  consider,  that  if  the  habit 
of  drunkenness  be  once  contracted,  it  is  all  over;  and 
most  probably  you  are  ruined  for  both  worlds.  Let 
there  be  a  distinct  understanding  between  you  and 
your  master  or  mistress,  what  beverage  you  are  to  be 
allowed,  both  as  to  quality  and  quantity,  and  most 
sacredly  abstain  from  touching  a  drop  more,  or  a  drop 
of  any  thing  else.  Never  put  the  decanters  to  your 
lips,  when  the  stoppers  are  all  out  before  you.  Stolen 
drams  of  this  kind  are  double  poison,  they  are  venom 
fur  the  body,  and  damnation  for  the  soul :  they  lead  to 
two  crimes  at  once,  drunkenness  and  dishonesty.  Be- 
ware of  the  temptation  which  is  presented  at  those 
times,  when  company  is  in  the  house,  and  when, 
through  the  supposition,  that  extra  exertion  requires 
an  additional  glass,  you  may  be  led  to  lake  it,  to  love 
it,  and  to  acquire  the  habit  of  it.  I  have  known  excel- 
lent servants,  both  male  and  female,  ruined  for  ever  by 
intoxication. 

As  to  workmen,  the  daily  servants  that  occupy  the 
manufactories,  this  vice  is  the  damning  sin  that  is 
spreading  immorality,  desolation,  and  misery  through 
almost  the  whole  laboring  population  of  the  commu- 
nity. It  is  distressing  beyond  the  power  of  language 
to  describe,  to  think  of  the  effects  of  this  most  preva- 
lent, most  dreadful  infatuation.  How  many  fine  ath- 
letic forms  are  enervated ;  how  many  wives  are 
broken-hearted  ;  how  many  families  are  reduced  to 
beggary  ;  how  many  souls  are  damned  continually,  by 
this  crime.  Drunken  servants  are  the  torment  of 
almost  all  our  master  manufacturers,  the  curse  upon 
our  commerce,  and  the  blight  upon  our  national 
prosperity. 

4.  Chastity  is  a  duty  of  infinite  importance  to  the 
well  being  of  servants. 

I  am  now  on  delicate  ground,  and  I  will  endeavor 
to  step  with  caution  ;  but  no  false  refinement  shall 
hinder  me  from  discharging  a  duty,  which,  as  a  guar- 
dian of  the  public  morals,  I  owe  to  a  very  large,  and  a 
very  much  exposed  class  of  my  fellow  creatures.  I 
wili  not  allow  a  prudish  and  affected  sentamentalisin 
in  turn  away  my  holy  and  benevolent  concern  from 
the  interests  of  female  servants,  nor  prevent  me  from 
addressing  to  them  the  language  of  warning  and  ex- 
postulation. When  the  miseries  of  prostitution  are 
considered,  and  when  the  prevalence  of  this  desolat- 
ing crime,  and  all  its  attendant  evils  is  at  once  admit- 
ted and  deplored  ;  when  it  is  well  known,  that  of  the 
miserable  and  loathsome  victims  of  seduction  that 
crowd  the  paths  of  vice,  a  very  large  proportion  were 
female  servants,  betrayed  from  the  ways  of  virtue,  in 
the  first  instance,  by  their  masters  or  their  masters' 


sons,  or  their  fellow  servants  of  the  opposite  sex,  surely 
it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  who  is  specially  addressing 
young  women  in  service,  most  solemnly  and  most 
pointedly  to  warn  them  against  the  wily  arts  of  the 
basilisk  seducer,  who  is  fascinating  them  to  their  ruin. 
Young  women,  consider  the  value,  even  in  this  world, 
of  your  character.  With  an  unblemished  reputation, 
you  are  respectable  in  servitude:  your  virtue  is  your 
parents'  honest  pride,  your  families'  only  renown,  and 
your  own  wealth  and  honor:  this  will  be  your  pass- 
port through  the  world,  your  letter  of  recommenda- 
tion to  good  society,  and  that  which  will  find  you 
friends,  and  make  them,  and  keep  them,  wherever 
Providence  may  cast  your  lot.  But  if  this  be  lost,  oh, 
what  a  poor,  forlorn,  withered,  wretched  creature  you 
become;  abandoned  by  your  seducer,  ejected  from 
your  place,  disowned  by  your  friends,  you  have  the 
pains  and  the  cares,  and  the  labors  of  a  mother,  but 
united  with  the  infamy  of  a  prostitute;  you  have  to 
bear  the  scorn  of  the  world,  the  look  and  language  of 
shame-stricken,  heart-broken  parents  from  without, 
and  the  ceaseless  reproach  and  remorse  of  a  guilty 
conscience  from  within  ;  and  all  this,  perhaps,  but  as 
preliminary  to  the  misery  which  the  prostitute  endures, 
through  her  loathsome  course  on  earth,  and  its  awful 
termination  in  hell.  Take  warning,  then,  and  reject 
with  disdain  and  virtuous  indignation,  the  very  first 
encroachments  that  may  be  made,  by  any  one,  upon 
the  most  delicate  modesty  and  reserve.  Have  you 
been  unfortunate  enough  to  draw  upon  yourself  the 
attention  of  a  master,  or  a  master's  son,  consider,  it  is 
with  the  eye  of  lust,  not  of  love,  that  he  looks  upon 
you  ;  he  may  flatter  your  vanity  by  his  admiration  of 
your  person,  but  it  is  the  flattery  of  a  murderer :  he 
cannot  mean  any  thing  that  is  honorable  ;  his  passion, 
that  he  talks  of,  is  a  base,  ruffian-like,  deliberate  pur- 
pose to  ruin  you.  Turn  from  him,  flee  from  him  with 
more  haste  than  you  would  from  a  serpent  or  a  tiger, 
for  more  than  a  serpent  or  .a  tiger  he  is  to  be  shunned 
by  you.  Make  him  feel  that  you  are  his  superior  in 
virtue,  though  his  inferior  in  rank.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  allow  him  to  accomplish  his  purpose,  and 
decoy  you  to  perdition,  he  will  in  cold-blooded,  re- 
morseless cruelty,  abandon  you  and  your  child  to 
a  work-house,  to  a  broken  heart,  and  the  bottomless 
pit. 

Act  in  the  same  determined  manner  towards  every 
one  else.  Preserve  not  only  your  virtue  itself,  but 
your  modesty,  which  is  its  outwork.  Allow  neiiher 
act,  nor  word,  nor  look  in  your  presence,  which  is  at 
variance  with  the  most  scrupulous  purity.  Let  no 
prospect  nor  promise  of  marriage  throw  you  olfyour 
guard.  The  man  who  acts  thus,  is  to  he  regarded  as 
a  traitor  deceiving  you  into  iniquity.  He  that  would 
destroy  your  reputation,  will  not  scruple  to  falsify  his 
own  word  ;  the  vows  of  such  a  wretch  are  not  to  be 
trusted.  Be  careful  to  whom  you  give  your  company. 
Let  not  an  anxiety  to  leave  service,  and  be  your  own 
mistress,  drive  you  to  accept  the  offer  of  the  first  indi- 
vidual, suitable  or  unsuitable,  who  may  present  himself 
to  your  notice. 

5.  Frugality  is  an  incumbent  duty  upon  persons 
in  your  situation. 

You  are  in  very  dependant  circumstances.  Your 
support  depends  upon  your  own  labor,  and  that  upon 
your  health.  You  have  no  arm  but  your  own  to  relv 
upon,  and  should  therefore  feel  the  obligation  of  lay- 
ing up  something  in  the  day  of  prosperity,  against  the 
night  of  adversity.  We  are  all  enjoined  to  trust  Pro- 
vidence, but  not  to  tempt  it.  To  spend  all  we  get  in 
vanity  and  useless  trifles,  under  the  idea  that  we  shall 
be  taken  care  of,  in  one  way  or  other,  is  a  presumption 
that  generally  brings  its  own  punishment.  There  is 
in  the  present  day,  a  most  censurable  propensity  in 
female  servants,  and  workwomen  in  general,  to  dress 
quite  beyond   their  station.     It  is  not  easy,  m  some 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


55 


cases,  to  distinguish  between  the  maid  and  her  n;is- 
tress.  What  abject  folly  is  it,  for  a  young  woman  to 
spend  all  her  wages  in  gay  apparel.  When  she  is  in 
ill  health  and  out  of  place,  will  it  be  any  consolation 
to  look  upon  finery  which  she  is  obliged  to  pawn,  one 
nrticle  after  another,  for  her  support?  The  love  of 
ilress  has  led  in  some  instances  to  stealing  ;  in  others, 
to  prostitution:  in  more,  to  poverty.  Character  is 
respectability,  not  dress.  Harlots  are  generally  fine 
and  gaudy  in  their  attire.  Economize  your  little  pro- 
perty, then;  lay  up  in  store  for  the  time  to  come.  I 
know  several  servants  who  have,  one  forty,  anothei 
fifty  fvother  one  hundred  pounds  in  die  bank.  Be- 
sides, t  is  desirable  to  save  from  unnecessary  expense 
in  dress,  that  you  may  have  a  little  to  give  to  the  cause 
of  humanity  and  religion.  The  mite  of  the  servant 
mi)  mingle,  in  this  age,  with  the  pound  of  the  master, 
to  help  in  spreading  the  blessings  of  Christianity  over 
the  face  of  the  earth.  And  it  is  to  be  poor  indeed, 
to  have  nothing  to  give  to  the  cause  of  humanity  or 
religion. 

Secondly.  I  now  lay  before  you  the  duties  you  owe  to 

YOUR  EMPLOYERS. 

1.  Honor  them  :  for  they  are  your  superiors  in  sta- 
tion. Pay  them  the  respect  which  is  due  to  them,  and 
in  order  to  this,  cherish  for  them  a  proper  reverence 
in  your  heart.  "  Let  as  many  servants  as  are  under 
the  yoke,"  said  the  apostle,  "  count  their  own  masters 
worthy  of  all  honor."  Behave  towards  them  with  all 
proper  humility  and  submission  :  not  that  you  are  to 
crouch  ami  tremble  before  them,  like  slaves  at  the  foot 
of  a  tyrant  Your  address  to  them  must  be  reveren- 
tial, not  rude,  boisterous,  and  impertinent.  In  talking 
of  them  to  others,  in  their  absence,  there  should  be  no 
nailing  them  names,  no  exposure  of  their  faults,  no 
ridiculing  their  infirmities;  on  the  contrary,  you 
should,  to  the  utmost  ofyoui  power,  as  far  as  truth  will 
allow,  defend  them  against  the  attacks  of  slander,  and 
the  arts  of  detraction.  If,  at  any  time,  they  speak  to 
you  with  tones  of  anger,  and  in  the  language  of  re- 
buke, you  must  "euietrber  the  apostle's  injunction, 
and  '■  not  ansirmr  again.  '  You  may  mildly  and 
meekly  explain,  and  sometimes  expostulate,  but  you 
must  not  reply  in  an  angry  and  impertinent  manner. 
Should  they  so  far  forget  their  duty,  as  to  let  down 
their  dignity,  and  be  too  familiar,  do  not  forget  your 
place,  but  respectfully  keep  your  proper  distance. 
Every  thing  rude  in  conduct,  and  obtrusive,  insolent 
or  familiar  in  language,  must,  therefore,  he  most  sedu- 
lously  avoided,  as  an  essential  part  of  servants' conduct 
Inwards  their  employers. 

2.  Obedience  is  founded  upon  reverence,  and  is  a 
necessary  part  of  it.  Observe  the  directions  of  the 
apostle  Paul.  "  Servants,  obey  in  all  things  your  mas- 
ters according  to  the  flesh."  We  are  of  course  to 
except  tnnse  things  which  are  contrary  to  the  word  of 
God:  fur  if  they  enjoin  anything  that  is  manifestly 
sinful,  yon  must  mildly,  but  firmly,  refuse  to  comply, 
and  be  prepared  to  take  all  the  consequences  of  your 
disobedience.  In  all  other  matters,  however  self-de- 
nying or  dilficult,  however  contrary  to  your  own  views 
and  wishes,  you  must  submit ;  you  are  not  to  choose 
vour  commands,  but  in  all  things  to  obey.  You  are 
to  obey  "  with  fear  and  trembling,"  i.  e.  with  reveren- 
tial regard  for  their  authority,  a  dread  of  their  displea- 
sure, and  also,  which  is  probably  the  apostle's  mean- 
ing, with  a  dread  of  die  anger  of  God,  who,  having 
enjoined  obedience,  will  punish  the  disobedient;  You 
are  to  obey  "  in  singleness  of  heart,1'  i.  e.  with  a  willing 
and  cheerful  mind  ;  and  not  with  a  mere  compulsory 
outside  show  of  submission,  and  are  to  be  free  from 
all  selfish  personal  ends,  and  obey  from  the  single  con- 
sideration that  it  is  right.  You  are  to  do  this,  "asunlo 
Christ,  as  the  servants  of  Christ,  doing  the  will  of  God 

from  the  heart,  with  good  will,  doing  service  as  to  the  Lord, 
and  not  to  men."    You  must  consider,  that  God  com- 


mands it,  and  therefore  yon  are  to  obey  them,  as 
obeying  God  ;  they  are  in  God's  stead,  in  this  parti- 
cular, to  you  ;  and  from  a  regard  to  conscience,  and  a 
respect  to  the  divine  authority,  you  are  to  do  what 
they  enjoin.  "  I  do  this,"  you  are  to  say,  in  reference 
to  disobedience,  "  not  merely  to  please  my  master  am! 
my  mistress,  but  to  please  God."  This  is  turning  r>!l 
yon  do  into  religion.  It  signifies  nothing,  what  is  the 
nature  of  the  thing,  whether  it  be  an  act  of  the  most 
menial  kind,  in  the  kitchen,  the  parlor,  or  the  garden, 
if  it  be  done  with  a  view  to  the  divine  command,  that 
very  aim  elevates  the  humble  service  into  an  expres- 
sion of  piety  towards  God.  and  a  service  that  will  be 
remembered  in  the  day  of  judgment.  Yon  a  i  not  to 
obey,  "  icith  eye  service,  as  men  pleasers."  HjW  many 
are  there,  who  need  a  master's  eye  always  upon  them, 
to  keep  them  industrious.  No  sooner  is  his  back 
turned,  than  they  are  indolent  and  neglectful.  This 
conduct  is  as  mean  as  it  is  wicked  :  it  is  detestable 
hypocrisy,  flagrant  injustice, and  manifest  wickedness  : 
for  is  it  nothing  that  the  eye  of  God  is  upon  you  ?  Is 
he  not  there?  Does  he  not  disapprove  this  conduct  ? 
And  is  it  a  small  matter  to  make  light  of  his  presence  ? 
Such  servants  will  shortly  find  to  their  fearful  cost, 
that  the  eye  of  God  is  far  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the 
eye  of  the  severest  master. 

Let  it  he  your  delight  to  do  the  will  of  your  employ- 
ers. Strive  to  please  them  in  all  things,  and  feel  anx- 
ious to  draw  from  them  this  testimony, — "  There  is  a 
servant,  to  whom  no  command,  which  it  is  in  her  pow- 
er to  obey,  comes  unwelcome;  who  never  need  be 
told  a  second  time  to  do  a  thing  ;  who  anticipates  my 
orders;  and  whose  very  pleasure  seems  to  arise  from 
pleasing  me." 

3.  Good  temper  is  of  great  consequence. 

There  are  some  servants  who,  let  what  work  will 
come  in  unexpectedly,  and  even  oppressively,  receive 
all  with  a  cheerful  acquiescence,  and  are  never  pii 
out  of  their  way.  Their  mistresses  are  never  afraid  6 
telling  them  of  unlooked-for  company  having  arriveu 
and  extra  exertion  being  necessary.  While  there  are 
others  who,  with  many  valuable  qualities,  are  withal 
so  peevish,  so  soon  put  out  of  temper,  so  cross  at  any 
little  unexpected  addition  being  made  to  their  work, 
that  their  mistresses  are  in  constant  bondage.  I  like 
not  to  hear  it  said,  "  She  is  a  very  good  servant,  and 
has  many  excellent  properties,  but  her  temper  is  so 
bad,  that  I  am  quite  afraid  to  point  out  to  her,  in  ever 
so  gentle  a  manner,  the  least  imperfection,  or  to  put 
her  in  the  smallest  degree  out  of  her  way."  This  is  a 
serious  blemish  upon  any  excellence,  and  often  proves 
a  very  great  interruption  to  the  comfort  of  the  family, 
but  a  still  greater  interruption  to  the  comfort  of  the 
poor  waspish  creature  herself.  Temper  is  not  every 
thing,  but  it  is  very  important.  Study,  therefore,  to 
be  obliging,  and  to  avoid  crossness,  sulleuness,  and 
passion. 

4.  Fidelity  is  a  duty  of  the  highest  rank. 

What  a  delightful  testimony  is  that  which  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  represented  as  bearing  to  his  people  at 
the  last  day, —  "  IVcll  done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 
Such  also  is  the  testimony  which  it  should  be  in  our 
power  to  bear  to  our  servants.  Fidelity  has  reference- 
To  the  property  of  your  masters. 
Faithful  servants  will  not  actually  steal  the  pro- 
perty of  their  masters.  There  are  opportunities  of 
this  every  where  if  you  choose  to  avail  yourselves  of 
them.  Consider  the  horrible  disgrace  of  being  called 
a  thief;  and  add  to  this  the  danger  in  the  present 
world,  and  the  punishment  of  such  a  crime  in  the  next. 
Write  tiie  eighth  commandment  upon  your  heart,  and 
whet)  tempted  by  a  favorable  opportunity  to  embezzle 
the  property  of  your  employer,  let  a  voice  more  awful 
than  thunder  repeat  in  your  ears  the  prohibition, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  steal."  At  that  perilous  moment  in 
your  history,  let  your  imagination  look  up,  and  behold 


56 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


the  flaming  eye  of  God,  intently  gazing  upon  you.    In    your  family,  and  so  distressed  at  the  idea  of  your  doing 


whatever  profusion,  money,  plate,  jewelry,  lace,  may 
be  spread  out  before  you,  touch  not,  covet  not.  De- 
termine, by  God's  grace,  that  though  you  be  ever  so 
poor,  you  will  at  least  be  honest.  Honesty  is  indeed 
the  best  policy,  to  go  no  higher  for  a  motive  of  com- 
mendation. A  single  act  of  stealing  may  blast  your 
reputation  for  ever;  even  to  be  suspected,  is  dreadful : 
but  what  inestimable  value  is  attached  to  a  servant  of 
tried  honesty.  Be  honest  even  to  scrupulosity.  Touch 
nothing  in  the  house  in  the  way  of  eatables  or  drink- 
ables, which  you  do  not  consider  as  belonging  to  you. 
If  you  want  to  taste  the  luxuries  of  the  larder,  ask  for 
them;  but  do  not  appropriate  to  yourself  what  you 
think  would  be  denied.  I  have  read  of  a  servant  who 
went  into  the  pantry  only  to  make  free  with  sweet- 
meats, but  seeing  some  articles  of  plate  lying  about,  he 
took  these,  and  went  on  from  one  degree  of  theft  to 
another,  till  he  died  at  the  gallows.  He  was  under  the 
influence  of  a  thievish  disposition  when  he  saw  the 
plate,  for  he  was  going  to  take  what  he  had  no  right  to, 
and  he  was  in  a  favorable  state  of  mind  to  be  tempted 
by  Satan  to  a  greater  crime.  Servants  should  not  al- 
low themselves  to  appropriate  any  refuse  articles  of 
dress,  nor  give  away  the  broken  victuals,  or  other  arti- 
cles of  the  kitchen,  without  permission.     Habits  begin 


otherwise  than  well,  that  at  the  risk  of  incurring  your 
displeasure,  which  I  entreat  you  not  to  indulge  against 
me,  for  this  self-denying  act  of  faithful  service,  I  have 
determined  to  lay  the  matter  before  you,  and  to  beg  of 
you  to  give  up  your  company,  to  look  into  your  ac- 
counts, and  to  attend  more  closely  to  your  business." 
A  servant  that  would  do  this,  and  in  this  manner,  is  fi- 
delity embodied,  and  is  a  treasure  bevond  all  price. 

But  faithfulness  has  a  reference  also  to  a  master's 
time,  for  in  many  instances  time  is  property,  and  ser- 
vants may  as  effectually  rob  their  masters  by  idleness, 
as  by  stealing.  This  is  always  the  case  where  they 
are  hired  by  the  day  ;  and  indeed  where,  as  in  many 
branches  of  manufacture,  they  are  paid  by  the  piece, 
if  by  their  idleness  they  prevent  their  employers 
from  executing  orders,  and  realizing  profits,  they  can 
scarcely  be  called  faithful.  When  you  hire  yourselves, 
there  should  be  an  explicit  understanding,  as  I  have 
already  said,  how  much  time  you  are  to  render  for  {he 
stipulated  wages,  and  when  this  is  known,  all  that  by 
indolence  you  keep  back,  is  just  so  much  of  your  em 
plover's  property  stolen  from  him. 

Faithfulness  has  regard  to  the  reputation  of  your 
master  or  mistress.  You  have  their  character  in  your 
hands,  and  by  calumny  and  falsehood,  may,  if  such  a 


in  acts;  little  sins  lead  on  to  greater  ones.     She  that    malicious  disposition  were  in  your  heart,  do  them  con 


commences  by  taking  a  sweetmeat,  knowing  that  she 
is  not  allowed  it,  lias  violated  so  far  her  integrity,  has 
done  something  to  benumb  her  conscience,  and  has 
taken  the  first  step  towards  confirmed  dishonesty.  Sin 
is  deceitful ;  and  the  way  of  a  sinner  is  like  the  course 
of  a  ball,  down  hill.  Servants,  beware  of  theirs;  act 
of  sin.  But  fidelity,  in  reference  to  property,  requires 
not  only  that  you  should  not  embezzle  your  master's 
property,  but  that  you  should  not  waste  it.  They 
that  carelessly  waste,  are  almost  as  guilty  as  they  that 
wilfully  steal.  You  cannot  be  an  honest  servant,  un- 
less you  are  as  careful  of  your  employer's  property  as 
if  it  were  your  own.  Furniture,  goods,  provisions, 
must  all  be  thus  preserved.  You  are  not  to  say,  "My 
master  is  rich,  he  can  spare  it,  and  we  need  not  be  so 
niggardly."  His  wealth  is  nothing  to  you  :  if  he 
chooses  to  waste  it,  he  has  a  legal  right  to  do  so,  but 
you  have  none. 

Nor  is  this  all,  for  fidelity  requires  that  servants 
should  do  all  they  can  to  make  their  employer's  affairs 
prosper.  They  should  grieve  over  their  master's  loss- 
es, rejoice  in  his  success,  and  so  identify  their  feelings 
with  his  interests,  as  to  seem  as  if  their  fortune  were 
bound  up  with  his.  We  have  a  fine  instance  of  this 
in  the  case  of  Joseph,  while  he  was  in  the  house  of 
Potiphar. 

Fidelity  would  also  lead  them  to  give  their  employ- 
ers information  and  warning  when  their  affairs  are  go- 
ing wrong,  either  through  their  own  neglect  or  igno- 
rance, or  through  the  injurious  conduct  of  others. 
They  cannot  be  honest  if  they  witness  in  silence  any 
fraud  practised  upon  them,  either  by  their  fellow-serv- 
ants or  by  friends  or  strangers.  Such  connivance  is  a 
participation  of  the  crime,  although  it  should  not  be 
rewarded  by  any  participation  of  the  profits.  A  pro- 
per feeling  of  concern  for  your  master's  welfare,  would 
certainly  lead  yon,  if  he  were  flagrantly  neglectful  of 
his  affairs,  to  suggest  to  him  in  a  respectful  manner, 
your  apprehension  of  the  consequences.  What  man. 
except  a  fool  or  a  madman,  would  be  offended  by  such 
an  appea'  ".s  the  following,  made  to  him  by  a  servant : — 
"  Pardon  me,  Sir,  if  I  take  the  liberty  of  expressing  my 
fears  on  the  subject  of  your  business,  which  I  am  in- 
duced to  do,  by  a  sense  of  my  own  duty,  and  a  true 
regard  to  your  welfare.  Your  business  is  certainly 
declining,  and  I  fear,  through  your  being  so  frequently 
absent  from  it.  Customers  are  offended  by  not  meet- 
ing with  the  principal  in  the  shop,  and  by  finding  the 
stock  so  low  and  ill  assorted.     I  am  so  concerned  for 


siderable  harm,  either  by  stating  what  is  absolutely 
false,  misrepresenting  what  is  true,  magnifying  what 
is  little,  or  exaggerating  what  is  insignificant.  Re 
member,  it  is  the  utmost  excess  of  base  conduct,  and 
the  wickedest  kind  of  dishonesty,  to  attempt  to  rob 
them  of  their  good  name. 

Then  there  are  also  secrets  which  it  would  be  a  very 
unfaithful  act  in  you  to  disclose.  Workmen,  clerks, 
and  apprentices,  are  guilty  of  great  impropriety,  if 
they  communicate  the  private  arts  of  their  master's 
business,  or  lay  open  his  connections  to  any  one.  Such 
an  act  is,  by  common  opinion,  an  instance  of  criminal 
treachery.  Female  servants  ought  not  to  tell  to  others 
what  they  see  and  hear  in  the  families  where  they  are 
placed.  It  is  to  be  apprehended  that  much  of  the  gos- 
sip, and  many  of  the  reports,  which  circulate  so  much 
slander  and  detraction  through  society,  are  to  be  traced 
up  to  this  source.  You  are  not  forbidden  to  form 
friendships  with  your  fellow-servants  in  other  families, 
but  to  meet  merely  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  in- 
telligence from  the  respective  households  in  which  you 
live,  is  highly  censurable.  You  should  maintain  the 
strictest  silence  on  these  affairs,  and  not  allow  the  most 
busy  and  inquisitive  curiosity  of  others  to  draw  any 
thing  from  you.  Nor  are  yon  to  tell  these  matters,  as 
is  often  done,  to  one  particular  friend ,  for  she  may  tell 
them  to  one  more,  till  at  length  the  affairs  of  the  family 
are  matter  of  public  notoriety.  Your  admission  into  a 
family  is  attended  with  an  implied  condition,  that  you 
are  to  keep  all  its  secrets. 

5.  Diligence  is  another  duty,  but  is  so  necessarily 
connected  with  honesty,  and  indeed  so  essentially  a 
part  of  it,  that  much  need  not  be  said,  in  addition,  to 
illustrate  and  enforce  it.  The  slothful  servant  is  a 
wicked  one,  for  in  some  instances  more  mischief  may 
be  done  by  a  day's  idleness,  than  others  may  be  able  to 
undo  by  a  year's  exertion.  The  habits  of  a  sluggard 
are  very  unfriendly  to  your  own  reputation,  and  to  the 
comfort  of  the  family  by  whom  you  are  employed. 
Early  rising  is  absolutely  indispensable,  if,  in  addition 
to  the  duties  of  your  station,  you  would  attend  to  the 
salvation  of  your  soul.  And  will  you  not  sacrifice  half 
an  horn's  sleep,  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  glory,  ho- 
nor, immortality,  and  eternal  life?  Diligence  is  op- 
posed to  sauntering,  inactive,  and  gossiping  habits:  to 
a  slow,  reluctant,  grudging  way  of  doing  your  work. 
A  disposition  to  stint  your  labor,  to  do  as  little  as  you 
possibly  can,  and  to  do  that  little  in  a  careless,  nnneat, 
half-finished  manner,  is  a  great  blemish  in  your  cha- 


THE  FAMILY   MONITOR. 


57 


racter,  and  will  be  sure  to  militate  against  your  in- 
terest. 

6.  Gratitode  for  kindness  shown  you,  is  very  in- 
cumbent. 

You  ought  to  be  thankful  for  having  your  faults 
pointed  out,  and  not  resentful,  as  too  many  aie,  to- 


ceive  her  to  be  conscientious,  even  to  scrupulosity ; 
my  chief  complaint  is,  that  she  takes  too  much  care  of 
me,  that  I  cannot  make  her  take  sufficient  cara  of 
herself." 

Servants,  look  at  this  character,  admire  it,  imitate  it. 

Thirdly.     There  are  duties  ichich  servants  in  tlie 


wards  those  who  are  kind  enough  to  show  them  what  same  family  owe  to  each  other. 
is  wrong.  If  you  have  received  kind  attentions  in  j  There  ought  to  be  no  tyranny  nor  oppression  exer- 
sickness,  and  have  discovered  a  constant  solicitude  on  !  cised  by  one  over  the  other.  This  is  often  the  case  in 
the  part  of  your  employers  to  soften  as  much  as  pos- 
sible your  labor,  and  to  render  you  comfortable  in  your 
situation,  you  should  convince  them  that  their  atten- 
tions are  not  thrown  away  upon  one  who  is  insensible 
to  their  kindness.  Especially  if  they  have  taken  pains 
to  promote  your  interest,  by  warning  you  against  bad 
company,  or  by  endeavoring  to  correct  your  bad  prac- 
tices, you  should  be  grateful  for  their  pains,  and  en- 
deavor to  comply  with  their  advice. 

7.  In  all  such  cases  as  those  mentioned,  where  your 
masters  and  mistresses  are  your  friends,  and  confer 
obligations  by  their  kkidness,  you  should  be  truly  and 
cordially  attached  to  them. 

Where  there  is  rea"y  nothing  to  produce  attach- 
ment, you  cannot  be  expected  to  feel  any.  You  can- 
not be  required  to  feel  gratitude,  where  you  have  re- 
ceived no  favors  ;  nor  to  cherish  affection,  where  you 


those  families  which  employ  a  numerous  retinue  of  do- 
mestics, and  which  admit  the  distinction  of  superior 
and  inferior  servants.  There  is  sometimes  in  such 
households,  a  system  of  great  cruelty  carried  on,  alto- 
gether unknown  to  the  master.  Some  poor  creatures 
are  degraded  into  the  condition  of  a  slave  to  the  other 
servants,  and  drag  on  a  miserable  existence,  under  the 
heavy  yoke  which  has  been  imposed  upon  them,  by 
an  unfeeling  minion,  who  stands  before  the  master's 
eye,  and  has  always  his  ear  at  command. 

Strive  to  agree  with  each  other,  for  families  are  often 
disturbed  by  the  quarrels  of  the  servants,  and  the  up- 
roar in  the  kitchen,  is  distinctly  heard  by  the  guests 
in  the  parlor.  You  should  bear  with  one  another's 
infirmities,  and  never  take  delight  in  thwarting  each 
other.  Instead  of  finding  pleasure  in  converting  the 
infirmities  o*"  any  one  into  a  means  of  annoying,  and 


have  met  with  no  indulgence.     But  all  masters  and  I  a  sonrce  of  vexation  to  her,  carefully  avoid  whatever, 

by  appealing  to  these  imperfections,  or  bringing  thein 
into  notice,  would  render  the  subject  of  them,  irrita- 
ble or  sullen.  Never  tease  one  another,  which  is  too 
often  done,  especially  where  an  individual  is  known 
to  be  petulant.  The  worst  consequences  have  some- 
times arisen  from  this  practice.  A  few  days  ago,  I 
saw  an  individual  put  to  the  bar  of  his  country,  upon 
an  indictment  for  manslaughter,  under  the  following 
circumstances. — His  fellow  servants,  aware  of  his  petu- 
lant disposition,  provoked  him  by  some  petty  vexa- 
tions, till,  in  his  rage,  he  hurled  a  hammer  at  them, 
which  struck  one  of  them  in  the  head,  and  inflicted  a 
wound  of  which  he  died. 

Never  bear  tales  to  your  employers,  for  the  purpose  of 
exciting  a  prejudice  against  each  other,  and  ingratiat- 
ing yourselves  into  their  favor.  A  supplanter  is  a 
most  hateful  character,  at  once  despicable  and  des- 
pised. 

At  the  same  time,  you  are  not  to  connive  at  sin;  if 
your  fellow  servants  dc  any  thing  wrong,  either  in  the 
way  of  drunkenness,  lewdness,  or  dishonesty,  von 
owe  it  to  your  master,  to  make  him  acquainted  with 
the  fact.  You  are  dishonest  if  you  conceal  the  dis- 
honesty of  others,  and  you  are  a  partaker  of  those 
vices,  which  you  allow  to  be  perpetrated  under  your 
notice  without  making  it  known. 

Servants  that  make  a  profession  of  religion,  have 
great  need  to  conduct  themselves  with  singular  pro- 
priety. Towards  their  masters  and  mistresses  there 
should  be  the  deepest  humility,  and  the  very  reverse 
of  every  thing  that  bears  even  a  distant  resemblance 
of  spiritual  pride.  There  must  be  no  consciousness 
of  superiority,  no  air  of  importance,  no  atfected  sanc- 
tity; but  a  meek,  modest,  unobtrusive  exhibition  of 
the  influence  of  religion,  in  making  them  strictly  con 
scientious  and  exemplary,  in  the  discharge  of  all  the 
duties  of  their  station.  Their  piety  should  be  seen, 
not  only  in  a  constant  anxiety  to  attend  to  the  public 
means  of  grace,  and  in  a  regular  performance  of  the 
private  duties  of  religion,  but  also  in  making  them 
more  respectful  and  obedient;  more  meek  and  sub- 
missive ;  more  honest  and  diligent  than  all  the  rest. 
That  servant  does  not  adorn  die  doctrine  of  (iod  her 
Saviour  in  all  things,  who  does  not  shine  in  hersphere 
as  a  servant.  There  are  occasions  when  you  may  seek 
to  do  good  to  those  who  employ  you,  if  they  are  yet 
living  without  the  possession  of  piety.  Instances 
have  occurred,  in  which  such  as  you  have  been  the 
instruments  of  converting  their  employers :  and   a 


mistresses  are  not  tyrants,  as  some  of  you  know  by 
experience;  for  you  have  found  in  them,  something, 
at  least,  of  the  kindness  of  a  second  father  or  mother. 
Here  there  are  certainly  strong  claims  upon  your  af- 
fection, as  they  have  cared  for  you  with  the  kindness 
of  parents,  you  should  serve  them  with  the  deep  inte- 
rest and  devoted  attachment  of  children.  We  have  a 
right  to  expect,  in  such  instances,  that  as  we  have  stu- 
died your  comfort,  you  would  study  ours  ;  that  when 
sickness  invades  our  frame  or  our  family,  you  will 
minister  at  the  sick  bed  by  night  or  by  day,  not  grudg- 
ing your  ease  or  your  sleep,  so  that  you  might  do  us 
good  ;  that  when  losses  diminish  our  property  and  our 
comforts,  you  will  most  tenderly  sympathize  with  us, 
mingling  your  tears  with  ours,  and  be  willing  to  share 
with  us  the  reduction  of  our  usual  plenty  and  grati- 
fication;  that,  in  short,  in  all  our  afflictions,  you  will 
be  afflicted  with  us,  and  be  the  sharers  of  all  our  joys. 
We  did  not,  and  we  could  not  bargain  with  you  for 
such  a  duty  as  this;  affection  cannot  be  made  an  arti- 
cle of  a  money  contract;  it  must  be  given,  or  it  is 
worth  nothing,  and  indeed,  bought  and  sold  it  cannot 
be.  Instances  of  a  generous  affection  of  this  kind, 
we  have  perhaps  all  known;  instances  of  servants  so 
attached  to  their  masters  and  mistresses,  as  to  follow 
them,  and  remain  in  their  service  through  all  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  fortune  ;  as  to  descend  with  them  from 
the  lofty  eminence,  and  luxurious  gratifications  of 
prosperity,  down  into  the  lowly,  and  desolate,  and 
barren  vale  of  poverty,  there  to  suffer  want  with  them ; 
as  to  leave  their  native  land  and  cross  the  seas,  and 
dwell  in  a  foreign  country  with  them  ;  as  even  to  find 
in  their  love  to  their  master  and  mistress,  a  principle 
and  a  feeling,  that  reconciled  them  to  all  the  sufferings 
they  endured  on  their  account.  I  know  a  servant, 
who,  when  her  master  failed  in  business,  brought 
down  her  little  hoard  of  savings,  amounting  to  nearly 
tliirty  pounds,  and  entreated  him,  with  tears,  to  accept 
and  apply  it  for  the  comfort  and  relief  of  his  family. 
"  .Sir,"  said  a  lady  to  a  minister  who  called  upon  her 
in  sickness,  "  that  girl."  alludingto  lier  servant,  "  who 
has  just  left  the  room,  is  a  greater  comfort  to  me,  than 
I  can  express.  She  watches  over  me  with  the  affec- 
tion of  a  daughter  and  the  care  of  a  nurse.  When 
my  complaints  make  me  peevish,  she  contrives  some- 
thing to  soothe  me.  I  often  observe  her  taking  pains 
to  discover  what  would  add  to  my  comfort,  and  often 
am  presented  with  the  thing  I  wish  for,  before  I  ex- 
press it  in  words.     I  live  without  suspicion,  for  I  per- 


53 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


visible,  but  unostentatious  exhibition  of  eminent  and 
consistent  piety,  supported  by  as  eminent  a  discharge 
of  the  duties  of  your  station,  followed  by  a  modest 
and  judicious  introduction  of  the  subject  when  a  suita- 
ble occasion  presents  itself,  may,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
be  blessed  for  the  salvation  of  your  master  and  mis- 
tress. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  your  profession  of  religion  be 
not  supported  by  consistency  ;  if  it  render  you  proud, 
conceited,  and  consequential ;  if  it  be  accompanied 
by  an  unsubdued  temper,  or  by  habits  of  inattention 
to  the  duties  of  your  place  ;  if  it  makes  you  trouble- 
some about  your  religious  privileges,  so  that  in  a  time 
of  emergency  or  sickness,  you  will  not  give  up  a  sin- 
gle sermon  without  murmuring  and  sullenness,  you 
do  not  glorify  God,  but  dishonor  him  ;  you  excite  a 
prejudice  against  religion,  rather  than  produce  a  pre- 
possession in  its  favor. 

Towards  your  fellow  servants  you  should  be  meek, 
obliging,  and  generous;  assuming  nothing  on  the 
ground  of  your  piety,  never  disgusting  them  by  any 
apparent  consciousness  of  superior  sanctity,  but  at 
the  same  time,  never  scrupling  to  let  them  know  and 
see  that  you  fear  God.  Timidity  to  conceal  your  re- 
gards to  the  claims  of  religion,  or  vauntingly  to  ac- 
knowledge them,  would  equally  excite  a  prejudice; 
but  to  yield  to  them  with  a  firmness,  that  ridicule  and 
opposition  cannot  bend,  a  consistency  that  scrutiny 
cannot  impeach,  and  a  humility  that  the  reproached 
conscience  of  those  who  are  offended,  cannot  misre- 
present, will  be  sure  to  raise  admiration,  and,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  may  produce  imitation. 

Are  any  of  your  fellow  servants  living  in  the  ne- 
glect of  religion,  it  is  your  duty,  in  a  solemn  and  affec- 
tionate manner  to  warn  them.  "  I  knew  a  religious 
servant,"  says  Mr.  Janeway,  "  that  after  other  endea- 
vors for  the  conversion  of  one  of  his  fellows,  had  proved 
ineffectual,  spent  some  time  at  midnight  to  pray  for 
him,  and  being  very  importunate,  his  voice  was  heard 
in  the  next  chamber,  where  the  object  of  his  pious  so- 
licitude lay,  who,  on  hearing  the  voice  of  entreaty, 
rose  from  bed  to  listen,  and  was  so  struck  with  the  af- 
fectionate concern  that  was  breathed  out  for  him,  that 
he  was  converted  by  the  prayer." 

Let  me  now,  in  conclusion,  exhort  you  to  attend  to 
the  duties  which  have  been  set  before  you.  It  may 
be  felt  as  a  motive  to  this,  to  consider  that  though  you 
are  servants,  you  are  not  slaves,  as  was  the  case  with 
those  who  are  addressed  by  the  apostles,  in  their  in- 
spired writings.  Yes,  they  were  slaves,  and  yet  are 
they  admonished  to  give  honor  and  service  to  those, 
who  held  them  by  a  tie  which  they  could  not  break. 
You  are  free,  and  your  labor  is  voluntary;  you  sell 
ii  lor  a  stipulated  price,  and  are  not  degraded  by  your 
situation  ;  nothing  can  degrade  you  but  bad  conduct. 
Your  interest  lies  in  the  faithful  discharge  of  your 
duties.  This  will  secure  to  you  peace  and  serenity 
ot  mind,  the  respect  and  attachment  of  your  employ- 
ers, the  esteem  of  the  public,  the  testimony  of  con- 
science, and  the  approbation  of  God.  You  will  thus 
help  to  diffuse  happiness  through  the  families  in  which 
you  reside  :  for  a  good  servant  is  one  of  those  springs 
of  domestic  comfort,  and  daily  refreshes,  by  its  pure 
and  pleasant  stream,  the  members  of  the  little  com- 
munity in  the  house,  who,  in  return,  will  do  what  they 
can  to  promote  your  present  comfort,  and  provide  for 
your  future  support,  when  the  days  of  sickness,  and 
the  years  of  old  age  shall  come  upon  you.  And  re- 
member that  God  is  every  where,  and  his  eye  is  al- 
ways upon  you.  "  He  compasseth  your  path,  and 
kuoweth  your  down  sitting  and  up  rising,  and  there  is 
not  a  word  upon  your  tongue,  but  he  knoweth  it  alto- 
gether." You  may  have  an  absent  master,  but  you 
cannot  have  an  absent  God.  And  he  cites  your  con- 
science to  his  side,  to  take  a  correct  copy,  and  lodge  it 
in  vour  bosom,  of  the  record  of  your  actions,  words, 


and  feelings,  which  he  writes  down  in  the  book  of  his 
remembrance.  Time  is  short,  life  is  uncertain,  death 
is  at  hand,  and  the  judgment  approaching,  when  it 
will  he  of  no  consequence  who  was  master,  and  who 
was  servant,  but  only  who  was  holy  and  faithful.  God 
is  now  your  witness,  and  will  be  hereafter  your  judge. 
Have  the  promises  and  the  threatenings  of  the  great 
master  little  eiricacy  ?  Are  heaven,  glory,  and  eternal 
happiness  worth  nothing?  If  so,  what  think  you  of 
condemnation,  wrath,  and  everlasting  misery  ?  If  the 
former  signify  little,  do  the  latter  signify  no  more? 
Then  I  must  confess,  I  know  not  what  further  to  say, 
for  I  have  exhausted  the  differences  of  time,  and  the 
varieties  of  eternity ;  I  have  spread  out  the  miseries 
which  sin  brings,  and  the  pleasure  which  holiness  pro- 
duces upon  earth;  and  have  added  to  this  the  consi- 
deration of  the  eternal  torment  which  iniquity  draws 
upon  itself  in  hell,  and  the  everlasting  felicity  which 
religion  conducts  the  soul  to  enjoy  in  heaven; — what 
more  can  I  add — but  simply  to  say,  choose  ye,  whether 
to  you  it  shall  be  said  in  the  last  day  by  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  "  Thou  wicked  and  slothful  servant,  de- 
part   ACCURSED   FROM    ME    INiO    EVERLASTING    FIRE, 

prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels,"  or, 
"  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant, 
enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  lord." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ON    THE    FRATERNAL    DUTIES. 


'Next  in  order  to  the  relationship  of  the  parent  and 
the  child  may  be  considered  the  relation  which  the 
child  bears  to  those  who  are  united  with  him  by  the 
same  tie  to  the  same  parental  bosom.  If  friendship 
be  delightful,  if  it  be  above  all  delightful  to  enjoy  the 
continued  friendship  of  those  who  are  endeared  to 
us  by  the  intimacy  of  many  years,  who  can  discourse 
with  us  of  the  frolics  of  the  school,  of  the  adventures 
and  studies  of  the  college,  of  the  years  when  we  first 
ranked  ourselves  with  men  in  the  free  society  of  the 
world,  how  delightful  must  be  the  friendship  of  those 
who,  accompanying  us  through  all  this  long  period, 
with  a  closer  union  than  any  casual  friend,  can  go 
still  farther  back,  from  the  school  to  the  very  nursery, 
which  witnessed  our  common  pastimes  ;  who  have 
had  an  interest  in  every  event  that  has  related  to  us, 
and  every  person  that  excited  our  love  or  our  hatred  ; 
who  have  honored  with  us  those  to  whom  we  have 
paid  every  filial  honor  in  life,  and  wept  with  us  over 
those  whose  death  has  been  to  us  the  most  lasting 
sorrow  of  our  heart !  Such,  in  its  wide,  unbroken 
sympathy,  is  the  friendship  of  brothers,  considered 
even  as  friendship  only;  and  how  many  circum- 
stances of  additional  interest  does  this  union  receive, 
from  the  common  relationship  to  those  who  have  origi- 
nal claims  to  our  still  higher  regard,  and  to  whom  we 
offer  an  acceptable  service,  in  extending  our  affec- 
tion to  those  whom  they  love  !  In  treating  of  the  cir 
cumstances  that  tend  peculiarly  to  strengthen  this  tie, 
Cicero  extends  his  view  even  to  the  common  sepul- 
chre that  is  at  last  to  enclose  us.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
powerful  image,  a  symbol,  and  almost  a  lesson  of 
unanimity.  Every  dissention  of  man  with  man  ex- 
cites in  us  a  feeling  of  painful  incongruity.  But  we 
feel  a  peculiar  incongruity  in  the  discord  of  those 
whom  one  roof  has  continued  to  shelter  through  life, 
and  whose  dust  is  afterwards  to  mingle  under  a 
single  stone."  Dr.  Thomas  Brown. 

To  secure  the  comfort  and  well  being  of  a  state,  it 
is  not  only  necessary  for  the  sovereign  to  be  wise  artd 
patriotic,  and  the  laws  justly  and  impartially  adminis- 
tered, but  the  people  must  be  well  affected  both  to- 
wards the  government,  and  towards  each  other  ;  there 
must  be  a  tie  which  binds  them  to  each  other,  as  well 


THE    FAMILY    MONITOR. 


as  to  the  state;  there  must  be  the  fellowship  of  good 

neighborhood.  So,  also,  the  happiness  and  welfare 
of  a  family  depend  not  exclusively  on  the  conduct  of 
the  parents  to  the  children,  nor  on  the  conduct  of  the 
children  to  the  parents,  but  also  on  the  conduct  of  the 
children  to  each  other.  No  family  can  be  happy 
where  a  right  feeling  is  wanting  ou  the  part  of  brothers 
and  sisters.  Nothing  can  be  a  substitute  for  this  de- 
fect ;  and  it  is  of  great  importance  that  all  young  people 
should  have  this  set  in  a  proper  light  before  them. 
Many  households  are  a  constant  scene  of  confusion,  a 
perpetual  field  of  strife,  and  an  affecting  spectacle  of 
misery,  through  the  quarrels  and  ill  will  of  those, 
who,  as  flesh  of  each  other's  flesh,  and  blood  of  each 
other's  blood,  ought  to  have  towards  each  other  no 
feeling  but  that  of  love,  and  to  use  no  words  but  those 
of  kindness. 

I  will  divide  the  fraternal  duties  into  three  kinds. 

Those  thatare  appropriate  to  the  season  of  childhood 
— of  youth — of  manhood. 

Tire  general  principles  which  are  to  regulate  the 
discharge  of  these  duties,  and  on  which,  indeed,  they 
rest,  are  the  same  in  reference  to  all  seasons  of  life. 
Love,  for  instance,  is  equally  necessary,  whether  bro- 
thers and  sisters  are  sporting  together  in  the  nursery, 
dwelling  together  as  young  men  and  women  beneath 
the  parental  roof,  or  descending  the  hill  of  life  at  the 
head  of  separate  establishments  and  families  of  their 
own.  Over  and  above  the  feelings  of  friendship,  or  of 
moral  esteem,  there  must  be  those  of  complacency  in 
them,  as  related  to  us  by  the  ties  of  consanguinity; 
a  consciousness,  that,  by  the  dispensations  of  provi- 
dence in  uniting  them  to  us  by  a  bond  of  nature,  and 
which  nothing  but  death  can  dissolve,  they  have  ac- 
quired a  claim  upon  our  efforts  to  make  them  happy, 
which  is  stronger  than  that  of  any  strangers,  except 
it  be  in  those  cases,  where  our  brothers  and  sisters 
have,  by  their  unkind  and  cruel  conduct,  thrown  off 
every  thing  but  their  name,  and  the  stranger  has  as- 
sumed towards  us  the  heart  of  a  brother.  And  even 
in  this  case,  we  must  still  consider  that  they  are  our 
brothers,  mourn  their  alienation  with  grief,  view  their 
aberrations  with  pity,  watch  them  in  their  wanderings 
with  an  anxious  interest,  and  keep  the  way  open  for 
their  return  to  our  fellowship.  Children  of  the  same 
parent,  who  are  wanting  in  love,  are  wanting  in  the 
first  virtue  of  a  brother  and  a  sister  as  such.  It  is 
tin-',  they  may  find  companions  more  to  their  taste, 
considered  as  mere  subjects  of  intellectual  or  general 
companionship,  persons  of  more  agreeable  manners, 
of  more  pleasing  tempers,  of  more  cultivated  minds  ; 
hut  these  are  not  brothers,  nor  must  the  perception, 
which  in  some  cases  it  is  impossible  to  avoid,  of  their 
great  superiority  in  many  respects,  destroy  that  natural 
impulse,  which  the  heart  ought  ever  to  feel  and  to  obey, 
towards  a  brother  or  a  sister.  This  love  must  of 
course  be  increased  or  diminished  in  its  exercise  by 
circumstances,  such  as  good  or  bad  conduct,  kindness 
or  uukindness;  but  nothing  must  destroy  the  principle. 
'i  be  Scripture,  which  is  so  replete  with  admonitions  on 
almost  every  other  subject,  has  said  little  on  this;  it 
has  left  nature  spontaneously  to  send  forth  its  frater- 
nal energies;  and,  though  containing  many  exhorta- 
tions to  the  children  of  God  to  abound  in  brotherly 
love,  has  said  little  on  this  topic  to  the  children  of  men  ; 
a  reserve  which  seems  rather  to  imply  that  the  duty  is 
so  obvious  ami  so  easy  as  not  to  need  an  injunction, 
than  that  the  discharge  of  it  is  not  obligatory  or  tiot  im- 
portant. A  child,  a  youth,  or  a  man,  who  feels  no 
goings  forth  of  his  heart,  no  peculiar  interest,  no  appro- 
priate and  restrictive  emotions  towards  a  brother  or  a 
sister,  is  wanting  in  one  of  those  social  virtues,  which 
it  was  certainly  the  intention  of  Providence  should 
arise  nut  of  the  relative  ties. 

But  I  will  now  go  on  to  state  how  the  various  fra- 
ternal duties  should  be  discharged  in  childhood. 


__59 

Brothers  and  sisters  should  make  it  a  study  io  pro 
mote  each  other's  happiness.  They  should  take  plea 
sure  in  pleasing  each  other,  instead  of  each  being 
selfishly  taken  up  in  promoting  his  own  separate  en- 
joyment. They  should  never  envy  each  other's  grati 
fication  ;  if  one  has  a  more  valuable  plaything  than 
the  other,  the  rest  should  rather  rejoice  than  be  sorry. 
Envy  in  children  is  likely  to  grow  into  a  most  baleful 
and  malignant  disposition.  They  should  never  take 
each  other's  possessions  away,  and  be  always  willing 
to  lend  what  cannot  be  divided,  and  to  share!  what 
does  admit  of  being  divided.  Each  must  do  all  he  can 
to  promote  the  happiness  of  the  whole.  They  shuuld 
never  be  indifferent  to  each  other's  sorrows,  much  less 
laugh  at,  and  sport  with  each  other's  tears  and  griefs. 
It  is  a  lovely  sight  to  see  one  child  weeping  because 
another  is  in  distress.  A  boy  that  sees  his  brother  or 
sister  weep,  and  can  be  unconcerned  or  marry  at  the 
sight,  would,  when  he  becomes  a  man,  in  all  proba- 
bility, see  them  starve  without  helping  them.  Ch'd- 
ren  should  never  accuse  each  other  to  their  parents, 
nor  like  to  see  each  other  punished.  An  informer  is  a 
hateful  and  detestable  character;  but  an  informer 
against  his  brother  or  sister  is  the  most  detestable  of  all 
spies.  If,  however,  one  should  see  another  doing  that 
which  is  wrong,  and  which  is  known  to  be  contrary  to 
the  will  of  their  parents,  he  should  first  in  a  kind  and 
gentle  manner  point  out  the  wrong,  and  give  an  inti- 
mation thatifit  be  not  discontinued, he  shall  be  obliged 
to  mention  it;  and  if  the  warning  be  not  taken,  it  is 
then  manifestly  his  duty  to  acquaint  their  parents  with 
the  fact.  They  must  not  tease  or  torment  one  an- 
other. How  much  domestic  uneasiness  sometimes 
arises  from  this  source!  One  of  the  children,  per- 
haps, has  an  infirmity  or  weakness  of  temper,  or  awk- 
wardness of  manner,  or  personal  deformity,  and  the 
rest,  instead  of  pitying  it,  tease  and  torment  the  un- 
happy individual,  till  all  get  quarrelling  and  crying  to- 
gether. Is  this  promoting  their  mutual  comfort  .'  If 
there  be  any  one  of  the  family  that  is  in  bad  health,  or 
weakly,  all  the  rest,  instead  of  neglecting  that  one, 
ought  to  strive  to  the  uttermost  lo  amuse  him.  Uovv 
pleasing  a  sight  it  is,  to  see  a  child  giving  up  his  play 
time  to  read  to,  or  converse  with,  a  sick  brother  or  sis- 
ter! while  nothing  is  more  disgusting  than  that  selfish- 
ness which  will  not  spare  a  single  hour  lor  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  poor  sufferer  upon  the  bed,  or  the  little 
prisoner  in  the  nursery.  As  to  fighting,  quarrelling,  or 
calling  ill  names,  this  is  so  utterly  disgraceful,  that  it  is 
a  deep  shame  upon  those  children  who  live  in  such 
practices.     Dr.  Watts  has  very  beautifully  said  :- 

"  Whatever  brawls  disturb  the  street, 
There  should  be  peace  at  home; 
Where  sisters  dwell  and  brothers  meet, 
Quarrels  should  never  come. 
"  Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree  : 
And  'tis  a  shameful  sight. 
When  children  of  one  family 
Fall  out,  and  chide  and  light. 
"  Hard  names,  at  first,  and  threat'ning  wcrds, 
Thatare  but  noisy  breath, 
May  grow  to  clubs  and  naked  swords, 
To  murder  and  to  death." 

Children  that  are  removed  from  home  to  school 
should  be  both  watchful  over  and  kind  to  each  other. 
They  should  manifest  a  peculiar  and  kind  interest  in 
each  other's  comfort,  and  not  neglect  one  another.  It 
is  pleasant  to  see  two  brothers  or  two  sisters,  always 
anxious  to  have  each  other  as  playmates,  or  as  mem- 
burs  of  tin;  little  circles  with  which  they  associate,  de- 
fending one  another  from  oppression  or  unkindnrss, 
and  striving  to  make  their  absence  from  home  as  com- 
fortable as  they  can  by  their  mutual  kindness. 

I  go  on  now  to  show  in  what  way  brothers  and  sis- 


60 


THE   FAMILY  MONITOR. 


ters  should    behave  towards  each  other  during    the 

SEASON  OF  YOUTH. 

I  now  suppose  them  to  have  arrived  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  and  state  their  obligations  between  that  pe- 
riod and  ue  time  when  they  settle  in  life.  There 
should  of  course  be  a  tender  attachment,  which  becomes 
stronger,  and  more  visible,  as  they  acquire  a  greater 
power  of  reason  to  understand  their  relationship,  and 
lhe  design  of  Providence  in  forming  this  relation.  In- 
stead of  this,  however,  we  sometimes  see  brothers  and 
sisters  become  more  and  more  indifferent  to  each 
other,  as  they  recede  farther  from  the  period  of  in- 
fancy. They  should  now  reason  upon  the  closeness 
of  their  relationship,  and  let  the  understanding  give  an 
additional  impulse  to  their  hearts.  They  should  be 
fond  of  each  other's  society,  and  put  forth  all  their  inge- 
nuity to  please  one  another.  It  would  have  a  delightful 
influence  upon  their  mutual  attachment,  if  their  little 
separate  proportion  of  pocket  money  were  sometimes 
employed  in  making  each  other  presents.  How  happy 
a  state  of  feeling  would  be  produced,  if  a  sister,  after 
having  incidently  expressed  a  wish  for  some  little  arti- 
cle, were  to  be  surprised  soon  after  by  finding  that  a 
brother  had,  unknown  to  her,  purchased  the  elegant 
or  useful  trifle,  and  placed  it  upon  her  toilet  or  work 
table  !  Sisters  should  put  forth  all  their  assiduity  to 
provide  for  brothers  whatever  the  needle  can  do  for 
their  personal  accommodation,  and  feel  a  hallowed  de- 
light in  giving  their  labor  to  increase  the  comforts  and 
conveniences  of  those  whom  it  should  be  their  study  to 
please.  A  family  of  grown  up  children  should  be  the 
constant  scene  of  uninterrupted  harmony,  where  love, 
guided  by  ingenuity,  puts  footh  all  its  power  to  please, 
by  those  mutual  good  offices,  and  minor  acts  of  benefi- 
cence, of  which  every  day  furnishes  the  opportunity, 
and  which,  while  they  cost  little  in  the  way  either  of 
money  or  labor,  contribute  so  much  to  the  happiness 
of  the  household.  One  of  the  most  delightful  sights  in 
our  world,  where  there  is  so  much  moral  deformity  to 
disgust,  and  so  much  unkindness  to  distress,  is  a  do- 
mestic circle,  where  the  parents  are  surrounded  by 
their  children,  of  which,  the  daughters  are  being  em- 
ployed in  elegant  or  useful  work,  and  the  elder  brother 
reading  some  instructive  and  improving  volume,  for 
the  benefit  or  entertainment  of  the  whole.  This  is  the 
scene  which  more  than  justifies  the  beautiful  apostro- 
phe of  the  sweetest  and  most  tender  of  all  poets: — 

"  Domestic  happiness,  thou  only  bliss 
Of  Paradise  that  hast  survived  the  fall ! 
Though  few  now  taste  thee  unimpaired  and  pure, 
Or,  tasting,  long  enjoy  thee  ;  too  infirm 
Or  too  incautious  to  preserve  thy  sweets 
Unmixl  with  drops  of  bitter,  which  neglect 
Or  temper  sheds  into  thy  crystal  cup. 
Thou  art  the  nurse  of  virtue — in  thine  arms 
She  dwells,  appearing,  as  in  truth  she  is, 
Heaven-born,  and  destined  to  the  skies  again. 
Thon  ait  not  known  where  pleasure  is  adored, 
That  reeling  goddess  with  the  zoneless  waist, 
And  wandering  eyes,  still  leaning  on  the  arm 
Of  novelty,  her  fickle,  frail  support ; 
For  thou  art  meek  and  constant,  hating  change, 
And  finding,  in  the  calm  of  truth-tried  love, 
Joys  that  her  stormy  raptures  never  yield. 
Forsaking  thee,  what  shipwreck  have  we  made 
Ot  no;ior.  dignity  and  fair  renown  !" 

Scenes  are  to  be  found,  (but,  alas,  how  rarely  !)  which 
give  meaning  and  force  to  these  lovely  strains.  Young 
people,  seek  your  happiness  in  each  other's  society. 
What  can  the  brother  find  in  the  circle  of  dissipation, 
or  amongst  the  votaries  of  intemperance,  to  compare 
with  this?  What  can  the  sister  find  amidst  the  con- 
cert of  sweet  sounds,  that  has  music  for  the  soul,  com- 
pared with  this  domestic  harmony  ?  or  in  the  glitter 


and  fashionable  confusion,  and  mazy  dance  of  the  ball 
room,  compared  with  these  pure,  calm,  sequestered, 
joys,  which  are  to  be  found  at  the  fire-side  of  a  happy 
family  ?  What  can  the  theatre  yield  that  is  compara- 
ble with  this? 

"  Oh  evenings  worthy  of  the  gods!  exclaimed 
The  Sabine  bard  ;  On  evenings,  I  reply. 
More  to  be  prized  and  coveted  than  yours, 
As  more  illumined,  and  with  nobler  truths, 
That  I,  and  mine,  and  those  we  love,  enjoy. 
Cards  were  superfluous  here,  with  all  the  tricks 
That  idleness  has  ever  yet  contrived 
To  fill  the  void  of  an  unfurnished  brain, 
To  palliate  dulness,  and  give  time  a  shove." 

I  would  advise  all  young  people  to  read  "  The 
Task,"  and  especially  the  fourth  book  ;  and  to  read  it 
till  they  grow  in  love  with  those  pure  and  hallowed 
home-born  pleasures,  which  are  at  once  the  most  at- 
tainable and  the  most  satisfying  of  any  to  be  found  in 
our  curse-stricken  world. 

It  is  of  great  importance  to  the  pleasant  intercourse 
of  brothers  and  sisters,  that  each  should  pay  particular 
attention  to  the  cultivation  of  the  temper.  I  nave  known 
all  the  comfort  of  a  family  destroyed  by  the  influence 
of  one  passionate  or  sullen  disposition.  Where  such 
a  disposition  unhappily  exists,  the  subject  of  it  should 
take  pains  to  improve  it,  and  the  other  branches  of  the 
family,  instead  of  teasing,  or  irritating,  or  provoking  it, 
should  exercise  all  possible  forbearance,  and,  with  in- 
genious kindness,  help  their  unfortunate  relative  in  the 
difficult  business  of  self-control. 

As  woman  seems  formed  by  nature  to  execute  the 
offices  of  a  nurse,  sisters  should  he  peculiarly  kind  and 
tender  to  sick  brothers ;  for  there  are  few  things  which 
tend  more  to  conciliate  affection,  than  sympathy  with 
us  in  our  sufferings,  and  all  those  gentle  and  willing 
efforts,  which,  if  they  cannot  mitigate  our  pains,  have 
such  a  power  to  soothe  our  minds  and  divert  our  at- 
tention from  the  sense  of  suffering. 

Mutual  respect  should  be  shown  by  brothers  and 
sisters  ;  all  coarse,  vulgar,  degrading  terms  and  modes 
of  address  should  he  avoided,  and  nothing  but  what  is 
courteous  either  done  or  said.  The  intercourse  of 
such  relatives  should  he  marked,  not,  indeed,  by  the 
stiffness  of  ceremony,  nor  the  coldness  of  formality, 
nor  the  cautious  timidity  of  suspicion,  but  by  the  po- 
liteness of  good  manners,  blended  with  all  the  tender- 
ness of  love.  It  is  peculiarly  requisite  also,  that  while 
this  is  maintained  at  home,  there  should  not  be  disre- 
spectful neglect  in  company.  It  is  painful  for  a  sister 
to  find  herself  more  neglected  than  the  veriest  stran 
ger,  and  thus  exposed  to  others  as  one  in  whom  her 
brother  feels  no  interest. 

Brothers  ought  not,  even  in  lesser  matters,  to  be 
tyrants  over  their  sisters,  and  expect  from  them  the  ob- 
sequiousness of  slaves.  The  poor  girls  are  sometimes 
sadly  tieated,  and  rendered  miserable  by  the  caprice 
and  freaks,  and  iron  yoke  of  some  insolent  and  lordly 
boy.  Where  the  parents  are  living,  they  ought  not 
to  suffer  such  oppression.  Of  such  a  despot  let  all 
young  women  beware,  for  he  that  is  a  tyrant  to  his 
sister  is  sure  to  be  a  tyrant  also  to  a  wife. 

It  is  of  great  consequence,  that  brothers  and  sisters 
should  maintain  epistolary  correspondence  when  ab- 
sent from  each  other.  It  must  be  a  very  strong  regard 
which  separation,  especially  when  it  is  for  a  long  time, 
does  not  diminish.  Flames  burn  brightest  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  each  other.  An  affectionate  letter,  received 
from  an  absent  friend,  tends  to  fan  the  dying  spark 
of  affection.  They  who  can  be  long  separated  without 
such  a  bond  as  this,  are  already  in  a  state  of  indiffer- 
ence to  each  other,  and  are  in  rapid  progress  to  still 
wider  alienation. 

Brothers  and  sisters  should  be  very  careful  not  to  be- 


THE   FAMILY    MONITOR. 


61 


tofe  estranged  from  each  other  after  the  death  of  their 
■parents  ;  of  which  there  is  always  some  danger.  While 
one  parent  remains,  though  the  other  be  gune  to  the 
sepulchre,  there  is  a  common  centre  of  family  affec- 
tion still  left,  by  drawing  near  to  which,  the  members 
are  kept  near  to  each  other;  but  when  this  survivor 
has  also  departed,  the  point  of  union  is  gone,  and  the 
household  is  likely,  without  great  watchfulness,  to  be 
divided  and  distracted.  How  often  does  this  happen 
by  the  division  of  the  family  property.*  The  grave 
has  scarcely  closed  over  the  parental  remains,  before 
strife,  confusion,  and  every  evil  work  begin  in  refer- 
ence to  the  patrimonial  possessions.  To  guard  against 
this,  the  father  should  ever  have  his  will  made,  a  will 
made  upon  the  obvious  principles  of  wisdom  and  equi- 
ty. Any  attempt,  on  the  part  of  one  child,  to  turn  a  pa- 
rent's mind  from  the  line  of  strict  impartiality  and 
equity  towards  the  others;  any  advantage  taken  of  op- 
portunities of  more  frequent  access  to  the  parental  ear 
and  prejudices,  to  gain  more  than  a  just  share  of  his 
property,  is  an  act  so  base,  so  foul,  and  wicked,  as  to 
deserve  the  most  severe,  and  impassioned,  and  indig- 
nant reprehension.  Even  in  this  case,  however,  the 
injured  branches  of  the  family  should  not  so  far  resent 
the  matter,  as  to  withdraw  from  all  intercourse  with 
the  supplanter:  remonstrate  they  may,  and  abate 
something  of  their  esteem  and  regard  they  must,  but 
still  they  are  required  by  Scripture  to  forgive  him,  and 
not  to  cherish  hatred,  or  to  manifest  revenge.  Unless 
in  cases  of  unusual  and  extraordinary  rapacity,  the  fra- 
ternal intercourse  ought  not  to  be  stopped  by  unfair 
advantages  of  this  kind. 

There  are  instances,  however,  in  which  an  unequal 
division  of  property  is  not  an  unjust  one,  and  ought 
not  to  be  felt  as  such,  by  the  party  which  receives  the 
lesser  share.  If  one  child  has  become  possessed  of 
wealth  from  another  source,  I  do  not  think  that  he 
ought  to  consider  himself  unfairly  dealt  with,  if  he  do 
not  receive  so  large  a  portion  of  the  family  property  as 
his  brothers  and  sisters  do.  Or  if  there  be  one  branch 
of  the  family  prevented,  by  the  visitations  of  Provi- 
dence, from  all  active  labor,  the  rest  ought  not  to  think 
it  unfair,  if  a  parent  make  a  larger  provision  for  this 
deformed  or  helpless  child,  than  for  the  other  branches. 
The  alienation  of  brothers  and  sisters  on  account  of 
pecuniary  matters,  is  usually  a  matter  of  deep  disgrace 
to  them  all;  not  only  to  the  spoiler,  but  also  to  the  rest. 
But  in  what  terms  shall  I  depict  the  atrocious  wick- 
edness of  a  villanous  brother,  who,  after  the  death  of 
their  parents,  would  employ  his  influence  to  wheedle 
and  swindle  an  unmarried  sister  out  of  her  property, 
and  reduce  her  to  poverty  and  dependance,  to  indulge 
his  own  rapacity,  or  to  avert  calamity  from  himself? 
Such  wretches  have  existed,  and  do  exist,  who,  taking 
advantage  of  a  sister's  strong  affection,  combined  with 
her  ignorance  of  money  matters,  never  cease,  till,  by 
all  tha  arts  of  subtlety,  they  have  got  out  of  her  posses- 
sion the  last  shilling  she  has  in  the  world;  and  then, 
perhaps,  when  she  has  nothing  more  for  them  to  pil- 
fer, abandon  the  victim  of  their  cruelty,  with  the  re- 
morselessnes*  of  a  highwayman,  to  want  and  misery. 
Let  such  monsters  remember,  that  there  is  one  in  hea- 
ven whose  eye  has  been  upon  all  their  wicked  arts  and 
cruel  robbery,  and  who,  for  all  these  things,  will  bring 
them  into  judgment.  It  is  an  act  of  cruelty  in  any 
brother,  who,  without  any  dishonest  intention,  perhaps, 
would  wish  to  jeopardize  the  property  of  a  sister,  in 
order  either  to  increase  his  own  gains,  or  to  avert  his 
own  dreaded  misfortunes.  She  may  be  very  unfitted 
to  struggle  with  poverty,  and  altogether  disqualified  for 
earning  support  by  her  own  industry,  and  therefore 
ought  not  to  be  exposed  to  the  danger  of  losing  her 
property.     Cases  do  occur  sometimes  in  which  it  may 


*  This,  perhaps,  rather  belongs  to  the  third  division 
of  the  subject. 


be  proper,  and  even  necessary,  for  the  property  of  un- 
married sisters  to  he  employed  in  the  trade  of  their 
brothers;  but  as  a  general  rule,  it  is  unadvisable  :  and 
where  it  does  happen,  the  latter  should  iet  all  their  con- 
duct be  conducted  on  the  principles  of  the  greatest 
caution,  the  most  rigid  integrity,  and  the  noblest  gene- 
rosity. 

Brothers  ought  ever,  after  the  death  of  their  parents, 
to  consider  themselves  as  the  natural  guardians  of  un- 
married sisters;  their  advisers  in  difficulty,  their  com- 
forters in  distress,  their  protectors  in  danger,  their  sin- 
cere, tender,  liberal  and  unchanging  friends,  amidst 
all  the  scenes  and  vicissitudes  of  life.  It  is  rarely  ad- 
visable that  a  sister  should  permanently  dwell  with  a 
married  brother;  but  then,  even  the  much  stronger 
claims  of  the  wife  ought  not  to  cancel  or  throw  into 
oblivion  those  of  the  sister. 

I  will  now  suppose  the  case  of  one  or  more  branches 
of  the  family,  who  are  brought  by  divine  grace  to  be 
partakers  of  true  religion,  and  point  out  what  is  their 
duty  to  the  rest,  and  what  the  duty  of  the  rest  to  them. 
In  reference  to  the  former,  it  is  manifestly  their  solemn 
and  irrevocable  obligation  to  seek,  by  every  affection- 
ate, scriptural,  and  judicious  effort,  the  real  conversion 
of  those  of  the  family  who  are  yet  living  without  heart- 
felt religion.  O,  how  often  has  the  leaven  of  piety, 
when,  by  divine  mercy  and  power,  it  has  been  laid  in 
the  heart  of  one  of  the  family,  spread  through  nearly 
the  whole  household  !  How  often  has  fraternal  love, 
when  it  has  soared  to  its  sublimest  height,  and,  with  a 
heaven-kindled  ambition,  aimed  at  the  loftiest  object 
which  benevolence  can  possibly  pursue,  by  seeking 
the  salvation  of  a  brother's  soul,  secured  its  prize,  and 
received  its  rich  reward  !  Young  people  whose  hearts 
are  under  the  influence  of  piety,  but  whose  hearts  also 
bleed  for  those  who,  though  they  are  the  children  of 
the  same  earthly  parent,  are  not  yet  the  children  of 
your  Father  in  heaven,  I  call  upon  you  by  all  the  love 
you  bear  your  brothers  and  sisters;  by  all  the  affection 
you  bear  for  your  parents  ;  by  all  the  higher  love  you 
bear  to  God  and  Christ,  to  seek  by  every  proper  means 
the  conversion  of  those  who,  though  bound  to  you  by 
the  ties  of  nature,  are  not  yet  united  by  the  bond  of 
grace.  Make  it  an  object  with  you  to  win  their  souls. 
Pray  for  it  constantly.  Put  forth  in  your  own  exam- 
ple all  the  beauties  of  holiness.  Seek  for  the  most  tin- 
deviating  consistency,  since  a  single  want  of  this  would 
only  strengthen  the  prejudice  you  are  anxious  to  sub- 
due. Let  them  see  your  religion  in  your  conscientious- 
ness, your  joy,  your  humility,  your  meekness,  your 
love.  In  ail  the  general  duties  of  life,  be  more  than 
ordinarily  exact.  Win  their  affections  by  the  kindest 
and  most  conciliating  conduct.  Avoid  all  conscious- 
ness of  superiority.  Attempt  not  to  scold  them  out  of 
their  sins.  Avoid  the  language  of  reproach.  Draw 
them  with  the  cords  of  love,  for  they  are  the  bands  of  a 
man.  Now  and  then  recommend  to  their  perusal  a 
valuable  book.  When  they  are  absent,  write  to  them 
on  the  subject  of  religion.  But,  at  the  same  time,  do 
not  disgust  them  by  boring  them  with  religion.  Seize 
favorable  opportunities,  and  wisely  improve  them. 
Point  them  to  eminently  happy,  consistent,  and  useful 
Christians.  Comply  with  all  their  wishes  that  are  law- 
ful, but  give  not  up  one  atom  of  your  consistency. 
Pliancy  on  your  part  to  meet  their  tastes  and  pursuits, 
if  they  are  contrary  to  God's  word,  will  only  disgust 
them  :  mild  firmness  will  secure  their  respect.  And 
crown  all  with  earnest  prayer  for  that  grace,  without 
which  no  means  can  be  successful.  How  knowest 
thou  but  thou  shalt  gain  thy  brother?  And,  O,  what 
a  conquest ! 

And  what  shall  be  said  to  the  unconverted  party  ? 
Shall  such  means  be  unsuccessful  ?  Will  you  resist 
this  holy,  benevolent  influence?  Will  you  oppose 
these  efforts  to  draw  you  to  heaven  ?  Will  you  leave 
your  sister  to  travel  alone  to  the  skies,  and  determine 


62 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


to  separate  from  lier  for  ever,  and  pursue  your  course 
to  perdition?  Will  you  seek  the  dreadful,  the  fatal 
distinction,  of  being  a!one  ii  your  family  as  the  enemy 
of  God,  the  captive  of  Satan  ?  Shall  a  sister's  solici- 
tude for  yi.ar  salvation,  and  all  the  active  efforts  which 
it  puts  forth,  be  only  a  savor  of  death  unto  death  to 
you  ?  Pause  and  ponder,  young  man  ?  Alter  your 
purpose ;  take  her  by  the  hand,  and  say  to  her,  "  Your 
affection  has  conquered;  I  will  go  with  you,  for  I 
know  thai  God  is  with  you."  But,  perhaps,  instead 
of  this,  you  are  a  persecutor.  What,  a  persecutor  of 
religion,  and  of  a  sister,  at  the  same  time  ?  Yes,  you 
reject  with  scorn  these  efforts  for  your  salvation,  and 
tre^t  her  with  ridicule  and  unkinduess  by  whom  they 
are  made.  Is  it  so  ?  What,  wicked  enough  for  this  ! 
What,  carry  your  enmity  to  piety  so  far  as  to  embitter 
the  lift:  of  a  sister,  for  no  other  reason  than  because 
she  bows  her  heart  to  its  influence!  Recollect,  the 
cctest  is  not  between  you  and  her,  but  between  you 
and  God.  It  is  not  as  a  sister,  but  as  a  Christian,  that 
she  is  the  object  of  your  displeasure,  and,  therefore, 
your  ill  will  is  against  religion,  and  if  against  religion, 
then  against  God,  for  religion  is  the  image  of  God  in 
the  soul  of  his  rational  creatures.  Did  you  ever  read 
or  hear  that  fearful  denunciation  ?  If  not,  read  it 
now, — "  Wo  to  him  that  conteudeth  with  his  Maker." 
This  wo  is  littered  against  every  persecutor  of  reli- 
gion, and  therefore  is  against  you. 

The  responsibility  of  elder  brothers  and  sisters, 
especially  that  of  the  first  born,  is  great  indeed. 
They  are  looked  up  to  by  the  younger  branches  of  the 
family  as  examples,  and  their  example  has  great  influ- 
ence, in  some  cases  greater  than  that  of  the  parent: 
it  is  the  example  of  one  more  upon  a  level  with  them- 
selves, more  near  to  them,  more  constantly  before 
them  than  that  of  the  parent,  and  is,  on  these  accounts, 
more  influential.  It  is  of  immense  consequence, 
ti."'cfore,  to  their  juniors,  how  these  conduct  them- 
ivMves.  If  they  are  bad,  they  are  likely  to  lead  all  the 
rest  astray ;  if  good,  they  may  have  great  power  in 
leading  them  aright.  Ttiey  bring  companions,  books, 
recreations,  before  the  rest,  which  are  proper  or  im- 
proper according  ;-.s  their  own  taste  is.  It  is  a  m33t 
distressing  spectacle  to  see  an  elder  brother  or  sister 
training  uj  younger  ores,  by  his  own  conduct  and 
precept,  in  the  ways  of  wickedness.  Such  a  youth  is 
an  awful  character  :  like  Satan,  he  goeth  about  seeking 
whom,  by  his  temptations,  he  may  destroy  ;  but  worse, 
in  some  respects  more  wicked  and  more  cruel  than 
his  prototype,  he  marks  out  his  own  brother  as  the  vic- 
tim of  his  cruelty,  and  the  dupe  of  his  wiles.  Whole 
families  have,  in  some  cases,  been  schooled  in  iniquity, 
by  ono  unprincipled  elder  son.  What  will  such  a 
brother  have  to  answer  for  in  the  day  of  judgment, 
and  what  will  be  his  torment  in  hell,  when  the  souls  of 
those  whom  he  has  ruined  shall  be  near  him,  and  by 
their  ceaseless  reproaches  become  his  eternal  torment- 
ors! In  other  cases,  what  a  blessing  to  a  family  has 
been  a  steady,  virtuous,  and  pious  elder  brother  or  sis- 
ter! Many  a  weak  and  sickly  mother  has  given  daily 
thanks  to  God  for  a  daughter,  who  by  her  attentions 
was  a  kind  of  second  mother  to  tho  younger  members 
of  the  family,  whom  she  did  her  uttermost  to  train  up 
in  her  own  useful  and  holy  habits.  Many  a  father 
has  felt  with  equal  gratitude  the  blessing  of  having  in 
his  first-born  son,  not  only  a  help  to  himself  in  the 
cares  of  business,  but  in  the  work  of  education  ;  a  sou 
who  lent  all  the  power  of  an  amiable  and  religious  ex- 
ample, to  form  the  character  of  his  younger  brothers. 
Let  such  young  persons  consider  their  responsibility, 
and  at  the  same  time  let  those  who  are  their  juniors  in 
the  family  consider  their  duty.  If  they  have  a  good 
example  in  their  elder  brothers  and  sisters,  they  should 
make  it  not  only  the  object  of  attention  and  admiration, 
but  also  of  imitation:  but,  on  the  other  hand,  if,  un- 
happily, the  conduct  of  their  seniors  be  bad,  let  them 


not  follow  them  in  their  evil  course  ;  let  nc  threats, 
no  bribes,  no  persuasions,  induce  them  to  comply  with 
the  temptation  to  do  what  is  wrong. 

I  have  now  to  allude  to  the  discharge  of  fraternal 
duties  during  the  whole  period  of  our  lives,  after  the  sea- 
son of  youth  has  passed  aicay.  This  has  been  antici- 
pated in  part  already.  Families  are  soon  broken  up  ; 
the  parents  die,  the  children  marry  and  form  separate 
establishments,  and  bring  around  them  separate  fami- 
lies of  their  own.  This  division  of  the  original  stock 
does  not.  however,  destroy,  although  it  necessarily 
must  weaken,  the  fraternal  tie.  Pope  beautifully  re- 
marks, 

"  Thus  beast  and  bird  their  common  charge  attend, 
The  mothers  nurse  it,  and  the  sires  defend: 
The  young  dismissed  to  wander  earth  or  air, 
There  stops  the  instinct,  and  there  ends  the  care  : 
TI.e  link  dissolves,  each  seeks  a  fresh  embrace  ; 
Another  love  succeeds,  another  race. 
A  longer  care  man's  helpless  kind  demands  ; 
That  longer  care  contracts  more  lasting  bands. 
Still  as  one  brood,  and  as  another  rose, 
These  natural  love  maintained,  habitual,  those 
Reflection,  reason,  still  the  ties  improve, 
At  once  extend  the  interest  and  the  love; 
And  still  new  needs,  new  helps,  new  habits  riso 
That  graft  benevolence  on  charities." 

Great  care  is  necessary,  however,  that  when  tho 
centro  of  fraternal  charities  is  gone,  and  each  child 
becomes  himself  a  centre  of  similar  emotions  and  im 
pulses,  the  interest  of  brothers  and  sisters  in  each  other 
do  not  altogether  cease.  Brothers  and  sisters  are 
brothers  and  sisters  still,  though  they  dwell  in  differ- 
ent quarters  of  the  globe,  are  each  at  the  head  of  fa- 
milies of  their  own,  are  distinguished  in  their  circum- 
stances by  the  varie'sies  of  affluence  and  poverty,  and 
have  attained  to  the  age  of  threescore  years  and  ten  : 
and  the  tie  that  unites  them  ought  to  be  felt  coiling 
round  their  hearts,  and  its  influence  ought  to  be  seen 
in  producing  all  those  tender  offices,  which  a  common 
relationship  to  the  same  parent  certainly  demand's. 
The  next  generation  may,  from  various  causes,  lose 
their  interest  in  each  other.  Regard  for  remote  rela- 
tions becomes,  in  every  country,  less  and  less,  accord- 
ing as  law  extends  its  protection,  commerce  diffuses 
its  wealth,  and  civilization  multiplies  its  comforts. 
Where  clanship  is  necessary  for  mutual  protection, 
"  the  families  that  spring  from  one  common  stock  con- 
tinue to  cling  to  each  other  for  aid,  almost  as  if  they 
lived  together  under  the  same  roof;  it  is  tndy  one 
wide  family,  rather  than  a  number  of  families;  the 
history  of  the  tribe  in  its  remote  years  of  warfare  and 
victory,  is  the  history  of  each  individual  of  the  tribe ; 
and  the  mere  remembrance  of  the  exploits  of  those 
who  fought  with  one  common  object,  around  the  re- 
presentativeof  their  common  ancestor  is  like  the  feel- 
ing of  the  fraternal  or  filial  relation,  prolonged  from  age 
to  age."  This  is  not  the  c;ise,  however,  in  that  state 
of  society  in  which  tee  are  placed,  where  the  feeling 
of  affectionate  interest,  of  fraternal  love,  rarely  sur- 
vives the  next  generation  from  the  father,  and  often 
dies  long  before  that  has  com;  leted  its  course.  Bro- 
thers and  sisters  ought,  however,  to  keep  up,  as  long 
as  they  live,  their  mutual  love.  They  should  not  suf- 
fer new,  and,  it  is  confessed,  still  nearer  relations,  to 
produce  a  total  oblivion  of,  or  alienation  from,  each 
other.  If  dwelling  in  distant  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
epistolary  correspondence  should  be  maintained,  sym- 
pathy in  their  mutual  joys  and  sorrows  should  be  che- 
rished, occasional  visits,  as  opportunity  might  allow, 
should  be  paid,  and,  every  thing  done,  by  mutual  kind 
offices,  to  comfort  each  other,  on  the  rough  and  stormy 
journey  of  life.  If  dwelling  together  in  the  same 
town,  their  intercourse  should  be  such  as  to  constrain 


THE   FAMILY   MONITOR. 


63 


spectators  to  exclaim,  "  Behold  Low  good  and  pleasant 
it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity  ?"  There 
should  be  that  tenderness,  which  would  lead  to  all  the 
delicate  attentions  that  affection  delights  to  pay,  and 
at  the  same  time  that  confidence,  which  would  prevent 
offence  from  heing  taken,  when  these  were  hindered 
hy  accident  from  being  paid.  How  utterly  disgnce- 
ful  is  it  to  see  brothers  and  sisters  dwelling  together  in 
the  same  town  ;  yet  living  in  a  state  of  continual  strife, 
and  sometimes  in  an  utter  suspension  of  all  inter- 
course !  In  such  cases,  there  ni'ist  be  faults  on  both 
sides,  though  not,  perhaps,  in  equal  proportions. 
Those  who  marry  into  a  family  should  be  very  cau- 
tious no'  to  carry  discord  into  it.  Not  (infrequently 
has  it  happened,  that  brothers  have  been  embroiled 
by  their  wives,  and  sisters  by  their  husbands;  and 
they  who,  till  they  were  married,  scarcely  ever  had  an 
angry  word  from  each  other,  scarcely  ever  lived  in 
peace  afterwards.  Happy  and  honorable  is  that  family, 
which  though  it  consist  of  numerous  branches,  and 
those  perhaps,  nearly  all  married,  and  dwelling  in  the 
same  vicinity,  maintains,  not,  indeed,  a  state  of  cold- 
ness and  formal  intercourse,  of  which  the  highest 
praise  is  that  it  is  free  from  strife,  but  a  fellowship  of 
sympathy,  helpfulness  and  love! 

If,  by  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  the  various  allot- 
ments of  divine  Providence,  one  branch  of  the  family 
has  been  more  successful  than  the  rest,  peculiar  care 
must  be  exercised,  that  the  latter  should  not  expect  too 
much  from  him  in  the  way  of  attention  and  relief,  nor 
the  former  yield  too  little.  For  any  man  to  be  asham- 
ed of  his  poor  brothers  and  sisters,  to  treat  them  with 
cold  neglect  or  insulting  pride,  discovers  a  littleness 
of  mind  which  deserves  contempt,  and  a  depravity  of 
heart  which  merits  our  severest  indignation:  it  is  at 
once  ingratitude  to  God  and  cruelty  to  man.  It  must 
be  admitted,  however,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
meet  the  demands  and  satisfy  the  expectations  of  poor 
relations,  especially  in  those  cases  where  their  poverty 
is  the  fruit  of  their  own  indolence  or  extravagance. 
They  have  claims,  it  is  acknowledged,  and  a  good 
brother  or  sister  will  readily  allow  and  cheerfully  meet 
them  ;  but  it  must  be  for  prudence,  under  the  guidance 
of  affection,  to  adjust  their  amount.  It  is  unquestion- 
able, however,  that  though  there  are  some  few  who 
have  most  indiscreetly  impoverished  themselves  to 
help  a  needy,  perhaps  an  undeserving,  brother  or  sis- 


ter, the  multitude  have  erred  on  the  other  side.  Men 
or  women  of  wealth,  who  choose  to  live  in  celibac", 
and  who  have  needy  brothers  and  sisters,  are  cruel  awl 
hard-hearted  creatures,  if  they  suffer  such  relatives  'o 
want  any  thing  for  their  real  comfort.  "  Whoso  ha'h 
this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his  brother  have  need,  a:\l 
shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion  from  him,  bew 
dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  him?"  And  what  snail 
be  said  of  those,  who,  in  bequeathing  their  property, 
forget  their  poor  relations  /  The  man  who  passim 
over  a  poor  brother  or  sister  and  their  families  to  en- 
dow a  hospital,  or  enrich  the  funds  of  a  reiigutis 
society,  to  which,  perhaps,  he  gave  next  to  nothing 
while  he  lived,  offers  robbery  for  a  burnt-offering. 

I  have  now  said  all  that  appears  to  me  to  be  impor- 
tant on  the  subject  of  fraternal  duties.  Is  it  Dec  »sary 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  motives  to  enforce  the  discharge  of 
Such  obligations  .'      If  so, 

Let  your  parents'  comfort  be  a  plea  with  you.  How 
often  have  the  hearts  of  such  been  half  brokoil  by  the 
feuds  of  their  children  !  And  even  where  tiie  calami- 
ty has  not  gone  to  this  extent,  their  cup  has  i  eeu  im- 
bittered  by  the  wrangles,  quarrels,  and  perpetual 
strifes  of  those  who  ought  to  have  :ived  in  undisturbed 
affection. 

Your  own  comfort  and  honor  are  involved  in  an  at- 
tention to  these  duties.  Von  cannot  neglect  the 
claims  of  a  brother  or  a  sister,  without  suffering  a 
diminution  in  your  happiness  or  your  reputation,  or 
both. 

The  interests  of  society  demand  of  you  an  attention  to 
fraternal  claims.  As  a  son,  you  learn  to  be  a  good 
subject ;  as  a  brother,  you  learn  to  be  a  gor  J  citizen. 
Rebellious  children  are  traitors  in  the  bud  ;  and  lie 
who  has  none  of  the  right  feelings  of  a  brother,  is  train- 
ing up  for  a  parricide. 

And  as  to  religion,  fraternal  duties  necessarily  arise 
out  of  its  general  principles,  are  enforced  by  its  pre- 
vailing spirit  more  than  by  particular  precepts,  and  ave 
recommended  by  some  of  its  most  striking  ex-  mples  ; 
for  the  first  murder  which  stained  the  earth  wiifl  human 
gore  sprung  from  a  want  of  brotherly  affe<  Jon;  and 
the  family  in  which  the  Son  of  God  found  hi"  loved  re- 
treat on  the  earth  was  that  where,  in  th"  perso  \.i  "f 
Mary,  and  Martha,  and  I  azarus,  fraternal  love  v  a.) 
imbodied  and  adorned. 


THE     END. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    DOMESTIC    CONSTITUTION,  AND    THE    MUTUAL 

DUTIES  OF   HU3BANDS  AND  WIVES, 3 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SPECIAL  DUTIES  01-'  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES,   .  .       10 

CHAPTER  III. 

SOME    REMARKS    ON    THE    FORMATION  OF  THE  MAR- 


RIAGE UNION, 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DUTIES  OF  CHILDREN  TO  THEIR  PARENTS,    ., 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    DUTIES  OF   MASTERS, 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  DUTIES  Of  SERVANTS, 


13 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  DUTIES  OF  PARENTS,     24    ON  THE  FRATERNAL  CUTIES, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


37 


45 


52 


58 


THE 


CHRISTIAN    FATHERS    PRESENT 


TO    HIS    CHILDREN. 


BY   JOHN    ANGELL   JAMES, 

AUTHOR     OF     CHRISTIAN     CHARITY,     THE   FAMILY    MONITOR,    ma.    ••> 


"And  thon,  Solomon,  my  son,  know  thou  the  God  of  thy  father,  and  serve  him  with  a  perfect  heart, 
and  with  a  willing  mind.  For  the  Lord  searcheth  all  hearts,  and  nnderstandeth  all  the  imaginations 
of  the  thoughts ;  if  thou  seek  him,  he  will  be  found  of  thee ;  but  if  thou  forsake  him,  he  will  cast  thee 
off  for  ever." 1  Chron.  28,  29. 

"I  have  no  greater  joy  thau  to  hear  that  my  children  walk  in  truth." 3  Jolui'i. 


PREFACE. 


As  a  Christian,  the  author  of  the  following  vo- 
lumes believes  that  there  is  a  state  of  everlasting 
happiness  prepared  beyond  the  grave  for  those,  and 
those  only,  who  are  partakers  of  pure  and  undefiled 
religion  ;  and,  as  a.  parent,  he  will  freely  confess  his 
supreme  solicitude  is,  that  his  children,  by  a  patient 
continuance  in  well  doing,  might  seek  for  glory, 
honor,  immortality;  and  finally  possess  themselves 
of  eternal  life,  He  is  not  insensible  to  the  worth  of 
temporal  advantages;  he  is  neither  cynic  nor  as- 
cetic ;  he  appreciates  the  true  value  of  wealth, 
learning,  science,  and  reputation,  which  he  desires, 
in  such  measure  as  God  shall  see  fit  to  bestow,  both 
for  himself  and  his  children;  he  has  conquered  the 
world,  but  does  not  despise  it ;  he  resists  its  yoke  as 
a  master,  but  values  its  ministrations  as  a  servant. 
Still,  however,  he  views  the  present  state  of  sublu- 
nary affairs  as  a  splendid  pageant,  the  fashion  of 
which  passeth  away,  to  give  place  to  the  glory 
which  shall  never  be  moved  :  he  looketh  not  at  the 
things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not 
seen  ;  for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal, 
but  the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal.  It  is 
on  this  ground  that  he  attaches  so  much  importance 
to  a  religious  education.  To  those,  if  such  there 
should  be,  who  imagine  that  he  is  too  anxious  about 
this  matter,  and  has  said  too  much  about  it,  he  has 
simply  to  reply,  that  "  he  believes,  therefore  has  he 
spoken."  The  man  who  does  not  make  the  religious 
character  of  his  children  the  supreme  end  of  all  his 
conduct  towards  them,  may  profess  to  believe  as  a 
Christian,  but  certainly  acts  as  an  atheist:  besides, 
if  this  end  be  secured,  the  most  likely  step  is  taken 
for  accomplishing  every  ^ther;  as  "Godliness  is 
profitable  for  all  things,  having  the  promise  of  the 
life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come." 

With  these  views,  the  author  has  embodied  in  the 
following  volumes  his  own  parental  wishes,  objects, 
ar.d.  pursuits.  Much  that  is  here  written,  has  been 
the  subject  of  his  personal  converse  with  his  child- 
ren, and  should  God  spare  his  life,  will  still  con- 
tinue to  be  the  topics  of  his  instruction. 

What  is  beneficial  to  his  own  family,  the  author 
thought  might  be  no  less  useful  to  others;  and  this 
was  another  reason  which  induced  him  to  pub- 
lish. The  multiplication  of  books  of  this  kind,  even 
if  they  make  small  pretensions  to  classic  elegance 
of  composition,  is  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  benefit, 
provided  they  contain  sound  Scriptural  sentiments, 
and  an  ob/ious  tendency  to  produce  right  moral  im- 
pressions. Books  are  sometimes  read  merely  be- 
cause they  are  new  ;  it  is  desirable  therefore  to  gra 
tify  this  appetite  for  novelty,  when  at  the  same  time 
we  can  strengthen  and  build  up  the  moral  charac- 
ter by  a  supply  of  wholesome  and  nutritious  food. — 
Nor  is  it  always  necessary  that  new  books  should 
contain  new  topics,  or  new  modes  of  illustration, 
any  more  than  it  is  necessary  that  there  .should  be 
a  perpetual  change  in  the  kinds  of  food,  in  order  to 
attain  to  bodily  strength.  Whatever  varieties  may 
be  introduced  by  the  wisdom  that  is  sensual,  bread 
wili  still  remain  the  staff  of  life.  So  there  are  some 
primitive  truths  and  subjects,  which,  whatever  no- 
velties ami  curiosities  may  be  introduced  for  the 
gratification  of  religious  taste,  must  still  be  re- 
pealed,  as  essential  to  the  formation  of  religious 
character. 

The  author  has  not  selected  the  sermonic  form  ot 

discussion,  because  some  of  his  subjects  did  not  ad 

mit  of  it :  ami  also  because  sermons  are  perhaps  the 

leas-:  inviting  species  of  leading  to  voung  people. — 

4-1* 


Letters  would  not  have  been  liable  to  these  objec- 
tions; but  upon  the  whole,  he  preferred  the  form  of 
chapters,  in  which  the  style  of  direct  address  is  pre- 
served. The  advantage  of  this  style  is  obvious;  it 
not  only  keeps  up  the  reader's  interest,  but,  as  eve- 
ry parent  who  presents  these  volumes  to  his  child- 
ren adopts  the  advice  as  his  own,  such  young  per- 
sons, by  an  easy  effort  of  the  imagination,  lose  sight 
of  the  author,  and  read  the  language  of  their  own 
father.  If  any  thing  is  necessary  to  secure  this  ef- 
fect, beyond  the  simple  act  of  presenting  the  book, 
it  might  be  immediately  obtained  by  an  inscription 
to  the  child,  written  by  the  parent's  own  hand  upon 
the  fly-leaf. 

The  author  scarcely  need  say  that  his  work  is 
not  intended  for  young  people  below  the  age  of 
fourteen.  In  the  composition  of  the  book,  a  seem- 
ing tautology  sometimes  occurs:  what  is  just  touch- 
ed upon  in  one  place,  is  more  expanded  in  others: 
and  some  subjects  are  intentionally  repeated.  To 
give  additional  interest  to  the  volumes,  numerous 
extracts,  and  some  anecdotes  are  introduced,  which 
tend  to  relieve  the  dulness  of  didactic  composition, 
and  prevent  the  tedium  of  unvarying  monotony. 

In  the  references  which  the  author  has  given  to 
books,  both  in  the  chapter  on  that  subject,  and  in 
marginal  notes,  he  does  not  wish  to  be  considered 
as  laying  down,  much  less  as  limiting  for  young 
people,  a  course  of  reading ;  but  as  simply  directing 
them  to  some  works,  which  among  others,  ought  by 
no  means  to  be  neglected. 

Once  more  let  it  be  stated,  and  stated  with  all 
possible  emphasis,  that  the  chief  design  of  this 
work,  is  to  form  the  religions  character  of  its  read- 
ers, and  to  implant,  those  virtues,  which  shall  live, 
and  flourish,  and  dignify,  and  delight,  infinite  ages 
after  every  object  that  is  dear  to  avarice  or  pride, 
to  learning  or  science,  to  taste  or  ambition,  shall 
have  perished  in  the  conflagration  of  the  universe. 

Edgbaston,  April  10,  1824. 


AN  ADDRESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  PARENTS. 

My  dear  Friends — It  is  a  situation  of  tremend- 
ous responsibility  to  be  a  parent :  for  the  manner  in 
which  you  discharge  the  duties  of  this  relation,  you 
must  give  an  account  in  that  awful  clay,  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  judged  by  Jesus  Christ. 
With  every  babe  that  God  intrusts  to  your  care,  he 
in  effect  sends  the  solemn  injunction,  "  Take  this 
child,  and  bring  it  up  for  me  ;"  and  at  the  final  audit, 
will  inquire,  in  what  manner  you  have  obeyed  the 
command.  It  will  not  then  be  sufficient  to  plead  the 
strength  of  your  affection,  nor  the  ceaseless  efforts 
to  which  it  gave  rise;  for  if  these  efforts  were  not 
directed  to  a  right  end,  if  all  your  solicitude  was  la- 
vished upon  inferior  objects,  you  will  receive  the 
rebuke  of  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne. 

It  is  of  infinite  importance  that  you  should  con- 
tem  plate  your  children  in  their  prope%point  of  view. 
They  are  animal  beings,  and  therefore  it  is  highly 
proper  that  you  should  use  every  effort  to  provide 
them  with  suitable  food,  clothing,  habitations,  and 
every  thing  else  that  can  conduce  to  the  comfort  of 
their  present  existence.  They  are  social  beings,  and 
therefore  it  is  important  that  you  should  qualify 
them  to  enjoy  the  comforts  and  discharge  the  duties 
of  social  life.  They  are  rational  beings,  and  there- 
fore it  is  your  doty  to  furnish  them  with  every  pos- 
I  sible  advantage  for  the  culture  of  their  minds.    But 


4 


PREFACE. 


if  you  look  no  farther  than  this,  you  leave  out  of 
sight  the  grandest  and  most  interesting  lights  in 
which  they  can  be  seen,  and  will  of  course  neglect 
the  most  important  of  your  duties  towards  them  ;  for 
they  are  immortal  beings  ;  the  stamp  of  eternity  is 
upon  them  :  everlasting  ages  are  before  them.  They 
are  like  all  the  rest  of  the  human  race,  depraved, 
guilty,  and  condemned  creatures,  and  consequently 
in  danger  of  eternal  misery.  Yet  are  they,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  and  the  mediation  of  Christ,  crea- 
tures capable  of  attaining  to  glory,  honor,  immortal- 
ity, and  eternal  life.  Looking  upon  them  in  this 
light,  and  this  is  the  light  in  which  you  profess  to 
contemplate  them,  say,  what  should  be  your  chief 
anxiety  concerning  them,  and  what  your  conduct 
towards  them  1 

Recognising  in  your  children,  beings  placed  in 
this  world  in  a  state  of  probation,  and  hastening  to 
eternal  happiness  or  torment,  will  you  be  contented 
to  seek  for  them  any  thing  short  of  eternal  salvation  ? 
Even  a  deist,  who  has  any  belief  of  a  future  state 
of  reward  and  punishment,  cannot  act  consistently, 
unless  he  is  supremely  desirous  of  the  everlasting 
welfare  of  his  children.  None  but  an  avowed  athe- 
ist can,  with  the  least  propriety,  fix  his  aim  lower 
for  his  children,  than  the  possession  of  a  happy  im- 
mortality. But  in  the  case  of  a  Christian  parent,  it 
is  in  the  highest  degree  inconsistent,  absurd,  cruel, 
and  wicked,  ever  to  lose  sight  of  this  even  for  an  in- 
stant, in  the  arrangements  which  he  makes  for  his 
family,  or  the  manner  of  conducting  himself  to- 
wards them.  Do  you  really  believe  in  the  ruin  of 
the  human  race  by  sin,  and  their  recovery  by 
Christ;  in  the  existence  of  such  states  as  heaven  and 
hell;  in  the  necessity  of  a  life  of  faith  and  holiness, 
in  order  to  escape  the  one  and  secure  the  other"? — 
then  act  up  to  these  solemn  convictions,  not  only  in 
reference  to  your  own  salvation,  but  to  the  salva- 
tion of  your  children.  Let  a  supreme  desire  of  their 
immortal  interests  be  at  the  bot'.om  of  your  conduct, 
and  be  interwoven  in  all  your  parental  habits.  Let 
them  have,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term,  a  Chris- 
tian education.  Act  towards  them,  and  for  them,  so 
that  you  shall  be  able  to  say  to  them,  however  they 
may  turn  out,  "  I  take  you  to  record  that  I  am  clear 
from  your  blood." 

But  my  principal  object  in  this  address  is,  to  point 
out  what  appear  to  me  to  be  the  most  prevailing  obsta- 
cles to  success,  in  the  religious  education  of  children. 

That  in  many  cases  the  means  employed  by 
Christian  parents  for  their  children's  spiritual  wel- 
fare are  unsuccessful,  is  a  melancholy  fact,  esta- 
blished by  abundant,  and,  1  fear,  accumulating  evi- 
dence. I  am  not  now  speaking  of  those  families — 
and  are  there  indeed  such  1 — where  scarcely  a  sem- 
blance of  domestic  piety  or  instruction  is  to  be 
found,  where  no  family  altar  is  seen,  no  family 
prayer  is  heard,  no  parental  admonition  is  deliver- 
ed !  What !  this  cruel,  wicked,  ruinous  neglect  of 
their  children's  immortal  interest  in  the  families  of 
professors'.!  Monstrous  inconsistency!  Shocking 
dereliction  of  principle  !  No  wonder  that  their  chil- 
dren go  astray.  This  is  easily  accounted  for.  Some 
of  the  most  profligate  young  people  that  I  know, 
have  issued  from  such  households.  Their  prejudi- 
ces against  religion,  and  their  enmity  against  its 
forms,  are  greater  than  those  of  the  children  of 
avowed  worldlings.  Inconsistent,  hypocritical,  ne- 
gligent professors  of  religion,  frequently  excite  in 
their  sons  and  daughters  an  unconquerable  aversion 
and  disgust  against  piety,  which  seems  to  inspire 
them  with  a  determination  to  place  themselves  at 
the  farthest  possible  remove  from  its  influence. 

But  I  am  now  speaking  of  the  failure  of  a  reli- 
gious education,  where  it  has  been,  in  some  mea- 
sure, carried  on ;  instances  of  which  are  by  no 
means  unfrequent.  Too  often  do  we  hear  the  echo  of 


David's  sorrowful  complaint  uttered  by  the  distress- 
ed and  disappointed  Christian  father,  "  Although 
my  house  be  not  so  with  God."  Too  often  do  we 
see  the  child  of  many  prayers  and  many  hopes  for- 
getting the  inslructions  he  has  received,  and  run- 
ning with  the  multitude  to  do  evil.  Far  be  it  from 
me  to  add  affliction  to  affliction,  by  saying  that  this 
is  to  be  traced,  in  every  case,  to  parental  neglect. — 
I  would  not  thus  pour  as  it  were  nitre  and  vinegar 
upon  the  bleeding  wounds,  with  which  filial  impiety 
has  lacerated  many  a  father's  mind.  I  would  nor 
thus  cause  the  wretched  parent  to  exclaim,  "  Re- 
proach hath  broken  the  heart,  already  half  broken 
by  my  child's  misconduct."  I  know  that  jn  many 
cases  no  blame  whatever  is  to  be  thrown  on  the  pa- 
rent; but  it  was  the  depravity  of  the  child  aione, 
which  nothing  could  subdue  but  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  that  led  to  the  melancholy  result.  The 
best  possible  scheme  of  Christian  education,  most 
judiciously  directed,  and  most  perseveringly  main- 
tained, has,  in  some  cases,  totally  failed.  God  is  a 
sovereign,  and  he  hath  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have 
mercy.  Still,  however,  there  is,  in  the  order  of 
means,  a  tendency  in  a  religious  education,  to  se- 
cure the  desired  result ;  and  God  usually  does  bless, 
with  his  saving  influence,  such  efforts.  "  Train  up 
a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old 
he  will  not  depart  from  it."  This  is  certainly  true, 
as  a  general  rule,  though  there  are  many  exceptions 
from  it. 

I  shall  now  lay  before  you  the  principal  obstacles 
to  success  in  religious  education,  as  they  strike  my 
mind. 

First. — It  is  frequently  too  negligently  and  capri- 
ciously maintained,  even  where  it  is  not  totally  omit- 
ted. 

It  is  obvious,  that  if  at  all  attended  to,  it  should 
be  attended  to  with  anxious  earnestness,  systematic 
order,  and  perpetual  regularity.  It  should  not  be 
taken  up  as  a  dull  form,  an  unpleasant  drudgery, 
but  as  a  matter  of  deep  and  delightful  interest. — 
The  heart  of  the  parent  should  be  entirely  and  ob- 
viously engaged.  A  part  of  every  returning  Sab- 
bath should  be  spent  by  him,  surrounded  by  his 
filial  charge ;  and  it  should  be  embodied,  more  or 
less,  with  the  whole  habit  of  parental  conduct. — 
The  father  may  lead  the  usual  devotions  at  the 
family  altar:  the  mother  may  join  with  him  in 
teachingtheir  children  catechism,  hymns,  Scripture; 
but  if  this  be  unattended  by  serious  admonition,  vi- 
sible anxiety,  and  strenuous  effort  to  lead  their 
children  to  think  seriously  on  religion,  as  a  matter 
of  infinite  importance,  little  good  can  be  expected. 
A  cold,  formal,  capricious  system  of  religions  in- 
struction is  rather  likely  to  create  prejudice  against 
religion,  than  prepossession  in  its  favor. 

Then,  again,  a  religious  education  should  be  con- 
sistent— it  should  extend  to  every  thing  that  is  likely 
to  assist  in  the  formation  of  character.  It  should 
not  be  mere  abstract  tuition,  but  should  be  a  com- 
plete whole.  It  should  select  the  schools,  the  com- 
panions, the  amusements,  the  books  of  youth;  for 
if  it  do  nothing  more  than  merely  teach  a  form  of 
sound  words  to  the  understanding,  and  to  the  memo- 
ry, while  the  impression  of  the  heart,  and  the  for- 
mation of  the  character  are  neglected,  very  little  is 
to  be  expected  from  such  efforts.  A  handful  of 
seed,  scattered  now  and  then  upon  the  ground, 
without  order  or  perseverance,  might  as  rationally 
be  expected  to  produce  a  good  crop,  as  a  mere  luke- 
warm, capricious,  religious  education  to  be  followed 
by  true  piety.  If  the  parent  is  not  visibly  in  earnest, 
it  cannot  be  expected  that  the  child  will  be  so.  Re- 
ligion, by  every  Christian  parent,  is  theoretically 
acknowledged  to  be  the  most  important  thing  in  the 
world  ;  but  if  in  practice  the  father  appears  a  thou- 
sand times  more  anxious  for  his  son  to  be  a  good 


PREFACE 


scholar  than  a  real  Christian,  and  the  mother  more 
solicitous  lor  the  daughter  to  be  a  good  dancer  or 
musician,  than  a  child  of  God,  they  may  teach 
what  they  like  in  the  way  of  good  doctrine,  but 
they  are  not  to  look  for  genuine  piety  as  the  result : 
this  can  only  he  expected  where  it.  is  really  taught 
and  inculcated,  as  the  one  thing  needful. 

Secondly. —  7'Ae  relaxation  of  domestic  discipline 
is  another  obstacle  in  the  way  of  a  successful  reli- 
gious education. 

A  parent  is  invested  by  God  with  a  degree  of  au- 
thority over  his  children,  which  he  cannot  neglect 
to  use  without  being  guilty  of  trampling  under  foot 
the  institutions  of  heaven.  Every  family  is  a  com- 
munity, the  government  of  which  is  strictly  despotic, 
though  not  tyrannical.  Every  father  is  a  sovereign, 
though  not  an  oppressor:  he  is  a  legislator,  and  not 
merely  a  counsellor:  and  his  will  is  law,  not  mere- 
ly advice.  He  is  to  command,  to  restrain,  to  punish ; 
and  children  are  required  to  obey:  he  is,  if  neces- 
sary, to  threaten,  to  rebuke,  to  chastise;  and  they 
are  to  submit  with  reverence.  He  is  to  decide 
what  books  shall  be  read,  what  companions  invited, 
what  engagements  formed,  and  how  time  is  to  be 
spent.  If  he  sees  any  thing  wrong,  he  is  not  to  in- 
terpose merely  with  the  timid,  feeble,  ineffectual 
protest  of  Eli,  "Why  do  ye  thus,  my  sons  1"  but 
with  a  firm,  though  mild  prohibition.  He  must 
rule  his  own  house;  and  by  the  whole  of  his  con- 
duct, make  his  children  feel  that  obedience  is  his 
due  and  his  demand. 

The  want  of  discipline,  wherever  it  exists,  will 
be  supplied  by  confusion  and  domestic  anarchy. — 
Every  thing  goes  wrong  in  the  absence  of  this.  A 
gardener  may  sow  the  choicest  seeds ;  but  if  he 
neglect  to  pluck  up  weeds,  artd  prune  wild  luxuri- 
ances ;  he  must  not  expect  to  see  his  flowers  grow, 
or  his  garden  flourish  ;  and  so  a  parent  may  deliver 
the  best  instructions,  but  if  he  do  not,  by  discipline, 
eradicate  evil  tempers,  correct  bad  habits,  repress 
rank  corruptions,  nothing  excellent  can  be  looked 
for.  He  may  be  a  good  prophet,  and  a  good  priest, 
but  if  he  be  not  also  a  good  king,  all  else  is  vain. 
When  once  a  man  breaks  his  sceptre,  or  lends  it  to 
his  children  as  a  plaything,  he  may  give  up  his 
hopes  of  success  from  a  religious  education. 

I  have  seen  the  evil  resulting  from  a  want  of  dis- 
cipline in  innumerable  families,  both  amongst  my 
brethren  in  the  ministry,  and  others.  Frightful  in- 
stances of  disorder  and  immorality  are  now  pre- 
sent to  my  mind,  which  I  could  almost  wish  to  for- 
get. The  misfortune  in  many  families  is,  that  this 
regimen  is  unsteady  and  capricious,  sometimes  car- 
ried even  to  tyranny  itself,  at  others  relaxed  into  a 
total  suspension  of  law ;  so  that  the  children  are  at 
one  time  trembling  like  slaves,  at  others  revolting 
like  rebels;  at  one  time  groaning  beneath  an  iron 
yoke,  at  others  rioting  in  a  state  of  lawless  liberty. 
This  is  a  most  mischievous  system,  and  its  effects 
are  generally  what  might  be  expected. 

In  some  cases,  discipline  commences  too  late,  in 
others  it  ceases  too  early.  A  father's  magisterial 
office  is  coeval  with  his  parental  relation.  A  child 
as  soon  as  he  can  reason,  should  be  made  to  feel 
that  obedience  is  due  to  parents;  for  if  he  grow  up 
to  boyhood  before  he  is  subject  to  the  mild  rule  of 
parental  authority,  he  will,  very  probably,  like  an 
untamed  bullock,  resist  the  yoke.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  long  as  children  continue  beneath  the  pa- 
rental roof,  they  are  to  he  subject  to  the  rules  of 
domestic  discipline.  Many  parents  greatly  err,  in 
abdicating  the  throne  in  favor  of  a  son  or  daughter, 
because  the  child  is  becoming  a  man  or  a  woman. 
It  is  trulv  pitiable  to  see  a  boy  or  girl  of  fifteen,  re- 
turning from  school  to  sow  the  seeds  of  revolt  in 
the  domestic  community, acting  in  opposition  to  pa- 
rental authority,  till  the  too  compliant  father  gives 


the  reins  of  government  into  filial  hands,  or  else  by 
his  conduct  declares  his  children  to  be  in  a  state  of 
independence.  I  am  not  advising  a  contest  for 
power;  for  where  a  child  has  been  accustomed  to 
obey,  even  from  an  infant,  the  yoke  of  obedience 
will  al'  ays,  at  least  generally,  be  light  and  easy; 
if  not,  and  a  rebellious  temper  should  begin  to  sho*v 
itself  early,  a  judicious  father  should  be  on  ins 
guard,  should  suffer  no  encroachments  on  his  pre- 
rogative, while  at  the  same  time  the  increased  pow- 
er of  his  authority,  like  the  increased  pressure  of 
the  atmosphere,  should  be  felt  without  being  seen, 
and  this  will  make  it  irresistible. 

Thirdly. —  Undue  severity,  in  the  other  extreme, 
is  as  injurious  as  unlimited  indulgence. 

If  injudicious  fondness  has  slain  its  tens  of  thou- 
sands, unnecessary  harshness  has  destroyed  its  thou- 
sands. By  an  authority  which  cannot  err,  we  are 
told  that  the  cords  of  love  are  the  bands  of  a  man. 
There  is  a  plastic  power  in  love.  The  human 
mind  is  so  constituted  as  to  yield  readily  to  the  in- 
fluence of  kindness.  Men  are  more  easily  led  to 
their  duty,  than  driven  to  it ;  a  child,  says  an  east- 
ern proverb,  may  lead  the  elephant  by  a  single  hair. 
You  remember,  and  perhaps  have  often  seen  veri- 
fied, the  old  apologue  of  the  Sun,  the  Wind,  and 
the  Traveller.  Love  seems  so  essential  an  element 
of  the  parental  character,  that,  there  is  something 
shockingly  revolting,  not  only  in  a  cruel,  not  only  in 
an  unkind,  not  only  in  a  severe,  but  even  in  a  cold- 
hearted  father.  Study  the  parental  character  as  it  is 
exhibited  in  that  most  exquisitely  touching  moral 
picture,  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  When  a  fa- 
ther governs  entirely  by  cold,  bare,  uncovered  autho- 
rity; by  mere  commands,  prohibitions  and  threats; 
by  frowns  untempered  with  smiles;  when  the  friend 
is  never  blended  with  the  legislator,  nor  authority 
modified  with  love;  when  his  conduct  produces 
only  a  servile  fear  in  the  hearts  of  his  children,  in- 
stead of  a  generous  affection  ;  when  he  is  served 
from  a  dread  of  the  effects  of  disobedience,  rather 
than  from  a  sense  of  the  pleasure  of  obedience; 
when  he  is  dreaded  in  the  family  circle  as  a  frown- 
ing spectre,  rather  than  hailed  as  the  guardian  an- 
gel of  its  joys;  when  even  accidents  raise  a  storm, 
and  faults  a  hurricane  of  passion  in  his  bosom; 
when  offenders  are  driven  to  equivocation  and  ly- 
ing, with  the  hope  of  averting  by  concealment  those 
severe  corrections  which  disclosure  always  entails; 
when  unnecessary  interruptions  are  made  to  inno- 
cent enjoyments;  when,  in  fact,  nothing  of  the 
father,  but  every  thing  of  the  tyrant,  is  seen  ;  can 
we  expect  religion  to  grow  in  such  soil  as  this  1 
Yes,  as  rationally  as  we  may  look  for  the  tenderest 
hot-house  plant  to  thrive  amidst  the  rigors  of  eter- 
nal frost. 

It  is  useless  for  such  a  father  to  teach  religion; 
he  chills  the  soul  of  his  pupils;  he  hardens  their 
hearts  against  impression ;  he  prepares  them  to 
rush  with  eager  haste  to  their  ruin,  as  soon  as  they 
have  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  their  bondage  ;  and  to 
employ  their  liberty,  as  affording  the  means  of  un- 
bridled gratification.  Like  a  company  of  African 
slaves,  they  are  first  tortured  by  their  thraldom,  and 
by  that  very  bondage,  trained  up  to  convert  their 
emancipation  into  a  means  of  destruction. 

Let  parents  then,  in  all  their  conduct,  blend  the 
lawgiver  and  the  friend,  temper  authority  with 
kindness,  and  realize  in  their  measure  that  repre- 
sentation of  Deity  which  Dr.  Watts  has  given  us, 
where  he  says, 

"  Sweet  majesty  and  awful  love, 
Sit  smiling  on  his  brow." 

In  short,  let  them  so  act,  that  their  children  shall 
be  convinced  that  their  law  is  holy,  and  their  com- 


PREFACE. 


MMiTMinent  is  holy  and  just  and  good;  and  that  to 
oe  so  governed  is  to  be  blessed. 

Fourthly. —  The  inconsistent  conduct  of  parents 
themselves,  is  a  frequent  and  powerful  obstacle  to 
success  in  religious  education. 

Example  has  been  affirmed  to  be  omnipotent,  and 
its  power,  like  that  of  gravitation,  is  always  in  pro- 
portion to  the  nearness  of  the  attracting  body;  what 
then  must  be  the  influence  of  parental  example1? 
Now  as  I  am  speaking  of  religious  parents,  it  is  of 
course  assumed  that  they  do  exhibit,  in  some  mea- 
sure, the  reality  of  religion  :  but  may  not  the  reali- 
ty often  be  seen  where  much  of  the  beauty  of  true 
godliness  is  obscured,  just  as  the  sun  is  beheld 
when  his  effulgence  is  quenched  in  a  mist ;  or  as  a 
lovely  prospect  is  seen  through  a  haze,  which, 
though  it  leave  its  extent  uncovered,  veils  all  its 
beauty.  Religion  may  be  seen  in  dim  outline  by 
the  children  in  their  parents'  conduct,  but  it  is  at- 
tended with  so  many  minor  inconsistencies,  such  a 
mist  of  imperfections,  that  it  presents  little  to  con- 
ciliate their  regard  or  raise  their  esteem.  There  is 
so  much  worldly-mindedness,  so  much  conformity 
to  fashionable  follies,  so  much  irregularity  of  do- 
mestic piety,  such  frequent  sallies  of  unchristian 
temper,  such  inconsolable  grief  and  querulous  com- 
plaint under  the  trials  of  life,  such  frequent  animo- 
sities towards  their  fellow  Christians,  observable  in 
the  conduct  of  their  parents,  that  they  see  religion 
to  the  greatest  possible  disadvantage,  and  the  con- 
sequence is,  that  it  either  lowers  their  standard  of 
piety,  or  inspires  a  disgust  towards  it  altogether. — 
Parents,  as  you  would  wish  your  instructions  and 
admonitions  to  your  children  to  be  successful,  en- 
force them  by  the  power  of  a  holy  example.  It  is 
not  enough  for  you  to  be  pious  on  the  whole,  but 
you  should  be  wholly  pious;  not  only  to  be  real 
disciples,  but  eminent  ones  ;  not  only  sincere  Chris- 
tians, but  consistent  ones.  Your  standard  of  reli- 
gion should  be  very  high.  To  some  parents  I  would 
give  this  advice,  "  Say  less  about  religion  to  your 
children,  or  else  manifest  more  of  its  influence, — 
Leave  off  family  prayer,  or  else  leave  off  family 
sins."  Beware  how  you  act,  for  all  your  actions  are 
seen  at  home.  Never  talk  of  religion  but  with 
reverence  :  be  not  forward  to  speak  of  the  faults  of 
your  fellow  Christians,  and  when  the  subject  is  in- 
troduced, let  it  be  in  a  spirit  of  charity  towards  the 
offender,  and  of  decided  abhorrence  of  the  fault. 
Many  parents  have  done  irreparable  injury  to  their 
children's  minds  by  a  proneness  to  find  out,  talk  of, 
and  almost  rejoice  over  the  inconsistencies  of  pro- 
fessing Christians.  Never  cavil  at  or  find  fault 
with  the  religious  exercises  of  the  minister  you  at- 
tend: but  rather  commend  his  discourses,  in  order 
that  your  children  might  listen  to  them  with  greater 
attention.  Direct  their  views  to  the  most  eminent 
Christians,  and  point  out  to  them  the  loveliness  of 
exemplary  piety.  In  short,  seeing  that  your  exam- 
ple may  be  expected  so  much  to  aid  or  frustrate 
your  efforts  for  the  conversion  of  your  children, 
consider  "  what  manner  of  persons  ought  ye  to  be  in 
all  holy  conversation  and  godliness." 

Fifthly. — Another  obstacle  to  the  success  of  reli- 
gious instruction,  is  sometimes  found  in  the  wild 
conduct  of  an  elder  branch  of  the  family,  especially  in 
the  case  of  a  dissipated  son. 

The  elder  branches  of  a  family  are  found,  in  ge- 
neral, to  have  considerable  influence  over  the  rest, 
and  oftentimes  to  give  the  tone  of  morals  to  the 
others  :  they  are  looked  up  to  by  their  younger 
brothers  and  sisters ;  they  bring  companions,  books, 
amusements  into  the  house  ;  and  thus  form  the  cha- 
racter of  their  juniors.  It  is  of  great  consequence, 
therefore,  that  parents  should  pay  particular  atten- 
tion to  their  elder  children  ;  and  if  unhappily  their 
habits  should  be  decidedly  unfriendly  to  the  reli- 


gious improver  ent  of  the  rest,  they  should  be  re- 
moved if  possible,  from  the  family.  One  profligate 
son  may  lead  all  his  brothers  astray.  I  have  seen 
this,  in  some  cases,  most  painfully  verified.  A  pa- 
rent may  feel  unwilling  to  send  from  home  an  un- 
promising child,  under  the  apprehension  that  he  will 
grow  worse  and  worse;  but  kindness  to  him  in  this 
way,  rs  cruelty  to  the  others.  Wickedness  is  con- 
tagious, especially  when  the  diseased  person  is  a 
brother. 

Sixthly. — Bad  companions  out  of  the  house,  coun- 
teract all  the  influence  of  religious  instruction  de- 
livered at  home. 

A  Christian  parent  should  ever  be  on  the  alert  to 
watch  the  associations  which  his  children  are  in- 
clined to  form.  On  this  subject,  I  have  said  much 
to  the  young  themselves  in  the  following  work  :  but 
it  is  a  subject  which  equally  concerns  the  parent. — 
One  ill  chosen  friend  of  your  children's  may  undc 
all  the  good  you  are  the  means  of  doing  at  home. — 
It  is  impossible  for  you  to  be  sufficiently  vigilant  on 
this  point.  From  their  very  infancy,  encourage 
them  to  look  up  to  you  as  the  selectors  of  their  com- 
panions; impress  them  with  the  necessity  of  this, 
and  produce  a  habit  of  consulting  you  at  all  times. 
Never  encourage  an  association  which  is  not  likely 
to  have  a  decidedly  friendly  influence  on  their  reli- 
gious character.  This  caution  was  never  more  ne- 
cessary than  in  the  present  age.  Young  people  are 
brought  very  much  together  by  the  religious  institu- 
tions which  are  now  formed,  and  although  there  is 
a  great  probability  that  in  such  a  circle  suitable 
companions  will  be  found,  yet  it  is  too  much  even 
for  charity  to  believe,  that  all  the  active  young 
friends  of  Sunday  Schools,  Juvenile  Missionary  So- 
cieties, &c.  &c.  are  fit  companions  for  our  sons  and 
our  daughters.  Encourage  them  to  consider  yon 
their  chief  friends;  and  so  act  towards  them  that 
they  shall  want  no  other.  On  this  subject  you  will 
find  a  few  remarks,  in  a  note,  in  the  following  work. 

Seventhly. —  The  schisms  which  sometimes  arise  in 
our  churches,  and  embitter  the  minds  of  Christians 
against  each  other,  have  a  very  unfriendly  influence 
upon  the  minds  of  the  young. 

They  see  so  much  that  is  opposite  to  the  spirit  and 
genius  of  Christianity  in  both  parties,  and  enter  to 
deeply  into  the  views  and  feelings  of  one  of  them, 
that  their  attention  is  drawn  off  from  the  essentials 
of  religion,  or  their  prejudices  raised  against  them. 
I  look  upon  this  to  be  one  of  the  most  painful  and 
mischievous  consequences  of  ecclesiastical  conten- 
tions. 

Eighthly. —  The  neglect  of  young  persons  by  our 
churches  and  their  pastors,  is  another  impediment  to 
the  success  of  domestic  religious  instruction. 

This,  however,  does  not  so  much  appertain  to  pa- 
rents in  their  separate  capacity,  as  in  their  relation 
as  members  of  a  Christian  society,  and  even  in  this 
relation  it  belongs  less  to  them  than  to  their  pastors. 
There  is  a  blank  yet  to  be  filled  up  in  reference  to 
the  treatment  of  the  voung,  who  are  not  in  church 
communion.  As  a  Dissenter,  I  object  of  course  to 
the  rite  of  Confirmation  as  practised  in  the  establish- 
ed church  :  but  we  want  something,  I  will  not  sav 
like  it,  but  in  lieu  of  it.  We  want  something  that 
shall  recognise  the  young,  interest  them,  attract 
them,  guard  them.* 

Ninthly. —  The  spirit  of  filial  independence,  which 
is  sanctioned  by  the  habits,  if  not  bv  the  opinions  of 
the  age,  is  another  hinderanre,  and  the  last  which  I 
shall  mention,  to  the  good  effect  contemplated  and 
desired  by  a  religious  education. 

The  disposition,  which  is  but  too  apparent  in  this 


*  See  an  excellent  sermon  bv  the  Rev.  J.  Bennetr. 
entitled  "  The  duties  of  the  Churches  towards  the 
Rising  Generation." 


PREFACE 


age,  lo  enlarge  the  privileges  of  the  children  by  di- 
minishing the  prerogative  of  their  parents,  is  neither 
lor  the  comfort  of  the  latter  nor  for  the  well-being 
vf  the  former.  Rebellion  against  a  justly  consti- 
tuted authority  can  never  be  in  any  case  a  blessing, 
and  all  wise  parents,  together  with  all  wise  youth, 
will  unite  in  s-ipporting  that  just  paternal  authority, 
which  however  the  precocious  manhood  of  some 
might  feel  to  be  an  oppression,  the  more  natural  and 
slowly  approaching  maturity  of  others,  will  acknow- 
ledge to  be  a  blessing.  Children  who  find  the  pa- 
rental yoke  a  lurder,  are  not  very  likely  to  look 
upon  that  of  Christ  at>  a  benefit.* 

Such,  my  dear  friends,  as  they  appear  to  my  mind, 
arc  the  principal  obstacles  to  the  success  of  those 


•  There  is  a  very  useful  sermon  of  Dr.  Winter's 
on  the  subject  of  this  address. 


efforts  which  are  carried  on  by  many  for  the  reli- 
gious education  of  their  children.  Seriously  con- 
sider them :  and  having  looked  at  them,  endeavor 
to  avoid  them.  Survey  them  as  the  mariner  does 
the  flame  of  the  light-house,  for  the  purpose  of 
avoiding  the  rock  on  which  it  is  placed.  Recognise 
your  children,  as  eveiy  Christian  parent  should  do 
not  only  as  animal,  rational,  social  beings,  but  as 
immortal  creatures,  lost  sinners,  beings  invited  to 
eternal  life  through  the  mediation  of  Christ ;  and 
while  you  neglect  not  any  one  means  that  can  pro- 
mote their  comfort,  reputation,  and  usefulness  in 
this  world,  concentrate  your  chief  solicitude,  and 
employ  your  noblest  energies  in  a  scriptural,  judi- 
cious, persevering  scheme  of  religious  education. — 
"Ye  fathers,  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath, 
but  bring  them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition 
of  the  Lord." 


CHRISTIAN  FATHER'S  PRESENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE  ANXIETY  OF  A  CHRISTIAN  PARENT  FOR  THE 
SPIRITUAL  WELFARE  OF  HIS  CHILDREN. 

My  dear  children — Never  did  I  pass  a  more  truly 
solemn  or  interesting  moment,  than  that  in  -which 
my  first  born  child  was  put  into  my  arms,  and  I  felt 
that  I  was  a  father.  A  new  solicitude  was  then  pro- 
duced in  my  bosom,  which  every  succeeding  day 
has  tended  to  confirm  and  strengthen.  I  looked  up 
to  heaven,  and  breathed  over  my  babe  the  petition 
of  Abraham  for  his  son,  "  O  that  Ishmael  might 
live  before  thee."  Recognising,  in  the  little  help- 
less being  which  had  been  so  lately  introduced  into 
our  world,  a  creature  born  for  eternity,  and  who, 
when  the  sun  was  extinguished,  would  be  still  soar- 
ing in  heaven,  or  sinking  in  hell,  I  retired  to  the 
closet  of  private  devotion,  and  solemnly  dedicated 
the  child  to  that  God,  who  had  given  me  the  pre- 
cious boon ;  and  earnestly  prayed,  that  whatever 
might  be  his  lot  in  this  world,  he  might  be  a  par- 
taker of  true  piety,  and  numbered  with  the  saints 
in  glory  everlasting. 

During  the  days  of  your  infancy  I  watched  vou, 
together  with  your  sainted  mother,  with  all  the  fond- 
ness of  a  parent's  heart.  We  have  smiled  upon  you 
when  you  were  slumbering  in  healthful  repose  ;  we 
have  wept  over  you  when  tossed  with  feverish  rest- 
lessness and  pain  ;  we  have  been  the  delighted 
spectators  of  your  childish  sports ;  we  have  witness- 
ed with  pleasure  the  development  of  your  intellect- 
ual powers;  and  have  often  listened  with  somewhat 
of  pride,  to  the  commendations  bestowed  upon  your 
persons  and  attainments; — but,  amidst  all,  one  deep 
solicitude  took  hold  on  our  minds,  which  nothing 
could  either  divert  or  abate,  and  that  is,  a  deep 
anxiety  for  your  spiritual  welfare— for  your  religious 
character. 

You  cannot  doubt,  my  children,  that  your  parents 
love  you.  We  have,  in  all  your  recollections,  a 
witness  to  this.  We  have,  as  you  know,  done  every 
thing  to  promote  your  welfare,  and,  so  far  as  was 
compatible  with  this  object,  your  pleasure  also. — 
We  have  never  denied  you  a  gratification  which 
our  duty  and  ability  allowed  us  to  impart ;  and  if  at 
any  time  we  have  been  severe  in  reproof,  even  this 
was  a  more  awful  form  of  love.  We  have  spared 
no  expense  in  your  education ;  in  short,  love,  an 
intense  love,  of  which  you  can  at  present  form  no 
adequate  conception,  has  been  the  secret  spring  of 
all  our  conduct  towards  you ;  and  as  the  strongest 
proof,  and  purest  effort  of  our  affection,  we  wish 
you  to  be  partakers  of  true  piety.  Did  we  not  che- 
rish this  anxiety,  we  should  feel  that,  amidst  every 
other  expression  of  regard,  we  were  acting  towards 
you  a  most  cruel  and  unnatural  part.  Genuine  love 
desires  and  seeks  for  the  objects  on  which  it  is  fixed, 
the  greatest  benefits  of  which  they  are  capable ;  and 
as  you  have  a  capacity  to  serve,  and  enjoy,  and  glo- 
rify God  by  real  religion,  how  can  we  love  you  in 
reality,  if  we  do  not  covet  for  you  this  high  and  holy 
distinction  1  We  should  feel  that  our  love  had  ex- 
hausted itself  upon  trifles,  and  had  let  go  objects  of 
immense,  infinite,  eternal  consequence,  if  it  were 
not  to  concentrate  all  its  prayers,  desires,  and  efforts, 
in  your  personal  religion. 


Almost  every  parent  has  some  one  object  which 
he  desires  above  all  others  on  behalf  of  his  children. 
Some  are  anxious  that  their  offspring  may  shine  as 
warriors  ;  others,  that  theirs  may  be  surrounded 
with  the  milder  radiance  of  literary,  scientific,  or 
commercial  fame.  Our  supreme  ambition  for  you 
is,  that  whatever  situation  you  occupy,  you  may 
adorn  it  with  the  beauties  of  holiness,  and  discharge 
its  duties  under  the  influence  of  Christian  principle. 
Much  as  we  desire  your  respectability  in  life,  and 
we  will  not  conceal  our  hope  that  you  will  occupy 
no  mean  place  in  society,  yet  we  would  rather  see 
you  in  the  most  obscure,  and  even  menial  situation, 
provided  you  were  partakers  of  true  piety,  than  see 
you  on  the  loftiest  pinnacle  of  the  temple  of  fame, 
the  objects  of  universal  admiration,  if  at  the  same 
time  your  hearts  were  destiiute  of  the  fear  of  God. 
We  might,  indeed,  in  the  latter  case,  be  tempted  to 
watch  your  ascending  progress,  and  hear  the  plau- 
dits with  which  your  elevation  was  followed,  with 
something  of  a  parent's  vanity;  but  when  we  retired 
from  the  dazzling  scene  to  the  seat  of  serious  re- 
flection, the  spell  would  be  instantly  broken,  and  we 
should  sorrowfully  exclaim,  "Alas!  my  son,  what 
is  all  this,  in  the  absence  of  religion,  but  soaring 
high  to  have  the  greater  fall !" 

You  must  be  aware,  my  dear  children,  that  all 
our  conduct  towards  you,  has  been  conducted  upon 
these  principles.  Before  you  were  capable  of  re- 
ceiving instruction,  we  presented  ceaseless  prayer 
to  God  for  your  personal  piety.  As  soon  as  reason 
dawned,  we  poured  the  light  of  religious  instruction 
upon  your  mind,  by  the  aid  of  familiar  poetry,  cate- 
chisms, and  conversation.  You  cannot  remember 
the  time  when  these  efforts  commenced.  How  often 
have  you  retired  with  us,  to  become  the  subjects  of 
our  earnest  supplications  at  the  throne  of  grace. — 
You  have  been  the  witnesses  of  our  agony  for  your 
eternal  welfare.  Have  we  not  instructed,  warned, 
admonished,  encouraged  you,  as  we  laid  open  to 
your  view,  the  narrow  path  which  leadeth  to  eternal 
life  1  Have  we  not  been  guided  by  this  object  in  the 
selection  of  schools  for  your  education,  companions 
for  your  amusement,  books  for  your  perusal  1  Has 
not  this  been  so  interwoven  with  all  our  conduct, 
that  if  at  any  time  you  had  been  asked  the  question, 
"  What  is  the  chief  object  of  your  parents' solicitude 
on  your  account,"  you  must  have  said  at  once  "For 
my  being  truly  pious'?"  Yes,  my  children,  this  is 
most  strictly  true.  At  home,  abroad,  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  in  prosperity  and  in  adversity,  this  is 
the  ruling  solicitude  of  our  bosoms. 

How  intently  have  we  marked  the  developement 
of  your  character,  to  see  if  our  fondest  wishes  were 
likely  to  be  gratified.  We  have  observed  your  de- 
portment under  the  sound  of  the  gospel,  and  when 
vou  have  appeared  listless  and  uninterested,  it  has 
been  as  wormwood  in  our  cup;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  when  we  have  seen  you,  listening  with  atten- 
tion, quietly  wiping  away  the  tear  of  emotion,  or  re- 
tiring pensive  and  serious  to  your  closet,  we  have 
rejoiced  moie  than  they  which  find  great  spoil. — 
When  we  have  looked  on  the  conduct  of  any  pious 
youth,  we  have  uttered  the  wish,  "  O  that  my  child 
were  like  him  !"  and  have  directed  your  attention 
to  his  character,  as  that  which  we  wished  you  to 
make  the  model  of  yours.      When,  on  the  other 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


•  What 


hand,  we  have  witnessed  the  behavior  of  some  pro-  i  life,  filled  places  of  honor  and  usefulness  in  the  fel- 

digal  son,  who  hasbeenthe  grief  of  his  parents,  the  [  lowship  of  the  faithful. 

We  are  anxious  for  your  being  pious  that  you 
might  be  the  instruments  of  blessing  the  world  by 
the  propagation  of  religion.  The  moral  condition 
of  the  world  is  too  bad  for  description.  If  it  be  ever 
improved,  this  must  be  done  by  Christians.  True 
piety  is  the  only  reformer  of  mankind.  A  spirit  of 
active  benevolence  has  happily  risen  up,  rich  in 
purposes  and  means,  for  the  benefit  of  the  human 
race.  But  the  men,  in  whose  bosoms  it  now  lives 
and  moves,  are  not  immortal  upon  earth;  they  too 
must  sleep  in  dust,  and  who  shall  succeed  them  at 
their  post  and  enter  into  their  labors  ?     Who  wi»l 


thought  has  been  like  a  dagger  to  our  heart, 
if  my  child  should  turn  ouuhus  !" 

1.  Now  we  cherish  all  this  solicitude  on  our  own 
account.  We  candidly  assure  ycu,  that  nothing 
short  of  this  will  make  us  happy.  Your  piety  is  the 
only  thing  that  will  make  us  rejoice  that  we  are  pa- 
rents. How  can  we  endure  to  see  our  children 
choosing  any  other  ways  than  those  of  wisdom,  and 
any  other  path  than  that  of  life?  How  could  we 
bear  the  sight,  to  behold  you  travelling  along  the 
broad  road  which  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  run- 
ning with  the  multitude  to  do  evil  ?  "  O  God,  hide 
lis  from  this  sad  spectacle,  in  the  grave,  and  ere  that  I  catch  'their  falling  mantle,  and  carry  on  their  glo- 


time  comes,  take  us  to  our  rest."  But  how  would 
it  embitter  our  last  moments,  and  plant  our  dying 
pillow  with  thorns,  to  leave  you  on  earth  in  an  un- 
converted state;  following  us  to  the  grave,  but  not 
to  heaven.  Or  should  you  be  called  to  die  before 
us,  and  take  possession  of  the  tomb  in  our  names, 
how  could  we  stand  at  the  dreadful  post  of  observa- 
tion, darker  every  hour,  without  one  ray  o{  hope  for 
you,  to  cheer  our  wretched  spirits  !  How  could  we 
sustain  the  dreadful  thought,  which  in  spite  of  our- 
selves would  sometimes  steal  across  the  bosom,  that 
the  very  next  moment  after  you  hid  passed  beyond 
our  kind  attentions,  you  would  be  received  to  the 
torments  which  know  neither  end  nor  mitigation  ! 
And  when  you  had  departed  under  such  circum- 
stances, what  could  heal  our  wounds,  or  dry  our 
tears  ! 

Should  you  become  truly  pious,  this  circumstance 
will  impart  to  our  bosoms  a  felicity  which  no  lan- 
guage could  enable  me  to  describe.  It  will  sweeten 
all  our  intercourse  with  you,  establish  our  confi- 
dence, allay  our  fears,  awaken  our  hopes.  If  we 
are  prosperous,  it  will  delight  us  to  think  that  we 
are  not  acquiring  riches  for  those  who  will  squan- 
der it  on  their  lusts,  but  who  will  employ  it  for  the 
glory  of  God  when  we  are  in  the  dust.  Or,  if  we 
are  poor,  it  will  cheer  us  to  reflect,  that  though  we 
cannot  leave  you  the  riches  of  this  world,  we  see 
you  in  possession  of  the  favor  of  God,  and  that  por- 
tion, which  after  comforting  you  on  earth,  will  en- 
rich you  through  eternity.  'My  dear  children,  if 
vou  are  anxious  to  comfort  the  hearts  of  your  pa- 
rents, if  ye  would  fulfil  our  joy;  if  ye  would  repay 
all  our  labor,  anxiety,  affection  ;  if  ye  would  most 
effectually  discharge  all  the  obligations  which  you 
cannot  deny  you  owe  us,  Fear  God,  and  choose  the 
ways  of  reliiiion :  this,  this  only,  will  make  us  happy. 
2.  We  cherish  this  solicitude  on  behalf  of  the 
church,  and  the  cause  of  God. 

We  are  every  year  conveying  to  the  tombs  of 
their  fathers,  some  valued  and  valuable  members 
of  the  Christian  church.  We  are  perpetually  call- 
ed to  witness  the  desolations  of  the  last  enemy  in 
the  garden  of  the  Lord.  How  often  do  we  exclaim 
over  the  corpse  of  some  eminent  Christian  and  be- 
nefactor, "  Departed  saint,  how  heavy  the  loss  we 
have  sustained  by  thy  removal  to  a  better  state  ! — 
Who  now  shall  fill  up  thy  vacant  seat,  and  bless  like 
thee  both  the  church  arid  the  world  ?"  My  child- 
ren, under  these  bereavements,  to  whom  should  we 
look  but  to  you  ?  To  whom  should  we  turn  but  to 
the  children  of  the  kingdom,  for  subjects  of  the  king- 
dom 1  You  are  the  property  of  the  church.  It  has 
a  claim  upon  you.  Will  ye  not  own  it,  and  dis- 
charge it  ?  Must  we  see  the  walls  of  the  spiritual 
house  mouldering  away,  and  you,  the  rightful  ma- 
terials with  which  it  should  be  repaired,  withheld  ? 
We  love  the  church,  we  long  for  its  prosperity,  we 
pray  for  its  increase,  and  it  cannot  but  be  deeply 
distressing  to  us  to  witness  the  ravages  of  death, 
and,  at  the  same  limp,  to  see  the  want  of  religion  in 


those  young  persons,  whose  parents,  during  their  |  purely  intellectual 


rious  undertaking  for  the  salvation  of  millions? — 
If  it  be  ever  done,  it  must  be  done  of  course  by  those 
who  are  now  rising  into  life.  The  propagation  of 
religion  to  the  next  generation,  and  to  distant  na- 
tions, depends  on  you,  and  others  of  your  age. — 
While  I  write,  the  groans  of  creation  are  ascend- 
ing; and  future  ages  are  rising  up  to  plead  with 
you,  that  you  would  bow  to  the  influence  of  religion, 
as  the  only  way  of  extending  it  to  them. 

3.  But  we  are  chiefly  anxious,  after  all,  on  your 
account. 

My  children,  the  anxiety  which  we  feel  on  this 
head,  is  far  too  intense  for  language.  Here  I  mar 
truly  say,  "  poor  is  thought,  and  poor  expression." 
If  piety  were  to  be  obtained  for  you  only  by  pur- 
chase, and  I  were  rich  in  the  possession  of  worlds, 
I  would  beggar  myself  to  the  last  farthing  to  render 
you  a  Christian,  and  think  the  purchase  cheap. — 
"  Godliness  is  profitable  for  all  things,  having  the 
promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that 
which  is  to  come."  As  I  shall  have  more  than  one 
chapter  on  the  advantages  of  piety,  it  will  not  be 
necessary  to  enlarge  upon  them  here,  any  further 
than  to  say,  that  true  godliness  will  save  you  from 
much  present  danger  and  inconvenience,  promote 
your  temporal  interests,  prepare  you  for  the  darkest 
scenes  of  adversity,  comfort  you  on  a  dying  bed,  and 
finally  conduct  you  to  everlasting  glory.  The  want 
of  it  will  ensure  the  reverse  of  all  this.  Sooner  or 
later  such  a  destitution  will  bring  misery  on  earth, 
and  be  followed  with  eternal  torments  in  hell. 

What  then,  my  children,  are  all  worldly  acquire- 
ments and  possessions  without  piety  ?  What  are 
the  accomplishments  of  taste,  the  elegances  of 
wealth,  wreaths  of  fame,  but  as  the  fragrant  and 
many-colored  garland  which  adorns  the  miserable 
victim  about  to  be  sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  this 
world  ?  Original  genius,  a  vigorous  understanding, 
a  well  stored  mind,  and  all  this  adorned  by  the  most 
amiable  temper,  and  most  insinuating  address,  will 
neither  comfort  under  the  trials  of  life,  nor  save 
their  lovely  possessor  from  the  worm  that  never  dies, 
and  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched.  Oh  !  no;  thev 
may  qualify  for  earth,  but  not  for  heaven.  Alas, 
alas  !  that  such  estimable  qualities  should  all  perish 
for  want  of  that  piety,  which  alone  can  give  immor- 
tality and  perfection  to  the  excellences  of  the  hu- 
man character ! 

Can  you  wonder  then  at  the  solicitude  we  feel  for 
your  personal  religion,  when  such  interests  are  in- 
volved in  this  momentous  concern? 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON    THE   DISPOSITIONS   WITH   WHICH  WE   SHOULD   ENTER 
UPON  AN  INQUIRY  INTO  THE  NATURE  CF  RELIGION. 

Religion  is  a  subject  of  a  spiritual  and  moral  na- 
ture, and  therefore  requires  another  and  a  difleren 
frame  of  mind  to  that  which  we  carry  to  a  topic 


JO 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT 


The  first  disposition  essentially  necessary,  is  a 
deep  seriousness. 

Religion  is  the  very  last  thing  in  the  universe 
•with  which  we  should' allow  ourselves  to  trifle.  No- 
thing can  be  more  shocking  and  incongruous  than 
that  flippancy  and  inconsiderateness,  with  which 
some  people  treat  this  dread  theme.  When  Uzzah 
put  forth  his  hand,  in  haste  to  support  the  ark,  his 
life  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  temerity ;  and  if  the  man, 
who  takes  up  his  Bible  to  inquire  into  the  meaning 
of  its  contents,  with  a  frivolous  and  volatile  temper, 
do  not  suffer  the  same  penalty,  it  is  not  because  the 
action  is  less  criminal  or  less  dangerous,  but  be- 
cause God  has  now  removed  the  punishment  a  little 
farther  distant  from  the  sin.  I  cannot  conceive  of 
any  thing  more  likely  to  provoke  God  to  give  a  per- 
son up  to  the  bewildering  influence  of  his  own  in- 
herent depravity,  and  consequently  to  a  confused 
and  erroneous  perception  of  religious  truth  than  this 
temper.  To  see  a  person  approaching  the  oracle  of 
God  with  the  same  levity  as  a  votary  of  fashion  and 
folly  enters  a  place  of  amusement,  is  indeed  revolt- 
ing to  taste,  to  say  nothing  of  more  sacred  feelings. 
Religion  enthroned  behind  the  veil  in  the  temple  of 
truth,  and  dwelling  amidst  the  brightness  which  the 
merely  curious  eye  cannot  bear  to  look  upon,  refu- 
ses to  unfold  her  glories,  or  discover  her  secrets,  to 
:he  volatile  mind;  and  delivers  to  every  one  who 
.'raws  near  to  her  abode,  the  admonition  of  Jehovah 

0  Moses,  "  Put  off  thy  shoes,  for  the  place  whereon 
rhou  standest  is  holy  ground." 

The  subjects  treated  of  by  religion,  are  of  the 
most  awfully  important  nature.  Every  thing  about 
it  is  serious.  The  eternal  God,  in  every  view  of  his 
nature  and  operations — the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  his 
sufferings  and  death — the  soul  of  man,  in  its  ruin 
and  salvation — the  solemnities  of  judgment — the 
mysteries  of  eternity — the  felicities  of  heaven — the 
torments  of  hell,  are  all  involved  in  the  mighty 
comprehension  of  religion.  Should  such  themes  be 
ever  touched  with  irreverence!    My  dear  children, 

1  warn  you  against  the  too  common  practice  of  re- 
ducing to  the  level  of  mere  intellectual  theories,  and 
of  treating  with  the  same  indifference  as  the  sys- 
tems of  philosophy,  that  sacred  volume,  which,  to 
use  the  words  of  Locke,  "  has  God  for  its  author, 
salvation  for  its  end,  and  truth  without  any  mixture 
of  error,  for  its  contents."  Do  not  forget,  then,  that 
the  very  first  requisite,  not  only  in  religion  itself, 
but  also  in  that  frame  of  mind,  which  enables  us  to 
understand  its  nature,  is  seriousness. 

2.  A  great  solicitude  to  be  guided  aright,  is  the 
next  dispo5ition,  and  nearly  allied  to  the  former. 

Eternal  consequences  hang  upon  this  question. — 
As  we  mistake  it,  or  understand  it,  we  shall  travel 
onward  to  heaven  or  hell.  An  inquiry  of  such  im- 
portance should,  of  course,  be  urged  with  the  deep- 
est anxiety.  It  might  be  rationally  expected,  that 
events  so  awfully  tremendous  as  death  and  judg- 
ment ;  a  subject  so  deeply  interesting  as  whether 
we  shall  spend  eternal  ages,  in  torments  or  in  bliss, 
could  in  no  possible  case,  and  in  no  constitution  of 
mind  whatever,  fail  of  exciting  the  most  serious  ap- 
prehension and  concern.  And  yet  there  are  mul- 
titudes, who  have  talked  a  thousand  times  about  re- 
ligion, but  yet  have  never  had  in  all  their  lives  one 
bour',s  real  solicitude  to  know  whether  their  views 
of  its  nature  are  correct.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  then, 
that  so  many  remain  in  ignorance,  or  plnnge  into 
error 1 

"3.  Docility,  or  a  teachable  disposition,  is  of  great 
ccn  sequence. 

Our  Lord  laid  great  emphasis  on  this,  when  he 
said,  "Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little 
children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  Children,  when  they  first  go  to  school, 
have  a  sense  of  their  own  ignorance ;  they  have  nei- 


ther prepossessions  nor  prejudices ;  they  present 
their  unfurnished  minds  to  their  teachers  yi  re- 
ceive, with  implicit,  confidence,  all  that  they  are 
taught.  Docility  is  essential  to  improvement  in  every 
thing;  for  if  a  child  go  to  school  puffed  up  with 
high  notions  of  his  own  attainments,  imagining  that 
he  knows  as  much  as  his  master  can  teach  him,  and 
with  a  disposition  to  cavil  at  every  thing  that  is 
communicated;  in  this  case,  improvement  is  out  of 
the  question;  the  avenues  of  knowledge  are  closed. 
In  nothing  is  docility  more  necessary  than  in  reli- 
gion, where  the  subject  is  altogether  beyond  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  senses,  and  the  discoveries  of  reason. 
Christianity  is  purely  and  exclusively  matter  of  re- 
velation. Of  course,  all  our  knowledge  on  this  topic 
must  be  derived  from  the  Bible;  to  the  right  under- 
standing of  which,  we  must  carry  the  same  con- 
sciousness of  our  ignorance,  the  same  destitution  of 
prejudice  and  prepossession,  the  same  implicit  sub- 
mission of  the  understanding,  as  the  child  on  his 
first  going  to  school  does  to  his  instructer.  We 
must  go  to  the  word  of  God  with  these  convictions 
in  our  mind,  "  This  is  the  master,  from  whom  I, 
who  know  nothing,  am  most  implicitly  to  receive 
all  things.  My  teacher  is  infallible  and  I  am  not  to 
cavil  at  his  instructions,  however  in  some  things 
they  may  transcend  my  ability  to  comprehend 
them." 

Yes,  the  Bible,  the  Bible  alone,  is  the  infallible 
teacher  in  religious  matters,  from  whose  authority 
thsre  does  and  can  lie  no  appeal;  before  whose  so- 
lemn dicta  reason  must  bow  in  tumble  silence,  to 
learn  and  to  obey.  This  is  docility,  by  which  I 
mean,  not  a  supple  disposition  to  believe  what  oth- 
ers believe,  or  to  adopt  the  creed  which  they  would 
impose  upon  us;  no,  ibis  is  surrendering  our  under- 
standing to  be  enslaved  by  human  authority:  but 
teachableness,  means  going  direct  to  the  master, 
with  this  determination,  whatever  he  teaches  I  will 
believe,  be  it  so  sublime,  so  humiliating,  so  novel, 
and,  to  my  present  limited  capacities,  so  incompre- 
hensible as  it  may. 

Are  we,  then,  to  exclude  reason  from  the  busi- 
ness of  religion  1  By  no  means.  It.  would  be  as  ab- 
surd to  attempt  it,  as  it  would  be  impossible  to  ac- 
complish it.  The  whole  affair  of  piety  is  a  process 
of  reason  :  but  then  it  is  reason  submitting  itself  to 
the  guidance  of  revelation.  Reason  bears  the  same 
relation  to  religion,  and  performs  the  same  office, 
as  it  does  in  the  system  of  jurisprudence :  it  exa- 
mines the  evidence,  by  which  a  law  is  proved  to  be 
an  enactment  of  the  legislature;  interprets  accord- 
ing to  the  known  nse  of  terms  and  phrases,  its  right 
meaning,  and  then  submits  to  its  authority.  Thus 
in  matters  of  religion,  its  province  is  to  examine  the 
evidences  by  which  the  Bible  is  proved  to  be  a  re- 
velation from  God ;  having  done  this,  it  is  to  ascer- 
tain, according.to  the  fixed  use  of  language,  its  true 
meaning;  and  ihen  to  submit  to  its  authority,  by  be- 
lieving whatever  it  reveals,  and  obeying  whatever 
it  enjoins.  This  is  what  we  mean  by  prostrating 
our  reason  before  the  tribunal  of  revelation,  than 
which  surely  nothing  can  more  accord  with  the  de- 
sign of  the  Bible,  or  the  ignorance  of  the  human 
mind. 

But,  suppose  reason  should  meet  with  palpable 
contradictions  in  the  word  of  God,  is  she  to  believe 
theml  This  is  putting  a  case  which  cannot  hap- 
pen, since  it  is  supposing  that  God  will  give  his 
sanction  to  a  lie.  There  can  be  no  contradictions  in 
the  word  of  God  ;  the  thing  is  impossible.  But  still 
it  will  be  replied,  Is  not  one  kind  of  evidence  for 
the  divine  authority  of  revelation,  derived  from  its 
contents  1  and  if  so,  may  not  reason  make  the  na- 
ture of  a  doctrine  a  test  of  its  truth "?  At  best  this  is 
but  a  secondary  species  of  evidence,  and  cannot  op- 
pose the  primary  kind  of  proof.    If  it  cannot  be 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER   S    PRESENT 


11 


proved  that  a  doctrine  is  really  an  interpolation,  and 
there  is  at  the  same  time  all  the  evidence  that  the 
case  admits  of,  that  it  is  a  part  of  divine  revelation, 
no  difficulty  in  the  way  of  understanding  its  mean- 
ing, no  seeming  mystery  in  its  terms,  should  lead 
us  to  reject  it ;  we  must  receive  it  and  wait  for  fur- 
ther light  to  understand  it. 

Revelation  is  the  sun,  reason  the  eye  which  re- 
ceives its  beams,  and  applies  them  to  all  the  purpo- 
ses of  life,  for  which,  in  ceaseless  succession  they 
flow  in  upon  us :  and  it  can  no  more  be  said  that  re- 
velation destroys  or  degrades  reason,  by  guiding  it, 
than  it  can  be  said  the  solar  orb  extinguishes  the 
power  of  vision,  by  directing  its  efforts. 

Docility  then,  my  dearchildren,  by  which  I  mean 
a  submission  of  the  human  understanding,  in  mat- 
ters of  religion,  to  the  word  of  God,  is  essential  to 
all  true  piety.  I  insist  upon  this  with  more  earnest- 
ness, because  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  the  tenden- 
cy of  the  present  age  is  in  an  opposite  direction.  A 
haughty  and  flippant  spirit  has  arisen,  which,  un- 
der the  pretext  of  freedom  of  inquiry,  has  disco- 
vered a  restless  propensity  to  throw  off  the  au- 
thority of  divine  truth;  a  spirit  more  disposed  to 
teach  the  Bible  than  to  be  taught  by  it ;  to  speculate 
upon  what  it  should  be,  than  to  receive  it  as  it  is ; 
a  spirit  which  would  receive  the  morality  of  the 
word  of  God  as  it  finds  it,  but  which  is  perpetually 
employed  in  mending  its  theology;  which,  in  fact, 
would  subvert  the  true  order  of  things,  and,  instead 
of  subjecting  reason  to  revelation,  would  make  rea- 
son the  teacher,  and  revelation  the  pupil.  Be- 
ware, my  children,  of  this  dangerous  spirit,  which, 
while  it  pays  flattering  compliments  to  your  under- 
standing, is  injecting  the  deadliest  poison  into  your 
soul. 

4.  A  prayerful  spirit  is  essential  to  a  right  dispo- 
sition for  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  true  piety. 

Religion  is  an  affair  so  spiritual  in  its  nature,  so 
tremendously  important  in  its  consequences,  and  so 
frequently  misunderstood;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  ourselves  are  so  liable  to  be  misled  in  our  judg- 
ments by  the  bewildering  influence  of  internal  de- 
pravity, and  external  temptation,  that  it  betrays  the 
most  criminal  indifference,  or  the  most  absurd  self- 
confidence,  to  enter  on  this  subject,  without  constant 
earnest  supplication  for  direction  to  the  Father  and 
Fountain  of  lights. 

The  religious  world  is  like  an  immense  forest, 
through  which  lies  the  right  road  to  truth  and  hap- 
piness ;  but  besides  this,  there  are  innumerable  paths 
running  in  all  directions ;  every  way  has  its  travel- 
lers, each  traveller  thinks  he  is  right,  and  attempts 
lo  prove  it,  by  referring  to  the  map  which  he  carries 
in  his  hand.  In  such  circumstances,  who,  that  vaiues 
his  soul  or  her  eternal  situation,  would  not  seek  for 
jnidance  to  him  who  has  promised  to  discJose  to  us 
V  his  spirit  the  path  of  life  1  When  young  people 
<ru3t  to  the  efforts  of  their  own  unaided  reason,  and 
neglect  to  ask  for  the  guiding  influence  ot'  the  eter- 
nal Gcd,  it  is  matter  of  little  surprise  that  they  are 
found  walking  in  the  paths  of  error.  There  is  a 
degree  of  pride  and  independence  in  this,  which 
God  often  punishes,  bv  leaving  them  to  the  seduc- 
tions of  sophistry  and  falsehood.  In  addition  then, 
to  the  greatest  seriousness  of  mind,  and  the  most  in- 
tense desire  ufter  truth,  and  the  most  unprejudiced 
approach  to  the  oracle  of  Scripture,  pray  constantly 
to  God  to  reveal  to  you  the  nature  of  true  piety,  and 
to  dispose  you  to  embrace  it.  This  is  the  way  ap- 
pointed by' God  to  obtain  it.  "  If  any  man  lack  wis- 
dom, let  him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  to  all  men  li- 
berally, and  upbraidclh  not;  and  it  shall  be  given 
him."  "If  ye,  being;  *vilj  know  how  to  give  good 
■sifts  onto  them  which  ure  your  children,  how  much 
more  shall  your  Heat  e-'u'y  Fa  her  give  his  Holy 
Spirit  lo  them  that  ask  Mm"     "  I  will  instruct 


thee,  and  teach  thee  in  the  way  thou  shalt  go;  I  will 
guide  thee  with  mine  eye." 

These,  surely  with  a  thousand  other  passages  ot 
similar  import,  are  sufficient  to  enjoin  and  encou- 
rage the  temper  I  now  recommend.  I  have  no  hope 
of  those  who  neglect  habitual  prayer  for  divine  il- 
lumination. I  expect  to  see  them  left  to  embrace 
error  for  truth,  or  to  content  themselves  with  the 
mere  forms  of  godliness,  instead  of  its  power. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON   RIGHT   SENTIMENTS    IN    RELIGION. 

Truth  and  error,  my  children,  are  essentially  dis- 
tinct, and  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other.  It  is 
important  to  perceive  in  every  case  this  difference, 
to  embrace  the  one,  and  reject  the  other.  To  have 
the  judgment  misled  in  its  decisions,  on  any  subject, 
is  an  evil,  which,  as  rational  creatures,  we  should 
ever  deprecate  ;  but  to  be  mistaken  on  that  subject, 
where  "  he  that  believeth  shall  be  saved,  and  he 
that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned,"  is  most  fearful, 
most  fatal.  To  be  in  error  on  the  topics  of  litera- 
ture, science,  commerce,  history,  is  a  mere  incon- 
venience, at  worst  a  derogation  from  our  mental 
reputation,  or  our  worldly  comfort ;  but  to  be  fun- 
damentally wrong  in  religion,  is 'an  evil  which 
commences  its  chief  mischief  from  the  day  of  our 
death,  and  perpetuates  itself  through  all  the  ages 
of  eternity. 

I  need  not  inform  you,  that  there  prevails  an  end- 
less variety  of  opinion  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
This  circumstance,  however,  with  pious  minds  it 
might  be  a  matter  of  regret,  with  philosophic  ones, 
is  no  cause  of  surprise.  Infidels,  who  profess  to 
study  theology  in  the  book  of  nature,  are  divided 
into' many  sects.  Scarcely  a  subject  exists,  how- 
ever plain,  and  apparently  incapable  of  producins 
a  diversity  of  opinion,  but  what  is  viewed  by  dif- 
ferent men  in  various  lights.  What  clashing  opi- 
nions exist  among  lawyers,  concerning  the  precise 
meaning  of  the  words  of  a  statute,  which  was 
drawn  up  with  the  most  anxious  care  to  avoid  all 
litigation.  That  different  opinions  should  exist  on 
the  meaning  of  the  Scriptures,  is  less  to  be  wonder- 
ed at,  when  we  consider  how  deeply  we  are  all  in- 
terested in  the  matter  of  revelation,  and  how  apt 
we  arc  in  cases  of  personal  interest,  to  have  out* 
judsments  biassed  by  our  feelings.  The  Bible,  if 
read  in  heaven  by  holy  angels  and  spirits  made  per- 
fect, produces  no  discordant  opinions  there.  It  is 
to  the  depravity  of  human  nature,  that  all  religious 
error  is  to  be  traced. 

Diversity  of  sentiment,  although  confessedly  an 
evil,  has  been  productive  of  some  benefits.  It  has 
afforded  opportunity  for  the  more  vigorous  exercise 
and  conspicuous  display  of  Christian  charity  and 
forbearance  between  the  various  sects;  while  it  is 
a  constant  pledgL-  for  the  purity  of  the  sacred  text. 
As  they  all  profess  to  draw  their  opinions  from  the 
Bible,  they  of  course  maintain  a  constant  and  sleep- 
less jealousy  over  each  other's  treatment  of  the  word 
of  God.  Their  opposition  to  each  other  converts 
them  all  into  vigilant  guardians  of  the  source  of 
their  faith;  so  that  although  they  have  corrupted 
the  streams  of  truth,  they  have  jointly  guarded  the-' 
purity  of  the  fountain.  The  suspicion  of  any  liber- 
ties having  been  taken  with  the  word  of  God,  would 
be  an  evil  more  to  be  deplored  than  the  exisienc. 
of  a  diversity  of  opinion  on  the  sacred  text.  While 
the  genuineness  of  the  statute  is  admitted,  and  the 
incorruptibility  of  the  judge  is  maintained,  the 
wranglings  of  counsellors  cannot  subvert  the  foun- 
dations of  justice. 

Still,  however,  these  opposite  sentiments  cannot 
of  course  be  all  right.    Although  error  is  mu'.ti 


12 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT 


form,  truth  is  uniform  ;  and  it  is  of  infinite  conse- 
quence, that  we  should  embrace  the  one  and  reject 
the  other. 

1.  Some  errors  unquestionably  exclude  a  man 
from  salvation.  "  He  that  believeth  shall  he  saved, 
and  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned."  Now 
certainly  from  this  language  it  is  evident  that  sal- 
vation is  suspended  on  a  belief  of  the  gospel,  and 
of  course  upon  a  belief  of  the  true  gospel,  not 
on  the  belief  of  a  false  one.  If,  therefore,  what 
we  believe  is  not  the  same  as  that  which  the 
■word  of  God  reveals,  it  is  not  the  gospel;  and 
such  a  faith  will  not  save  us.  To  ascertain  with 
precision  what  truths  are  essential  to  the  hope 
of  eternal  life,  is  a  very  difficult  task  :  to  say  how- 
far  a  person  may  go  in  error,  and  yet  after  all  be 
save.l.  ia  what  no  mortal  should  presume  to  do. — 
When  a  man,  however,  disbelieves  the  i^ible  to  be 
the  word  of  God;  or  rejects  the  doctrine  of  the 
atonement ;  or  the  justification  of  the  soui  by  faith; 
<>r  the  necessity  of  divine  influences  to  renew  and 
tan^tify  the  heart,  or  the  obligation  of  true  holi- 
ness ;  I  do  not  see  how  such  an  individual  can  Le 
saved.  He  subverts  the  very  foundations  of  the 
gospel.  Something  must  be  believed,  as  our  Lord 
himself  tells  us,  in  order  to  the  possession  of  ever- 
lasting happiness ;  and  if  these  things  may  be  dis- 
be'ieved,  and  yet  a  sinner  be  saved,  it  is  difficult  to 
find  out  what  there  is  left  for  him  to  believe.  If 
some  sentiments,  then,  are  essential  to  a  saving 
faith,  we  should  be  most  tremblingly  afraid  of  error; 
and  as  it  is  not  for  us  to  say  how  far  an  individual 
may  go  in  error  in  order  to  be  excluded  from  the 
blessings  of  the  gospel,  we  should  certainly  be 
alarmed  at  the  least  deviation  from  the  truth,  as 
there  is  no  doubt  that  one  wrong  notion  prepares 
the  mind  for  the  reception  cf  another.  This  leads 
me  to  observe, 

2.  That  all  error  has  a  tendency  to  pollute  the 
mind,  to  the  degree  in  which  it  exists:  and  there- 
fore must  be  so  far  sinful. 

"  Sanctity  them  by  thy  truth,"  said  our  Lord, 
"  thy  word  is  truth."  Now  if  troth  sanctifies,  error 
must  corrupt  the  mind  ;  except  two  causes  so  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  each  other,  as  these  are, can  be 
supposed  to  produce  the  same  effects;  which  is  ab- 
surd. Whatever  is  not  truth  must  be  error.  What- 
ever opinion  we  profess  to  have  received  from  the 
word  of  God,  must  be  classed  under  one  or  the  other 
of  these  heads,  and  must  have  some  influence  or  other 
upon  our  religions  character,  as  it  appears  in  the 
sight  of  God.  Wrong  sentiments  may  not  produce 
immorality  in  the  life,  but  if  they  corrupt  our  secret 
^Olives:  if  they  render  us  spiritually  proud,  and 
lead  us  to  glory 'before  God  ;  if  they  make  us  self- 
confident  and  self-dependent;  if  they  cause  us  to 
lean  to  our  own  understanding;  if  they  lead  us  to 
look  with  contempt  upon  others:  if  they  keep  us 
fr">m  using  any  means  of  grace  instituted  by  God, 
thev  pollute  and  injure  the  mind  in  the  sight  of  its 
Omniscient  Creator.  The  least  disease  in  the  body, 
although  it  be  unobserved  by  others,  or  yet  unfelt 
by  the  subject  of  it,  is  an  injury  to  the  health.  It 
may  never  come  to  a  fatal  attack,  or  bring  on  death, 
but  still  it  is  injurious  to  the  frame  and  it  is  precise- 
ly thus  with  error  in  the  mind. 

All  religion  is  founded  upon  opinion.  It  begins 
with  the  reception  of  truth  into  the  understanding: 
if  therefor"  rire  whole  truth  is  not  received,  some 
part  of  tne  moral  means  appointed  for  our  spiritual 
improvement  is  not  applied  ;  and  if  any  thing  con- 
irary  to  tne  truth  is  received,  a  cause  is  in  operation 
upon  our  minds,  opposite  to  the  right  one.  The 
order  of  piety  is  the  order  of  nature:  first,  we  re- 
ceive an  opinion,  then  our  feelings  are  excited  by 
the  opinion,  and  then  the  will  resolves  to  act 
under  the  influence  of  the  feelings;  as  is  the  opi- 


j  nion,such  are  the  feelings  ;  and  as  are  the  feelings, 
such  are  the  resolutions  and  the  actions.  If  the 
opinion,  therefore,  is  wrong,  all  that  follows  must 
be  wrong,  as  to  its  moral  character  in  the  sight  of 
God. 

I  am  aware  that  a  difficulty  presents  itself  here 
to  many  young  persons,  which  does  not  a  liuie  pei- 
plex  them.  They  see  individuals  who  have  em- 
braced the  widest  extremes  of  opinion,  equally  ex- 
emplary for  the  discharge  of  all  the  relative  and 
social  obligations.  They  see  those  who  have  em- 
braced error,  as  useful,  peaceful,  ornamental  mem- 
bers of  society  as  those  who  have  received  the  truth. 
This  is  undoubtedly  a  fact.  I  know  very  many 
who  have  rejected  almost  all  that  is  peculiar  to 
Christianity,  who  are  yet  amongst  the  most  truly 
respectable  inhabitants  of  the  places  in  which  they 
live.  But  this  does  not  disprove  my  statements, 
nor  in  any  degree  prove  that  error  is  innocent  and 
harmless.  There  are  two  lights  in  which  the  hu- 
man character  is  to  be  viewed  ;  its  aspect  towards 
men,  and  that  which  it  bears  towards  God.  Now  I 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  religious  error  may  in  any 
material,  or  visible  degree,  alter  the  former.  A  man 
may  be  a  good  subject,  neighbor,  husband,  father, 
tradesman,  master,  with  any  or  with  no  religious 
opinions  at  all.  Many  infidels  have  been  exempla- 
ry in  their  attention  to  all  the  duties  of  social  life. 
This,  however,  only  proves  that  error  does  not  al- 
ways disfigure  the  character  in  the  sight  of  man  ; 
but  we  are  now  more  particularly  speaking  of  its 
aspect  towards  God.  In  this  view  of  it  there  may 
be  a  degree  of  obliquity  truly  awful,  while  all  is  cor- 
rect towards  man.  Pride  of  intellect  and  of  heart; 
self-sufficiency  and  self-dependence ;  a  stout  and 
pertinacious  resistance  to  Jehovah's  authority;  a 
peremptory  refusal  to  submit  to  his  schemes  and 
will,  may  all  be  rife  in  the  soul,  while  every  thing 
is  fair  in  the  exterior.  God  looketh  to  the  heart; 
and  in  his  eye  the  character  is  decided  by  the  state 
of  the  mind.  Religion,  properly  speaking,  has  to 
do  with  God  and  heaven  :  it  is  a  right  disposition 
towards  God  and  a  spiritual  preparation  for  the  ce- 
lestial state,  which,  as  is  perfectly  evident,  may  be 
wanting,  where  there  are  the  most  splendid  social 
virtues.  What  I  affirm  then  is,  that  error,  accord- 
ing to  the  degree  in  which  it  exists,  must  vitiate 
the  character,  and  deprave  the  heart  in  the  sight  of 
God  ;  must  obstruct  the  growth  and  exercise  of  the 
religious  principle  :  must  unfit  the  person  for  divine 
fellowship  here,  and  for  eternal  glory  hereafter. 

Error  on  religious  subjects  is  not  a  mere  intel- 
lectual defect ;  it  is  not  the  result  of  mere  weak- 
ness of  understanding;  its  seat  is  in  the  heart:  it 
springs  from  carelessness,  prejudice,  pride,  or  some 
other  operation  of  our  depravity,  which  exerts  a 
bewildering  influence  on  the  judgment.  We  are  as 
certainly  accountable  to  God  for  it  as  for  evil  con- 
duct. It  is  not  to  be  conceived  for  a  moment,  that 
we  are  responsible  for  the  exercises  of  every  facul- 
ty of  the  son],  yet  not  for  the  understanding,  which 
is  the  noblest  of  them  all.  If  a  man  may  believe 
error  and  yet  be  innocent,  he  may  preach  it  without 
guilt;  and  if  this  be  the  case  he  may  employ  all 
his  faculties,  his  talents,  his  time,  his' influence,  in 
a  direct  opposition  to  the  counsels  of  heaven,  and 
all  the  revelations  of  God,  and  yet  be  without  blame. 

If  these  things  are  correct,  then  error  is  certainly 
criminal.  How  can  there  be  a  doubt  of  this"?  If 
a  man  may  disbelieve  a  less  important  truth,  and 
yet  be  innocent  in  that  act  of  his  disbelief;  then  he 
mav  reject  a  more  important  one,  and  be  equally 
faultless.  If  he  may  discredit  one  truth,  without 
guilt,  then  he  may  discredit  two:  if  two,  ten  ;  if 
ten,  half  the  Bible;  if  half  the  Bible,  the  whole; 
and  yet  be  innocent,  even  though  he  be  a  deist  or 
atheist,  provided  he  be  not  immoral,  and  profess  at 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


13 


the  same  time  to  be  inquiring  after  truth.  And 
then  why  is  it  said  to  all  the  world,  "  He  that  be- 
.ieveth  not  shall  be  damned  1"  And  what  saith  the 
Scripture  in  other  places'?  "For  this  cause  God 
shall  send  them  strong  delusions,  that  they  should 
believe  a  lie,  that  they  all  might  be  damned,  who 
believed  nor  the  truth."  "But  though  we,  or  an 
angel  from  heaven,  preach  any  other  gospel  unto 
you,  than  that  which  we  have  preached  unto  you, 
let  hiui  be  accursed.  As  we  said  before,  so  I  say 
now  again,  if  any  man  preach  any  other  gospel 
unto  you  than  that  ye  have  received,  let  him  be  ac- 
cursed." "Whosoever  transgresseth  and  abideth 
not  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  hath  not  God."  "  If 
there  come  any  unto  you,  and  bring  not  this  doc- 
trine, receive  him  not  into  your  house,  neither 
bid  him  God  speed,  for  he  that  biddeth  him  God 
speed  is  partaker  of  his  evil  deeds."  Hence- 
forth be  no  more  children  tossed  to  and  fro,  and 
carried  about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine,  by 
the  sleight  of  men,  and  cunning  craftiness,  where- 
by they  lie  in  wait  to  deceive."  "Be  not  carried 
about  with  divers  and  strange  doctrines,  for  it  is  a 
good  thing  that  the  heart  be  established  with  grace." 
"For  the  time  will  come  when  they  will  not  endure 
sound  doctrine;  but  after  their  own  lusts, shall  they 
heap  to  themselves  teachers,  having  itching  ears; 
and  they  shall  turn  away  their  ears  from  the  truth, 
and  shall  be  turned  unto  fables."  "  There  were 
false  prophets  also  among  the  people,  even  as  there 
shall  be  false  teachers  among  you,  who  privily  shall 
bring  in  damnable  heresies,  even  denying  the  Lord 
that  bought  them,  and  bring  upen  themselves  swift 
destruction;  and  many  shall  follow  their  pernicious 
ways,  by  reason  of  whom  the  way  of  truth  shall  be 
evil  spoken  of;  whose  judgment  now  of  a  long  time 
lingereth  not,  and  their  damnation  slumbereth  not."* 

These  and  many  more  similar  texts  decide  the 
point,  that  errors  are  blameable  and  destructive  ; 
that  they  spring  from  the  depravity  of  our  nature, 
and  demonstrate  a  heart,  in  so  far  as  they  prevail, 
not  yet  brought  into  subjection  toChrist. 

Beware  then,  my  dear  children,  of  that  spurious 
candor,  which  looks  with  an  equal  eye  on  all  opi- 
nions; which  talks  of  the  innocence  of  error,  and 
thus  diffuses  a  baleful  indifference  to  the  truth. — 
The  adase  of  Pape,  who  was  a  free-thinking  Ro- 
man Catholic,  has  been  circulated  round  society  by 
innumerable  echoes. 

'  For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight: 
Ilia  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right." 

This  you  will  perceive  is  an  equivocal  expression. 
In  one  view  of  it  nothing  can  be  more  correct ;  for 
in  every  case  a  right  life,  that  is,  right  in  the  scrip- 
tural sense  of  the  term,  must  proceed  from  a  right 
creed;  if,  therefore,  the  life  be  right,  so  must  also 
the  creed.  Bur  the  design  of  the  author  was  to 
teach  that  a  right  life  might  stand  connected  with 
any  creed,  or  no  creed,  and  that,  therefore,  religious 
opinions  are  of  no  consequence  whatever.  This 
yon  will  perceive  is  the  popular  and  dreadful  dogma 
of  infidelity.  This  bantling  of  skepticism  has  been 
foisted  into  the  Christian  world,  and  profanely  bap- 
tised by  the  name  of  charity.  But  though  it  may 
wear  the  smiling  countenance  of  this  heavenly  vir- 
tue, it  has  an  infidel  hearr.  If  this  counterfeit,  hol- 
low thin?,  which  dares  to  take  to  itself  the  sacred 
name  of  charity,  had  not  renounced  the  Bible,  it 
would  have  certainly  known,  that  errors  in  faith 
are  the  offspring  of  a  heart  wholly  or  partially  an- 

*  2  Thes.  ii.  11,  12.  Gal.  i.  8,  9.  2  John  9,  10, 
11.  Eph.  iv.  14.  Heb.  xiii.  9.  2  Tim.  iv.  3.  2 
Pet.  ii.  1,  2. 


renewed,  and  as  decisive  a  proof,  so  far  as  they  pre- 
vail of  a  want  of  religion,  as  an  unsanctified  life. 

Contend  earnestly  then  for  the  faith  once  deliver- 
ed to  the  saints.  I  would  not  have  you  bigots. — 
This  however,  is  a  vague  and  plastic  term  which 
in  the  slang  of  modern  infidelity,  has  been  generally 
applied  to  every  one  who  attaches  importance  to  re- 
ligious opinions.  If  by  a  bigot,  is  meant  an  over- 
weening attachment  to  sentiments,  confessedly  of 
lesser  importance  than  many  others;  or  a  blind 
zeal  for  opinions,  adopted  rather  from  custom  than 
conviction  ;  or  a  spirit  of  intolerance,  contempt,  and 
persecution,  towards  those  who  differ  from  us  in  the 
articles  of  their  belief;  if  this  be  bigotry,  be  you  no 
bigots  ;  abhor  and  avoid  a  disposition  of  this  kind. 
Adopt  all  your  sentiments  after  a  close  examina- 
tion, and  upon  a  full  conviction  of  their  truth. — 
Apportion  your  zeal  for  their  diffusion  upon  the 
scale  of  their  relative  importance.  Exercise  the 
greatest  forbearance  and  candor  towards  those  who 
differ  from  you;  but  at  the  same  time  contend  for 
the  articles  of  your  faith  as  matters  of  infinite  con- 
sequence. Defend  your  opinions  with  an  enlight- 
ened, dispassionate,  but,  at  the  same  time  ardent 
zeal.  Insist  upon  the  connection  of  right  sentiments 
with  right  feelings,  that  the  former,  when  really 
held  lead  to  the  latter,  and  that  the  latter  can  never 
exist  without  the  former.  If  this  is  what  is  meant 
by  bigotry,  then  may  you  possess  it  more  and  more. 
Shrink  not  from  the  charge,  if  this  be  its  meaning 
in  the  lips  of  those  who  use  it.  If  you  partake  of 
true  faith  and  genuine  holiness,  you  must  expect 
that  the  one  will  be  called  enthusiasm,  and  the  other 
bigotry.  Disregard  both  the  accusations,  and  be 
not  deterred  by  opprobious  names  from  the  pursuit 
of  eternal  life. 

Do  yoa  ask  me  what  are  right  sentiments  1  I  re- 
ply, search  the  Scriptures  for  yourselves,  with  do- 
cility, with  prayer,  with  earnestness.  No  language 
can  express  the  infinite  importance  of  entering, 
without  delay,  on  a  deep  and  solemn  examination 
into  these  matters.*  Call  no  man  master,  but  con- 
sult the  oracle  of  heaven.  One  evil,  never  enough 
to  be  deplored,  is,  that  many  people  do  not  and  will 
not  distinguish.  They  are  pleased  with  different 
preachers,  who  bring  as  different  gospels  as  the 
Koran  is  different  from  the  Bible.  They  are  as 
ready  to  put  themselves  in  the  way  of  hearing  error 
as  truth,  and  swallow  down  whatever  comes,  pro- 
vided only  it  is  gracefully  administered.  Elegant 
language,  good  elocution,  theatrical  attitudes,  fasci- 
nating imagery,  ate  to  them  of  far  more  importance 
than  the  truth."  They  are  like  children  rushing  into 
the  shop  of  an  apothecary,  tasting  at  random  of 
every  vial,  and  selecting  the  most  imposing  in  ap- 
pearance, without  the  power  of  distinguishing  me- 
dicines from  poisons.  And  even  where  there  is 
some  general  attachment  to  right  sentiments,  in  how 
few  cases  is  this  attended  with  an  enlightened  abili- 
ty to  defend  and  enforce  them.  Our  young  people 
do  not  sufficiently  store  their  minds  with  the  proofs 
and  arguments  of  the  opinions  they  have  adopted. 
They  are  satisfied  with  believing  without  proof. — 
This  is  not  the  case  with  the  advocates  of  error. — 
They  are  instructed  in  the  whole  system  of  attack 
and  defence.  They  are  skilful  in  all  the  manoeuvres 
of  controversy ;   sophisms,  assertions,  interrogato- 


*  Without  pledging  myself  to  approve  of  every 
expression  contained  in  the  answers  of  the  Assem- 
bly's Shorter  Catechism,  I  know  not  where  to  find  a 
summary  of  Christian  doctrines  expressed  with  so 
much  brevity  and  so  much  precision.  And  although 
I  do  not  approve  of  the  practice  of  teaching  this  cate- 
chism to  children  below  the  age  of  twelve,  yet  all 
our  youth  above  thru  age  should  be  acquainted  with 
it  as  a  synopsis  of  right  sentiments  in  religion. 


M 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


ri"s,  arguments,  are  all  at  their  command.  The 
friends  of  truth  are,  in  these  respects,  often  behind 
them.  Reposing  an  unlimited  confidence  in  the  in- 
vulnerable security,  and  the  impregnable  strength 
of  their  c«.nse,  they  do  not  exercise  themselves  in 
the  use  «.."  their  arms,  and  appear  sometimes  to  a 
disadvantage  in  skirmishing  with  their  opponents. 
Be  you  t.ot  behind  them  in  ability  to  defend  your 
principles.  The  truth  is  of  infinite  value  ;  may  you 
clearly  and  comprehensively  understand  it ;  cor- 
dially and  practically  believe  it;  sincerely  and  ar- 
dently love  it ;  and  be  able  both  to  state  it  with  pre- 
cision, and  to  support  it  with  argument. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  chapter  without  recom- 
mending to  you  the  perusal  of  an  excellent  sermon 
by  Dr.  Pyc  Smith,  "  On  the  best  Means  of  obtain- 
ing Satisfaction  with  Regard  to  the  Truth  of  Reli- 
gious Sentiments." 

After  a  suitable  introduction,  he  points  out,  as  the 
common  and  principal  sources  of  error  with  regard 
to  divine  thin1-,?,  1.  The  weakness  of  our  facul- 
ties; 2.  Out  Inking  up  wrong  subjects  of  investi- 
gation ;  3.  And  our  being  aflecteJ  by  the  secret 
influence  of  gjoful  dispositions  and  habits.  Under 
the  last  particular  we  find  the  following  impressive 
observations : 

"  '  A  sinner,'  says  the  wise  king  of  Israel,  'seek- 
eth  wisdom,  and  findeth  it  not.'  The  entire  want, 
or  the  great  deficiency,  of  love,  reverence,  and  de- 
votedness  to  God,  cannot  but  give  a  fatal  obliquity 
to  our  professed  researches  after  truth.  S^ch  a 
state  of  mind  is  aisu  invariably  connected  with 
wrong  affections  in  relation  to  ourselves.  Instead 
of  an  humble,  adoring  and  delightful  admiration  of 
the  universal  perfection  of  the  Most  High,  there 
will  be  pride,  self-confidence,  and  a  determination 
to  think  at  all  events  favorably  of  our  own  disposi- 
tions and  practices.  The  judgment  of  God  will  be 
little?  regarded,  and  its  impression  felt  very  slightly. 
His  supremacy  will  be  the  object  of  secret  murmur, 
or  of  virtual  denial.  The  heart  will  rise  in  dislike 
against  his  glorious  and  unchangeable  rectitude, 
and  the  necessary  obligation  of  his  rational  crea- 
tures to  love  hi"i  with  a  perfect  heart.  His  sole  and 
sovereign  competency  to  determine  whether  at  all, 
to  what  ej.'.ent,  and  in  what  way  and  manner,  he 
may  be  pleased  to  pardon  and  bless  sinners,  will  be 
met  by  a  strong,  tnough  perhaps  disguised  repug- 
nance. And  the  duty  of  a  cheerful  and  implicit  re- 
liance on  the  unsullied  purity,  righteousness  and 
benevolence  of  Jehovah,  notwithstanding  the  per- 
plexity of  present  appearances,  may  indeed  be  faint- 
ly acknowledged  in  words,  but,  as  lo  practical  effect, 
it  will  be  treated  with  neglect,  o;  even  with  disgust. 
Tbsse,  and  all  other  movements  of  the  heart  which 
is  under  ihe  power  of  revolt  f'om  God,  will  most 
certainly  darken  the  understanding,  and  mislead 
the  judgment ;  '  evil  will  be  put  for  good,'  and  good 
will  be  treated  as  evil." — pp.  14,  15. 

•'The  remedies  of  the  er'oneous  tendencies  of 
the  human  heart,  are  stated  te  be — 1.  The  main- 
tenance of  right  affections  towards  the  great  Author 
and  Revealer  of  religious  truth.  2.  A  habit  of  en- 
tire subjection  to  the  authority  of  the  Holv  Scrip- 
tures. 3.  The  use  of  all  proper  Jnefrods  of  acquir- 
ing and  improving  the  art  of  just  reining.  4.  Es- 
tablishment in  the  evidence  and  influence  of  prima- 
ry truths.  5.  Living  under  the  benign  and  purifying 
influence,  of  divine  truth,  fi.  Cautious  observations 
of  the  effect  of  particular  sentiments  upon  ourselves 
or  others.  7.  Keeping  in  mind,  that  what  has  been 
adopted  on  impartial  inquiry  and  sufficient  evidence, 
%S  not  to  be  lightly  given  up  on  the  mere  occurrence  of 
some  new  objection.     8.  Fervent  Prayer. 

"  The  constant,  serious,  and  affectionate  practice 
of  this  great  and  necessary  duty,  will  have  the  most 
happy  effect  in  obtaining  and  preserving  the  rational 


and  scriptural  satisfaction  of  the  truth  of  our  senti- 
ments, if  they  be  indeed  true  ;  and,  if  otherwise,  of 
leading  us  to  the  timely  and  beneficial  discovery  of 
our  errors.  Prayer  elevates  the  soul  above  the  mists 
and  darkness  of  this  revolted  world,  and  places  us 
under  the  very  shining  of  the  Everlasting  Light.  It 
tends  to  exterminate  the  greatest  obstruction  to  the 
entrance  of  that  light,  the  prepossessions  of  sin  in 
the  heart.  It  gives  vigor  and  delicacy  to  the  sanc- 
tified perceptions.  It  guides  that  holy  mental  sense, 
which  is  the  characteristic  of  the  real  Christian,  to 
the  quick  discrimination,  and  the  delighted  recep- 
tion of  truth  and  goodness.  Through  prayer,  the 
hallowed  medium  of  intercourse  with  heaven  the 
devout  mind  ascends  to  its  closest  enjoyment  of  com- 
munion with  the  Lord  God  of  truth  :  and  from  him 
descend  the  returns  of  player,  '  every  good  gift,  and 
every  perfect  gift.'  " — pp.  29,  30. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON   THE   NATURE    OF    TRUE   RELIGION. 

All  other  questions  compared  with  this,  are  trifles 
light  as  air,  or  but  as  the  dust  of  the  balance:  phi- 
losophy, literature,  commerce,  the  arts  and  the  sci- 
ences, have,  it  is  true,  a  relative  importance;  they 
soften  the  manners,  alleviate  the  evils,  multiply  the 
comforts  of  life ;  yet  it  is  impossible  to  forget  that 
they  are  the  mere  embellishments  of  a  scene,  which 
we  must  shortly  quit ;  the  decorations  of  a  theatre, 
from  which  the  actors  and  spectators  must  soon  re- 
tire together.  But  religion  is  of  infinite  and  eternal 
moment,  and  then  developes,  most  perfectly,  its 
consequences,  in  that  very  moment  when  the  impor- 
tance of  all  other  subjects  terminates  for  ever.  A 
mistake  in  this  affair,  persisted  in  till  death,  is  fol- 
lowed by  effects  infinitely  dreadful,  and  of  eternal 
duration.  You  should  bring  to  this  inquiry,  there- 
fore, my  children,  a  trembling  solicitude  to  be  led 
in  the  right  way. 

Some  consider  religion  as  a  mere  notional  assent 
to  certain  theological  opinions,  others  as  a  bare  at- 
tendance on  religious  ordinances,  others  as  the  per- 
formance of  moral  duties.  They  are  all  equally 
wrong :  for  instead  of  being  any  one  of  these  sepa- 
rately and  apart  from  the  rest,  it  is  the  union  of 
them  all.  Religion  admits  of  many  definitions  in 
Scripture  language.  It  is  "  repentance  towards  God, 
and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ:"  or  it  is  "  faith 
working  by  love ;"  or  it  is  receiving  "that  grace 
which  bringeth  salvation,  and  teacheth  us  to  deny 
ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  and  to  live  soberly, 
righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  evil  world;" 
or  it  is  "  denying  ourselves,  taking  up  our  cross,  and 
following  aft ei  Christ;"  or  it  is  being  born  again 
of  the  Spirit,  and  sanctified  by  the  truth  :  or  it  is  the 
supreme  love  of  Christ,  or  the  habitual  fear  of  God. 
Each  one  of  these  phrases  is  a  definition  of  true 
piety  ;  but  I  shall  now  adopt  another,  and  represent 
it  as  A  right  disposition  of  mind  towards  God,  im- 
planted in  our  nature  by  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  exercising  itself  according  lo  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  arc  placed. 

Religion  is  the  same  in  substance  in  all  rational 
creatures,  whether  innocent  or  fallen.  In  angels,  it 
is  still  a  right  disposition  towards  God  ;  exercising 
itself  in  a  way  of  adoration,  love,  gratitude,  and 
obedience;  but  not  of  fan h,  hope,  and  repen'anre, 
because  their  circumstances  preclude  the  possibility 
of  these  acts.  Religion,  in  reference  to  fallen  man, 
is  a  right  disposition  of  mind;  but  inasmuch  as  he  is 
a  sinful  and  ruined  creature,  yet  a  creature  capa- 
ble of  salvation  through  the  mediation  of  Christ,  it 
must  necessarily  include  in  it,  in  addition  to  the 
feelings  of  angelic  piety,  all  those  mental  exercises 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT. 


is 


ind  habits  which  are  suitable  to  a  *tate  of  guilt,  and  • 
a  dispensation  of  mercy. 
Let  us  take  each  part  of  the  definition  by  itself. 

I.  God  is  the  primary  object  of  religion. 

It  is  not  enough  that  we  perform  our  duties  to- 
wards our  fellow-creatures;  but  to  be  truly  pious, 
we  must  perform  our  duty  towards  God.  VVe  may 
be  exemplary  and  even  punctilious  in  discharging 
every  social  obligation;  we  may  be  moral  in  t he 
usual  acceptation  of  the  term — honorable,  amiable, 
and  yet  may  be  all  this,  without  one  single  spark  of 
true  piety;  because  in  all  this  there  may  be  no  re- 
ference whatever  to  God.  An  atheist  may  be  all 
this.  Until,  therefore,  the  mind  is  rightly  affected 
towards  God,  there  is  no  religion,  because  He  is  the 
direct  and  primary  object  of  it.  It  is  something  per- 
fectly independent,  as  to  its  essence,  upon  all  the 
social  relations.  If  a  man  were  wrecked,  like  Alex- 
ander Selkirk,  on  an  uninhabited  island,  where 
there  was  no  room,  of  course,  for  loyalty,  honesty, 
kindness,  mercy,  justice,  truth,  or  any  of  the  relative 
virtues,  the  claims  of  piety  would  follow  him  to  this 
dreary  and  desolate  abode  ;  and  even  there,  where 
he  should  never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech, 
nor  look  on  the  human  face  divine,  he  would  still  be 
under  the  obligations  of  piety ;  even  there  one  voice 
would  be  heard  breaking  the  silence,  around  him, 
with  the  solemn  injunction  of  Scripture,  "Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God."  Bear  in  recollection 
then,  my  children,  that  God  as  he  is  revealed  in  his 
word,  is  the  direct  and  primary  object  of  all  true 
piety ;  and  that  the  most  exemplary  discharge  of 
the  social  duties  can  be  no  substitute  for  that  reve- 
rence and  love  and  gratitude  and  obedience  which 
we  owe  to  him. 

II.  Religion  is  aright  disposition  of  mind,  towards 
God.  It  is  not  merely  a  thing  of  outward  forms 
and  ceremonies,  but  of  the  heart.  It  is  more  than  an 
external  action,  it  is  a  disposition  ;  not  only  a  per- 
formance, but  a  taste;  not  an  involuntary  or  com- 
pulsory pursuit,  but  a  voluntary  and  agreeable  one. 
That  religion  must  be  an  internal  principle,  an  af- 
fair of  the  soul,  is  evident  from  the  nature  of  its  ob- 
ject, of  whom  it  is  said,  "  God  is  a  spirit,  and  they 
that  worship  him,  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in 
truth."  As  the  heart  lies  all  open  to  him,  unless 
there  be  religion  there,  he  scorns  the  uplifted  hand 
and  bended  knee.  It  is  evident  from  reason,  that 
piety  must  have  its  seat  in  the  breast;  for  what  spi- 
ritual excellence  can  there  be  in  an  action,  which  is 
either  performed  from  a  bad  motive,  or  from  none 
at  all.  It  is  evident  from  revelation.  Read  such  in- 
junctions as  these.  "  My  son,  give  me  thine  heart." 
•'  Get.  thee  a  new  heart."  "  Thy  heart  is  not  right  in 
the  sight  of  God."  "  Be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of 
your  mind."  "  Ye  must  be  born  again."  Equally 
in  poin'  are  all  those  passages  which  command  us 
to  love  God,  to  fear  him,  to  trust  in  him,  to  glorify 
him  :  duties,  which  of  course  imply  the  exercise, 
and  the  vigorous  exercise,  of  the  affections  of  the 
mind.  Notions  however  clear,  morality  however 
exemplary,  are  not  enough  till  the  current  of  feel- 
ing is  turned  towards  God.  A  mere  cold  correct- 
ness of  deportment,  but  which  leaves  the  heart  in  a 
state  of  alienation  and  estrangement  from  God,  is 
not  the  piety  of  the  word  of  truth. 

Now,  in  consequence  of  our  natural  descent  from 
Adam  since  his  fall,  we  come  into  the  world  totally 
destitute  of  this  right  disposition  towards  God,  and 
grow  up  under  the  influence  of  a  contrary  temper. 
'•The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God."  This 
is  what  we  mean  by  the  total  depravity  of  human 
nature;  not  that  there  is  an  absence  of  all  general 
and  praise-worthy  feeling  towards  our  fellow-crea- 
tures; not  that  there  is  the  predominance  of  crimi- 
nal and  vicious  appetite;  but  that  there  is  a  total 
destitution  of  all  ri<rht  feeling  towards  God.  Before 


true  religion  be  possessed  by  one  human  being, 
there  must  of  consequence  be  an  entire  change  of 
mind,  a  complete  alteration  in  the  disposition. 

The  Scriptures  inform  us  that  all  are  inherently 
depraved,  for  "  that  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is 
flesh  ;"  and  therefore,  with  equal  explicitness  they 
inform  us  that  all  must  be  changed  before  they  can 
partake  of  true  piety.  This  change  is  so  great,  that 
our  Lord  himself  calls  it  a  second  birth.  "Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  except  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  o['  heaven." 

Until  this  change  takes  place  there  cannot  b« 
even  the  commencement  of  true  religion.  What- 
ever is  avoided,  or  whatever  is  done  that  bears  the 
semblance  of  piety,  is  carried  on  without  a  right 
disposition  of  mind  ;  and  we  cannot  suppose,  that 
God  who  sees  the  heart,  is  pleased  with  such  ser- 
vice, any  more  than  we  should  be  with  compliments 
from  a  person,  whose  bosom  we  knew  to  be  desti- 
tute of  all  right  feeling  towards  us.  The  mistake, 
which  many  make  in  religion  is,  they  do  not  begin 
with  the  beginning;  they  attempt  to  carry  up  the 
superstructure  without  seeking  to  have  the  founda- 
tion laid  in  the  renewal  of  their  nature.  They  pro- 
fess to  serve  God  outwardly,  before  they  have  sur- 
rendered their  heart  to  his  renewing  grace.  Their 
religion  is  a  new  dress,  but  not  a  new  nature.  It  is 
the  mechanical  performance  of  an  automaton,  not 
the  voluntary  actions  of  a  living  man.  It  wants  that 
which  alone  constitutes  piety, — a  right  disposition 
towards  God. 

III.  This  disposition  is  implanted  in  the  soul  by 
the  pouter  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

The  operations  of  Deity,  in  the  formation  of  the 
material  world,  are  frequently  alluded  to  by  the  sa- 
cred writers,  as  illustrating  the  work  of  Jehovah  in 
renewing  the  human  mind,  and  bringing  forth  the 
beauties  of  holiness  in  the  human  character.  The 
soul  of  man,  as  to  all  spiritual  excellence,  is  in  its 
natural  state  a  chaos;  and  the  same  divine  Spirr  , 
which  brooded  on  the  materials  of  the  formles* 
void ;  which  moved  on  the  face  of  the  deep,  am; 
brought  order  out  of  confusion,  and  beauty  out  of 
deformity;  which  said,  Let  there  be  light  and  there 
was  light ;  now  operates  on  the  dark  mind,  the  irre- 
gular affections,  the  hard  heart  of  the  sinner,  giv- 
ing true  light  to  the  understanding,  a  right  disposi- 
tion to  the  soul,  submission  to  the  will,  and  in  short 
creating  the  whole  man  anew  in  Christ  Jesus  unto 
good  works.  Thin  is  declared  in  many  passages  or 
ihe  Scriptures.  "A  new  heart  also  will  /give  you," 
saith  God  to  the  Jews,  "  and  a  new  spirit  will  /  put 
within  you;  and  /will  take  away  the  stony  heart 
out  of  your  flesh,  and  /will  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh, 
And  1  will  put  my  spirit  wifhin  you,  and  cause  you 
to  walk  in  my  statutes."*  To  the  same  effect  are 
our  Lord's  words  to  Nicodemus.  "Except  a  man  be 
born  of  water  and  the  Spirit,  he  shall  not  see  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  This  same  truth  is  often  re- 
peated by  the  apostles.  "You  hath  he  quickened." 
"  Who  hath  saved  us  by  washing  of  regeneration, 
and  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  "  It  is  God  who 
worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to  do."  That  it  must  be 
some  power  out  of  man,  and  beyond  himself  to  ©* 
feet  the  change  is  evident,  from  the  circumstance, 
that  it  is  not  merely  the  conduct,  but  the  disposition 
itself,  which  requires  to  be  changed;  and  who  can 
reach  the  mind  and  regulate  the  springs  of  action 
but  God  1  Not  that  we  are  to  lie  down  in  indoleiu 
neglect,  and  sav,  "  If  then  it  is  the  Holy  Ghost  who 
must  change  the  mind,  I  may  give  up  all  concern 
about  the  matter,  and  wait  before  I  attempt  to  per 
form  the  duties  of  religion,  till  I  feel  that  I  am 
changed."  No;  as  rational  creatures  we  must  use 
our  faculties,  consider  our  case,  examine  our  hearts 

♦  Ezek.  xxxvi.26,27. 


16 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT 


tremble  at  our  situation,  call  upon  God  in  prayer, 
and  give  him  no  rest  till  he  pour  out  his  spirit  upon 
as.  The  very  circumstance,  that  we  are  thus  de- 
pendent on  God,  should  make  us  more  tremblingly 
anxious,  more  importunate  in  prayer,  for  divine 
help.  If  you  were  entirely  dependent  upon  the  as- 
sistance of  a  fellow-creature  for  help  to  recover 
your  property,  liberty,  or  life,  would  not  that  very 
conviction  impel  you  to  the  di-or  and  presence  of 
the  person,  in  all  the  eloquence  and  urgency  of  im- 
portunate entreaty  1  Would  you  not  pour  out  your 
very  soul  in  the  language  of  wrestling  supplication  1 
Would  you  not  press  your  suit  by  every  argument, 
so  long  as  a  ray  of  hope  fell  upon  your  spirits'? — 
In  this  case,  the  idea  that  help  must  come  from  an- 
other, would  not  render  you  indolent,  and  why 
should  it  do  so  in  the  business  of  conversion  1 

IV.  I  shall  now  state  how  a  right  disposition  of 
mind  towards  God  will  exercise  itself  in  our  circum- 
stances as  sinners,  which  will  bring  us  more  imme- 
diately to  a  consideration  of  the  nature  of  real  re- 
ligion. 

First. — Reverence,  veneration,  and  awe,  are  due 
from  us  to  that  great  and  glorious  Being,  who  is  the 
author  of  our  existence,  the  fountain  of  our  com- 
forts, the  witness  of  our  actions,  and  the  arbiter  of 
our  eternal  destiny.  How  sublimely  grand  and  aw- 
ful is  the  character  of  God,  as  it  is  revealed  in  his 
word  !  Acknowledging  as  you  do,  my  children,  his 
existence,  you  should  make  him  the  object  of  your 
habitual  fear  and  dread.  You  should  maintain  a 
constant  veneration  for  him,  a  trembling  depreca- 
tion of  his  wrath.  A  consciousness  of  his  existence, 
and  of  his  immediate  presence,  should  never  for  any 
great  length  of  time  be  absent  from  your  mind. — 
The  idea  of  an  ever  present,  omniscient,  omnipo- 
tent Spirit,  should  not  only  be  somelimes  before 
your  understanding  as  an  article  of  faith,  but  im- 
pressed upon  your  heart  as  an  awful  and  practical 
reality.  Your  very  spirits  should  ever  be  laboring 
to  apprehend,  and  apply  the  representation  which 
the  Scriptures  give  us  of  the  Deity.  A  desire  to 
know  him,  to  feel  and  act  towards  him  with  propri- 
ety, should  be  interwoven  with  the  entire  habit  of 
your  reflections  and  conduct. 

Secondly. — Penitence  is  indispensably  necessary. 

In  order  to  this,  there  must  be  deep  conviction  of 
sin;  for  none  can  mourn  over  a  fault,  which  he  is 
not  convinced  that  he  has  committed.  A  deep  con- 
sciousness of  guilt  is  one  of  the  first  feelings  of  a 
renewed  mind,  and  is  one  of  the  first  operations  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  "  When  he  is  come,  he  shall  con- 
vince the  world  of  sin."  We  come  to  a  knowledge 
of  our  sinful  state,  by  an  acquaintance  with  the 
spirituality,  purity,  and  extent  of  the  moral  law; 
"  for  sin  is  the  transgression  of  the  law."  Until 
we  know  the  law,  which  is  the  rule  of  duty,  we 
cannot  know  in  what  way,  and  to  what  extent,  we 
have  offended  against  it.  The  exposition  which 
our  Lord  has  given  us  of  the  law,  in  his  sermon  on 
the  Mount,  informs  us  that  it  is  not  only  the  overt 
act  of  iniquity  which  makes  a  man  a  sinner:  but 
the  inward  feeling,  the  imagination,  the  desire.  An 
unchaste  look  is  a  breach  of  the  seventh  command- 
ment ;  a  feeling  of  immoderate  anger  is  a  violation 
of  the  sixth.  Viewing  ourselves  in  such  a  mirror, 
and  trying  ourselves  by  such  a  standard,  we  must 
all  confess  ourselves  to  be  guilty  of  ten  thousand 
sins.  And  then  again  we  are  not  only  sinful  for 
what  we  do  arniss ;  but  for  what  we  leave  undone 
thai  is  right,  and  ought  to  be  done.  If  therefore 
we  have  a  right  disposition  towards  God,  we  must 
have  a  deep  feeling  of  depravity  and  guilt ;  an  im- 
pressive sense  of  moral  obliquity  ;  a  humbling  con- 
sciousness of  vileness.  To  the  charges  of  the  law, 
we  must  cry  guilty,  guilty.  We  must  not  only  ad- 
mit upon  the  testimony  of  others  that  we  are  sinful, 


but  from  a  perception  of  the  holiness  of  God's  na- 
ture, and  the  purity  of  his  law;  we  must  discern 
the  number,  aggravations,  and  enormity  of  our  of- 
fences. We  must  do  homage  to  infinite  holiness, 
by  acknowledging  ourselves  altogether  sinful. 

Sorrow  is  essential  to  penitence.  We  cannot 
have  been  made  partakers  of  penitence  if  we  do 
not  feel  inward  grief  on  the  review  of  our  trans- 
gressions. We  read  of  "  godly  sorrow,  which 
worketh  repentance  unto  salvation."  If  we  have 
injured  a  fellow-creature,  the  first  indication  of  a 
right  sense  of  the  aggression  is  a  sincere  regret  that 
we  should  have  acted  so.  How  much  more  neces- 
sary is  it  that  we  should  be  unfeignedly  sorry  for 
our  innumerable  offences  against  God.  Sorrow  for 
sin,  is  not  however  to  be  estimated  only  by  violent 
emotions  and  copious  tears.  The  passions  are  much 
stronger  in  themselves,  and  much  more  exciteable, 
in  some  than  in  others  ;  and  therefore,  the  same  de- 
gree of  inward  emotion,  or  of  outward  grief,  is  not 
to  be  expected  from  all.  The  degrees  of  sorrow, 
as  well  as  the  outward  modes  of  expressing  it,  will 
vary,  as  belonging  more  to  the  sensitive  nature  than 
to  the  rational;  and  for  avoiding  all  scruple  and 
doubtfulness,  on  this  head,  it  may  be  laid  down  for 
certain,  that  the  least  degree  of  sorrow  is  sufficient, 
if  it  produce  reformation;  the  greatest,  insufficient, 
if  it  do  not. 

The  next  step  in  penitence  is  confession.  Real 
sorrow  for  sin  is  always  frank  and  impartial,  while 
false  or  partial  sorrow  is  prone  to  concealment,  pal- 
liation, and  apology.  There  is  a  wretched  prone- 
ness  in  many  persons,  when  convinced  of  sin,  to 
offer  excuses  and  to  endeavor  to  think  the  best  of 
their  case.  They  cannot  be  brought  to  admit  the 
charge  in  all  its  length  and  breadth  ;  but  they  at- 
tempt to  hide  its  magnitude  from  their  own  eyes. 
This  is  a  dangerous  disposition,  and  has  often  come 
between  a  man's  soul  and  his  salvation.  All  the 
great  and  precious  promises  of  pardon  are  suspend- 
ed upon  the  condition  of  confession,  "  If  we  con- 
fess our  sins,  God  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us 
our  sins."  Confession  must  be  in  detail,  not  in  ge- 
nerals only;  it  must  be  free  and  impartial. 

Abhorrence  of  sin  is  also  included  in  penitence. 
There  can  be  no  real  grief  for  an  action,  which  is 
not  accompanied  by  a  dislike  of  it.  We  shall  un- 
questionably hate  sin,  if  we  partake  of  godly  sor- 
row. This  indeed  is  the  true  meaning  of  the  term 
repentance,  which  does  not  signify  grief  merely, 
but  an  entire  change  of  mind  towards  sin.  Abhor-: 
rence  of  sin  is  as  necessary  a  part  of  repentance 
as  grief.  Our  hatred  of  transgression  must  be 
grounded  not  merely  on  viewing  it  as  an  injury  to 
ourselves,  but  as  an  insult  to  God.  For  penitence, 
on  account  of  sin,  is  altogether  a  different  feeling 
to  that  which  we  experience  over  a  fire,  a  ship- 
wreck, or  a  disease  which  has  diminished  our  com- 
forts. Our  tears  then  are  not  enough,  if  not  fol- 
lowed by  abhorrence.  If  we  are  sincere  in  our 
grief,  we  shall  detest  and  fly  the  viper  which  has 
stung  us,  and  not  cherish  and  caress  the  beast, 
whilst  with  false  tears  we  bathe  the  wound  we  have 
received. 

Thirdly. — Faith  in  Jesus  Christ  is  no  less  neces- 
sarv. 

Faith  is  a  very  important,  and  most  essential  part 
of  true  religion.  Faith  in  Christ  is  a  firm  practical 
belief  of  the  gospel  testimony  concerning  Christ,  a 
full  persuasion  of  the  truth  of  what  is  declared,  and 
a  confident  expectation  of  what  is  promised.  The 
testimony  is  this.  "  It  is  a  faithful  saying,  and 
worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  "  God  so  loved  the 
world  as  to  give  his  onlv  begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."    Hence  then,  faith  is  believing 


CHRISTIAN  FATHER'S  PRESENT. 


n 


that  Jesus  Christ  died  as  a  sacrifice  of  atonement 
to  divine  justice,  for  human  guilt,  depending  on 
that  atonement  firmly  and  exclusively  for  accept- 
ance with  God,  and  expecting  eternal  life  accord- 
ing to  God's  promise. 

Faith  is  most  obviously  as  much  a  part  of  a  right 
disposition  towards  God,  as  penitence.  God  having 
given  Jesus  Christ  for  the  salvation  of  sinners,  and 
promised  to  save  ti.ose  who  depend  upon  the  atone- 
ment, and  commanded  all  to  ask  for  pardon  and 
eternal  life;  it  is  manifest,  that  not  to  believe,  is  to 
dispute  the  divine  veracity,  as  well  as  to  rebel 
against  the  Divine  authoiity.  To  believe  the  gos- 
pel, and  to  expect  salvation  through  Christ,  is  to 
honor  all  the  attributes  of  Deity  at  once,  is  to  praise 
that  mercy  which  prompted  the  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion, that  wisdom  which  devised  it,  that  power  which 
accomplished  it,  that  justice  which  is  satisfied  by  it, 
and  that  truth  which  engages  to  bestow  its  benefits 
on  all  that  seek  them.  Not  to  believe  is  an  act  of 
contempt,  which  insults  Jehovah  in  every  view  of 
his  character  at  once.  Until  we  are  brought  there- 
fore, actually  to  depend  on  Christ  so  as  to  accept 
salvation,  we  have  no  real  religion. 

Fourthly. — A  willingness  in  all  things  to  obey  God, 
completes  the  view,  which  ought  to  be  given  of  a 
right  disposition  towards  him. 

There  must  be  a  distinct  acknowledgment  of 
His  right  to  govern  us,  and  an  unreserved  sunender 
of  our  heart  and  life  to  His  authority :  an  habitual 
desire  to  do  what  he  has  enjoined,  to  avoid  what  he 
has  forbidden.  Where  there  is  this  desire  to  please, 
this  reluctance  to  offend  God,  the  individual  will 
read  with  constancy  and  attention  the  sacred  vo- 
lume, which  is  written  for  the  express  purpose  of 
teaching  us  how  to  obey  and  please  the  Lord.  Find- 
ing there  innumerable  injunctions  against  all  kinds 
of  immorality  and  sin,  and  as  many  commands  to 
practise  every  personal,  relative,  and  social  duty, 
the  true  Christian  will  be  zealous  for  all  good 
works.  Remembering,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  propos- 
ed there  as  our  example,  no  less  than  our  atone- 
ment, he  will  strive  to  be  like  him  in  purity,  spirit- 
uality, submission  to  the  will  of  God,  and  devoted- 
ness  to  the  divine  glory.  Nor  will  he  forget  to  imi- 
tate the  beautiful  meekness,  lowliness,  and  kindness 
of  his  deportment:  so  that  the  love,  which  a  right 
view  of  his  atonement  never  fails  to  produce,  trans- 
forms the  soul  of  the  believer  into  his  image.  Find- 
ing in  the  word  of  God  many  commands  to  culti- 
vate the  spirit,  and  attend  on  the  exercises  of  devo- 
tion ;  the  true  Christian  will  remember  the  Sabbath 
day  to  keep  it  holy,  will  maintain  daily  prayer  in 
his  closet,  and  unite  himself  in  the  fellowship  of 
some  Christian  church,  to  live  in  communion  with 
believers,  and  with  them  to  celebrate  the  sacred 
supper. 

During  the  trials  of  life,  he  will  console  himself 
with  the  promises  of  grace  and  the  prospects  of 
glory.  He  will  soften  his  earthly  cares  by  the  in- 
fluence of  his  heavenly  hopes.  He  will  endeavor 
to  keep  himself  pure  from  the  vices  of  the  world, 
and  shine  as  a  spiritual  light  amidst  surrounding 
darkness  His  great  business  in  this  world  will  be 
to  prepare  for  a  better:  and  when  the  lime  arrives 
for  him  to  quit  the  visible  for  the  invisible  slate,  he 
will  bow  in  meek  submission  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  retire  from  earth,  cheered  with  the  prospect 
and  the  expectation  of  eternal  glory. 

Such  appears  to  me  to  be  the  nature  of  true  reli- 
gion. Its  possessor,  daily  conscious  of  his  defects, 
will  habitually  humble  himself  before  God;  and 
while  he  seeks  forgiveness  for  past  offences,  through 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  will  as  earnestly  implore 
the  gracious  aid  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  sanctify  him 
more  perfectly  for  the  future. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON    THE   ADVANTAGES    AND   RESPONSIBILITY    OF   A  FIOC3 
EDUCATION. 

The  advantages  of  any  system  of  means,  must  of 
course,  as  to  their  value,  be  estimated  by  the  im- 
portance of  the  end  to  be  obtained,  which,  in  the 
present  case,  is  the  possession  of  real  religion  in 
this  world,  and  eternal  happiness  in  that  which  is 
to  come.  The  end  to  be  obtained  includes  not  only 
a  profession  of  piety  in  our  present  state  of  being, 
but  all  that  infinite  and  everlasting  felicity,  which 
piety  brings  in  its  train  : — of  what  vast  consequence 
then  must  be  the  most  suitable  means  for  attaining 
this  sublime  purpose ! 

The  value  of  a  thing,  my  dear  children,  is  some- 
times learnt  by  the  want  of  it;  consider  therefore, 
the  situation  of  those  young  persons,  whose  parents, 
careless  of  their  own  souls,  take  no  pains  for  the 
salvation  of  their  children.  In  what  a  hapless  situ- 
ation are  such  young  people  placed  !  They  are 
taught  perhaps  every  thing  but  religion.  They  are 
instructed  in  all  the  elegant  accomplishments  of 
fashionable  life  ;  but  how  to  serve  God  and  obtain 
eternal  salvation,  is  no  part  of  their  education.  In 
their  abode,  wisdom,  in  the  form  of  parental  piety, 
is  never  heard  saying  "  Hearken  ye  children,  and  I 
will  teach  you  the  fear  of  the  Lord."  They  see 
cards  and  other  amusements  often  introduced  to  the 
domestic  circle,  but  no  Bible:  they  hear  singing, 
but  it  is  not  the  songs  of  Zion :  there  is  feasting 
and  conviviality,  but  no  devotion  :  there  is  no  do- 
mestic altar,  no  family  prayer.  The  Sabbath  is 
marked  with  the  same  levity  as  other  days.  They 
go  to  church  perhaps,  but  hear  any  thing  rather 
than  the  pure  gospel  of  Christ.  They  are  taken  to 
every  gay  party  in  the  neighborhood,  and  are  studi- 
ously trained  up  for  pleasure.  They  scarcely  ever 
see  the  lovely  form  of  religion  in  the  circles  which 
they  frequent,  except,  like,  its  divine  author,  it  be 
brought  there  to  be  despised  and  rejected  of  men. 
How  are  such  young  people  to  be  pitied  !  Who 
can  wonder  that  they  do  not  fear  the  Lord  ! 

How  different  has  been  your  lot !— the  very  con- 
trast of  this.  From  your  earliest  childhood  you 
have  been  taught  the  nature  and  the  necessity  of 
true  religion.  Instruction  on  these  topics  has  been 
coeval  with  the  dawn  of  reason.  Every  topic  of 
piety  has  been  explained  to  you  as  you  could  bear  it. 
The  doctrines  of  Christianity  have  been  stated 
and  proved,  its  duties  unfolded  and  enforced.  The 
nature  and  attributes  of  God  ;  the  extent  and  obli- 
gation of  his  law;  the  design  and  grace  of  the  gos- 
pel, have  been  explained — your  sinful  state  has  been 
clearly  set  before  you  ;  the  object  of  Christ's  death 
pointed  out ;  the  necessity  of  regeneration,  justifica- 
tion, and  sanctifioation  impressed  upon  your  heart. 
If  you  perish,  will  it  be  for  lack  of  knowledge? — 
If  you  miss  the  path  of  life,  will  it  be  from  not  hav- 
ing it  pointed  out  1 

To  instruction  has  been  united  admonition. — 
With  all  the  tenderness  of  parental  affection,  and 
all  the  seriousness  which  the  nature  of  the  subject 
demanded,  you  have  been  warned,  entreated,  and 
even  besought  to  fear  God  and  seek  the  salvation 
of  your  souls.  You  have  seen  the  tear  glistening 
in  a  father's  eye,  while  his  tongue  addressed  to  you 
the  fondest  wishes  of  his  heart  for  your  eternal  hap- 
piness. 

You  have  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  a  system  of 
mild  and  appropriate  discipline.  Remember  you 
not  the  time  when  your  budding  corruptions  were 
nipped  by  the  kind  hand  of  parental  care  ;  and  the 
blossoms  of  youthful  excellence  were  sheltered  and 
fostered  by  a  mother's  watchful  eye  1    Have  they 


IS 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


not  often  reproved  you  for  what  was  wrong,  and 
commended  you  for  what  is  right  1  Have  they  not 
by  praise,  and  by  dispraise  judiciously  administered, 
endeavored  to  train  you  up  to  hate  that  which  is 
evil,  and  to  cleave  to  that  which  is  good  !  Have 
they  not  kept  you  from  improper  company,  and 
warned  you  against  associates  that  were  likely  to 
injure  you'!  Have  they  not  with  weeping  eyes, 
and  bleeding  hearts,  administered  that  correction 
which  your  sins  deserved  ! 

Have  you  not  also  seen  all  this  enforced  by  the 
power  of  a  holy  example,  imperfect,  it  is  true,  yet 
sufficient,  like  the  sun  even  when  partially  covered 
with  a  mist,  to  be  your  guide  "?  You  have  seen 
them  walking  with  God,  and  in  fellowship  with 
Christ.  You  have  seen  them  retiring  for  prayer, 
and  marked  with  an  impression  of  devout  serious- 
ness, they  have  brought  from  the  presence  of  God. 
You  cannot  doubt  that  religion  was  the  governing 
principle  of  their  heart.  The  happiness,  as  well  as 
holiness  of  true  piety,  has  appeared  in  their  conduct. 
You  have  seen  the  cloud  of  sorrow  which  affliction 
brought  upon  their  brow,  irradiated  with  the  sun- 
beams of  Christian  faith  and  hope.  Thus  the  whole 
weight  of  parental  example,  has  been  employed  to 
give  impression  in  favor  of  religion  on  your  heart. 

But  the  advantage  of  a  pious  education  rests  not 
here ;  for  you  well  know  that  it  has  procured  for 
you  all  other  religious  benefits,  which  conduct,  in 
the  order  of  means,  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  You 
have  been  taken,  from  a  child,  to  hear  the  gospel 
preached  by  those  who  are  anxious  to  save  them- 
selves, and  them  that  hear  them.  You  have  been 
associated  with  religious  people,  and  joined  the  cir- 
cles of  the  righteous,  where  the  claims  of  religion 
are  respected,  and  her  holy  image  has  been  wel- 
comed with  affection,  and  treated  with  respect. — 
Religious  books  have  been  put  into  your  hands.— 
Schools  selected  for  your  education  which  would 
aid  the  work  of  your  parents,  and  every  thing  kept 
out  of  your  way  which  would  be  likely  to  be  an  im- 
pediment to  the  formation  of  your  religious  charac- 
ter, and  your  pursuits  of  eternal  salvation.  Thus, 
so  far  as  means  go,  the  very  avenues  of  perdition 
have  been  blocked  up,  the  way  to  destruction  has 
been  filled  with  mounds  and  barriers;  while  the 
path  of  life  has  been  carefully  laid  open  to  your 
view,  and  every  thing  done  to  facilitate  your  en- 
trance to  the  road  of  immortality.  You  have  been 
born,  cradled,  instructed  in  an  element  of  religion  ; 
you  have  trod  the  ground,  and  breathed  the  atmos- 
phere of  piety.  What  advantages  ! !  Who  shall 
count  their  number  or  calculate  their  value ! ! 

And  now  think  of  the  responsibility  which  all 
these  privileges  entail  upon  you.  This  thought 
fills  me  with  trembling  for  you,  if  you  do  not  trem- 
ble for  yourselves.  Man  is  an  accountable  being, 
and  his  accountability  to  God,  is  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  his  opportunities  for  knowing  and  doing  the 
will  of  his  Creator.  No  talents  of  this  kind,  that 
are  intrusted  to  man,  are  so  precious  as  those  of  a 
religions  education  ;  and  with  no  persons  will  God 
be  so  awfully  strict  in  judgment,  as  with  those  who 
have  possessed  them.  A  law  of  proportion,  will  be 
the  rule  of  the  final  judgment.  Ten  talents  will  not 
be  required  from  those,  to  whom  only  five  were  de- 
livered ;  nor  will  only  five  be  demanded  from  those, 
with  whom  ten  were  entrusted.  This  is  plainly 
stated  by  Christ  in  that  most  impressive  passage, 
"  That  servant,  which  knew  his  Lord's  will,  and 
prepared  not  himself,  neither  did  according  to  his 
will,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes.  But  he  that 
knew  not,  and  did  commit  things  worthy  of  stripes, 
shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes.  For  unto  whom- 
soever much  is  given,  of  him  shall  be  much  requir- 
ed j  and  to  whom  men  have  committed  much,  of 


him  they  will  ask  more.''*  Who  upon  this  scale) 
shall  measure  the  height  and  depth  of  your  respon- 
sibility 1  The  poor  Pagan  who  hews  down  a  tree, 
makes  a  god  of  its  wood,  and  worships  the  deity 
which  he  has  thus  fashioned  ;  who  lives  in  all  kind 
of  lust,  and  cruelty,  and  falsehood — the  Mohamme- 
dan, who  turns  his  face  to  the  rising  sun,  and  calls 
upon  h:s  prophet — the  rustic,  who  revels  in  the  vil- 
lage where  his  father  rioted  before  him,  and  where 
neither  of  them  ever  heard  one  parental  admonition, 
nor  one  gospel  sermon — nay,  even  the  infidel  who 
derides  the  Scripture,  and  was  taught  to  do  it  by  his 
sire,  will  not  have  so  much  to  account  for  in  the 
day  of  scrutiny,  as  you  who  have  enjoyed  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  pious  education.  Think,  I  beseech 
you,  upon  all  your  privileges,  the  instructions,  the 
warnings,  the  admonitions,  the  reproofs  you  have 
received  even  from  your  infancy — your  father's  ear- 
nest prayers,  and  your  mother's  monitory  tears — 
domestic  teachings,  and  ministerial  advice — Sab- 
baths spent,  and  sermons  heard — all,  all  must  be 
accounted  for  at  the  last  day  ;  all  will  be  demanded 
in  judgment.  You  may  now  think  lightly  of  these 
things,  but  God  does  not.  You  may  forget  them  as 
they  pass,  but  God  does  not.  They  are  dealt  out  to 
you  as  precious  things  :  the  number  of  them  is  writ- 
ten down  amongst  the  records  of  Omniscience,  and 
in  that  day  when  the  throne  shall  be  set,  and  the 
books  shall  be  opened,  the  improvement  of  each 
will  be  demanded,  by  a  voice  at  which  the  universe 
shall  tremble.  You  will  not  be  tried  as  one  that 
had  only  the  feeble  glimmering  of  natural  reason  to 
guide  his  perceptions,  and  his  conduct;  but  as  one 
that  walked  amidst  the  noontide  splendor  of  divine 
revelation,  as  one  that  occupied  just  that  station  in 
the  moral  world,  where  the  light  of  heaven  fell  with 
the  clearest  and  the  steadiest  brightness. 

Do  fancy  yourself  called  into  judgment  to  answer 
for  your  religious  privileges  ;  summoned  by  a  voice 
which  is  impossible  to  resist,  from  the  throng  of 
trembling  spirits  waiting  for  their  doom  ;  fancy  you 
hear  the  voice  that  commanded  the  universe  into 
being,  saying  to  you,  "  Child  of  the  righteous,  son 
of  many  prayers  and  much  anxiety,  give  an  account 
of  thyself;  exhibit  the  fruits  and  improvement  of 
all  thy  rich  and  innumerable  advantages  for  a  life 
of  piety.  Ye  parents  who  taught  him,  bear  witness. 
I  intrusted  him  to  your  care.  Did  ye  bring  him  up 
in  the  fear  and  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  ? 
Resign  your  trust;  deliver  your  testimony;  clear 
yourselves."  Impressive  and  awful  spectacle!! — 
There  you  stand  before  the  tribunal  of  God,  con- 
fronted by  the  mo'her  that  bore  you,  and  the  father 
that  loved  you.  If  you  have  neglected  your  advan- 
tages, and  lived  without  piety,  what  a  testimony 
will  they  bear.  "  Thou  art  our  witness,  O  Gou, 
and  that  unhappy  individual  in  whom  we  once  de- 
lighted as  our  child,  but  whom  we  now  renounce 
for  ever,  with  what  affectionate  solicitude,  and  un- 
wearied perseverance;  with  how  many  tears  and 
prayers  we  labored  for  his  salvation.  But  all  was 
useless.  This  is  not  the  season  of  mercy,  or  we 
would  still  pour  over  his  guilty  head  one  more  fer- 
vent prayer  for  his  salvation  ;  but  forbidden  to  com- 
mend him  to  thy  mercy,  we  can  now  do  nothing  hut 
leave  him  to  thy  justice."  Miserable  man,  what 
can  he  say  7  He  is  speechless.  Conscious  guilt 
leaves  him  without  excuse,  despair  seals  up  his  lips 
in  silence.  One  piercing,  agonizing  look  is  direct- 
ed to  his  parents,  one  deep  groan  escapes  his  bosom, 
as  the  ghosts  of  murdered  opportunities  rise  upon 
his  vision,  and  crowd  the  regions  of  his  fancy.  As 
his  distracted  eye  ranges  o'er  the  millions  who  stand 
on  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge,  there  is  not  one  whosa 
situation  he  does  not  envy.    The  Pagan,  the  Mo- 


*  Luke  xii.  47,  48. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


19 


hammedan,  the  poor  peasant  who  sinned  away  his 
life  ia  a  benighted  village,  even  the  infidel,  going  up 
to  receive  his  doom  for  blaspheming  the  God  of  reve- 
lation, appears  less  guilty,  less  miserable  than  he. 

But  were  my  pen  dipped  in  the  gall  of  celestial 
displeasure,  I  could  not  describe  the  weight  ol  the 
sentence,  nor  the  misery  which  it  includes,  that  will 
fall  upon  the  ungodly  child  of  righteous  parents. — 
Who  shall  portray  the  hell  of  such  a  fallen  spirit,  or 
set  forth  the  torments  with  which  it  will  be  followed 
to  the  regions  of  eternal  night  1  We  all  know  that 
no  sufferings  are  so  dreadful  as  those  which  are  self- 
procured  ;  and  that  self-reproach  infuses  a  bitterness 
into  the  cup  of  wo,  which  exasperates  the  anguish 
of  despair.  Disappointment  of  long  and  fondly  che- 
rished hopes  is  dreadful ;  but  if  there  be  no  reason 
for  self-reproach,  even  this  is  tolerable :  but  to  suffer, 
through  eternal  ages,  in  the  bottomless  pit,  with  no 
prospect  but  of  misery,  no  employment  but  that,  of 
numbering  over  the  advantages  we  once  possessed 
for  escaping  from  the  wrath  to  come — this  is  hell. — 
My  children  !  my  children  !  my  heart  agonizes  as 
I  write.  I  groan  over  these  lines  of  my  book — these 
pictures  of  my  fancy.  Do  take  warning.  Hearken 
to  these  sentiments.  Let  them  have  their  due  weight 
upon  your  minds — treasure  up  this  conviction  in 
your  minds — that  of  all  lands  on  earth,  it  is  the  most 
dreadful  to  travel  to  the  bottomless  pit  from  a  Chris- 
tian country;  and  of  all  the  situations  in  that  coun- 
try, it  is  the  most  awful  to  reach  the  bottomless  pit 
from  the  house  of  godly  parents.  Let  me  be  any 
thing  in  the  day  of  judgment,  and  in  eternal  misery, 
rather  than  the  irreligious  child  of  religious  pa- 
rents.* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON  THE  MOST  PREVAILING  OBSTACLES  WHICH  PREVENT 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  FROM  ENTERING  ON  A  RELIGIOUS 
LIFE. 

Our  Lord  has  most  explicitly  taught  us,  my  dear 
children,  that  the  entrance  to  the  path  of  life  is  not 
only  unattended  with  difficulty,  nor  to  be  accom- 
plished without  effort.  Into  that  road  we  are  not 
borne  by  the  pressure  of  the  thronging  multitude, 
nor  the  force  of  natural  inclination.  No  broad  and 
flowery  avenue  attracts  the  eye  ;  no  syren  songs  of 
worldly  pleasure  allure  the  ear;  "but  strait  is  the 
gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way,  that  leadeth  to  life,  and 
few  there  be  that  find  it."  Hence  the  admonition — 
"  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  for  many  shall 
seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able."  This  im- 
plies that  there  are  obstructions  to  be  removed  and 
difficulties  to  be  surmounted. 

The  fundamental  and  universal  obstruction  with 
which  every  one  has  to  contend,  and  which  can  be 
removed  only  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  is 
the  darkness  and  depravity  brought  apon  human 
nature  by  the  Fall;  and  the  indulged  sensuality, 
prejudice,  and  enmity  of  the  c3rnal  mind.  But 
this  prevailing  depravity  manifests  itself  in  various 
specific  forms,  according  to  the  different  circum- 
stances, constitutions,  aires,  and  tempers  of  its  sub- 
jects. It  is  an  inward  and  universal  evil,  exhibit- 
ing its  opposition  to  religion  in  an  immense  variety 
of  ways. 

1.  Self-conceit  is  not  uncommonly  to  be  met  with 
in  the  character  o(  the  young,  and  is  very  much  op- 
posed to  the  spirit  of  true  piety. 

This  is  a  sort  of  epidemic  disease,  which  finds  a 
peculiar  susceptibility  in  persons  of  your  age  to  re- 
ceive it.    Young  in  years  and  experience,  they  are 


*  There  is  a  little  repetition  in  this  chapter,  of  some 
of  the  sentiments  in  the  first;  but  as  the  subject  led 
to  it,  the  author  was  not  anxious  to  avoid  it. 
Number   15- 


very  apt,  nevertheless,  to  form  high  notions  of  them- 
selves, and  to  fancy  they  are  competent  judges  of 
all  truth  and  conduct.  They  decide,  where  wiser 
minds  deliberate;  speak,  where  experience  is  si- 
lent; rush  forward  with  impetuosity,  where  their 
sires  scarcely  creep;  and  think  themselves  quite  as 
competent  to  determine  and  to  act,  as  those  who 
have  witnessed  the  events  of  three-score  years  and 
ten.  This  disposition  shows  itself  oftentimes  in  re- 
ference to  business;  and  the  bankrupt  list  has  a 
thousand  times  revealed  the  consequences.  But  it 
is  seen  in  more  important  matters  than  business. 
In  the  gayety  of  their  spirits,  and  in  the  efflor- 
escence of  youthful  energy,  they  see  no  great  need 
of  religion  to  make  them  happy;  or  [[some  religion 
be  necessary,  they  do  not  think  it  requires  all  that 
solicitude  and  caution  with  which  older  Christians 
attend  to  its  concerns:  they  are  not  so  much  in  dan- 
ger as  some  would  represent;  they  shall  not  take  up 
with  the  humbling,  self-abasing,  penitential  religion 
of  their  fathers,  but  adopt  a  more  rational  piety ;  they 
have  reason  to  guide  them,  strength  to  do  all  that  is 
necessary,  and  therefore  cannot  see  the  need  of  so 
much  fear,  caution,  and  dependance. 

My  children,  be  humble:  pride  and  self-conceit 
will  otherwise  be  your  ruin.  Think  of  your  age 
and  your  inexperience.  How  often,  already,  have 
you  been  misled  by  the  ardor  of  youth,  in  cases 
where  you  were  most  confident  that  you  were  right'? 
When  the  Athenian  orator  was  asked,  What  is  the 
first  grace  in  oratory'?  he  replied,  Pronunciation; 
the  second?  Pronunciation;  the  third?  still  he  re- 
plied, Pronunciation :  so,  if  I  am  asked,  What  is 
the  first  grace  in  religion  1  I  reply,  Humility;  the 
second'?  Humility;  the  third?  still  Humility:  and 
self-conceit  is  the  first,  and  me  second,  and  the  third 
obstruction. 

2.  Love  of  worldly  pleasure  is  a  great  impediment 
to  piety.  It  has  been  most  profanely  said,  "  Youth 
is  the  time  for  pleasure,  manhood  for  business,  old 
age  for  religion."  It  is  painful  to  observe,  that  if 
the  two  latter  allotments  of  human  life  are  neglect- 
ed, the  first  is  not.  Young  people  too  often  answer 
the  description  given  by  the  apostle.  "  Lovers  of 
pleasure  more  than  lovers  of  God."  In  youth,  there 
are  mam  temptations  to  the  gratification  of  this 
propensity  ;  the  senses  are  vigorous,  the  spirits 
lively,  'he  imagination  ardent,  the  passions  warm, 
and  (he  anxieties  of  life  but  few  and  feeble.  Hence 
m-tny  give  themselves  up  to  the  impulses  of  their 
corrupt  nature,  and  are  held  in  alienation  from  a 
life  of  piety  by  a  love  of  pleasure.  Some  are  car- 
ried away  by  a  vain  and  frivolous  love  of  dress  and 
show;  others  by  a  delight  in  conviviality  and  par- 
ties; others  by  routs,  balls,  and  theatrical  represent- 
ations; others  by  the  sports  of  the  field;  others  by 
intemperance  and  debauchery. 

It  is  admitted  that  all  these  gratifications  are  not 
equally  degrading  in  themselves,  nor  equally  de- 
structive of  reputation  and  health;  but  if  indulged 
as  the  chief  good,  they  may  all  prevent  the  mind 
from  attending  to  the  concerns  of  religion.  A  pre- 
dominant love  of  worldly  pleasure,  of  any  kind,  is 
destructive  in  every  point  of  view.  It  unfits  you  for 
the  pursuits,  and  disinclines  you  for  the  toils  of  bu- 
siness; and  thus  is  the  enemy  of  your  worldly  inte- 
rests. It  often  leads  on  from  gratifications,  which, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  are  decent  and  moral, 
to  those  which  are  vicious  and  immoral;  it  is  in- 
compatible with  the  duties  and  comforts  of  domestio 
life ;  it  prevents  the  improvement  of  the  understand- 
ing, and  keeps  the  mind  barren  and  empty;  it  pre- 
vents as  from  becoming  the  benefactors  of  our  sne- 
cies  ;  but  its  greatest  mischief  is,  that  it  totally  in- 
disposes the  mind  for  religion,  and  thus  extends 
its  mischief  to  eternity:  in  short,  if  cherished  and 
persisted  in,  it  ruins  and  damns  the  soul  for  ever. 


20 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


My  children,  beware  of  this  most  dangerous  pro- 
pensity; consider  whither  it  leads;  check  it  to  the 
uttermost;  and  ask  grace  from  heaven  to  acquire  a 
better  taste.  "  What  a  hideous  case  is  this,  to  be  so 
debased  in  the  temper  of  your  minds  as  to  lose  all 
the  laudable  appetites  and  advantages  of  an  intellec- 
tual nature;  and  to  be  sunk  into  the  deformity  of  a 
devil,  and  into  the  meanness  of  a  brute !  To  be  so 
drenched  in  malignant  delights,  and  in  sensual, 
fading,  and  surfeiting  pleasures,  as  to  forego  all 
real  and  elernal  satisfactions  for  them,  and  to  entail 
insupportable  and  endless  miseries  upon  yourselves 
by  them."  Yes,  if  you  live  for  worldly  pleasure,  and 
neglect  religion,  you  are  giving  up  an  exceeding 
great  and  eternal  weight  of  glory,  for  light  and  fri- 
volous gratifications,  which  are  but  for  a  moment. 
You  are,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  years'  empty  mirth, 
entailing  everlasting  ages  of  unmitigated  torments. 

Besides,  though  worldly  pleasure  gratifies,  does  it 
satisfy'?  When  the  honey  is  all  sucked,  does  it 
leave  no  sting  behind].  And  then,  what  are  the 
pleasures  of  the  world  compared  with  those  of  reli- 
gion, but  the  shadow  to  the  substance  ;  the  stagnant 
pool  to  the  fresh  and  running  fountain;  the  smok- 
ing taper  to  the  mid-day  sun]  Shall  worldly  plea- 
sure cheat  you  of  salvation] 

3.  Prejudice  against  the  ways  of  Religion,  as 
gloomy,  keeps  many  from  yielding  to  its  claims. 

Many  young  people  seem  to  compare  religion  to 
a  dark  subierranean  cavern,  to  which,  as  you  de- 
scend, you  quit  all  that  is  joyous  in  life ;  which  is 
impervious  to  the  light  of  heaven,  and  inaccessible 
to  the  melodies  of  creation ;  where  nothing  meets 
ihe  eye  but  tears,  nor  the  ear  but  sighs;  where  the 
inhabitants,  arrayed  in  sackcloth,  converse  only  in 
groans ;  where,  in  shon,  a  smile  is  an  offence  against 
the  superstition  that  reigns  there,  and  a  note  of  de- 
light would  be  avenged  bj  the  awful  genius  of  the 
place,  with  an  expulsion  of  the  individual  who  had 
dared  to  be  cheerful.  TkU  religion]  No,  my 
children.  I  will  give  you  another  figurative  view 
of  it.  "  Wisdom  hath  builded  h°r  house,  she  hath 
hewn  out  her  seven  pillars  :  she.  hath  killed  her 
beasts;  she  hath  mingled  her  wint;  she  hath  also 
furnished  her  table;  she  hath  sent  forth  her  maid- 
ens; she  crieth  upon  the  highest  places  of  the  city 
come,  eat  of  my  bread  and  drink  of  the  wine  which 
I  have  mingled."* 

This  is  a  metaphorical  description  cf  religion 
tinder  the  name  of  wisdom,  and  the  figure  of  a  feast. 
It  is  declared  in  revelation,  and  all  the  saints  in  ibe 
universe  will  confirm  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  thai 
"  Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all 
her  paths  peace. "t 

4.  An  inconsiderate  heedless  temper  is  with  many 
an  obstruction  to  piety. 

There  is  frequently,  in  persons  of  your  age  and 
circumstances,  a  peculiar  thoughtlessness  of  mind  : 
a  want  of  calm  consideration  and  steady  reflection. 
They  do  not  deliberate  and  ponder.  Their  minds 
seem  as  light  as  thistle-down,  and  as  volatile  as  the 
butterfly.  They  are  alwavs  walking,  talking,  smil- 
ing, but  rarely  thinking.  The  meditative  mood,  the 
contemplative  attitude,  is  never  theirs.  If  you  want 
them,  never  look  for  them  at  home,  but  watch  for 
them  abroad.  Their  extreme  volatility  prevents 
them  from  giving  due  hped  even  to  the  concerns  of 
the  world;  and  as  for  religion,  though  they  are  im- 
mortal creatures,  lost  sinners  invited  to  salvation, 
destined  to  eternity,  and  hastening  to  heaven  or 
hell,  they  have  scarcely  ever  had  a  serious  thought 
upon  the  subject.  Even  these  momentous  topics  are 
treated  with  the  utmost  lightness  of  mind.     If  the 

*  Proverbs  ix.  1,  5. 

t  See  this  proved  at  large  in  the  chapter  on  the 
Pleasures  of  Religion. 


eye  of  any  one  of  this  class  should  range  over  these 
pages,  let  me  beseech  her  to  look  at  her  picture,  and 
ask  herself  if  she  can  admire  it.  O  rny  young  friend, 
cannot  the  high  themes  of  eternity  make  you  serious] 
Placed  as  you  are,  on  this  earth,  between  the  tor- 
ments of  the  damned  and  the  felicities  of  the  re- 
deemed; with  the  preparations  for  judgment  going 
on,  and  the  scenes  of  eternity  opening  before  you; 
will  you  laugh  out  your  little  share  of  existence, 
and  flutter  through  life,  till,  like  a  bird  dropping 
into  a  volcano,  you  fall  into  the  bottomless  pit !  Let 
these  things  soberise  your  thoughts,  and  bring  you 
to  the  subject  of  religion,  with  something  like  an 
appropriate  seriousness  of  mind. 

5.  Evil  companions  have  often  proved  an  obstruc- 
tion to  young  people  in  the  ways  of  piety. 

Young  people  are  generally  inclined  for  compa- 
ny, and  too  often  it  proves  a  snare  to  them.  Many 
a  hopeful  youth,  that  seemed  at  one  time  setting  out 
in  the  ways  of  piety,  has  been  arrested  in  his  holy 
career,  by  some  unsuitable  associate,  with  whom  he 
has  joined  himself  in  the  bonds  of  friendship  ;  and 
thus  he  who  seemed  beginning  in  the  spirit  has  end- 
ed in  the  flesh,  leaving  his  pious  friends  to  exclaim 
in  the  tone  of  grief  and  disappointment,  "Ye  did 
run  well,  who  did  hinder  you]"  How  difficult  is 
it,  when  a  young  person  is  first  brought  under  the 
influence  of  genuine  piety,  to  break  from  his  former 
gay  companions;  and  yet,  if  he  would  persevere  in 
his  new  course,  it  must  be  done.  In  such  cases  the 
bonds  of  association  must  be  broken.  You  must 
give  up  your  society  or  your  salvation  ;  and  can  you 
hesitate  ] 

6.  The  misconduct  of  professing  Christians,  espe- 
cially of  parents,  proves  to  many  young  persons,  a 
stone  of  stumbling,  at  the  entrance  of  the  path  of 
godliness. 

They  have  seen  the  open  immorality,  or  the  se- 
cret hypocrisy  of  those,  who  profess  to  be  partakers 
of  true  piety,  and  under  the  influence  of  disgust  and 
disappointment,  are  ready  to  conclude  that  all  are 
alike,  and  that  there  is  no  reality  in  religion,  no 
truth  in  revelation.  I  know  that  these  things  must 
often  prove  an  obstruction  in  their  way,  and  have 
produced  in  some  instances  an  unconquerable  anti- 
pathy to  the  ways  of  godliness.  Yet  is  it  rational  to 
have  our  minds  thus  prejudiced  against  Christiani- 
ty, by  the  apostacies  of  those  who  were  only  its  pre- 
tended disciples]  But  can  that  system  be  divine, 
you  exclaim,  amongst  whose  followers  there  are  so 
many  hypocrites] — Can  that  system,  I  reply,  be 
otherwise  than  divine,  which  has  outlived  them  all, 
^nd  triumphs  alike  over  the  apostacies  of  its  seeming 
friends,  and  the  opposition  of  its  real  foes]  Consi- 
dering the  numberless  instances  of  this  kind  which 
have  occurred,  even  from  the  beginning,  I  am  per- 
suaded that  had  not  Christianity  been  supported  by 
Omnipotence,  nothing  more  than  its  name  as  an  an- 
cient delusion,  would  have  reached  the  nineteenth 
century.  Noting  but  that  which  was  sustained  by 
a  principle  of  cV.vine  life,  could  have  outlived  so 
much  internal  decay,  and  so  much  external  vio- 
lence. Besides,  does  not  the  perpetual  effort  to  coun- 
terfeit, prove  its  real  excellence]  For  who  imitates 
that  which  is  worthless]  Look  at  the  bright,  as 
well  as  at  the  dark  side.  Against  the  troops  of  de- 
serters and  renegades,  muster  the  thronging  mil- 
lions, who  have  endured  temptation,  and  continued 
faithful  unto  death;  call  up  the  noble  army  of 
martyrs,  whom  neither  dungeons  nor  fetters,  scaf- 
folds nor  stakes,  could  intimidate;  who  held  fast 
their  principles  amidst  unheard  of  tortures,  and  suf- 
fered not  the  king  of  terrors  to  rescue  from  their 
grasp  the  doctrines  of  their  faith. 

Judge  of  religion,  as  it  demands  to  be  tried,  by 
its  own  evidences,  and  not  by  the  conduct  of  its  pro- 
fessors.   Look  at  it  in  its  own  light,  and  there  you 


CHRISTIAN     FATHER'S    PRESENT 


21 


will  derive  a  conviction  of  its  truth  and  importance, 
which  would  make  you  cling  to  it  in  a  crisis,  when 
even  all  men  should  forsake  it.  Religion  an  impos- 
ture, because  some  of  its  professors  are  false  ' !  As 
rationally  may  you  conclude  that  there  is  no  real 
orb  of  day,  because  by  an  optical  illusion,  mock  suns 
are  sometimes  seen  in  the  atmosphere. 

Remember,  your  neglect  of  religion  will  not  be 
excused,  on  the  ground  that  your  prejudices  were 
shocked  by  the  misconduct  of  professing  Christians. 
Your  obligations  are  in  no  degree  dependant  on  the 
manner  in  which  others  discharge  theirs. 

7.  A  spirit  of  procrastination,  has  considerable  in- 
fluence, in  preventing  the  young  from  attending  to 
the  claims  of  religion. 

This  has  been  the  ruin  of  multitudes  now  in  hell. 
How  many  amongst  the  lost  souls  in  prison  are  now 
rueing  the  cheat,  which  was  practised  upon  their 
judgment,  when  they  were  persuaded  to  put  off  the 
affairs  of  eternity  till  another  time.  Perhaps  there 
is  not  one  in  perdition,  but  intended  to  be  religious 
at  some  future  period.  It  is  recorded  of  Archius,  a 
Grecian  magistrate,  that  a  conspiracy  was  formed 
against  his  life.  A  friend  who  knew  the  plot,  dis- 
patched a  courier  with  the  intelligence,  who,  on  be- 
ing admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  magistrate,  de- 
livered to  him  a  pacquet  with  his  message: — "My 
Lord,  the  person  who  writes  you  this  letter,  con- 
jures you  to  read  it  immediately, — it  contains  seri- 
ous matters."  Archius,  who  was  then  at  a  feast,  re- 
plied, smiling,  "  Serious  affairs  to-morrow,"  put  the 
pacquet  aside,  and  continued  the  revel.  On  that 
night  the  plot  was  executed,  the  magistrate  slain, 
and  Archius,  on  the  morrow  when  he  intended  to 
read  the  letters,  a  mutilated  corpse,  leaving  to  the 
world  a  fearful  example  of  the  effects  of  procrasti- 
nation. My  children,  do  not,  when  God  and  the 
preacher  say  to-day  give  your  attention  to  religion, 
reply,  "  to-morrow  ;"  for  alas  !  on  that  morrow  you 
may  be  in eternity. 

Young  people  are  very  apt  to  presume  on  long 
life:  but  on  what  ground  1  Have  they  an  assur- 
ance "?  No,  not  for  an  hour.  Is  it  a  rare  thing  for 
young  people  to  die  1  Go  into  any  church-yard  in 
the  kingdom,  and  learn  the  contrary  from  the  re- 
cords of  the  tombs.  Have  you  any  security  in  the 
vigor  of  your  constitution  from  the  melancholy 
change  produced  by  decay  and  deathl  "  So  have  I 
seen  a  rose  newly  springing  from  the  clefts  of  its 
hood,  and  at  first  it  was  as  fair  as  the  morning,  and 
full  with  the  dew  of  heaven,  as  a  lamb's  fleece  ;  but 
when  a  ruder  breath  had  forced  open  its  virgin  mo- 
desty, and  dismantled  its  too  youthful  and  unripe 
retirements,  it  began  to  put  on  darkness,  and  to  de- 
cline to  softness,  and  the  symptoms  of  a  sickly  age; 
it  bowed  the  head,  and  broke  its  stalk,  and  at  night 
having  lost  some  of  its  leaves  and  all  its  beauty,  it 
fell  into  the  portion  of  weeds  and  worn-out  faces."* 

But  besides,  admitting  that  you  should  live,  is  not 
your  inclination  likely,  if  possible,  to  be  less  and 
less  towards  religion  1  Your  acts  of  sin  will  be  con- 
firmed into  habits.  Your  heart  will  become  harder 
and  harder,  for  it  is  the  nature  of  depravity  to  in- 
crease. If  you  wished  to  extinguish  a  fire,  would 
yon  wait  till  it  wa^  a  conflagration!  if  to  cure  a 
cold,  would  yon  wait  till  it  was  a  fever  1 

What  if  God  should  withdraw  his  spirit,  and  give 
you  up  to  total  insensibility  ?  For  consider  his 
grace  is  necessary  to  salvation.  Religion  is  the 
work  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man.  Despised  and  re- 
jected to-day,  is  he  not  likely  to  abandon  yon  to- 
morrow 1  and  then  what  a  situation  are  you  in  1 — 
Like  a  barren  rock,  insensible  both  to  the  beams  of 
the  sun  and  the  showers  of  heaven  !  You  may  fe- 
licitate yourselves  in  thesecircumstanceson  the  pro- 

*  Jeremy  Taylor's  Holy  Dying,  p.  8. 


traction  of  life,  but  it  is  your  curse  and  not  your 
blessing.  You  would  tremble  with  indescribable 
horror  at  the  thought  of  going  the  next  hour  to  the 
flame  which  is  never  to  be  quenched;  you  would 
account  it  the  climax  of  ruin.  No,  it  is  not.  I 
can  tell  you  something  worse  than  even  this. — 
What ;  worse  than  going  immediately  to  the  bot- 
tomless pit  1  Yes.  To  live  longer  abandoned  by 
God!  given  up  to  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  and  hard- 
ness of  heart ;  left  to  fill  up  still  more  to  the  brim  the 
measure  of  iniquity  ;  this,  this  is  worse  than  instant 
damnation.  Horrible  as  it  seems,  yet  it  is  true,  that 
many  now  in  torment  wish  they  had  been  there  be- 
fore: and  that  they  had  not  been  permitted  to  live 
and  commit  those  sins,  which  are  the  sources  of 
their  bitterest  sufferings. 

These  are  amongst  the  most  prevailing  obstacles 
which  often  prevent  young  people  from  entering  on 
a  life  of  piety.  Happy  are  they  who  by  the  grace 
of  God  are  enabled  to  surmount  them,  and  press 
through  these  impediments  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ON    THE    DECEITFULNESS    OF   THE    HEART. 

The  detection  of  deceit,  if  not  a  pleasant  employ- 
ment, is  certainly  a  profitable  one:  and  that  man  de- 
serves well  of  society,  who  puts  them  upon  their 
guard  against  a  dangerous  impostor.  The  object 
of  this  section  of  my  book  is  to  expose  the  greatest 
deceiver  in  the  world;  whose  design  is  to  cheat  you, 
my  dear  children,  not  of  your  property,  nor  of  your 
liberty,  nor  of  your  life;  but  of  what  is  infinitely 
dearer  than  all  these— the  salvation  of  your  immortal 
soul.  His  success  has  been  frightful  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Earth  is  full  of  his  operations — hell  of  his 
spoils.  Millions  of  lost  souls  bewail  his  success  in 
the  bottomless  pit,  as  the  smoke  of  their  torment  as- 
cendeth  up  for  ever  and  ever.  Who  is  this  impos- 
tor, and  what  is  his  name  "?  Is  it  the  false  prophet 
of  Mecca  1  No.  The  spirit  of  Paganism '!  No.  The 
genius  of  Infidelity  1  No.  It  is  the  human  heart.— 
It  is  to  this,  that  the  prophet's  description  belongs, 
"  Deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked." 
You  will  perceive,  that,  to  the  wiles  of  this  deceiver, 
you,  are  exposed.  Let  me  then  request  your  very 
serious  attention,  whilst  I  lay  open  to  you  his  deep 
devices,  and  endless  machinations. 

By  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  we  arc  to  under- 
stand the  liability  of  our  judgment  to  be  perverted, 
and  misled  by  the  depravity  of  our  nature.  And  the 
following  are  the  proofs  of  the  fact. 

1.  The  astonishing  ignorance  in  which  many  per- 
sons remain  of  their  character  and  motives. 

It  is  with  the  mind,  as  with  the  countenance  every 
one  seems  to  know  it  better  than  its  possessor. — 
Now  is  not  this  somewhat  singular  1  With  the 
power  of  introspection,  with  access  to  our  spirits 
every  moment,  is  it  not  remarkable  that  anyone 
should  remain  in  ignorance  of  himself"?  Yet  is  it 
not  the  case  with  myriads  1  How  often  do  we  hear 
persons  condemning  others  for  those  very  faults,  of 
which  every  one  perceives  that  they  themselves  are 
guilty.  We  have  a  striking  instance  of  this  in  Da- 
vid, when  the  prophet  related  to  him  the  parable  of 
the  little  ewe  lamb.  It  is  astonishing  with  what 
dexterity  some  persons  will  ward  off  the  arrows  of 
conviction  which  arc  aimed  at  their  hear's,  and 
give  them  a  direction  towards  others.  When  in 
preaching  or  in  conversation,  a  speaker  is  endea- 
voring in  a  covert  wnv  to  make  them  feel,  that  they 
are  intended  as  the  object  of  his  censure,  they  are 
most  busily  emploved  in  fastening  it  upon  others, 
and  admire  the  skill,  and  applaud  the  severity,  with 


22 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


which  it  i?  administered.  And  when  at  length  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  throw  off  the  disguise,  and  to  de- 
clare to  them,  "  Thou  art  the  man,"  it  is  quite  amus- 
ing to  see  what  surprise  and  incredulity  they  will 
manifest,  and  how  they  will  either  smile  at  the  igno- 
rance, or  frown  on  the  malice,  which  could  im- 
pute to  them  faults,  of  which,  however  guilty  they 
might  be  in  other  respects,  they  are  totally  inno- 
cent. 

This  self-deception  prevails  to  a  most  alarming 
extent,  in  the  business  of  personal  religion.  The 
road  to  destruction  is  crowded  with  travellers,  who 
vainly  suppose  that  they  are  walking  in  the  path  of 
life,  and  whose  dreams  of  happiness  nothing  will 
disturb,  but  the  dreadful  reality  of  eternal  misery. 
How  can  this  mistake  arise  1  The  Scripture  most 
explicitly  states  the  difference  between  a  good  man 
and  a  wicked  one:  the  line  of  distinction  between 
conversion  and  impenitence  is  broad,  and  deep,  and 
plain.  It  can  only  be  accounted  for  on  the  ground 
of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart. 

Then,  when  conviction  forces  itself  upon  the 
mind,  and  the  real  character  begins  to  appear,  what 
a  degree  of  evidence  will  be  resisted,  and  on  what 
mere  shadows  of  proof  will  men  draw  a  conclusion 
in  their  own  favor.  How  they  mistake  motives 
which  are  apparent  to  every  by-stander;  and,  in 
some  instances,  even  commend  themselves  for  vir- 
tnes,  when  the  corresponding  vices  are  ripe  in  their 
bosoms. 

2.  Another  proof  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart, 
lies  in  the  disguises  which  it  throws  over  its  vices. 

It  calls  evil  good,  and  good  evil.  How  common 
is  it  for  men  to  change  the  names  of  their  faults, 
and  endeavor  to  reconcile  themselves  to  sins,  which, 
tinder  their  own  proper  designations,  must  be  re- 
garded as  subjects  of  condemnation.  Thus,  intem- 
perance and  excess  are  called  social  disposition  and 
good  fellowship;  pride  is  dignity  of  mind  ;  revenge 
is  spirit ;  vain  pomp,  luxury,  and  extravagance, 
aie  taste,  elegance,  and  refinement;  covetousness 
is  prudence ;  levity,  folly,  obscenity,  are  innocent 
liberty,  cheerfulness,  and  humor.  But  will  a  new 
name,  alter  the  nature  of  a  vice?  No:  you  may 
clothe  a  swine  in  purple  and  gold,  and  dress  a  de- 
mon in  the  robes  of  an  angel  of  light;  and  the  one 
is  a  beast,  and  the  other  a  devil  still. 

The  same  operation  of  deceit  which  would  strip 
vice  of  its  deformity,  would  rob  holiness  of  its  beauty. 
Tenderness  of  conscience  is  called  ridiculous  pre- 
cision; zeal  against  sin  is  morosenessand  ill-nature; 
seriousness  of  minfl,  repulsive  melancholy ;  superior 
sanctity,  disgusting  hypocrisy  ;  in  short,  all  spirit- 
ual religion  is  nauseating  cant,  whining  methodism, 
wild  enthusiasm.  It  is  however  the  climax  of  this 
deceitfulness,  when  vice  is  committed  under  the 
nolion  that  it  is  a  virtue ;  and  this  has  been  done  in 
innumerable  instances.  Saul  of  Tarsus  thought 
he  was  doing  God  service,  while  he  was  destroying 
the  church.  The  bigots  of  Rome  have  persuaded 
themselves  they  were  doing  right,  while  they  were 
shedding  the  blood  of  the  saints.  O  the  depth  of 
deceit  in  the  human  heart ! 

3.  What  a  proneness  is  there  in  most  persons  to 
frame  excuses  for  their  si?is,  and  bv  what  shallow 
pretexts  are  they  often  led  to  commit  iniquity. 

Ever  since  that  fatal  moment,  when  our  first  pa- 
rents endeavored  to  shift  the  blame  of  their  crime 
from  each  other  upon  the  serpent,  a  disposition  to 
apologize  for  sin,  rather  than  to  confess  it,  has  been 
the  hereditary  disease  of  their  offspring.  It  disco- 
vers itself  early  in  the  human  character:  and  it  is 
truly  affecting  to  see  how  much  adroitness  is  mani- 
fested by  very  young  children  in  excusing  their 
faults;  and  this  disposition  grows  with  their  growth, 
and  strengthens  with  their  strength.  Some  excuse 
their  sins  on  the  ground  of  custom:   others  plead 


the  smallness  of  the  sins;  others  endeavor  to  per- 
suade themselves  that  the  suddenness  and  strength 
of  temptation,  will  be  admitted  as  a  justification  of 
their  conduct ;  while  some  plead  the  power  of  ex- 
ample :  it  is  the  first  offence,  say  some  ;  it  is  the  force 
of  habit,  exclaim  others:  some  attempt  to  find  ex- 
cuse for  their  actual  sins  in  the  inherent  depravity 
of  their  nature;  others  in  the  peculiarity  of  their 
temper  and  constitution  ;  a  few  go  so  far  as  to  lay 
all  their  sins  upon  the  Author  of  their  nature. — 
These  are  bui  some  amongst  the  many  excuses,  by 
which  men  are  first  led  on  to  sin  ;  by  w;hich  they  af- 
terwards defend  themselves  against  the  accusations 
of  conscience;  and  which  most  convincingly  de- 
monstrate the  deep  deceitfulness  of  the  human  heart. 

4.  It  is  proved  also  by  the  gradual  and  almost  in- 
sensible manner  in  which  it  leads  men  on  to  the  com.- 
mission  of  sin. 

No  man  becomes  wicked  all  at  once.  The  way 
of  a  sinner  in  his  career  has  been  compared  to  the 
course  of  a  stone  down  a  steep  hill,  the  velocity  of 
which  is  accelerated  by  every  revolution.  The 
heart  does  not  offend,  and  shock  the  judgment,  by 
asking  for  too  much  at  first ;  it  conceals  the  end  of 
the  career,  and  lets  only  so  much  be  seen  as  is  re- 
quired for  the  immediate  occasion.  When  the 
prophet  of  the  Lord  disclosed  to  Hazael  his  future 
enormities,  he  exclaimed,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog, 
that  he  should  do  tins'?"  The  exclamation  was 
perfectly  honest.  At  that  time,  no  doubt  he  was 
incapable  of  such  wickedness,  and  it  was  a  sincere 
revulsion  of  nature  which  prompted  the  expression 
of  his  abhorrence.  But  he  knew  not  his  heart. — 
Little  by  little  he  was  led  forward  in  the  course  of 
iniquity,  and  at  length  exceeded,  by  his  wickedness, 
the  prophet's  prediction.  Habit  renders  all  things 
easy,  not  excepting  the  most  atrocious  crimes. — 
Men  have  often  done  that  without  reluctance  or  re- 
morse, which  at  one  period  of  their  lives,  they 
would  have  shuddered  to  contemplate.  Many  have 
committed  forgery,  who,  at  one  time,  could  have 
been  persuaded  by  no  arguments,  nor  induced  by 
any  motives,  to  wrong  an  individual  of  a  farthing; 
and  the  murderer,  whose  hands  are  stained  with 
blood,  would  probably,  a  few  years  or  months  be- 
fore, have  trembled  at  the  idea  of  destroying  an 
animal.  "  When  the  heart  of  man  is  bound  by  the 
grace  of  God,  and  tied  in  the  golden  bands  of  reli- 
gion, and  watched  by  angels,  and  tended  by  minis- 
ters, those  nurse-keepers  of  the  soul,  it  is  not  easy 
for  a  man  to  wander  and  the  evil  of  his  heart  be 
like  the  fierceness  of  lions'  whelps;  but  when  he 
has  once  broken  the  hedge,  and  got  into  the  strength 
of  youth,  and  the  licentiousness  of  ungoverned  age, 
it  is  wonderful  to  observe  what  a  great  inundation 
of  mischief  in  a  very  short  time,  will  overflow  all 
the  banks  of  reason  and  religion.  Vice  is  first 
pleasing — then  it  grows  easy — then  it  is  delightful 
— then  it  is  frequent — then  habitual — then  confirm- 
ed—then the  man  is  independent — then  he  is  obsti- 
nate— then  he  resolves  never  to  repent — then  he 
dies — then  he  is  damned."* 

When  a  young  man  that  has  received  a  pious 
education,  begins  to  be  solicited  to  break  through 
the  restraints  imposed  upon  him  by  conscience,  he 
can  venture  only  on  lesser  sins:  he  perhaps  only 
takes  a  walk  on  the  Sabbath  with  a  friend,  or  goes 
to  see  a  play,  or  joins  in  one  midnight  revel :  but 
even  this  is  not  done  with  ease;  he  hears  the  voice 
of  an  internal  monitor,  starts  and  hesitates,  but 
complies.  A  little  remorse  follows,  but  it  is  soon 
worn  off.  The  next  time  the  temptation  presents 
itself,  his  reluctance  is  diminished,  and  he  repeats 
the  offence  with  less  previous  hesitation,  and  less 
subsequent   compunction.     What  he  did  once,  he 


*  Jeremy  Taylor's  Sermons, 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


23 


now  without  scruple  does  frequently.  His  courage 
is  so  Jar  increased,  and  his  fear  of  sin  is  so  far  abat- 
ed, that  he  is  soon  emboldened  to  commit  a.  greater 
sin,  and  the  tavern,  and  the  horse-race  are  frequent- 
ed with  as  little  reluctance  as  the  theatre.  Con- 
science now  and  then  remonstrates,  but  he  has  ac- 
quired the  ability  to  disregard  its  warnings,  if  not 
to  silence  them.  In  process  of  time  the  society  of 
all  who  make  the  least  pretensions  to  piety  is  avoid- 
ed as  troublesome  and  distressing,  and  the  heedless 
youth  joins  himself  with  companions  better  suited 
to  his  taste.  Now  his  sins  grow  with  vigor  under 
the  fostering  influence  of  evil  company,  jusi  as  trees 
which  are  set  in  a  plantation.  By  this  time  the 
Bible  is  put  out  of  sight,  all  prayer  neglected,  and 
the  Sabbath  constantly  profaned.  At  length  he 
feels  the  force  of  custom,  and  becomes  enslaved  by 
inveterate  habit.  The  admonitions  of  a  father, 
and  the  tears  of  a  pious  mother,  produce  no  im- 
pressions, but  such  as  are  like  the  "  morning  cloud, 
or  early  dew,  which  soon  passeth  away."  He  re- 
turns to  the  society  of  his  evil  associates,  where 
parental  admonitions  are  converted  into  matter  of 
wicked  sport.  The  sinner  is  settled  now  in  an  evil 
way;  and  the  sapling  of  iniquity  has  struck  the 
roots  deep  into  the  soul  of  depravity.  The  voice 
of  conscience  is  now  but  rarely  heard,  and  even 
then,  only  in  the  feeble  whisper  of  a  dying  friend. 
His  next  stage  is  to  lose  the  sense  of  shame.  He  no 
longer  wears  a  mask,  or  seeks  the  shade,  but  sins 
openly  and  without  disguise.  Conscience  now  is 
quiet ;  and  without  spectre  to  warn,  or  angel  to  de- 
liver, he  pursues  without  a  check  the  career  of  sin. 
He  can  meet  a  saint  without  a  blush,  and  hear  the 
voice  of  warning  with  a  sneer.  Would  you  believe 
it?  he  glories  in  his  shame,  and  attempts  to  justify 
his  conduct.  Not  content  with  being  wicked,  he 
attempts  to  make  others  as  bad  as  himself,  puts  on 
the  character  of  an  apostle  of  Satan,  and,  like  his 
master,  goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom 
he  may  devour.  As  he  is  condemned  in  all  his 
ways  by  the  Bible,  he  endeavors  to  get  rid  of  this 
troublesome  judge,  and  persuades  himself  that  reli- 
gion is  a  cheat.  With  infidel  principles,  and  im- 
moral practices,  he  now  hurries  to  destruction,  pol- 
luted and  polluting.  His  parents,  whose  gray  hairs 
he  brought  in  sorrow  to  the  grave,  have  entered  on 
their  rest,  and  in  mercy  are  not  permitted  to  live  to 
witness  his  shame.  His  vices  lead  him  to  extrava- 
gance ;  his  extravagance  is  beyond  his  resources, 
and  in  an  evil  hour,  under  the  pressure  of  claims 
which  he  is  unable  to  meet,  he  commits  an  act 
which  forfeits  his  life.  He  is  arrested,  tried,  con- 
victed,  condemned,  executed. 

This  is  no  fancy  picture;  it  has  often  occurred. 
My  dear  children,  see  the  decei'fulness  of  sin. — 
Meditate,  and  tremble,  and  pray.  Be  alarmed  at 
little  sins,  for  they  lead  on  to  great  ones;  at  acts  of 
sin,  for  they  tend  to  habits;  at  common  ones,  for 
they  issue  in  those  that  are  uncommon.  I  have 
read  of  a  servant  who  went  into  a  closet,  with  an 
intention  only  to  gratify  his  palate  with  some  sweet- 
meats, but  perceiving  some  silver  articles,  he  relin- 
quished the  meaner  prey  for  ihese,  purloined  them, 
became  a  confirmed  thief,  and  died  at  the  gallows. 
Many  a  prostitute,  who  has  perished  in  a  garret 
upon  straw,  commenced  her  miserable  and  loath- 
some course  with  mere  love  of  dress.  Sin  is  like  a 
fire,  which  should  be  extinguished  in  the  first  spark, 
for  if  it  be  left  to  itself,  it  will  soon  rage  like  a 
conflagration. 

5.  The  last  proof  of  the  deceitfulnessof  the  heart, 
whicli  I  shall  advance  is,  I 'he  delusive  prospects  which 
it  presents  to  the  judgment. 

Sometimes  it- pleads  for  the  commission  of  sin  on 
the  ground  of  the  pleasure  which  it  affords.  But 
while  it  speaks  of  the  honey  of  gratification,  does 


it  also  tell  of  the  venom  of  reflection  and  punish- 
ment 1 

At  other  times  it  suggests  that  retreat  is  easy  in 
the  career  of  sin,  and  may  be  resorted  to  if  its  pro- 
gress be  inconvenient.  Is  it  sol  The  very  con- 
trary is  true.  Every  step  we  advance  renders  it 
more  and  more  dim  cult  to  return. 

Then  it  urges  us  forward  with  the  delusive  idea 
that  it  is  time  enough  to  repent  in  old  age.  But  does 
it  say,  what  indeed  is  true,  that  for  ought  you  know, 
you  may  die  to-morrow  ?  No ;  and  herein  is  its 
deceit. 

It  dwells  upon  the  mercy  of  God ;  but  is  silent  upon 
the  subject  of  his  justice. 

What  think  you  now  of  the  human  heart  1  Can 
you  question  its  deceitfulness,  or  that  it  is  deceitful 
above  all  things']     How  then  will  you  treat  it  1 

Think  meanly  of  it.  Surely,  with  such  a  picture 
before  you,  you  will  not  talk  of  the  moral  dignity  of 
human  nature ;  because  this  would  be  to  talk  of  the 
dignity  of  falsehood  and  imposition. 

Seek  to  have  it  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  a 
first  principle  of  religion,  that  the  heart  must  be  re- 
newed, and  here  you  see  the  need  of  it.  It  is  not 
only  the  conduct  which  is  bad,  but  the  heart,  and 
therefore  it  is  not  only  necessary  for  the  conduct  to 
be  reformed,  but  the  very  nature  must  be  regene- 
rated. It  is  the  heart  which  imposes  upon  the  judg- 
ment, and  the  judgment  which  misleads  the  conduct; 
and,  therefore,  the  root  of  the  evil  is  not  touched  un- 
til the  disposition  is  changed. 

Suspect  the  heart,  and  search  it.  Treat  it  as  you 
would  a  man  who  had  deceived  you  in  every  possi- 
ble way,  and  in  innumerable  instances  had  been 
proved  to  be  false.  Continually  suspect  it.  Always 
act  under  the  supposition,  that  it  is  concealing  some- 
thing that  is  wrong.  Perpetually  examine  it.  En- 
ter the  house  within  you;  break  open  every  door; 
go  into  every  apartment  ;  search  every  corner; 
sweep  every  room.  Take  with  you  the  lamp  of  re- 
velation, and  throw  a  light  on  every  hiding  place. 

Watch  the  heart  with  all  diligence,  knowing  that 
out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life.  You  would  observe 
every  attitude,  every  movement,  every  look  of  an 
impostor  who  had  fixed  his  eye  upon  your  person 
and  properly.  Thus  treat  your  hearts.  Let  every 
thought,  every  imagination,  every  desire,  be  placed 
under  the  most  vigilant  and  ceaseless  inspection. 

Place  it  in  the  hand  of  God  to  keep  it.  "  My  son, 
give  me  thine  heart,"  is  his  own  demand.  Give  it 
to  him,  that  it  might  be  filled  with  his  love,  and  kept 
by  his  power.  Let  it  be  your  daily  prayer,  "Lord, 
hold  thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe;  keep  me  by 
thy  power  through  faith  unto  salvation." 


CPIAPTER  VIII. 


ON   TRANSIENT    DEVOTIONS. 


The  Church,  (said  Saurin,)  had  seldom  seen  hap- 
pier days,  than  those  described  in  the  nineteenth 
chapter  of  Exodus.  God  had  never  diffused  his 
benedictions  on  a  people  in  richer  abundance.  Never 
had  a  people  gratitude  more  lively,  piety  more  fer- 
vent. The  Red  Sea  had  been  passed  ;  Pharaoh  and 
his  insolent  court  were  buried  in  ihe  waves;  access 
to  the  land  of  promise  was  opened  :  Moses  had  been 
admitted  to  the  holy  mountain  to  derive  felicity  from 
God  the  source,  and  sent  to  distribute  it  amongst  his 
countrymen:  to  these  choice  favors,  promises  of  new 
and  greater  blessings  yet  were  added  ;  and  God  said, 
"  Ye  have  seen  what  I  have  done  unto  the  Egyp- 
tians, and  how  I  bare  you  on  eagles'  wings,  and 
brought  you  unto  myself.  Now,  therefore,  if  you 
will  obey  my  voice  indeed,  and  keep  my  covenant, 


24 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


then  ye  shall  be  a  peculiar  treasure  unto  me  above 
all  people,  although  all  the  earth  be  mine."  The 
people  were  deeply  affected  with  this  collection  of 
miracles.  Each  individual  entered  into  the  same 
views,  and  seemed  animated  with  the  same  passion ; 
all  hearts  were  united,  and  one  voice  expressed  the 
sense  of  all  the  tribes  of  Israel ; — "  all  that  the  Lord 
hath  spoken  we  will  do."  But  this  devotion  had  one 
great  defect — it  lasted  only  forty  days.  In  forty  days, 
the  deliverance  out  of  Egypt,  the  catastrophe  of  Pha- 
raoh, the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  the  articles  of  the 
covenant;  in  forty  days,  promises,  vows,  oaths,  all 
were  effaced  from  the  heart,  and  forgotten.  Moses 
was  absent,  the  lightning  did  not  glitter,  the  thun- 
der-claps did  not  roar,  and  "the  Jews  made  a  calf 
in  Horeb,  worshipped  that  molten  image,  and 
changed  their  glorious  God  into  the  similitude  of  an 
ox  that  eateth  grass." 

Here,  my  children,  was  a  most  melancholy  in- 
stance of  transient  devotion.  Alas!  that  such  in- 
stances should  be  so  common.  Alas!  that  Jehovah 
should  so  frequently  have  to  repeat  the  ancient  re- 
proach, and  his  ministers  have  to  echo,  in  sorrowful 
accents,  the  painful  complaint,  "O  Ephraim,  what 
shall  I  do  unto  thee !  O  Judah,  what  shall  I  do  un- 
to thee !  For  your  goodness  is  as  a  morning  cloud, 
and  as  the  early  dew  it  passeth  away."  Nothing, 
however,  is  more  common  than  such  fugitive  im- 
pressions. Disappointment  of  the  bitterest  kind,  is 
very  frequently  experienced,  both  by  parents  and 
ministers,  in  consequence  of  the  sudden  turning 
aside  of  those  young  persons,  who  for  a  while  seem- 
ed to  run  the  race  that  is  set  before  us  in  the  word 
of  God.  At  one  time  they  appeared  to  be  inflamed 
with  a  holy  ambition  to  win  the  prize  of  glory,  ho- 
nor, and  immortality;  we  saw  them  start  with  ea- 
gerness, and  run  with  speed  ;  but  after  a  while  we 
met  them  returning  to  the  barrier,  leaving  us  in  the 
bitterness  of  our  spirits  to  exclaim,  "Ye  did  run 
well,  what  did  hinder  you  1" 

The  religion  I  am  now  describing  is  not  the  hv- 

Eocrisy  of  the  pretending  Christian,  nor  is  it  the 
acksliding  of  the  real  one;  it  goes  further  than  the 
first,  but  does  not  go  so  far  as  the  last.  It  is  sincere 
of  its  kind,  and  in  that  it  goes  further  than  hypo- 
crisy :  but  it  is  unfruitful,  and  in  that  it  is  inferior 
to  the  piety  of  the  weak  and  revolting  Christian. 
It  is  sufficient  to  discover  sin,  but  not  to  correct  it ; 
sufficient  to  produce  good  resolutions,  but  not  to 
keep  them;  it  softens  the  heart,  but  does  not  renew 
it ;  it  excites  grief,  but  it  does  not  eradicate  evil  dis- 
positions. It  is  a  piety  of  times,  opportunities,  and 
circumstances,  diversified  a  thousand  ways,  the  ef- 
fect of  innumerable  causes,  but  it  expires  as  soon  as 
the  causes  are  removed. 

Inconstans  was  a  youth  who  had  enjoyed  a  pious 
education;  he  discovered  many  amiable  qualities, 
and  was  often  impressed  by  the  religious  admoni- 
tions he  received ;  but  his  impressions  soon  wore 
off,  and  he  became  as  careless  about  his  eternal  con- 
cerns as  before.  He  left  the  parental  roof,  and  was 
apprenticed;  and  his  parents  having  taken  care  to 
place  him  in  a  pious  family,  and  under  the  faithful 
preaching-  of  the  word,  he  still  enjoyed  all  the  ex- 
ternal means  of  grace,  and  still,  at  times,  continued 
to  feel  their  influence.  His  attention  was  often- 
times fixed  when  hearing  the  word,  and  he  was 
sometimes  observed  to  weep.  On  one  occasion  in 
particular,  when  a  funeral  sermon  had  been  preach- 
ed for  a  young  person,  a  more  than  ordinary  effect 
was  produced  upon  his  mind.  He  returned  from 
the  house  of  God  pensive  and  dejected,  retired  to  his 
closet,  and  with  much  earnestness  prayed  to  God, 
resolved  to  attend  more  to  the  claims  of  religion, 
and  to  become  a  real  Christian.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  read  the  Bible,  and  prayed,  before  he  left  his 
chamber.    This  practice  he  continued  day  alter 


day.  A  visible  change  was  produced  in  his  deport- 
ment. His  seriousness  attracted  the  attention  and 
excited  the  hopes  of  his  friends.  But,  by  degrees, 
he  relapsed  into  his  former  state,  gave  up  reading 
the  Scriptures,  then  prayer;  then  he  reunited  him- 
self with  some  companions  from  whom  for  a  season 
he  had  withdrawn  himself,  till  at  length  he  was  as 
unconcerned  about  salvation  as  ever.  Some  time 
after  this,  Inconstans  was  seized  with  a  fever.  The 
disease  resisted  the  power  of  medicine,  and  baffled 
the  skill  of  the  physician ;  he  grew  worse  and  worse. 
His  alarm  became  excessive.  He  sent  for  his  min- 
ister and  his  parents,  confessed  and  bewailed  his  fic- 
kleness. What  tears  he  shed!  What  sighs  he  ut- 
tered! What  vows  he  made!  "  Oh  !  if  God  would 
but  spare  me  this  once;  if  he  would  but  grant  me 
one  more  trial;  if  he  would  but  indulge  me  with 
one  more  opportunity  of  salvation,  how  would  I  im- 
prove it  to  his  glory  and  my  soul's  eternal  interest." 
His  prayers  were  answered:  he  recovered.  What 
became  of  his  vows,  resolutions,  and  promises  1 
The  degree  of  his  piety  was  regulated  by  the  degree 
of  his  malady.  Devotion  rose  and  fell  with  his 
pulse.  His  zeal  kept  pace  with  his  fever;  as  one 
decreased,  the  other  died  away,  and  the  recovery  of 
his  health  was  the  resurrection  of  his  sins.  Incon- 
stans is  at  this  moment  what  he  always  was,  a  me- 
lancholy specimen  of  the  nature  of  mere  transient 
religion. 

What  is  wanting  in  this  religion"?  You  will  of 
course  reply,  "continuance."  This  is  true.  But 
why  did  it  not  continue?  I  answer,  there  was  no 
real  change  of  the  heart.  The  passions  were  moved, 
the  feelings  were  excited,  but  the  disposition  re- 
mained unaltered.  In  the  affairs  of  this  life,  men 
are  often  led  by  the  operation  of  strong  causes,  to 
act  in  opposition  to  their  real  character.  The  cruel 
tyrant,  by  some  sudden  and  most  affecting  appeal 
to  his  clemency,  may  have  the  spark  of  pity  smitten 
from  his  flinty  heart:  but  the  flint  remaining,  the 
wretch  returns  again  to  his  practices  of  blood.  The 
covetous  man  might,  by  a  vivid  description  of  want 
and  misery,  be  for  a  season  melted  to  liberality; 
but  like  the  surface  thawed  for  an  hour  by  the  sun, 
and  frozen  again  immediately  after  the  source  of 
heat  has  retired,  his  benevolence  is  immediately 
chilled  by  the  prevailing  frost  of  his  nature.  In 
these  cases,  as  in  that  of  religion,  there  is  a  suspen- 
sion of  the  natural  disposition,  not  a  renewal  of  it. 
All  religion  must  be  transient,  by  whatever  cause  it 
is  produced,  and  with  whatever  ardor  it  should  for 
a  season  be  practised,  that  does  not  spring  from  a 
regenerated  mind.  It  may,  like  the  grass  upon  the 
house-top,  or  the  grain  that  is  scattered  in  unprepar- 
ed soil,  spring  up  and  flourish  for  a  season,  but  for 
want  of  root  it  will  speedily  wither  away.  Do  not 
then,  my  dear  children,  be  satisfied  with  a  mere  ex- 
citement of  the  feelings,  however  strong  it  might 
happen  to  prove  ;  but  seek  to  have  the  general  bias 
of  the  mind  renewed. 

You  cannot  suppose,  if  you  consider  only  for  a 
moment,  that  these  fugitive  impressions  will  answer 
the  ends  of  religion,  either  in  this  world  or  in  that 
which  is  to  come.  They  will  not  honor  God  ;  they 
will  not  sanctify  the  heart;  they  will  not  comfort 
the  mind;  they  will  not  save  the  soul;  they  will  not 
raise  you  to  heaven;  they  will  not  save  you  from 
hell.  Instead  of  preparing  you  at  some  future  time 
to  receive  the  gospel,  such  a  state  of  mind,  if  per- 
sisted in,  has  a  most  direct  and  dangerous  tendency 
to  harden  the  heart.  What  God  in  his  sovereign 
grace  may  be  pleased  to  effect,  is  not  for  me  to  say; 
but  as  to  natural  influence,  nothing  can  be  more 
clear  than  that  this  fitful  piety  is  gradually  putting 
the  soul  farther  and  farther  from  true  religion. 
Iron,  by  being  frequently  heated,  is  hardened  into 
steel ;  water  that  has  been  boiled  becomes  the  colder 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


25 


for  its  previous  warmth  ;  soil  that  has  been  moisten- 
ed with  the  showers  of  heaven,  becomes,  when  har- 
dened by  the  sun,  less  susceptible  of  impression  than 
before;  and  that  heart  which  is  frequently  impress- 
ed by  religion,  without  being  renewed  by  it,  he- 
comes  more  and  more  insensible  to  its  sacred  influ- 
ence. Thty  who  have  trembled  at  the  terrors  of  the 
Lord  without  being  subdued  by  them,  who  have 
outlived  fheir  fears  without  beingsanctified  by  them, 
will  soon  come  to  that  degree  of  insensibility,  which 
will  enable  them  to  hear,  without  being  appalled,  the 
most  awful  denunciations  of  divine  wrath.  They 
who  have  been  melted  from  time  to  time  by  the  ex- 
hibitions of  divine  love,  but  have  not  been  convert- 
ed by  it,  will  come  at  length  to  hear  of  it  with  the 
coldest  indifference.  It  is  a  dreadful  state  of  mind 
to  be  given  up  to  a  spirit  of  slumber,  and  a  callous 
heart;  and  nothing  is  more  likely  to  accelerate  the 
process,  than  occasional  yet  ineffectual  religious  im- 
pressions. Can  we  conceive  of  any  thing  more  like- 
ly to  induce  Jehovah  to  give  us  up  to  judicial  blind- 
ness and  insensibility,  than  this  tampering  with  con- 
viction, this  trifling  with  devotional  impression] 
These  pious  emotions  which  are  occasionally  ex- 
cited, are  kind  and  gentle  admonitions  that  He  has 
come  near  to  the  soul,  with  all  the  energies  of  his 
Spirit :  they  are  the  work  of  mercy  knocking  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts,  and  saying,  "  Open  to  me,  that  I 
may  enter  with  salvation  in  my  train."  If  they  are 
from  time  to  time  neglected,  what  can  be  looked  for 
but  that  the  celestial  visiter  should  withdraw,  and 
pronounce,  as  he  retires,  the  fearful  sentence,  "Wo 
unto  you  when  my  Spirit  departeih  from  yon." 

There  is  something  inexpressibly  wicked  in  re- 
maining in  this  state  of  mind.  Such  persons  are  in 
some  respects  more  sinful  than  they  whose  minds 
have  never  been  in  any  degree  enlightened  :  whose 
fears  have  never  been  in  any  degree  excited  ;  who 
have  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  religion,  but 
whose  minds  are  sealed  up  in  ignorance  and  insen- 
sibilitv.  When  persons  who  have  taken  some  steps 
in  religion  return  again  ;  when  they  who  have  come 
near  the  kingdom  of  God,  recede  from  it;  and  they 
who  ha.re  sipped,  as  it  were,  of  the  cup  of  salvation, 
withdraw  their  lips  from  the  water  of  life,  the  inter- 
pretation of  their  conduct  is  this,  "  We  have  tried 
the  influence  of  religion,  and  do  not  find  it  so  wor- 
thy of  our  cordial  reception  as  we  expected;  we 
have  seen  something  of  its  glory,  and  are  disap- 
pointed ;  we  have  tasted  something  of  its  sweetness, 
and,  upon  the  whole,  we  prefer  to  remain  without 
it."  Thus  th-w  are  like  the  spies  who  brought  a 
false  report  of  the  land  of  promise,  and  discouraged 
the  people.  They  defame  the  character  of  true  pie- 
ty, and  prejudice  men's  minds  against  it.  They  libel 
the  Bible,  and  persuade  others  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  religion.  My  children,  can  you  endure  the 
thought  of  this] 

Transient  devotions  have  a  great  tendency  to 
strengthen  the  principle  of unbelief  in  our  nature. — 
It  is  not  onlv  verv  possible,  but  "very  common  for 
men  to  sin  themselves  into  a  state  of  despair  of 
God's  mercy;  and  none  are  so  likely  to  do  this,  as 
those  who  have  repeatedly  gone  back  to  the  world 
after  a  season  of  religious  impression.  In  our  inter- 
course with  society,  if  we  have  greatly  offended  and 
insulted  a  man  after  professions  of  decided  friend- 
ship and  warm  attachment,  we  can  hardly  persuade 
ourselves  to  approach  him  again, or  be  persuaded  to 
think  he  will  admit  us  again  to  the  number  of  his 
friends.  And,  as  we  are  prone  to  argue  from  our- 
selves to  God,  if  we  have  frequently  repented,  and 
as  frequently  returned  again  to  sin,  we  shall  be  in 
great  danger  of  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  we 
have  sinned  past  forgiveness,  and  abandon  ourselves 
to  guilt  and  despair.  I  have  read  of  a  gentleman 
who  lived  without  any  regard  to  religion  till  he  was 


taken  alarmingly  ill,  when  his  conscience  was 
roused  from  its  slumber  and  he  saw  the  wickedness 
of  his  conduct.  A  minister  was  sent  for,  to  whom 
he  acknowledged  his  guilt  and  begged  an  interest  in 
his  prayers,  at  the  same  time  vowing  that  if  God 
would  spare  his  life,  he  would  alter  the  course  of 
his  behavior.  He  was  restored  to  health  and  for  a 
while  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  set  up  family 
worship,  maintain-ed  private  prayer,  and  frequented 
the  house  of  God  ;  in  short,  appeared  to  be  a  new- 
man  in  Christ  Jesus.  At  length  he  began  to  relax, 
and  step  by  step  went  back  to  his  former  stale  of 
careless  indifference.  The  hand  of  affliction  again 
arrested  him.  His  conscience  again  ascended  her 
tribunal,  and  in  terrible  accents  arraigned  and 
condemned  him.  The  state  of  his  mind  was  horri- 
ble. The  arrows  of  the  Lord  pierced  him  through, 
the  poison  whereof  drank  up  his  spirits.  His  friends 
entreated  him  to  send  for  the  minister  as  before. — 
"  No,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  who  have  trifled  with  the 
mercy  of  God  once,  cannot  expect  it  now."  No  per- 
suasions could  shake  this  resolution  ;  no  represent- 
ation of  divine  grace  could  remove  his  despair;  and 
without  asking  for  pardon,  he  died. 

The  same  despair  has,  in  many  other  instances, 
resulted  from  the  same  sin  of  trifling  with  religious 
impressions. 

These  pages  will  probably  be  read  by  some, 
whose  minds  are  under  religious  concern.  Your 
situation  is  more  critical  and  important  than  any 
language  which  I  could  employ,  would  enabre  me 
to  represent.  If  your  present  anxiety  subsides 
into  your  former  carelessness,  you  are  in  the  most 
imminent  danger  of  being  left  to  the  depravity  of 
your  nature.  God  is  now  approaching  you  in  the 
exercise  of  his  love,  and  waiting  that  he  may  be 
gracious.  Seek  him  while  he  is  to  be  found,  call 
upon  him  while  he  is  near.  The  soft  breezes  of  ce- 
lestial influence  are  passing  over  you;  seize  the  aus- 
picious season,  and  hoist  every  sail  to  catch  the 
breath  of  heaven.  Tremble  at  the  thought  of  losing 
your  present  feelings.  Be  much  and  earnest  in 
prayer  to  God,  that  he  would  not  suffer  you  to  re- 
lapse into  unconcern  and  neglect.  Take  every  pos- 
sible means  to  preserve  and  deepen  your  present 
convictions.  Read  the  Scriptures  with  renewed 
diligence.  Go  with  increased  earnestness,  and  in- 
terest, and  prayer,  to  the  house  of  God.  Endeavor 
to  gain  clearer  views  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
and  labor  to  have  your  mind  instructed  as  well  as 
your  heart  impressed.  Be  satisfied  with  nothing 
short  of  a  renewed  mind,  the  new  birth.  Be  upon 
your  guard  against  self-dependence.  Watch  against 
this,  as  much  as  against  grosser  sins.  Consider 
yourself  as  a  little  child,  who  can  do  nothing  with- 
out God.  Study  your  own  sinfulness  in  the  glass  ot 
God's  holy  law.  Grow  in  humility:  it  is  not  well 
for  a  plant  to  shoot  upwards  quickly,  before  it  has 
taken  deep  root ;  if  there  be  no  fibres  in  the  earth, 
and  no  moisture  at  the  root,  whatever  blossoms  or 
fruit  there  be  in  the  branches,  they  will  soon  fall 
off;  and  in  the  same  way,  if  your  religion  do  not 
strike  root  in  humility,  and  be  not  moistened  with 
the  tears  of  penitential  grief,  whatever  blossoms  of 
joy  or  fruits  of  zeal  there  mav  be  on  the  mind  or 
conduct,  they  will  soon  drop  off  under  the  next  gust 
or  heat  of  temptation.  Take  heed  of  secret  sinning. 
A  single  lust  unmortified  will  be  like  a  worm  at  the 
root  of  the  newly-planted  piety  of  your  soul.  Con- 
tinually remember  that  it  is  yet  but  the  beginning 
of  religion  with  you.  Do  not  rest  here;  believe  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ:  nothing  short  of  this  will 
save  you  :  without  faith,  all  you  have  felt,  or  can 
feel,  will  do  you  no  good  :  yon  must  come  to  Christ, 
and  be  anxious  to  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  know- 
ledge of  God  our  Saviour. 

Some,  it  is  probable,  will  read  these  lines,  who 


20 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT. 


have  had  religious  impressions,  and  lost  them. — 
Your  goodness  has  vanished  like  the  cloud  of  the 
morning  ;  and  like  the  early  dew  has  sparkled  and 
exhaled.  Sometimes  you  exclaim,  with  an  empha- 
sis of  deep  melancholy, 

"  What  peaceful  hours  I  once  enjoy'd  ! 
How  sweet  their  meni'ry  still! 
But  they  have  left  an  aching  void 
The  world  can  never  fill." 

You  are  not,  you  cannot  be  happy,  Oh  no :  the  din 
of  pleasure  or  of  business  cannot  drown  the  voice  of 
conscience :  a  pause  now  and  then  occurs,  when  its 
thunders  are  heard,  and  heard  with  indiscribable 
alarm.  Sometimes,  in  the  midst  of  your  pleasures, 
when  all  around  is  jollity  and  mirth,  you  see  a  spec- 
tacle which  others  do  not  see,  and  are  terrified  by  a 
mystic  hand  which  writes  your  doom  upon  the  wall. 
From  that  moment  there  is  no  more  joy  for  you. — 
Sometimes  you  almost  curse  the  hour  when  the 
voice  of  a  faithful  preacher,  lodged  conviction  in 
your  bosom,  and  half  spoiled  you  for  a  man  of 
pleasure  and  the  world.  Yon  look  with  almost  envy 
on  those  who,  by  never  having  been  taught  to  fear 
God,  are  wrapt  in  total  darkness,  and  see  not  the 
dim  spectres,  the  half  discovered  shapes  of  mischief, 
which,  in  the  twilight  of  your  soul,  present  them- 
selves to  your  affrighted  vision.  At  other  times,  a 
little  relenting,  you  exclaim,  "  O  that  it  were  with 
me  as  in  months  past,  when  the  candle  of  the  Lord 
shined  upon  my  tabernacle.  What  would  I  give  to 
recall  the  views  and  feelings  of  those  days.  Happy 
seasons  !  Ye  are  fled  like  visions  of  spiritual  beau- 
ty. And  are  ye  fled  forever]  Can  no  power  re- 
call you  to  this  troubled  mind?"  Yes,  my  young 
friend,  they  are  all  within  reach,  lingering  to  re- 
turn. Fly  to  God  in  prayer,  beseech  him  to  have 
mercy  upon  you.  Implore  him  to  rouse  you  from 
the  slumber  into  which  you  have  fallen.  Beware  of 
the  chilling  influence  of  despondency.  There  is  no 
room  for  despair.  Covet  the  possession  of  true  re- 
ligion. Examine  for  the  cause  which  destroyed 
your  impressions  in  the  time  that  is  past.  Was  it 
some  improper  companion!  Abandon  him  forever, 
as  you  would  a  viper.  Was  it  some  situation  un- 
friendly to  godliness,  which  you  voluntarily  choose, 
as  Lot  did  Sodom,  on  account  of  its  worldly  advan- 
tages? Relinquish  it  without  delay.  Escape  for 
thy  life,  and  tarry  not  in  all  the  plain.  Was  it  some 
besetting  sin,  dear  as  a  right  eye,  or  useful  as  a 
right  hand  ?  Pluck  it  out,  tear  it  off  without  hesi- 
tation or  regret,  for  is  it  not  better  to  make  this  sa- 
crifice, than  to  lose  eternal  salvation,  and  endure 
everlasting  torments  1  Was  it  self-dependence,  self- 
confidence?  Now  put  your  case  into  the  hand  of 
Omnipotence,  and  call  upon  God.  Ask  for  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  renew,  to  sanctify,  and  to  keep  your  so'jl. 
Learn  from  your  past  failure  what  to  do,  and  what 
to  avoid  for  the  future.  Believe  the  gospel,  which  de- 
clares that  theblcod  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin. 
It  was  faith  that,  was  wanting,  in  the  first  instance, 
to  give  permanence  to  your  religious  impressions. 
There  was  no  belief,  no  full  persuasion,  no  practi- 
cal conviction,  of  the  truth  of  the  gospel.  Your  re- 
ligions feelings  were  like  the  stream  raised  by  ex- 
ternal and  adventitious  causes,  but  there  was  no 
spring.  You  stopped  short  of  believing,  you  made 
no  surrender  of  the  soul  to  Christ,  nor  committed 
yourselves  to  him,  to  be  justified  by  his  righteousness, 
and  to  be  sanctified  by  his  spirit.   This  do  and  live. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

ON   DECISION    OP    CHARACTER   IN   RELIGION. 

How  deep,  and  how  just  a  reproach  did  the  prophet 
cast  upon  the  tribes  of  Israel,  when  he  addressed  to 


the  assembled  multitudes  on  Mount  Carmel,  that 
memorable  interrogation,  "  How  long  halt  ye  be- 
tween two  opinions?  if  the  Lord  be  God,  follow 
him  ;  but  if  Baal,  follow  him."  From  this  it  appears 
they  were  in  a  state  of  indecision,  in  reference  to 
the  most  momentous  question  in  the  universe,  not 
wholly  satisfied  that  they  were  doing  right  in  wor- 
shipping Baal,  yet  not  sufficiently  resolute  to  aban 
don  his  service.  What  a  criminal,  what  a  degrad- 
ing, what  a  wretched  state  of  mind  !  Not  decided 
whom  they  would  acknowledge  to  be  their  God  ! — 
To  whom  they  would  pay  divine  homage  !  But  is 
this  state  of  mind,  my  dear  children,  uncommon  ? 
By  no  means.  To  how  many  of  the  youth  who  at- 
tend our  places  of  devotional  resort,  could  we  ad- 
dress, with  propriety,  the  same  question,  "  How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  V  How  many 
are  there  who  can  go  no  farther  than  Agrippa, 
when  be  said  to  Paul,  "  Almost  thou  persuadest  me 
to  be  a  Christian."  Almost !  Only  almost  per- 
suaded to  be  a  Christian !  What  a  melancholy 
thought ! ! 

In  the  last  chapter  you  saw.  in  the  character  of 
Inconstant,  an  instance  of  this  indecision.  Did  you 
admire  it?  Impossible.  What  was  wanting?  Deci- 
sion. But  what  do  I  mean  by  decision  ?  "A  fixed 
purpose,  not  made  in  haste,  but  with  much  delibe- 
ration ;  not  in  our  own  strength,  but  in  reliance  on 
the  grace  of  God ;  without  delay,  and  at  all  risks,  to 
seek  the  salvation  of  the  soul  through  faith  in  Christ, 
and  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this 
present  evil  world."  It  includes  an  inflexible  seve- 
rity of  conviction,  that  this  is  the  one  great  thing 
we  have,  in  this  world  to  do,  and  such  a  concentra- 
tion of  all  the  energies  of  our  soul  in  this  mighty 
business,  as  to  idle  spectators  shall  put  on  the  ap- 
pearance of  enthusiasm.  It  is  such  a  purpose  as 
subordinates  every  thing  to  itself.  In  opposition  to 
transient  devotion,  it  is  permanent;  in  opposition  to 
fluctuating  opinions,  it  is  a  fixed  abiding  resolution; 
in  opposition  to  mere  occasional  acts,  it  is  an  inde- 
lible character,  an  indestructible  habit.  In  short,  it 
is  faith  in  opposition  to  mere  opinion  and  specu- 
lation :  it  is  actually  receiving  Christ  instead  of 
talking  about  him.  .  It  is  not  like  the  vapor  which, 
after  attracting  every  eye  by  its  meteoric  splendor, 
vanisheth  away  while  yet  the  surprised  and  de- 
lighted spectator  beholds  its  luminous  course;  but 
it  is  like  the  shining  light  which  holds  on  in  its  way 
in  the  heavens,  and  shineth  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day.  It  is  attended  with  a  relinquish- 
ment of  former  associations,  former  pursuits  and 
pleasures,  and  the  embracing  all  such  as  are  on  the 
side  of  religion.  We  have  a  fine  instance  of  this  in 
the  heroic  leader  of  the  hosts  of  the  Lord,  when 
looking  round  upon  the  wavering  tribes  of  Israel, 
he  exclaimed,  "  Let  others  do  what  they  will,  as  for 
me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord."  Another 
example,  equally  splendid,  was  presented  by  the 
great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  when  with  the  per- 
spective of  his  suffering  career  before  his  eyes,  he 
gave  utterance  to  that  burst  of  sublime  heroism, — 
"None  of  these  things  move  me,  neither  count  I 
my  life  dear  unto  me,  so  that  I  might  fulfil  the 
ministry  I  have  received  of  the  Lord,  and  finish  my 
course  with  joy."  Similar  to  this  is  the  language 
of  a  decided  Christian:  "  Self-denial,  ridicule,  rage, 
mortification,  loss,  all  are  nothing  to  me,  so  that  I 
may  believe  the  gospel,  live  in  the  fear  of  God,  die 
in  his  favor,  and,  through  the  merits  of  Christ,  be 
received  to  everlasting  glory." 

It  will  be  proper  to  state  here  the  reasons  why  so 
many  that  have  strong  impressions  occasionally 
made  upon  their  minds,  are  not  thoroughly  and  de- 
cidedly engaged  in  the  practice  of  religion.  Some 
of  these  will  be  found  in  the  chapter  "On  the  Ob- 
stacles of  Piety,"  but  there  are  others  which  are 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


27 


still  more  specific  in  reference  to  the  case  before 
us. 

There  is  in  many,  a  want  of  deep  serious  consider- 
ation. They  do  nut  follow  up  the  subject  of  reli- 
gion, even  when  it  has  been  impressed  with  some 
degree  of  force  upon  their  hearts.  When  einutions 
have  been  excited  they  do  not  cherish  them  ;  but  go 
to  their  usual  conversation,  company,  or  business, 
instead  of  entering  into  their  closets  to  examine 
their  hearts,  and  to  apply  the  subjects  they  have 
heard.  I  have  read  of  a  person,  who  being  an  offi- 
cer in  the  army,  then  about  to  embark  for  the  con- 
tinent, came  to  a  Christian  friend,  and  told  him  that 
he  had  a  great  many  serious  thoughts  about  the 
state  of  his  soul,  and  was  resolved  to  lead  a  new 
life;  but,  said  he,  there  is  such  a  company  I  must 
be  with  to-night ;  I  wish  I  could  disengage  myself 
from  them.  His  friend,  of  course,  attempted  to  dis- 
suade him  from  joining  the  party.  He,  notwith- 
standing, wen*,  to  them,  forgot  all  his  serious  thoughts 
when  there  ;  was  drawn  into  the  revelry  of  the 
night;  the  following  day  went  abroad;  and  the  next 
news  his  friend  heard  of  him  was  that  he  was  killed 
in  action.  Thus  his  vain  companions  extinguished 
his  serious  thoughts,  diverted  his  good  resolutions, 
and,  by  his  own  consent,  robbed  him  of  his  eternal 
salvation. 

Another  cause  of  irresolution  is,  the  feeble  and 
uncertain  perceptions  which  many  persons  have  of 
divine  and  spiritual  things.  They  have  a  dim  view 
of  the  truths  of  revelation,  but  they  appear  like  ob- 
jects in  a  mist,  too  indistinct  to  be  made  the  matter 
of  pursuit.  Hence  it  is  of  tremendous  consequence 
that  when  a  young  person  becomes  in  any  degree 
serious  about  religion,  he  should  instantly  betake 
himself  to  all  proper  means  for  informing  his  judg- 
ment on  the  nature  of  true  religion.  He  should 
read  the  Scriptures  with  intense  application  of  mind, 
listen  to  the  preaching  of  the  word  with  great  fix- 
edness of  attention,  and  peruse  good  books  with 
much  seriousness  of  mind.* 

The  dominion  of  some  one  prevailing  sin,  if  che- 
rished and  indulged,  has  a  most  fatal  influence  in 
preventing  decision.  Herod  would  do  many  things, 
but  not  part  from  Herodias.  Felix  was  moved  by 
Panl's  preaching,  but  he  would  not  give  up  covet- 
ousness.  Thus  it  is  with  manv;  they  admit  the 
claims  of  religion;  admire  its  beauty;  are  moved 
by  its  force;  resolve  to  submit  to  its  influence;  but 
then  there  is  some  besetting  sin,  which,  when  they 
eome  to  the  point,  they  cannot  be  induced  to  sacri- 
fice. Every  plant  ha*  some  leading  root  which  con- 
nects it  with  the  soil  in  which  it  grows,  on  which 
more  than  anv  of  the  rest  it  is  dependant  for  sup- 
port an  1  nourishment.  So  it  is  in  the  human  heart ; 
there  is  in  m  >st  persons  some  prevailing  corruption 
of  nature,  which  more  than  any  of  the  rest  holds 
the  heart  to  an  unre^eneraie  s'ate,  and  to  which 
very  particular  attention  must  be  paid  in  the  busi- 
ness of  1 1 •  1  i •_■■  i . >  11 .  This  sin  may  be  different  in  dif- 
ferent persons:  but  whatever  it  be,  it  must  be  de- 
stroyed, or  it  will  destroy  us. 

Fear  of  persecution  operates  in  many  to  prevent 
decision.  You  are  deterred  probablv,  my  children, 
giving  up  yourselves  to  the  influence  of  piety, 
by  the  apprehensions  thai  yon  shall  be  called  to  en- 
dure the  ridicule  of  those  with  whom  you  have  been 
accustomed  to  associate,  and  who,  being  unfriendly 
to  religion,  will  vent  their  scorn  and  contempt  on 
those  who  submit  to  its  claims.  It  is  impossible  that 
I  can  be  so  ignorant  of  the  irreconcileable  enmity 
existing,  and  destined  ever  to  exist,  between  religion 
and  the  depravity  of  human  nature;  or  the  usual 
practice  of  tho.3e  who  hate  religion,  as  to  promise 

*  Doddridge's  "Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in 
the  Soul,"  i-.  a  standard  treatise. 


you  an  exemption  from  the  sneers  of  the  scorner,  if 
you  walk  in  the  paths  of  wisdom.  The  only  wea- 
pons which  many  are  able  to  wield  against  Christi- 
anity are  sneers;  for  there  is  no  mind  so  imbecile, 
no  fool  so  foolish,  as  not  to  be  able  to  laugh;  the  in- 
dividual, who  could  no  more  argue  than  an  infant 
could  use  the  sword  or  brandish  the  spear  of  Go- 
liah,  can  shoot  out  the  lip,  and  cry  melhodisl,  puri- 
tan, and  fanatic.  The  power  to  argue  is  compara- 
tively rare,  but  almost  every  village  in  the  kingdom 
will  furnish  a  mob  of  little  minds,  to  follow  after 
religion  as  it  passes  by,  and  which,  like  the  children 
of  Bethel,  persecuting  the  prophet  of  the  Lord,  will 
ridicule  its  venerable  form.*  A  morbid  sensibility 
to  shame,  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  has  kej  t  not  a 
few  young  people  from  piety.  They  cannot  bear 
the  broad  loud  laugh,  the  contemptuous  sneer,  the 
witty  jest.  They  cannot  endure  the  attack  of  the 
profane,  nor  the  raillery  of  the  impious.  They  blush 
and  conceal  their  secret  attachment  to  piety  directly 
if  it  is  assailed.  But,  my  children,  where  is  the  dig- 
nity, or  the  courage  of  your  mind!  Are  yon  indeed 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  the  jus- 
tice of  its  claims,  and  suffer  yourselves  to  be  van- 
quished by  the  laugh  of  folly  1  What!  flee  from  the 
enemy  of  your  souls,  and  surrender  your  salvation, 
when  he  only  hisses  at  you  in  the  skin  of  a  fool ! 
What  though  the  worid  were  to  unite  its  scorn; 
shall  this  deter  you  from  acting,  when  God,  truth, 
heaven,  the  Bible,  conscience,  salvation,  saints,  an- 
gels, are  all  on  your  side  :  What !  when  your  spirit 
has  plumed  her  wings  of  faith  and  hope  for  flight  to 
heaven,  shall  she  give  up  the  dazzling  object  of  her 
high  ambition,  and  cower  down  on  earth,  because 
she  is  watched  and  ridiculed  by  the  witling;  Or 
shall  her  eagle  pinions  be  blown  from  their  lofty 
course  by  the  scoff  of  the  scorner7?  Be  decided,  and 
all  this  mean  and  feeble  kind  of  persecution  will 
soon  cease.  Before  that  sublime  and  unbending  de- 
cision, which  dares  to  be  singular,  which  nothing 
can  divert  from  its  purpose,  which  nothing  can  di- 
minish in  iis  ardor,  which  clings  the  closer  to  its 
object  for  all  the  efforts  that  are  employed  to  dctf  ch 
it  from  the  pursuit;  I  say,  before  that  inflexible 
spirit,  it  is  astonishing  to  see  how  the  space  clears 
away,  and  how  soon  she  is  left  to  pursue  her  course, 
while  all  the  tribe  of  little,  pecking,  cavilling,  noisy 
minds,  drop  down  into  their  hedges,  and  leave  the 
eagle  to  her  course. 

"  This  invincibility  of  temper,"  says  the  profound- 
est  and  most  eloquent  essayist  in  the  English  lan- 
guage, "will  often  make  the  scoffers  themselves 
tired  of  the  sport.  They  begin  to  feel  that  against 
such  a  man  it  is  a  poor  kind  of  hostility  to  Icugh. 
There  is  nothing  that  people  are  more  mortified  to 
spend  in  vain  than  their  scorn.  A  man  of  the  right 
kind  would  say,  upon  an  intimation  that  he  is  op- 
posed by  scorn, '  They  will  laugh,  will  they  7  I  have 
something  else  to  do  than  to  trouble  myself  about 
their  mirth.  I  do  not  care  if  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood were  to  laugh  in  a  chorus.  I  should  indeed  be 
sorry  to  see  or  hear  such  a  number  of  fools,  but 
pleased  enough  to  find  that  they  did  not  consider 
me  one  of  their  stamp.  The  good  to  result  from 
my  project  will  not  be  less,  because  vain  and  shal- 
low minds,  thai  cannot  understand  it,  are  diverted 
at  it  and  at  me.     What  should  I  think  of  my  pur- 

*  Never  did  Satan  invent  a  more  successful  wea- 
pon against  religion  than  ridicule.  This  apparently 
mean  and  contemptible  engine,  like  the  pike-head, 
of  modern  warfare,  may  be  circulated  widely,  and 
put  into  ten  thousand  hands,  which  could  make  do- 
thing  of  a  more  dignified  kind  of  instrument.  By 
this  means  he  can  arm  the  levy  en  masse  of  his  do- 
minions, who  could  do  nothing  in  the  ranks  of  the 
regular  troops,  or  with  the  artillery  of  infidelity. 


28 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


suits,  if  every  trivial  thoughtless  being  could  com- 
prehend or  would  applaud  them  ;  and  of  myself,  if 
ray  courage  needed  levity  and  ignorance  for  their 
allies,  or  could  shrink  at  their  sneers  V  "* 

My  children,  think  of  the  importance  of  the  mat- 
ter to  be  decided  upon — the  service  of  God,  the  pur- 
suit of  immortality,  the  salvation  of  the  soul — and 
shall  a.  false  shame  deter  you  from  the  pursuit  1 
Think  of  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  for  the 
joy  that  was  set  before  him,  endured  the  cross,  de- 
spising the  shame.  Look  at  this  divine  sufferer,  as 
he  is  presented  to  us  in  the  hall  of  Pilate,  when  he 
was  made  the  object  of  every  species  of  scorn  and 
indignity,  and  will  you  shrink  from  a  few  sneers 
and  scoffs  for  Him?  Remember  our  Lord's  most 
alarming  language,  "  Whosoever  shall  be  ashamed 
of  me,  and  of  my  words,  in  this  adulterous  and  sin- 
ful generation;  of  him  also  shall  the  Son  of  Man 
be  ashamed,  when  he  cometh  in  the  glory  of  his 
Father,  and  with  the  holy  angels."  Anticipate,  if  [ 
you  can,  the  shame,  the  disgrace,  the  mortification,  | 
the  torment,  of  being  disowned,  rejected,  and  aban- 
doned by  Christ,  before  assembled  worlds;  and  let 
that  be  a  preservative  against  being  ashamed  of  him 
now. 

It  is  time  now  to  set  before  you  the  evils  of  indeci- 
sion, as  a  motive  to  induce  you  to  seek  after  the  op- 
posite temper. 

Such  a  temper  is  most  unreasonable,  if  you  con- 
sider both  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and  the 
means  you  possess  of  coming  to  a  speedy  and  right 
decision.  Is  it  a  matter  of  trifling  moment  1  Yes, 
if  God,  and  eternity,  and  salvation,  and  heaven  and 
hell  are  trifles.  If  religion  be  a  trifle,  where,  in  all 
the  universe,  shall  we  find  any  thing  that  is  impor- 
tant 1  Irresolution  here,  is  to  be  undetermined 
whether  you  will  be  the  friend  or  the  enemy  of  God; 
whether  you  will  live  in  this  world  under  the  favor 
or  the  curse  of  Jehovah,  and  in  the  world  to  come, 
in  the  torments  of  the  bottomless  pit,  or  the  felicities 
of  the  heavenly  city  ;  whether  you  will  choose  con- 
demnation or  salvation.  There  is  no  language 
which  can  describe,  there  is  no  allusion  which  can 
illustrate,  the  folly  of  indecision  in  religion.  The 
irresolution  of  a  slave,  whether  he  should  coniinue 
to  groan  in  fetters,  or  be  free  ;  of  the  leper,  whether 
he  should  still  be  covered  with  the  most  loathsome 
disease,  or  enjoy  the  glow  of  health;  of  the  condemn- 
ed criminal,  whether  he  should  choose  an  honorable 
life,  or  the  most  torturing  and  ignominious  death; 
is  not  marked  with  such  desperate  folly  as  an  unde- 
cided state  of  mind  about  personal  religion.  The 
Scripture  demands  decision,  and  it  demands  it  in 
these  striking  words,  "  See,  I  have  set  before  thee 
this  day  life  and  death,  good  and  evil ;  therefore 
choose."  Yet  some  are  undecided  whether  they 
will  serve  God,  their  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Bene- 
factor, and  inherit  eternal  life  ;  or  yield  themselves 
to  Satan,  their  destroyer,  and  suffer  the  bitter  pains 
of  eternal  death.  If  the  matter  were  involved  in 
obscurity,  as  to  what  was  your  duty  or  your  inte- 
rest, there  would  be  some  apology  ;  but  when  both 
are  as  clear  as  the  day,  the  folly  of  indecision  is  so 
palpably  manifest,  as  to  entail  a  most  fearful  degree 
of  guilt  upon  the  conscience  of  the  irresolute. 

Indecision  is  contemptible.     "  Unstable  as  water, 


*  See  Foster's  "Essay  on  Decision  of  Character." 
I  should  deem  it  an  insult  to  my  readers,  to  suppose 
they  have  not  read  these  essays,  and  not  less  so  to 
their  author,  to  suppose  that  they  needed  my  recom- 
mendation. I  cannot  help,  however,  enjoining  on 
my  readers  to  read  the  essay  from  which  the  above 
extract  is  made,  with  the  resolution  lo  seek,  and  the 
prayer  to  obtain,  all  that  decision  which  is  there  so 
eloquently  described,  not  only  in  reference  to  every 
good  work  in  general,  but  to  religion  in  particular. 


thou  shalt  not  excel,"  is  a  character  which  no  one 
ever  pretended  to  admire.  In  the  ordinary  affairs 
of  life,  indecision  renders  a  man  an  object  of  pity 
or  contempt.  It  is  a  poor  disgraceful  thing  not  to 
be  able  to  answer  with  some  degree  of  firmness  to 
the  questions,  What  will  you  be  1  What  will  you 
do  1  It  is  a  pitiable  thing  to  see  a  creature,  with  all 
the  faculties  of  a  rational  being  about  him,  so  irreso- 
lute and  undecided,  as  almost  to  wish  that  he  could 
exchange  reason  for  instinct,  in  order  that  he  might 
be  spared  the  trouble  of  thinking,  and  the  pain  of 
choosing :  a  poor,  dependant,  powerless  creature, 
that  floats  like  a  feather  or  a  chip  along  the  stream 
of  time,  belonging  to  whatever  can  seize  him;  and 
without  one  effort  of  resistance,  whirled  in  every 
little  eddy,  and  intercepted  by  every  little  twig. — 
But  how  much  more  disgraceful  is  this  irresolute- 
ness  of  mind  in  the  affairs  of  religion,  where  there 
are  so  many  means,  and  so  many  motives  for  com- 
ing to  a  just  conclusion.  To  be  blown  about  like 
thistle-down  by  every  wind  of  doctrine,  and  carried 
just  wherever  the  gust  or  the  current  impels,  is  as 
dishonorable  to  our  understanding  as  it  is  detri- 
mental to  our  salvation. 

Indecision  is  uncomfortable.  Suspense  is  always 
painful.  Hesitation  as  to  the  steps  we  shall  take, 
and  the  conduct  we  shall  pursue,  is  a  most  unde- 
sirable state  of  mind  :  and  this  uneasiness  will  be  in 
exact  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  business 
to  be  decided,  and  to  the  degree  of  compunction  we 
feel  for  not  deciding  upon  a  course,  which  we  can- 
not help  thinking,  upon  the  whole,  is  the  right  one. 
My  children,  the  undecided  cannot  be  altogether 
easy  in  their  present  fluctuating  state  of  mind.  No : 
directed  one  way  by  conviction,  and  dragged  an- 
other by  inclination  :  determining  at  one  lime  to 
serve  God  fully,  and  at  another  smarting  under  the 
guilt  of  broken  vows :  resolved  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
irresolute  on  the  Monday :  sometimes  advancing 
with  courage,  and  then  again  retreating  with  fear 
and  shame:  no,  this  is  not  the  way  to  be  happy. — 
You  may  as  well  expect  peace  on  the  field  of  battle, 
as  in  the  bosom  where  such  a  conflict  is  carried  on. 
Look  up  to  God,  and  ask  for  grace  to  terminate  by 
decided  piety  the  dreadful  strife,  if  indeed  it  be  car- 
ried on  in  your  breast. 

Indecision  is  dangerous.  Consider  the  uncertain- 
ty of  life.  How  soon  and  how  suddenly  the  King 
of  Terrors  may  arrest  you,  and  bear  you  to  his  dark 
domain.  Some  acute,  inflammatory  disease,  in  a 
few  days  may  extinguish  life;  or  a  fatal  accident, 
which  leaves  you  no  leisure  even  to  bid  adieu  to 
those  you  love  on  earth,  may  hurry  you  into  eternity. 
And  then  ichat  becomes  of  you  ?  In  a  state  of  inde- 
cision you  are  unprepared  for  death,  for  judgment, 
for  heaven.  You  are  within  the  flood-mark  of  di- 
vine vengeance.  God  accounts  all  those  to  be  deci- 
dedly against  him,  who  are  not  decidedly  for  him. 
There  is,  properly  speaking,  no  middle  ground  be- 
tween regeneracy  and  unregeneracy,  between  con- 
version and  unconversion,  and  therefore  he  that 
does  not  occupv  the  one,  is  found  within  the  limits 
of  the  other.  You  are  a  child  or  an  enemy  of  God. 
Whatever  may  be  your  occasional  relentings,  your 
transient  emotions,  your  ineffectual  desires,  if  you 
do  not  become  decidedly  pious,  God  will  take  no 
account  of  these  things,  but  treat  you,  if  you  die  in 
this  state,  as  one  that  had  decided  against  him. — 
Can  you  then  linger,  when  deaih  and  hell  do  not 
linger  ?  Can  you  halt,  hesitate,  and  fluctuate,  when 
death  may  the  very  next  hour  decide  the  business 
for  you  1  And,  oh  !  if  you  should  die  without  de- 
cision, what  will  be  your  reflections,  and  what  will 
be  ours!  How  bitterly  will  you  exclaim,  "  Fool 
that  I  was,  to  let  any  thing  interfere  with  my  eternal 
salvation  ;  to  let  any  thing  interpose  between  my 
soul  and  her  everlasting  welfare.    Why,  why  did  I 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


S3 


hesitate  1  I  saw  the  excellence,  I  coveted  the  pos- 
session of -religion.  Often  I  felt  my  heart  rising  to 
go  and  surrender  unreservedly  to  God  ;  I  wept,  I 

{rayed,  I  resolved  ;  but  that  accursed  lust,  in  which 
took  pleasure,  held  me  fast,  and  rather  than  tear 
myself  from  it,  I  let  go  the  hope  of  eternal  life.  I 
was  afraid  of  a  little  ridicule,  which  I  ought  to  have 
disregarded  or  despised,  and  when  I  seemed  near 
tne  kingdom  was  ruined  by  indecision.  While  I 
hesitated  death  seized  me,  and  now  I  shall  be  ex- 
hibited by  the  light  of  this  flame  in  which  I  burn 
for  ever,  an  awful  proof  of  the  folly  and  the  danger 
of  indecision.  "Wo,  eternal  wo  upon  my  wretched 
spirit !" 

Spare  yourselves,  my  dear  children,  these  dread- 
ful reflections,  this  inconceivable  torment.  With- 
out an  hour's  delay,  resign  yourselves  to  God  and 
the  influence  of  true  religion.  Decide  the  doubtful 
point.    Believe  and  obey. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ON  THE  PLEASURES  OF  A  RELIGIOUS  LIFE. 

A  desire  after  happiness,  my  dear  children,  is  in- 
separable from  the  human  mind.  It  is  the  natural 
and  healthy  craving  of  our  spirit ;  an  appetite  which 
we  have  neither  will  nor  power  to  destroy,  and  for 
which  all  mankind  are  busily  employed  in  making 
provision.  This  is  as  natural,  as  for  birds  to  fly,  or 
fishes  to  swim.  For  this  the  scholar  and  the  philo- 
sopher, who  think  it  consists  in  knowledge,  pore 
over  their  books  and  their  apparatus,  light  the  mid- 
night lamp,  and  keep  frequent  vigils,  when  the 
world  around  them  is  asleep.  For  this  the  warrior, 
who  thinks  that  happiness  is  inseparably  united  with 
fame,  pursues  that  bubble  through  the  gory  field  of 
conflict,  and  is  as  lavish  of  his  life,  as  if  it  were  not 
worth  a  soldier's  pay.  The  worldling,  with  whom 
happiness  and  wealth  are  kindred  terms,  worships 
daily  at  the  shrine  of  Mammon,  and  offers  earnest 
prayers  for  the  golden  shower.  The  voluptuary 
gratifies  every  craving  sense,  rejoices  in  the  mid- 
night revel,  renders  himself  vile,  and  yet  tells  you 
he  is  in  the  chase  of  happiness.  The  ambitious 
man,  conceiving  that  the  great  desideratum  blos- 
soms on  the  sceptre,  and  hangs  in  rich  clusters  from 
the  throne,  consumes  one  half  of  his  life,  and  em- 
bitters the  other  half,  in  climbing  the  giddy  eleva- 
tion of  royalty.  All  these,  however,  have  confessed 
their  disappointment;  and  have  retired  from  the 
stage  exclaiming,  in  reference  to  happiness,  what 
Brutus,  just  before  he  stabbed  himself,  did  in  re- 
ference to  virtue,  "  I  have  pursued  thee  everywhere, 
and  found  thee  nothing  but  a  name."  This,  how- 
ever, is  a  mistake;  for  both  virtue  and  happiness 
are  glorious  realities,  and  if  they  are  not  found,  it  is 
merely  because  they  are  not  sought  from  the  right 
sources. 

We  may  affirm  of  pleasure  what  Job  did  of  wis- 
dom, "  There  is  a  path  which  no  fowl  knoweth,  and 
which  the  vulture's  eye  hath  not  seen  :  the  lion's 
whelps  have  not  trodden  it,  nor  the  fierce  lion  pass- 
ed by  it.  But  where  shall"  happiness  "be  found, 
and  where  is  the  place  of"  enjoyment?  "Man 
knoweth  not  the  price  thereof;  neither  is  it  found 
in  the  land  of  the  living.  The  depth  saith,  It  is  not 
in  me  ;  and  the  sea  saith,  It  is  not  with  me.  It  can- 
not be  goti'en  for  gold,  neither  shall  silver  he  weigh- 
ed for  the  price  thereof.  It  cannot  be  valued  with 
the  gold  of  Ophir,  with  the  precious  onyx,  or  the 
sapphire.  Whence  then  cometh"  happiness,  "and 
where  is  the  place  of"  enjoyment  ?  "  seeing  it  is  hid 
from  the  eyes  of  all  living  and  kept  close  from  the 
fowls  of  the  air.     Destruction  and  death  say,  We 


have  heard  the  fame  thereof  with  our  ears.  God 
understandeth  the  way  thereof,  and  he  knoweth  the 
place  thereof.  When  he  made  a  decree  for  the  rain, 
and  a  way  for  the  lightning  of  the  thunder  ;  then 
did  he  see  it  and  declare  it ;  he  prepared  it,  yea,  and 
searched  it  out.  And  unto  man  he  said,  Behold, 
the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom  ;  and  wisdom's 
ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  all  her  paths  are 
peace." 

Happiness  has  no  other  equivalent  term  than  re- 
ligion, and  this  is  a  moral  synonym.  If,  indeed,  the 
case  were  otherwise,  and  religion,  so  far  as  the  pre- 
sent world  is  concerned,  entailed  nothing  but  wretch- 
edness, yet,  as  it  leads  to  eterna'  felicity  in  the  world 
to  come,  it  is  most  manifestly  our  intcres'.  to  attend 
to  its  claims.  The  poor  Hindoo  devote.',  who  en- 
dures all  kind  of  tortures  under  the  idea  that  it  is 
the  only  way  to  eternal  felicity,  acts  with  perfect 
rationality,  if  you  allow  his  data.  A  iife  protracted 
to  the  length  of  Methuselah's,  and  filled  with  pe- 
nances and  pilgrimages,  should  be,  willingly  and 
thankfully  endured,  if  salvation  could  be  procured 
by  no  other  means.  In  the  prospect  of  eternity,  with 
heaven  spreading  out  its  ineffable  glories,  and  hell 
uncovering  its  dreadful  horrors,  the  only  question 
which  a  rational  creature  shonld  allow  himself  to 
ask  is,  "  What  is  necessary  to  avoid  the  torments 
of  the  one,  and  secure  the  felicities  of  the  other?" 
and  on  neing  told  "Religion,"  he  should  apply  with 
all  the  energies  of  his  soui  to  this  great  business, 
without  scarcely  allowing  himself  to  ask  whether 
its  duties  are  pleasant  or  ivksome.  The  man  who  is 
journeying  to  take  possession  of  a  kingdom,  scarce- 
ly thinks  it  worth  his  while  to  inquire  whether  the 
road  be  through  a  wilderness  or  a  paradise.  It  is 
enough  for  him  to  know,  that  it  is  the  only  road  to 
the  throne.  Hence,  the  representation  of  the  plea- 
sures of  religion,  is  n  sort  of  gratuity  in  this  subject. 
It  serves,  however,  to  leave  those  still  more  desti- 
tute of  excuse,  who  live  in  the  neglect  of  piety ;  and, 
in  this  view,  may  have  still  greater  power  to  rouse 
the  conscience. 

1.  That  religion  is  pleasure,  will  appear,  if  you 
consider  what  part  of  our  nature  it  more  particular- 
ly employs  and  gratifies. 

It  is  not  the  gratification  of  the  senses,  or  cf  the 
animal  part  of  our  nature,  but  a  provision  for  the 
immaterial  and  immortal  mind.  The  mind  of  man 
is  an  image  not  only  of  God's  spirituality,  but  of  his 
infinity.  It  is  not  like  the  senses,  limited  to  this  or 
that  kind  of  object;  as  ihe  sight  intermeddles  not 
with  that  which  effects  the  smell ;  but  with  an  uni- 
versal superintendence,  it  arbitrates  upon,  and  takes 
them  all  in.  It  is,  as  I  may  say,  an  ocean,  into 
which  all  the  little  rivulets  of  sensation,  both  external 
and  internal,  discharge  themselves.  Now  this  is 
that  part  of  man  to  which  the  exercises  of  religion 
properly  belong.  The  pleasures  of  the  understand- 
ing, in  the  contemplation  of  truth,  have  been  some- 
times so  great,  so  intense,  so  engrossing  of  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul,  that  there  has  been  no  room  left 
for  any  other  kind  of  pleasure.  How  short  of  this 
are  the  delights  of  the  epicure!  How  vastly  dis- 
proportionate are  the  pleasures  of  the  eating,  and 
of  the  thinking  man!  Indeed,  says  Dr.  South,  as 
different  as  the  silence  of  an  Archimides  in  the 
study  of  a  problem,  and  the  stillness  of  a  sow  at 
her  wash.  Nothing  is  comparable  to  the  pleasures 
of  mind  ;  these  are  enjoyed  by  the  spirits  above,  by 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  great  and  blessed  God. 

Think  what  objects  religion  brings  before  the 
mind,  as  the  sources  of  its  pleasure:  no  less  than 
the  great  God  himself,  and  that  both  in  his  nature 
and  in  his  works.  For  the  eye  of  religion,  like 
that  of  the  eagle,  directs  itself  chiefly  to  the  sun,  1G 
a  irlory  that  neither  admits  of  a  superior  nor  an 
equal.    The  mind  is  conversant,  in  the  exercises 


30 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


of  piety,  with  all  the  most  stupendous  events  that 
have  ever  occurred  in  the  history  of  the  universe, 
or  that  ever  will  transpire  till  the  close  of  time. — 
The  creation  of  the  world ;  its  government  by  a 
universal  Providence;  its  redemption  by  the  death 
of  Christ;  its  conversion  by  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;  its  trial  before  the  bar  of  God  ;  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul;  the  resurrection  of  the  body; 
the  certainty  of  an  eternal  existence ;  the  secrets 
of  the  unseen  state ;  subjects,  all  of  them  of  the 
loftiest  and  sublimest  kind,  which  have  engaged 
the  inquiries  of  the  profoundest  intellects,  are  the 
matter  of  contemplation  to  real  piety.  What  topics 
are  these  for  our  reason,  under  the  guidance  of  re- 
ligion, to  study  :  what  an  ocean  to  swim  in,  what  a 
heaven  to  soar  in:  what  heights  to  measure,  what 
depths  to  fathom.  Here  are  subjects,  which,  from 
their  infinite  vastness,  must  be  ever  new,  and  ever 
fresh  ;  which  can  be  never  laid  aside  as  dry  or 
empty.  If  novelty  is  the  parent  of  pleasure,  here 
it  may  be  found  ;  for  although  the  subject  itself  is 
the  same,  some  new  view  of  it,  some  fresh  discove- 
ry of  its  wonders,  is  ever  bursting  upon  the  mind 
of  the  devout  and  attentive  inquirer  after  truth. 

How  then  can  religion  be  otherwise  than  plea- 
sant, when  it  is  the  exercise  of  the  noble  faculties 
of  the  mind,  upon  the  sublimest  topics  of  mental 
investigation;  the  voluntary,  excursive,  endless 
pursuits  of  the  human  understanding  in  the  region 
of  eternal  truth.  Never  was  there  a  more  inter- 
esting or  important  inquiry  than  that  proposed  by 
P;!ate  to  the  illustrious  Prisoner  at  his  bar;  and  if 
U*  latter  thought  it  not  proper  to  answer  it,  it  was 
td  ;n  show  *hat  the  question  was  insignificant,  but 
XG  -und^inn  the  light  and  flippant  manner  in  which 
a  -uLjcct  so  important  was  taken  up.  Religion  can 
answer  the  question,  and  with  an  ecstacy  greater 
than  that  of  the  ancient  mathematician,  exclaims, 
"  I  have  found  it:  I  have  found  it."  The  Bible  is 
not  only  true,  but  truth.  It  contains  that  which 
deserves  this  sublime  emphasis.  It  settles  the  dis- 
putes of  ages,  and  of  philosophers,  and  makes 
known  what  is  truth,  and  where  it  is  to  be  found. 
It  brings  us  from  amongst  the  quicksands  and 
shelves,  and 'rocks  of  skepticism,  ignorance,  and 
error,  and  shows  that  goodly  land,  in  quest  of  which 
myriads  of  minds  have  sailed,  and  multitudes  have 
been  wrecked  ;  and  religion  is  setting  our  foot  on 
this  shore,  and  dwelling  in  the  region  of  eternal 
truth. 

2.  That  a  religions  life  is  pleasant,  is  evident 
fiom  the  nature  of  religion  itself. 

Religion  is  a  principle  of  spiritual  life  in  the  soul. 
Now  all  the  exercises  and  acts  of  vitality  are  agree- 
able. To  see,  to  hear,  to  taste,  to  walk,  are  all 
agreeable,  because  they  are  the  voluntary  energies 
of  inward  life.  So  religion,  in  all  its  duties,  is  the 
exercise  of  a  living  principle  in  the  soul ;  it  is  a 
new  spiritual  existence.  Piely  is  a  spiritual  taste. 
Hence  it  is  said,  "  If  so  be  ye  have  tasted  that  the 
Lord  is  gracious."  No  matter  what  the  object  of  a 
taste  is,  the  exercises  of  it  are  always  agreeable. — 
The  painter  goes  with  delight  to  his  picture;  the 
musician  to  his  instrument ;  the  sculptor  to  his  bust ; 
because  they  have  a  taste  for  these  pursuits.  The 
same  feeling  of  delight  attends  the  Christian  to  the 
exercises  of  godliness;  and  this  is  his  language, 
"  It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks,  and  to  draw  near 
to  God.  O  how  I  love  thy  law  !  it  is  sweeter  to  my 
taste  than  honey.  How  amiable  are  thy  taberna- 
cles." Religion,  where  it  is  real,  is  the  natural 
element  of  a  Christian  ;  and  every  creature  rejoices 
in  its  own  appropriate  sphere.  If,  my  children,  you 
consider  true  piety  with  disgust,  as  a  hard,  unna- 
tural, involuntary  thing,  you  are  totally  ignorant 
of  its  nature,  entirely  destitute  of  its  influence,  and 
no  wonder  you  cannot  attach  to  it  the  idea  of  plea- 


sure :  but  viewing  it  as  it  ought  to  be  viewed,  in  the 
light  of  a  new  nature,  you  will  perceive  that  it  ad- 
mits of  most  exalted  delight. 

3.  Consider  the  miseries  which  it  prevents. 

It  does  not,  it  is  true,  prevent  sickness,  poverty, 
or  misfortune  :  it  does  not  fence  off  from  the  wil- 
derness of  this  world,  a  mystic  inclosure,  within 
which  the  ills  of  life  never  intrude.  No;  these 
things  happen  to  all  alike  :  but  how  small  a  portion 
of  human  wretchedness  flows  from  these  sources, 
compared  with  that  which  arises  from  the  disposi- 
tions of  the  heart.  "  The  mind  is  its  own  place, 
can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven."  Men 
carry  the  springs  of  their  happiness  or  misery  in 
their  own  bosom.  Hence  it  is  said  of  the  wicked, 
"  that  they  are  like  the  troubled  sea  which  cannot 
rest,  which  is  never  at  peace,  but  continually  cast- 
ing up  mire  and  dirt."  In  contrast  with  which,  it 
is  affirmed  that  "  the  work  of  righteousness  is  peace ; 
and  that  the  good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from  him- 
self." Would  you  behold  the  misery  entailed  by 
pride,  look  at  Haman  ;  by  covclousncss,  look  at 
Ahab;  by  malice,  look  at  Cain  ;  by  projaneness  and 
sensuality,  united  with  the  forebodings  of  a  guilty 
conscience,  look  at  Belshazzar  ;  by  envy,  and  a  con- 
sciousness of  being  rejected  of  God,  look  at  Saul  ; 
by  revenge,  look  at  Herodias  writhing  beneath  the 
accusations  of  John,  and  thirsting  for  his  blood; 
by  aposlacy,  look  at  Judas.  Religion  would  have 
prevented  all  this,  and  it  will  prevent  similar  mise- 
ry in  you.  Hearken  to  the  confessions  of  the  out- 
cast in  the  land  of  his  banishment;  of  the  felon  in 
his  irons,  and  in  his  dungeon  ;  of  the  prostitute  ex- 
piring upon  her  bed  of  straw  ;  of  the  malefactor  at 
the  gallows — "Wretched  creature  that  I  am,  ab- 
horred of  men,  accursed  of  God  !  To  what  have 
my  crimes  brought  me  !"*  Religion,  my  children, 
prevents  all  this;  all  that  wretchedness  which  is 
the  result  of  crime,  is  cut  off  by  the  influence  of 
genuine  piety.  Misery  prevented,  is  happiness 
gained. 

4.  Dwell  upon  the  privileges  it  confers. 

To  a  man  who  is  a  partaker  of  its  genuine  influ- 
ence, all  the  sins  he  has  committed,  be  they  ever  so 
numerous  or  so  great,  are  all  forgiven,  and  he  is 
introduced  to  the  bliss  of  pardoned  guilt ;  he  is  re- 
stored to  the  favor  of  that  Great  Being,  whose 
smile  is  life,  and  lights  up  heaven  with  joy;  whose 
frown  is  death,  and  fills  all  hell  with  wo.  But  I 
cannot  describe  these  privileges  in  such  brilliant 
language  as  has  been  employed  by  a  transatlantic 
author: — "  Regeneration  is  of  the  highest  import- 
ance to  man,  as  a  subject  of  the  divine  government. 
With  his  former  disposition  he  was  a  rebel  against 
God, and  with  this  he  becomes  cheerfully  an  obedient 
subject.  Of  an  enemy  he  becomes  a  friend  ;  of  an 
apostate  he  becomes  a  child.  From  the  debased,  hate- 
ful, miserable  character  of  sin,  he  makes  a  final 
escape,  and  begins  the  glorious  and  eternal  career 
of  virtue.  With  his  character  his  destination  is 
equally  changed  ;  in  his  native  condition  he  was  a 
child  of  wrath,  an  object  of  abhorrence,  and  an 
heir  of  wo.  Evil,  in  an  unceasing,  and  intermina- 
ble progress,  was  his  lot ;  the  regions  of  sorrow  and 
despair  his  everlasting  home  ;  and  fiends  and  fiend- 
like men  his  eternal  companions.  On  his  charac- 
ter good  beings  looked  with  detestation,  and  on  his 
ruin  with  pity  ;  while  evil  beings  beheld  both  with 
that  satanic  pleasure,  which  a  reprobate  mind  can 
enjoy  at  the  sight  of  companionship  in  turpitude 
and  destruction. 

"  But  when  he  becomes  a  subject  of  this  great 
and  happy  change  of  character,  all  things  connect- 
ed with  him  are  also  changed.     His  unbelief  im- 


*  See  more  on  this  subject  in  the  chapter  on  th« 
Temporal  Advantages  of  Piety. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


:;i 


penitence,  hatred  of  God,  rejection  of  Christ,  and 
resistance  of  the  Spirit  of  Grace,  he  has  voluntari- 
ly and  ingeniously  renounced  ;  no  more  rebellious, 
impious,  or  ungrateful,  he  has  assumed  the  amiable 
spirit  of  submission,  repentance,  confidence,  hope, 
gratitude,  and  love.  The  image  of  his  Maker  is 
enstamped  upon  his  mind,  and  begins  there  to  shine 
with  moral  and  eternal  beauty.  The  seeds  of  im- 
mortality have  there  sprung  up,  as  in  a  kindly  soil; 
and  warmed  by  the  life-giving  beams  of  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness,  and  refreshed  by  the  dewy  influ- 
ence of  tne  Spirit  of  Grace,  rise,  and  bloom  and 
flourish,  with  increasing  vigor.  In  him  sin  and 
the  world  and  the  flesh  daily  decay,  and  daily  an- 
nounce their  approaching  dissolution  ;  while  the 
soul  continually  assumes  new  life  and  virtue,  and 
is  animated  with  superior  and  undying  energy. — 
He  is  now  a  joint  heir  with  Christ,  and  the  destined 
inhabitant  of  heaven ;  the  gates  of  glory  and  of 
happiness  are  already  opened  to  receive  him,  and 
the  J03'  of  saints  and  angels  has  been  renewed  over 
his  repentance ;  all  around  him  is  peace — all  before 
him  purity  and  transport.  God  is  his  Father; 
Christ  his  Redeemer;  and  the  Spirit  of  truth  his 
Sanctifier.  Heaven  is  his  eternal  habitation  ;  vir- 
tue is  his  immortal  character ;  and  cherubim  and 
seraphim  and  all  the  children  of  light,  are  his  com- 
panions for  ever.  Henceforth  he  becomes  of  course 
a  rich  blessing  to  the  universe;  all  good  beings, 
nay,  God  himself,  will  rejoice  in  him  for  ever,  as  a 
valuable  accession  to  the  great  kingdom  of  right- 
eousness, as  a  real  addition  to  the  mass  of  created 
good,  and  as  an  humble,  but  faithful  and  honorable 
instrument  of  the  everlasting  praise  of  heaven.  He 
is  a  vessel  of  infinite  mercy  ;  an  illustrious  trophy 
of  the  cross ;  a  gem  in  the  crown  of  glory,  which 
adorns  the  Redeemer  of  mankind."* 

Who,  my  children,  can  read  this  animated  de- 
scription of  the  privileges  of  true  piety  (and  it  is 
not  an  exaggerated  account)  without  secretly  long- 
ing to  be  a  child  of  God  1  What  are  all  the  bright- 
est distinctions  of  an  earthly  nature,  after  which 
envy  pines  in  secret,  or  ambition  rages  in  public, 
compared  with  this  1  Crowns  are  splendid  baubles, 
gold  is  sordid  dust,  and  all  the  gratifications  of 
sense  but  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  when  weigh- 
ed against  such  splendid  immunities  as  these. 

5.  Consider  the  consolations  it  imparts. 

Our  world  has  been  called,  in  the  language  of 
poetry,  a  vale  of  tears,  and  human  life  a  bubble, 
raised  from  those  tears,  and  inflated  by  sighs,  which 
after  floating  a  little  while,  decked  with  a  few  gau- 
dy colors,  is  touched  by  the  hand  of  death,  and  dis- 
solves. Poverty,  disease,  misfortune,  unkindness, 
inconstancy,  death,  all  assail  the  travellers  as  they 
journey  onward  to  eternity  through  this  gloomy  val- 
ley; and  what  is  to  comfort  them  but  religion? 

The  consolations  of  religion  are  neither  few  nor 
small;  they  arise  in  part  from  those  things  which 
we  have  already  mentioned  in  this  chapter;  i.e. 
from  the  exercise  of  the  understanding  on  the  re- 
vealed truths  of  God's  word,  from  the  impulses  of 
the  spiritual  life  within  us,  and  from  a  reflection 
upon  our  spiritual  privileges:  but  there  are  some 
others,  which,  though  partially  implied  in  these 
things,  deserve  a  special  enumeration  and  distinct 
consideration. 

A  good  conscience,  which  the  wise  man  says  is  a 
perpetual  feast,  sustains  a  high  place  amongst  the 
comforts  of  genuine  piety.  It  is  unquestionably  true, 
that  a  man's  happiness  is  in  the  keeping  of  his  con- 
science ;  all  the  sources  of  his  felicity  are  under  the 
command  of  this  faculty.  "  A  wounded  spirit  who 
can  bear !"  A  troubled  conscience  converts  a  para- 
dise into  a  hell,  for  it  is  the  flame  of  hell  kindled  on 

*  Dwight's  Sermon  on  Regeneration. 


earth;  but  a  quiet  conscience  would  illumiuaie  the 
horrors  of  the  deepest  dungeon  with  the  beams  of 
heavenly  day ;  the  former  has  ofien  rendered  men 
like  tormented  fiends  amidst  an  elysium  of  delights, 
while  the  latter  has  taught  the  songs  of  cherubim  to 
martyrs  in  the  prison  or  the  flames.  Religion  fur- 
nishes a  good  conscience;  by  faith  in  the  blood  of 
Christ  it  takes  away  guilt  towards  God,  and  by  a 
holy  life  it  keeps  the  conscience  clear  towards  man. 
It  first  makes  it  good  by  justification,  and  then  keeps 
it  good  by  sanctiflcaliou.  What  trouble  may  not  a 
man  bear  beneath  the  smiles  of  an  approving  con- 
science! Ifthisbecalm  and  serene,  the  storms  of 
affliction,  which  rage  without,  can  as  little  disturb 
the  comfort  of  the  mind,  as  the  fury  of  the  wintry 
tempest  can  do  to  alarm  the  inhabitants  of  a  well- 
built,  well-stored  mansion. 

In  addition  to  this,  religion  comforts  the  mind 
with  the  assurance  of  an  all-vise,  aU-pervadins  Pro- 
vidence, so  minute  in  its  superintendence  and  con- 
trol, that  not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without 
the  knowledge  of  our  heavenly  Father;  a  superin- 
tendence which  is  excluded  from  no  point  of  space, 
no  moment  of  time,  and  overlooks  not  the  meanest 
creature  in  existence.  Nor  is  this  all ;  for  the  word 
of  God  assures  the  believer  that  "all  things  vork  to- 
gether for  good  to  them  that  love  God,  who  are  the 
called,  according  to  his  purpose."  Nothing  that  ima- 
gination could  conceive,  is  more  truly  consolatory 
than  this,  to  be  assured  that  all  things,  however  pain- 
ful at  the  time,  not  excepting  the  failure  of  our  fa- 
vorite schemes,  the  disappointment  of  our  fondest 
hopes,  the  loss  of  our  dearest  comforts,  shall  be  over- 
ruled by  infinite  wisdom  for  the  promotion  of  our 
ultimate  good.  This  is  a  spring  of  comfort  whose 
waters  never  fail. 

Religion  consoles  also  by  mating  manifest  some 
of  the  benefits  of  affiiction,  even  at  the  time  it  is  en- 
dured. It  crucifies  the  world,  mortifies  sin,  quick- 
ens prayer,  extracts  the  balmy  sweets  of  the  pro- 
mises, endears  the  Saviour;  and,  to  crown  all,  itdi- 
rects  the  mind  to  that  glorious  slate,  where  the  days  of 
our  mourning  shall  be  ended:  that  happy  country 
where  God  shall  wipe  every  tear  from  our  eyes,  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  sorrow  or  crying.  Nothing 
so  composes  the  mind,  and  helps  it  bear  the  load  of 
trouble  which  God  may  lay  upon  it,  as  the  near 
prospect  of  its  termination.  Religion  shows  the 
weather-beaten  mariner  the  haven  of  eternal  repose, 
where  no  storms  arise,  and  the  sea  is  ever  calm  ;  it 
exhibits  to  the  weary  traveller  the  city  of  habita- 
tion, within  whose  walls  he  will  find  a  pleasant 
home,  rest  from  his  labors,  and  friends  to  welcome 
his  arrival:  it  discloses  to  the  wounded  warrior  his 
native  country,  where  the  alarms  of  war  and  the 
dangers  of  conflict  will  be  no  more  encountered,  but 
undisturbed  peace  for  ever  reign.  In  that  one  word. 
heaven,  religion  provides  a  balm  for  every  wound \ 
a  cordial  for  every  care. 

Here,  then,  is  the  pleasure  of  that  wisdom  which 
is  from  above;  it  is  not  only  enjoyed  in  prosperity, 
but  continues  to  refresh  us,  and  most  powerfully  to 
refresh  us,  in  adversity ;  a  remark  which  will  not 
apply  to  any  other  kind  of  pleasure. 

In  the  hour  of  misfortune,  when  a  man,  once  in 
happy  circumstances,  sits  down,  amidst  the  wreck 
of  all  his  comforts,  and  sees  nothing  but  the  frag- 
ments of  his  fortune  for  his  wife  and  family,  what, 
in  this  storm  of  affliction,  is  to  cheer  him  but  reli- 
gion ;  and  this  can  do  it,  and  enable  him  to  say, 
"although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines;  the  labor  of  the  olive 
shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  the 
flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shaH 
be  no  herd  in  the  stalls;  yet  will  I  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation !"  What 
but  religion  can  comfort  the  poor  laborer  in  that 


32 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


gloomy  season  when  times  are  bad,  and  work  is 
scarce,  and  he  hardly  knows  where  to  procure  his 
next  meal"?  What  can  comfort  the  suffering  fe- 
male in  that  long  and  dreadful  season,  when,  wast- 
ing away  in  a  deep  decline,  she  lies,  night  after 
night,  consumed  by  fever,  and  day  after  day,  con- 
vulsed by  coughing  1  Tell  me,  what  can  send  a  ray 
of  comfort  to  her  dark  scene  of  wo,  or  a  drop  of  con- 
solation to  her  parched  and  thirsting  lips,  but  reli- 
gion ?  And  when  the  agonized  parent,  with  a  heart 
half  broken  by  the  conduct  of  a  prodigal  son,  ex- 
claims— "  O  !  who  can  tell  how  sharper  than  a  ser- 
pent's tooth  it  is  to  have  a  thankless  child!"  what, 
in  that  season  of  torture,  can  pour  a  drop  of  balm 
into  the  wounded  spirit,  but  religion?  And  when 
we  occupy  the  bed-side  of  a  departing  friend,  "the 
dreadful  post  of  observation  darker  every  hour," 
what  but  religion  can  sustain  the  mind,  and  calm 
the  tumult  of  the  soul  1  what,  but  this,  can  enable 
us  to  bear,  with  even  tolerable  composure,  the  pang 
of  separation  1  And  we  too  must  die  :  and  here  is 
the  excellence  of  piety ;  it  follows  us  where  no  other 
friend  can  follow  us,  down  into  the  dark  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  stands  by  us  when  the  last 
hand  has  quilted  its  grasp,  reserves  its  mightiest 
energies  for  that  most  awful  conflict,  presents  ro  the 
eye  of  faith  the  visions  of  glory  rising  up  beyond 
the  sepulchre,  and  angels  advancing  to  receive  us 
from  the  hand  of  earthly  friends,  to  bear  us  to  the 
presence  of  a  smiling  God. 

Other  sources  of  pleasure  are  open  only  during 
the  season  of  health  and  prosperity.  Admitting  that 
they  were  all  which  their  most  impassioned  ad- 
mirers contend  for,  what  can  balls,  routs,  plays, 
cards,  do,  in  the  season  of  sickness,  misfortune,  or 
death'?  Alas!  alas!  they  exist  then  only  in  recol- 
lection, and  the  recollection  of  them  is  painful. 

6.  The  pleasures  of  religion  appear  in  the  graces 
it  implants. 

"And  now  abideth  these  three,  Faith,  Hope, 
Charity." 

Faith  is  the  leading  virtue  of  Christianity.  To 
believe,  in  any  case,  where  the  report  is  welcome, 
and  the  evidence  of  its  truth  convincing,  is  a  pleas- 
ing exercise  of  the  mind;  how  much  more  so  in  this 
case,  where  the  testimony  to  be  believed  is  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation,  and  the  evidence  of  its  truth 
most  entirely  satisfactory  1  Hope  is  a  most  delight- 
ful exercise.  The  pleasures  of  hope  have  formed 
a  theme  for  the  poet;  and  it  is  evident  that  these 
pleasures  must  be  in  proportion  to  the  importance 
of  the  object  desired,  and  the  grounds  that  exist  to 
expect  its  accomplishment.  What,  then,  must  be 
the  influence  of  that  hope  which  is  full  of  immor- 
tality, which  has  the  glory  of  heaven  for  its  object, 
and  the  truth  of  God  for  its  basis!  which,  as  it  looks 
towards  its  horizon,  sees  the  shadowy  forms  of  eter- 
nal felicity,  rising,  expanding,  brightening,  and  ad- 
vancing;, every  moment.  Love  is  a  third  virtue,  im- 
planted and  cherished  in  the  soul  by  religion.  Need 
1  describe  the  pleasures  connected  with  a  pure  and 
virtuous  affection'?  Religion  is  love— love  of  the 
purest  and  sublimest  kind;  this  is  its  essence,  all 
else,  but  its  earthly  attire,  which  it  throws  off  as 
Elijah  did  his  mantle,  when  it  ascends  to  the  skies. 
The  delight  of  love  must  be  in  proportion  to  the  ex- 
cellence of  its  object,  and  the  strength  of  its  own 
propensity  towards  that  object.  What,  then,  must 
he  the  pleasure  of  that  love  which  has  God  as  its  ob- 
ject, and  which  consists  in  complacency  in  his  glo- 
ries, gratitude  for  his  mercies,  submission  to  his  will, 
and  the  enjoyment  of  his  favor !  This  is  a  heavenly 
feeling,  which  brings  us  into  communion  with  an- 
fjels,  and  anticipates  on  earth  the  enjoyments  of  eter- 
nity. Submission,  patience,  meekness,  gentleness, 
justice,  compassion,  zeal,  are  also  among  the  graces 
which  true  religion  implants  in  the  human  soul ; 


which,  like  lovely  flowers,  adorn  it  with  indescrib- 
able beauty,  and  refresh  it  with  the  most  delicious 
fragrance. 

7.  Consider  the  duties  which  reb'gion  enjoins,  and 
you  will  find  in  each  of  these  a  sj  ring  of  hallowed 
pleasure. 

How  delightful  an  exercise  is  prayer !  "  Prayer 
is  the  peace  of  our  spirit,  the  stillness  of  our  thoughts, 
the  evenness  of  recollection,  the  seat  of  meditation, 
the  rest  of  our  cares,  and  the  calm  of  our  tempests; 
it  is  the  daughter  of  charity,  and  the  sister  of  meek- 
ness." It  is  pleasant  to  ttll  our  sorrows  to  any  one ; 
how  much  more  to  him  who  is  omnipotent  in  power, 
infallible  in  wisdom,  and  infinite  in  compassion ! 
With  prayer  is  connected  praise,  that  elevated  ac- 
tion of  the  soul,  in  which  she  seems  at  the  time  to 
be  learning  motion  and  melody  from  an  angel.  How 
pleasant  an  exercise  is  the  perusal  of  the  Scriptures! 
In  prayer  we  speak  to  God.  and  in  the  Bible  God 
speaks  to  us,  and  both  confer  upon  us  honor  inde- 
scribable. Passing  by  the  antiquity  of  its  history, 
the  pathos  of  its  narratives,  the  beauty  of  its  image- 
ry, how  sublime  are  its  doctrines,  how  precious  its 
promises,  how  free  its  invitations,  how  salutary  its 
warnings,  how  intense  its  devotions!  "Precious 
Bible!  when  weighed  against  thee,  all  other  books 
are  but  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance."  Nor  less 
pleasant  is  the  holy  remembrance  of  the  Sabbath.  "  I 
was  glad,"  exclaims  the  Christian,  "when  they  said 
unto  me,  let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord:"  and 
there,  when  standing  within  the  gates  of  Zion,  sur- 
rounded with  the  multitude  that  keep  holy  day,  he 
repeats,  amidst  the  years  of  his  manhood  the  song 
of  his  childhood,  and  from  the  fulness  of  his  joy, 
he  exclaims — 

"  Lord,  how  delightful  'tis  to  see 
A  whole  assembly  worship  thee; 
At  once  they  sing,  at  once  they  pray, 
They  hear  of  heaven,  and  learn  the  way." 

The  sweetly-solemn  engagements  of  the  sacra- 
mental feast ;  the  flow  of  brotherly  love,  called  forth 
by  social  prayer,  together  with  the  ardor  of  benevo- 
lence, inspired  by  the  support  of  public  religious  in- 
stitutions; in  these  exercises  is  true  happiness  lo 
be  found,  if  indeed  it  is  !o  be  found  any  where  on 
earth. 

8.  As  a  last  proof  of  the  pleasures  derived  from 
religion,  I  may  appeal  to  the  experience  of  its  frie%ds. 
Here  the  evidences  accumulate  by  myriads  on  ear'h, 
and  millions  in  heaven.  Who  that  ever  felt  its  in- 
fluence, will  doubt  its  tendency  to  produce  delight" 
Go,  go,  my  children,  to  the  saints  of  the  most  higi 
God,  and  collect  their  testimony,  and  you  shall  br. 
convinced  "  that  light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,  anc 
srladness  for  the  upright  in  heart."  Go  not  to  ihc- 
Christian  of  doubtful  character,  for  he  has  only  jus 
religion  enough  to  make  him  miserable;  go  to  tht 
most  holy,  and  you  shall  find  them  the  most  happy 

And  then  there  are  also  two  or  three  other  cir- 
cumstances which  are  connected  with  the  pleasures 
of  religion  that  deserve  attention.  It  is  pleasure  that 
never  satiates  or  wearies.  Can  the  epicure,  the  vo- 
luptuary, the  drunkard,  the  ball  frequenter,  say  this 
of  their  delights  1  How  short  is  the  interval,  how 
easy  the  transition,  between  a  pleasure  and  a  bur- 
den. If  sport  refreshes  a  man  when  he  is  weary,  it 
also  wearies  when  he  is  refreshed.  The  most  de- 
voted pleasure-hunter  in  existence,  were  he  bound 
to  his  sensual  delights  every  day,  would  find  it  an 
intolerable  burden,  and  fly  to  the  spade  and  the  mat- 
tock for  a  diversion  from  the  misery  of  an  uninter- 
mitted  pleasure.  Custom  may  render  continued  la- 
bor tolerable,  but  not  continued  pleasure.  All  plea- 
sures that  affect  the  body  must  needs  weary,  becausa 
they  transport;  and  all  transportation  is  violence; 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


33 


and  no  violence  can  be  lasting,  but  determines  upon 
the  falling  ot'  the  spirits,  which  are  not  able  to  keep 
up  that  height  of  motion  that  the  pleasure  of  the 
sense  raises  them  to :  and  therefore  how  generally 
does  an  immoderate  laughter  end  in  a  sigh,  which 
is  only  nature's  recovering  herself  after  a  lorce  done 
toil;  but  the  religious  pleasure  of  a  well-disposed 
mind  moves  gently,  and  therefore  constantly;  it 
does  not  affect  by  rapture  and  ecstacy,  but  is  like 
the  pleasure  of  health,  which  is  still  and  sober,  yet 
greater  and  stronger  than  those  which  call  up  the 
senses  with  grosser  and  more  affecting  impressions." 

And  as  all  the  grosser  pleasures  of  sense  weary, 
and  all  the  spoils  and  recreations  soon  pall  upon  the 
appetite,  so,  under  some  circumstances,  do  the  more 
elevated  enjoyments  of  exalted  rank,  agreeable 
company,  and  lively  conversation;  it  is  religion 
alone  that  preserves  an  unfading  freshness,  an  un- 
dying charm,  an  inexhaustible  power  to  please;  it 
is  this  alone  of  all  our  pleasures  which  never  cloys, 
never  surfeits,  but  increases  the  appetite  the  more  it 
gratifies  it,  and  leaves  it,  after  the  richest  feast, 
prepared  and  hungry  for  a  still  more  splendid  ban- 
quet. 

And  then  another  ennobling  property  of  the  plea- 
sure that  arises  from  religion,  is,  that  as  the  sources 
ami  the  seat  of  it  are  in  a  man's  own  breast,  it  is  not 
in  the  power  of  anything  without  him  to  destroy  it,  or 
take  it  away.  Upon  God  alone  is  he  dependant  for 
its  enjoyment.  Upon  how  many  other  agents,  and 
upon  what  numerous  contingencies,  over  which  he 
can  exercise  no  control,  is  the  votary  of  worldly 
pleasure  dependant  for  his  bliss.  How  many  things 
which  he  cannot  command,  are  necessary  to  make 
up  the  machinery  of  his  schemes.  What  trifles  may 
disappoint  him  of  his  expected  gratification,  or  rob 
him  of  his  promised  delights.  A  variable  atmo- 
sphere, or  a  human  mind,  no  Jess  variable ;  a  want 
of  punctuality  in  others,  or  a  want  of  health  in  him- 
self: these,  and  a  thousand  other  things,  might  be 
enumerated  as  circumstances,  upon  the  mercy  of 
each  one  of  which  the  enjoyment  of  worldly  plea- 
sure depends.  "  But  the  good  man  shall  be  satisfied 
from  himself."  "  "Whoever  shall  drink  of  the  water 
that  I  shall  give  him,"  said  Jesus  Christ,  "  shall 
never  thirst,  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life."  The  piety  of  his  heart,  produced 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  this  well-spring  of  pleasure, 
which  a  good  man  carries  every  where  with  him, 
wherever  lie  goes.  He  is  independent  of  all  the  con- 
tingencies of  life  for  his  bliss.  "  It  is  an  easy  and  a 
portable  pleasure,  such  an  one  as  he  carries  about  in 
his  bosoin,  without  alarming  the  eye  or  the  envy  of 
the  world.  A  man  putting  all  his  pleasures  into 
this  one,  is  like  a  traveller  putting  all  his  goods,  as 
it  were,  into  one  jewel ;  the  value  is  the  same,  and 
the  convenience  greater." 

"Nor  is  this  kind  of  pleasure  out  of  the  reach  of 
any  out ward  violence  only;  but  even  those  things 
also,  which  make  a  closer  impression  upon  us, 
which  are  the  irresistible  decays  of  nature,  have 
yet  no  influence  at  all  upon  this.  For  when  age  it- 
self, which  of  all  things  in  the  world  will  not  be 
baffled  or  defied,  shall  begin  to  arrest,  seize,  and  re- 
mind us  of  our  mortality,  by  pains,  aches,  and  dead- 
n ess  of  limbs,  and  dulness  of  senses,  yet  then  the 
pleasure  of  the  mind  shall  be  in  its  full  youth,  vigor, 
and  freshness.  A  palsy  may  as  soon  shake  an  oak, 
or  a  fever  dry  up  a  fountain,  as  either  of  them  shake, 
dry  up,  or  impair  the  delight  of  conscience;  for  it 
lies  within,  it  centres  in  the  heart,  it  grows  into  the 
very  substance  of  the  soul,  so  that  it  accompanies 
a  man  to  his  grave;  he  never  outlives  it,  and  that 
for  this  cause  only,  because  he  cannot  outlive  him- 
self." 

How  comes  it  to  pass  then,  that  in  opposition  to 


all  this,  the  opinion  has  gained  ground  that  religion 
leads  to  melancholy  1  The  irreligious  judge  of  it  by 
their  own  feelings ;  and  as  they  are  not  conscious  of 
any  pleasurable  emotions,  excited  by  sacred  things, 
they  conclude  that  others  are  in  like  manner  desti- 
tute of  them.  But  is  their  testimony  to  be  received, 
before  that  of  the  individual  who  has  tried  and 
found  it  by  experience  to  be  bliss  1  Again,  irreli- 
gious people  form  their  opinion  by  what  they  see  in 
many  professors,  some  of  whom,  though  professing 
godimess,  are  destitute  of  its  power;  and  being 
more  actuated  by  a  spirit  of  the  world  than  of  piety, 
are  strangers  to  the  peace  that  passeth  all  under- 
standing ;  others  are  not  yet  brought  out  of  that  deep 
dejection,  with  which  the  earlier  stages  of  convic- 
tion are  semetimes  attended.  The  sinner,  when 
first  arrested  in  his  thoughtless  career,  is  filled  with 
deep  dismay,  and  the  most  poignant  grief;  reviewed 
in  this  state  of  mind,  his  appearance  may  produce 
the  idea  that  religion  is  the  parent  of  melancholy. 
But  wait,  he  that  sows  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy.- 
His  tears,  like  showers  in  summer  from  a  dark  and 
lowering  cloud,  carry  off  the  gloom  which  they  first 
caused,  portend  a  clearer  and  a  cooler  atmosphere, 
and  are  ultimately  followed  by  the  bright  shining  of 
the  sun. 

An  unfavoraole  impression  against  religion  is 
sometimes  produced  by  the  constitutional  gloom  of 
some  of  its  genuine  disciples.  It  should  be  recol- 
lected, that  in  these  cases,  religion  does  not  cause 
the  dejection,  for  this  would  have  existed  had  there 
been  no  piety.  All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  it  does 
not  cure  it,  which  is  not  to  be  expected,  unless  piety 
pretended  to  exert  an  influence  over  the  physical 
nature  of  man. 

The  supposition  that  piety  leads  to  melancholy  is 
also  founded,  in  part,  on  the  self-denying  duties  which 
the  word  of  God  enjoins.  Penitence,  self-denial,  re- 
nunciation of  the  world,  willingness  to  take  up  the 
cross,  and  follow  after  Christ,  are  unquestionably 
required,  and  must  be  truly  found  in  the  genuine 
Christian.  Hence,  the  wordling  thinks  it  impossi- 
ble, but  that  with  such  duties,  should  be  associated 
the  most  sullen  and  miserable  state  of  mind.  Lit- 
tle does  he  imagine,  that  the  pleasures  which  reli- 
gion has  to  offer  for  those  she  requires  us  to  aban- 
don, are  like  the  orb  of  day  to  the  glow-worm  of 
the  hedge,  or  the  meteor  of  the  swamp ;  and  that  for 
every  moment's  self-denial  she  requires  us  to  en- 
dure, she  has  a  million  ages  of  ineffable  delight  to 
bestow. 

"  And  now  upon  the  result  of  all,  I  suppose  that 
to  exhort  men  to  be  religious,  is  only  in  other  words 
to  exhort  them  to  take  their  pleasure— a  pleasure, 
high,  rational,  and  angelical— a  pleasure  embased. 
with  no  appendant  sting,  no  consequent  loathing, 
no  remorses  or  bitter  farewells:  but  such  an  one. 
as  being  honey  in  the  mouth,  never  turns  to  gall  in 
the  belly  :  a  pleasure  made  for  the  soul  and  the  soul 
for  that ;  suitable  to  its  spirituality  and  equal  to  its 
capacities:  such  an  one  as  grows  fresher  upon  en- 
joyment, and  though  continually  fed  upon,  is  never 
devoured  :  a  pleasure  that  a  man  may  call  as  pro- 
perly his  own,  as  Ins  soul  and  his  conscience;  nei- 
ther liable  to  accident,  nor  exposed  to  injury;  it  is 
the  foretaste  of  heaven,  and  the  earnest  of  eternity: 
in  a  word,  it  is  such  an  one  as  beingbegun  in  grace, 
passes  into  glory,  blessedness,  and  immortality  ;  and 
those  joys  that  neither  eye  hath  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  j 
conceive."*  • 

*This  and  the  other  quotations  are  from  Dr.  ! 
South's  sermon  on  Prov.  iii.  7,  which  is  so  strikit  g  I 
that  l  could  not  avoid  giving  these  extracts  from  it.. 

See  also  an  excellent  volume  of  sermons,  by  the 
Rev.  H.  F.  Burner,  on  the  pleasures  of  Religion.     A 


34 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

ON   THE   ADVANTAGES    OF   EARLY   PIETY. 

A  quaint  but  eminently  spiritual  poet  of  the  last 
century  has  a  poem,  entitled,  "  Strife  in  Heaven  :" 
a  singular  idea  to  attach  to  that  region  of  untrou- 
bled repose.  The  design  of  the  piece,  however,  is  in- 
genious and  interesting.  A  company  of  the  re- 
deemed above  are  represented  as  discussing,  in  a 
spirit  of  perfect  love,  the  question,  "  which  of  them 
was  most  indebted  to  divine  grace  for  his  salva- 
tion V  Amongst  these  graceful  and  holy  litigants, 
two  appeared  to  have  claims  for  the  greatest  weight 
of  obligation  to  sovereign  mercy,  so  nearly  balanced, 
as  to  render  it  difficult  to  say  which  owed  most. — 
One  was  a  glorified  spirit,  converted  in  old  age, 
after  a  long  life  of  sin;  the  other  was  a  saint  re- 
deemed in  youth,  and  who  spent  as  long  a  life  in 
holiness.  The  one  contended,  that  his  forgiveness, 
after  such  a  lengthened  course  of  vice  and  destruc- 
tive conduct,  made  him  the  greatest  monument  of 
saving  love  in  heaven;  "except,"  exclaimed  the 
other,  "  myself;  who,  by  divine  grace,  was  prevent- 
ed from  that  course  of  sin,  and  was  enabled  by  re- 
ligion to  spend  my  years  in  holiness  and  usefulness." 
I  think  the  happy  throng  must  have  confessed  the 
justice  of  the  younger  seraph's  claim  ;  Omniscient 
wisdom  from  the  throne  must  have  confirmed  their 
judgment;  and  in  heaven  it  must  have  been  decid- 
ed, that  they  owe  most  to  sovereign  grace,  who  have 
been  called  by  its  power  to  the  service  of  God  in 
their  youth. 

Youth  is  a  season  which  presents  peculiar  advan- 
tages for  {he  pursuit  of  piety. 

It  is  attended,  in  general,  with  more  leisure,  and 
less  care,  than  any  subsequent  period  of  life.  As 
yet.  my  children,  you  arc  not  entangled  in  the  con- 
cerns of  business,  nor  the  cares  of  a  family.  The 
ten  thousand  tumultuous  anxieties  of  a  father  or  a 
mother,  a  master  or  a  mistress,  do  not  yet  fill  your 
minds  and  exclude  all  other  topics.  Tell  us,  ye  fa- 
thers, struggling  with  the  difficulties  of  a  precarious 
trade ;  and  ye  mothers,  absorbed  in  the  duties  of 
a  rising  family ;  which,  think  ye,  is  the  best  time 
to  begin  the  pursuit  of  eternal  life  1  With  tears 
they  respond  "  Seize !  O  seize,  young  people,  the 
halcyon  days  of  youth  !" 

Youth  is  a  season  of  greater  susceptibility  of  mind 
than  any  which  follows  it. 

In  the  spring-time  of  nature,  the  soil  is  better  pre- 
pared for  the  reception  of  the  seed,  and  the  ener- 
gies of  vegetation  are  more  vigorous ;  so  it  is  with 
the  mind.  In  youth  the  heart  is  more  easily  im- 
pressed, the  affections  more  readily  moved,  the  im- 
agination is  more  lively.  You  have  an  ardor  and 
fervency  most  remote  from  the  timid,  hesitating 
caution  of  age,  and  eminently  favorable  to  conver- 
sion. Disdaining  all  resistance,  ambitious  of  great 
achievements,  full  of  high  resolves,  and  leaping 
over  opposing  obstacles,  youth  surveys,  with  spark- 
ling eyes,  the  crown  of  its  wishes,  braces  itself  for 
action,  and  flies  to  the  goal;  whilst  age,  creeping 
fearfully  along,  afraid  of  every  difficulty,  discour- 
aged by  the  least  resistance,  can  scarcely  be  impel- 
led to  move.  I  know  that  these  things  of  themselves 
are  not  sufficient  to  make  you  holy;  but  when 
grace  sanctifies  them,  and  directs  them  to  proper 
objects,  they  must  render  your  entrance  on  religion 
more  easy,  your  progress  more  rapid,  and  your  en- 
joyment more  strong. 

Youth  are  less  hardened  in  sin,  than  persons  of 
riper  years. 

The  depravity  of  our  nature  grows  with  our 
growth,  and  strengthens  with  our  strength.  Like 
a  tree,  it  strikes  its  roots  deeper,  and  takes  a  faster 
hold  on  the  soil  every  year.    You  have  principles 


of  corruption  already  in  your  hearts,  my  children, 
but  they  have  not,  by  long  indulgence,  become  so 
stiffened  into  habit,  as  they  will  be  at  some  future 
time.  Your  prejudices  and  prepossessions  are  yet 
few  and  feeble.  As  yet  the  sentiments  of  modesty 
and  propriety,  and  a  regard  to  the  opinion  of  others, 
would  make  you  blush  for  acts  of  vice,  and  endea- 
vor to  conceal  them  from  the  world.  In  riper  years 
you  will  assume  a  boldness  in  iniquity,  disregard 
the  censures  of  others,  and  cease  to  be  restrained  by 
them.  Conscience  has  not  yet  been  deeply  corrupt- 
ed ;  it  still  preserves  something  of  its  tremulous  de- 
licacy and  nice  sensibility;  it  still  elevates  its  warn- 
ing voice,  and  strongly  remonstrates  at  your  least 
deviation  from  the  path  of  virtue;  but  in  the  aged 
sinner,  weary  of  useless  reproof,  it  is  almost  silent, 
or  totally  disregarded.  We  know  that  without  di- 
vine grace,  conversion,  even  in  your  case,  cannot 
take  place  ;  but  we  know,  at  the  same  time,  by  ob- 
servation, that  divine  grace  very  often  follows  in 
the  order  of  nature. 

Youth  are  pre-eminently  encouraged  to  seek  the 
possession  and  influence  of  piety. 

There  are  many  invitations,  promises,  and  in- 
junctions, specially  addressed  to  them.  "  Remember 
thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth.  I  love  them 
that  love  me,  and  they  that  seek  me  early  shall  find 
me."  Under  the  Jewish  dispensation,  God  called 
for  the  first  fruits  of  all  things,  intending,  no  doubt. 
to  teach,  amongst  other  lessons,  his  delight  in  the 
dedication  of  the  first  fruits  of  our  life  to  his  ser- 
vice. How  pleased  was  the  Redeemer  with  the  ho- 
sannas  of  the  children,  and  how  deeply  was  he  in- 
terested in  the  case  of  that  hopeful  youth  who  came 
to  inquire  of  him  the  way  to  life.  And  does  not  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  teach  us  how  welcome 
is  the  return  of  the  young  to  the  Father  of  Mercies? 
God  chose  David,  the  youngest  son  of  the  family; 
and  set  his  love  upon  Jacob,  while  Esau,  the  elder, 
is  passed  by.  He  accepted  the  sacrifice  of  Abel,  the 
younger  brother,  while  that  of  Cain  is  rejected. 
Amongst  oil  the  disciples,  John  was  the  most  be- 
loved, and  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  the  youngest. 

But  still  the  principal  design  of  this  chapter  is  to 
set  forth  the  advantages  attendant  on  the  possession 
of  early  piety. 

1.  Of  these  some  relate  to  others.  This  will 
cause  you  to  be  a  source  of  ineffable  delight  to 
your  parents  ;*  and  probably  render  you  a  blessing 
to  your  brothers  and  sisters.  Piety  in  youth  will 
render  you  a  benefactor  to  your  species,  and  a  bless- 
ing to  society.  Instead  of  seducing  others  by  a  bad 
example,  you  will  benefit  them  by  the  influence  of  a 
good  one;  instead  of  poisoning  others  by  corrupt 
principles,  you  will  scatter  along  your  path  the  seed 

*  In  the  memoirs  of  that  truly  apostolic  mission- 
ary, the  Rev.  Henry  Martvn,  occurs  the  following 
anecdote,  which  most  forcibly  illustrates  the  subject 
of  the  influence  of  filial  conduct  upon  parental  and 
domestic  comfort  and  respectability: 

"  Visted  the  hospital  this  day,  and  read  the  ele- 
venth chapter  of  John  to  a  pool  man,  in  whose  room 
at  the  workhouse,  I  was  struck  with  the  misery  that 
presented  itself.  He  was  lying  with  his  clothes  and 
hat  on,  upon  the  bed,  dying.  His  wife  was  cleaning 
the  room,  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter;  and  upon 
the  threshold  was  the  daughter,  about  thirty  vears 
old,  who  had  been  delirious  thirteen  years."  What 
a  scene  of  wretchedness!  What  a  miserable  group! 
It  is  a  picture  from  which  the  mind  turns  with  the 
deepest  emotions  of  distressful  pity.  But,  Oh  !  the 
cause  of  this  misery !  "  The  dying  man,"  continues 
Mr.  Martvn,  "  was  once  a  respectable  innkeeper  in 
the  town;  but  the  extravagance  of  a  son  brought  him 
to  povertv,  and  a  daughter,  who  foresaw  it,  to  in- 
sanity." What  must  be  the  feelings  (except,  indeed 


CHRISTIAN     FATHER'S     PRESENT. 


35 


of  truth,  piety,  and  morality;  instead  of  drawing 
down  the  vengeance  of  God  upon  society  by  your 
crimes,  you  will  bring  down  his  blessing  by  your 
prayers.  You  will  be  a  patriot  of  the  most  elevated 
and  successful  nature:  and  by  your  good  conduct, 
and  the  support  of  all  religious  institutions,  do  more 
for  the  good  of  your  country  than  fleets  and  armies 
can  achieve. 

2.  Innumerable  advantages  will  result  from  early 
piety,  to  yourself. 

It  will  exert  a  friendly  influence  over  your  tem- 
poral interests.*  It  will  open  springs  of  consolation 
all  along  your  path  through  the  vale  of  tears,  whose 
waters,  adapted  to  every  condition,  shall  never  fail. 
Religion,  chosen  in  youth  as  your  guide,  companion, 
and  friend,  will  attend  you  through  all  the  journey 
of  life;  will  go  Avith  you  where  you  go,  and  dwell 
with  you  wherever  you  dwell:  she  will  accompany 
you  when  with  many  tears  you  quit  the  parental 
roof,  and  go  forth,  a  young  adventurer,  into  the 
world.  She  will  travel  with  you  in  the  wilderness, 
or  sail  with  you  on  the  ocean ;  she  will  abide  with 
you  in  a  mansion,  or  inhabit  with  you  the  cottage: 
when  every  other  friend  forsakes  you,  she  will 
cling  to  you  the  closer;  smile,  when  every  other 
face  is  covered  with  a  frown  ;  and  put  forth  all  her 
energies  to  comfort  you  in  the  time  of  your  humbled 
fortunes:  in  seasons  of  perplexity,  she  will  guide 
you  to  the  fountain  of  light;  when  oppressed  with 
care,  will  place  you  on  the  rock  of  ages;  in  the 
storms-  of  affliction,  will  cast  for  you  the  anchor  of 
hope;  and  in  times  of  dreary  desolation,  will  enable 
you,  by  faith,  to  see  the  land  which  is  afar  off,  the 
land  of  promise  and  of  rest. 

Early  piety  is  a  distinguished  honor. 

If  there  be  true  honor  in  the  universe,  it  is  to  be 
found  in  religion.  Even  the  heathen  were  sensible 
of  this;  hence  the  Romans  built  the  temples  of  vir- 
tue and  honor  close  together,  to  teach  that  the  way 
to  honor  was  by  virtue.  Religion  is  the  image  of 
God  in  the  soul  of  man.  Can  glory  itself  rise  higher 
than  this]  "What  a  distinction!  to  havens  lustre 
put  upon  the  character  in  youth.  It  was  mentioned 
by  Paul  as  a  singular  honor  to  the  believing  Jews, 
that  they  first  trusted  in  Christ;  and  in  referring  to 
Andronichus  and  Junia,  he  mentions  it  to  their 
praise  that  they  were  in  Christ  before  him.  To  be 
a  child  of  God,  an  heir  of  glory,  a  disciple  of 
Christ,  a  warrior  of  the  cross,  a  citizen  of  the  New 
Jerusalem,  from  our  youth  up,  adorns  the  brow 
with  aramanthine  wreaths  of  fame.  A  person  con- 
verted in  youth,  is  like  the  sun  rising  on  a  summer's 
morning  to  shine  through  a  long  bright  day  ;  but  a 
person  converted  late  in  life,  is  like  the  evening 
star,  a  lovely  object  of  Christian  contemplation,  but 
not  appearing  till  the  day  is  closing,  and  then  but 
for  a  little  while. 

Early  piety  vnll  be  of  immense  importance  to  you 
in  the  various  relations  of  life  in  which  you  may 
stand. 

If  you  are  parents,  it  will  dispose  and  enable  you 
to  train  up  your  children  and  servants  in  the  fear  of 
God.     It  will  prevent  you  from  neglecting  the  im- 


vice  had  turned  his  heart  to  stone)  of  the  guilty  au- 
thor of  this  complicated  misery,  when  he  saw  the 
consuming  grief  of  his  broken-hearted  father,  and 
heard  the  wild  rambhngsof  his  maniac  sister,  while 
conscience  thundered  in  his  ear,  "Thou  art  the 
cause  of  this  dreadful  calamity!"  How  many  bro- 
ken hearts  and  insane  minds  has  similar  conduct 
produced!  How  many  are  at  this  moment  bending 
m  the  grave,  or  shut  up  in  the  cells  of  a  lunatic 
asylum,  who,  but  for  profligate  children,  might 
have  been  living  in  health,  sanity,  and  respecta- 
bility ! 

See  the  chapter  on  this  subject. 
45* 


mortal  interests  of  those  who  are  committed  to  your 
care.  How  many  parents  are  accessary  to  the  mur- 
der of  their  children's  souls;  blood-guiltiness  rests 
upon  their  conscience,  and  the  execrations  of  their 
own  offspring  will  be  upon  them  through  eternity. 
In  those  cases  where  persons  are  redeemed  late  in 
life,  what  anguish  is  sometimes  felt  on  seeing  then 
children  wandering  in  the  broad  road  that  leadeth 
to  destruction  ;  and  on  remembering  that  they  were 
the  means  of  leading  them  astray.  "  Oh,  my  chil- 
dren! my  children!"  they  exclaim,  "would 'God  I 
had  known  religion  earlier  for  your  sakes.  Why 
did  I  not  seek  the  Lord  in  youth  !  Then  I  should 
have  trained  you  up  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  have 
been  spared  the  agony  of  seeing  you  walking  in  the 
path  of  destruction  ;  or,  at  least,  have  been  spared 
the  torturing  reflection,  that  it  was  through  my 
neglect  you  despised  religion." 

Early  piety  will  be  a  guard  to  you  against  the 
temptations  to  which  we  are  all  exposed  in  this  life. 

Temptation  to  sin,  like  the  wind,  comes  from 
every  quarter  in  this  world.  In  company,  in  soli- 
tude; at  home,  abroad;  in  God's  house,  and  in  our 
own  ;  we  are  always  open  to  attack.  Business, 
pleasure,  companions,  all  may  become  a  snare.  We 
never  know  when,  or  from  what,  or  in  what  way  to 
expect  the  assault.  At  one  time  we  may  be  tempted 
to  infidelity,  at  another  to  immorality ;  now  to  licen- 
tiousness, then  to  intemperance.  Piety  is  the  only 
effectual  guard  of  our  character.  Luther  tells  us 
of  a  young  believer  who  used  to  repel  all  tempta- 
tions with  this  exclamation,"  Begone,  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian." My  children,  adopt  the  same  character,  and 
maintain  it  with  the  same  constancy  and  success. 
When  Pyrrhus  tempted  Fabricius  the  first  day  with 
an  elephant,  and  the  next  with  promises  of  honor, 
the  Roman  nobly  replied,  "  I  fear  not  thy  force:  I 
am  too  wise  for  thy  fraud."  Religion  will  enable  you 
to  say  the  same  to  every  one  who  threatens  or  al- 
lures. Neglect  piety  in  youth,  and  who  shall  say 
how  low  in  the  scale  of  vice  and  infamy  you  may 
be  found  in  after  life7?  Omit  to  take  with  you  this 
shield,  and  your  moral  character  may  be  destroyed, 
or  receive  a  wound,  the  scar  of  which  you  may 
carry  to  the  grave. 

Early  piety  will  thus  leave  you  fewer  sins  to  bewail 
in  after  life. 

Amongst  other  things  which  the  illustrious  Beza 
gave  thanks  for  to  God  in  his  last  will  and  testa- 
ment, was  this:  that  he  became  a  real  Christian  at 
the  age  of  sixteen,  by  which  he  was  prevented  from 
the  commission  of  many  sins,  which  would  other- 
wise have  overtaken  him,  and  rendered  his  life  less 
happy.  Every  year's  impenitence  must  cause  many 
years'  repentance.  If  you  neglect  religion  in  youth, 
God  may  give  you  up  to  the  delusions  of  infidelity, 
or  the  practices  of  imorality;  and  during  this  un- 
happy season,  of  what  remediless  mischief  may  you 
be  tLe  occasion.  How  many  companions  may  you 
lead  astray  by  your  crimes;  who,  admitting  that  you 
are  afterwards  reclaimed  by  grace,  are  not  so  easily 
led  back  by  your  virtues.  Instances  have  occurred 
in  which  you  tig  men,  during  the  days  of  their  irre- 
ligion,  have  perpetrated  the  horrid  crime  of  corrupt- 
ing female  virtue,  and  then  abandoned  the  hapless 
victim  of  their  passion.  Cast  off  as  a  guilty,  worth- 
less thing,  the  injured  partner  of  his  sins  has  added 
iniquity  to  iniquity,  and  she,  who  but  for  her  be- 
trayer, might  have  lived  a  long  and  virtuous  life, 
has  sunk  amidst  disease,  and  want,  and  infamy,  to 
an  early  and  dishonored  grave.  God,  in  the  myste- 
ries of  his  grace,  has  in  after  years  given  repentance 
to  the  greater  criminal  of  the  two.  But  can  he  for- 
get his  crime'?  Oh,  no.  God  has  forgiven  him,  but 
never,  never  can  he  forgive  hirrfself.  Not  even  the 
blood  which  has  washed  away  the  guilt  from  his 
conscience,  can  efface  the  hibtory  of  it  from  tbo 


36 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


page  of  memory  ;  nor  floods  of  tears  deaden  the  im- 
pression which  it  has  left  upon  the  heart.  He  can- 
not restore  the  virtue  he  destroyed,  nor  refund  the 
peace  which  with  felon  hand  he  stole  from  the  bo- 
som which  was  tranquil  till  it  knew  him;  he  can- 
not build  up  the  character  he  demolished,  much  less 
can  he  rekindle  the  life  which  he  extinguished,  or 
call  back  from  the  regions  of  the  damned  the  mise- 
rable ghost  which  he  hurried  to  perdition.  Ah  ! 
that  ghost  now  haunts  his  imagination,  and,  as  she 
exhibits  the  mingled  agony,  fury,  revenge,  and  de- 
spair of  a  lost  soul,  seems  to  say,  "  Look  at  me,  my 
destroyer!"  For  a  while  he  can  see  nothing  but  her 
flames,  and  hear  nothing  but  her  groans. 

Early  religion  would  have  saved  him  from  all 
this.  Late  piety  brings  him  salvation  for  another 
■world,  but  it  comes  not  soon  enough  to  save  him 
from  remorse  in  this. 

Early  piety  will  procure  for  you,  if  you  live  so 
long,  the  honor  of  an  aged  disciple. 

A  person  converted  late  in  life,  is  a  young  disci- 
ple, though  a  gray-headed  man.  An  aged  hero, 
who  has  spent  his  days  contending  for  the  liberties 
of  his  country,  or  a  philosopher,  who  has  long  em- 
ployed himself  in  improving  its  science,  or  a  phi- 
lanthropist, who  has  become  gray  in  relieving  its 
wants,  are  venerable  sights,  but  far  inferior,  if  they 
are  destitute  of  religion,  to  the  aged  Christian  who 
has  employed  half  a  century  in  glorifying  God,  as 
well  as  doing  good  to  man.  An  old  disciple  is  ho- 
nored in  the  church,  and  respected  even  in  the 
world.  His  hoary  head  is  lifted  like  a  crown  of 
glory  among  other  and  younger  disciples,  over  whom 
his  decaying  form  throws  its  venerated  shade. — 
How  rich  is  he  in  experience  of  all  the  ways  of 
godliness.  Like  a  decrepid  warrior,  he  can  talk 
of  conflicts  and  of  victories.  Younger  Christians 
gather  round  him  to  learn  wisdom  from  his  lips,  and 
courage  from  his  feats,  and  to  show  him  tokens  of 
respect.  By  his  brethren  in  Christ  he  is  regarded 
with  veneration  ;  his  presence  is  always  marked 
with  every  demonstration  of  respect,  and  his  opinion 
is  listened  to  with  the  profoundest  deference.  He 
js  consulted  in  emergencies,  and  the  fruits  of  his  ex- 
perience are  gathered  with  eagerness.  His  virtues 
have  been  tried  by  time,  the  surest  test  of  excellence, 
and  they  have  passed  with  honor  the  ordeal.  That 
suspicion  and  skepticism,  which  innumerable  moral 
failures  have  produced  in  some  minds,  as  to  the 
reality  of  religion  in  general,  and  the  sincerity  of 
any  of  its  professors,  retire  from  the  presence  of 
such  a  man,  convinced  of  the  injustice  of  its  sur- 
mises; and  even  the  infidel  and  profane,  bear  a  tes- 
timony to  his  worth,  which  his  long  tried  consisten- 
cy has  extorted.  "  There,  at  least,"  say  they,  "  is 
one  good  man,  whose  sincerity  has  been  tried  by  the 
fluctuating  circumstances  and  varying  situations  of 
half  a  century.  His  is  no  mushroom  piety  which 
springs  up  in  a  night,  and  perishes,  in  a  day.  The 
suns  of  many  summers,  and  the  storms  of  many 
winters,  have  passed  over  it ;  and  both  adversity 
and  prosperity  have  assailed,  and  demonstrated  its 
stability.  We  begin  after  all,  from  that  very  cha- 
racter, to  believe  that  there  is  more  in  religion  than 
we  have  been  apt  to  imagine." 

Early  piety,  if  persisted  in,  prepares  for  a  com- 
fortable old  age.  The  condition  of  an  old  man  with- 
out piety,  is  wretched  indeed.  He  presents  to  the 
eye  of  Christian  contemplation  a  melancholy  spec- 
tacle. As  to  all  the  grand  purposes  of  existence,  he 
has  passed  through  the  world  in  vain.  Life  to  him 
has  been  a  lost  adventure.  Seventy  years  he  has 
sojourned  in  the  region  of  mercy,  and  is  going  out 
of  it  without  salvation.  Seventy  years  he  has  dwelt 
within  reach  of  redemption,  and  yet  is  going  to  the 
lost  souls  in  prison.  If  he  is  insensible  to  his  case, 
he  is  going  to  ruin  asleep ;  but  if  a  little  awakened, 


how  bitter  are  his  reflections.  If  he  looks  back  upon 
the  past,  he  sees  nothing  but  a  wide  and  dreary 
waste,  where  the  eye  is  relieved  by  no  monuments 
of  piety,  but  scared  by  memorials  of  a  life  of  sin  ; 
if  he  looks  at  his  present  circumstances,  he  sees  no- 
thing but  a  mere  wreck  of  himself,  driving  upon  the 
rock  of  his  destiny  and  destruction  ;  but  the  future  ! 
oh,  how  can  he  look  on  that  which  presents  to  him 
death,  for  which  he  is  not  prepared  ;  judgment,  from 
which  he  can  expect  nothing  but  condemnation  ; 
heaven,  which  he  has  bartered  for  pleasures,  tht  re- 
membrance of  which  is  now  painful  or  insipid ; 
hell,  which  he  has  merited,  with  its  eternity  of  tor- 
ments, by  his  iniquities.  The  ghosts  of  spent  years, 
and  departed  joys,  flit  before  him,  and  point  to  those 
regions  of  wo,  whither  sinful  delights  conduct  the 
sensualist  and  voluptuary.  Miserable  old  man  !  the 
winter  of  life  is  upon  him,  and  he  has  nothing  to 
cheer  his  cold  and  dreary  spirit;  nor  any  spring  to 
look  forward  to:  the  night  of  existence  has  come 
on  ;  not  a  star  twinkles  from  heaven  upon  his  path ; 
nor  will  any  morning  dawn  upon  the  gloom  which 
enwraps  him.  Such  is  the  old  age  of  those  who  re- 
member not  Glod  in  their  youth,  and  carry  on  their 
oblivion  of  religion,  as  such  persons  generally  do, 
to  the  end  of  lifs. 

But  should  any  one  be  called  at  the  eleventh  hour, 
such  a  convert  will  be  subject,  at  times,  to  the  most 
painful  doubts  and  apprehensions  ;  he  questions  the 
reality  of  his  religion  ;  he  fears  that  it  is  the  result 
of  circumstances,  not  of  a  divine  change ;  he  is 
afraid  that,  like  a  half-shipwrecked  vessel,  driven 
into  port  by  the  violence  of  the  storm,  rather  than 
by  the  effort  of  the  crew,  he  has  been  forced  to  reli- 
gion more  by  the  terrors  produced  by  approaching 
death  than  the  choice  of  his  own  will ;  he  often  con- 
cludes that  he  never  forsook  the  world  till  he  could 
no  longer  retain  it;  and  that  he  renounced  the  en- 
joyments of  earth  only  because  from  the  decay  of  his 
body,  from  the  feebleness  of  his  mind,  and  the  weak- 
ness of  his  fancy,  he  is  unable  to  indulge  in  them. — 
These,  and  other  similar  fears,  generally  occasion, 
in  persons  converted  in  old  age,  a  painful  hesitancy 
concerning  the  security  of  their  state  ;  prevent  them 
from  going  on  their  way  rejoicing,  and  hang  like  a 
cloud  upon  the  prospect  of  immortality. 

How  much  more  cheering  and  consolatory  are 
the  reflections  of  the  aged  Christian,  who  remem- 
bered his  Creator  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  He  too 
has  arrived  at  the  wintry  days  of  existence,  but  like 
the  inhabitant  of  a  well-stored  mansion,  he  has  a 
thousand  comforts  which  enable  him  to  hear  the 
howling  of  the  tempest  without  a  fear,  and  to  look 
on  the  dreariness  of  the  scene  unconscious  of  a  want; 
and  then,  in  addition  to  this,  the  days  of  everlasting 
spring  approach.  He,  too,  is  overtaken  by  the  even- 
ing; his  shadow  lengthens  on  the  plain,  but  the 
heavens  pour  upon  him  the  glory  of  God,  while  the 
word  in  which  he  trusted  is  a  lamp  unto  his  feet ; 
and  an  eternal  day  is  about  to  dawn  upon  his  soul. 
In  the  past,  he  sees  the  long  interval  between  the 
season  of  youth  and  the  furrowed  countenance  of 
age,  filled  up  in  some  good  degree,  with  works  of 
devotion,  righteousness,  and  benevolence;  where- 
by he  has  glorified  God,  benefited  his  species,  and 
prepared  a  balm  for  his  memory.  No  sins  of  youth 
fill  his  bones  with  pain,  or  his  spirit  with  remorse. 
He  has  little  doubt  of  his  sincerity  ;  for  his  life, 
though  it  affords  him  no  ground  of  dependance  for 
salvation,  furnishes  him  with  numerous  evidences 
of  the  faith  which  justifies  the  soul,  and  purifies  the 
heart.  He  forsook  the  world  when  most  capable 
of  enjoying  it ;  he  was  not  driven  by  violence  to  re- 
ligion, but  deliberately  weighed  anchor,  and,  with 
every  sail  set,  steered  for  the  haven  of  piety.  He 
has  resisted  innumerable  attacks  upon  his  princi- 
ples, and  against  every  foe  has  held  fast  his  inte- 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


37 


gtity.  On  the  verge  of  life  he  can  say,  "  I  have  Icepr 
the  faith,  I  have  fought  a  good  light,  I  have  nearly 
finished  my  course;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for 
ine  a  crown  of  life,  which  God  the  righteous  Judge 
will  bestow  upon  me." 

Surely,  surely  my  children,  an  old  age  thus  placid 
and  venerable,  is  an  object  worthy  of  your  desire; 
surely  these  peaceful  recollections,  these  sublime 
prospects,  amidst  the  dreariness  of  age,  are  deserv- 
ing your  exertions. 

Early  piety  will  have  a  considerable  influence  on 
your  eternal  felicity. 

In  dwelling  upon  the  two  different  and  contrary 
states  of  heaven  and  hell,  we  are  not  to  conceive  of 
them  as  conditions  of  being,  where  all  persons  in 
the  former  will  be  equally  happy,  and  all  in  the  lat- 
ter equally  miserable.  There  are  different  degrees 
of  glory  in  one,  and  different  dpgrees  of  torment  in 
the  other.  This  is  proved  by  Scripture,  and  accords 
with  reason.  Grace  is  glory  in  the  bud ;  glory  is 
grace  in  a  state  of  fructification  ;  and  as  in  the  na- 
tural world,  so  it  is  in  the  spiritual  one,  where  there 
is  little  blossom,  there  cannot  be  much  fruit.  Life 
is  the  seedtime  for  eternity;  what  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap,  not  onlyr  in  kind,  but  degree. 
Late  sowings,  as  well  as  scanty  ones,  are  generally 
followed  with  short  crops.  The  reward  of  the  right- 
eous is  all  of  grace,  but  then  that  grace  which  re- 
wards the  rignteous  rather  than  the  wicked,  may, 
with  equal  consistency,  reward  righteousness  ac- 
cording to  its  degrees.  We  cannot  think  that  the 
reward  of  the  dying  thief,  who  was  converted  in  the 
dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  will  be  equal  to 
that  of  Timothy  or  of  Paul,  who  spent  a  long  and 
laborious  life  in  the  service  of  Christ.  Nor  is  it  to 
be  imagined,  that  the  crown  of  the  aged  convert 
will  be  as  bright  or  as  heavy,  as  that  of  the  Chris- 
tian who  is  converted  in  youth,  and  continues,  till  a 
good  old  age,  in  a  course  of  consistent  piety. 

But  there  is  one  consideration  which  should  come 
home  to  the  bosom  of  young  people  with  overwhelm- 
ing force  :  I  mean,  that  unless  they  become  partakers 
of  piety  hi  early  life,  the  probability  is,  that  they  will 
never  partake  of  it  at  all.  Is  it  of  consequence,  that 
you  should  become  pious  at  any  time  ?  then  does 
all  that  consequence  attach  to  the  present  time? — 
Let  me  sound  this  idea  again  and  again  in  your 
ears,  let  we  detain  your  attention  upon  the  awful 
and  alarming  sentiment.  The  probability  of  your 
salvation  becomes  weaker  and  weaker  as  the  years 
of  youth  roll  by.  It  is  less  probable  this  year  than 
the  last,  and  will  be  less  probable  next  year  than 
this.  I  do  not  now  argue  upon  the  uncertainty  of 
life,  that  I  have  considered  before ;  I  appeal  to  facts, 
which  in  reference  to  the  sentiment  I  have  now  ad- 
vanced, are  of  the  most  alarming  aspect.  Consider, 
only  two  individuals  of  the  six  hundred  thousand, 
who  left  Egvpt  above  the  age  of  twenty  years,  enter 
Canaan.  Of  those  who  are  converted  at  all,  by  far 
the  greater  part  are  brought  to  seek  religion  in  their 
youth  ;  and  of  the  few  who  are  reclaimed  in  adult, 
or  old  age,  how  rare  a  case  is  it,  to  find  one  who 
has  been  religiously  educated.  It  is  easy  to  observe, 
generally  speaking,  that  sinners  who  have  been 
brought  under  the  means  of  grace,  or  under  some 
new  and  impressive  preaching,  which  they  never 
enjoved  before,  if  they  do  not  soon  profit  hv  their 
privileges,  rarely  profit  by  them  at  all.  God's  time 
of  conversion  seems  to  be,  the  morning  of  religious 
privilege.  The  churches  mentioned  in  the  New 
Testament,  were  chiefly  made  up  of  persons  eon- 
verted  by  the  first  efforts  of  the  apostles.  Hence, 
when  these  servants  of  the  cross  were  unsuccessful 
in  their  early  labors  in  a  city,  or  province,  thev  look- 
ed upon  it  as  a  bad  omen,  and  as  a  strong  indication 
that  it  would  be  useless  to  continue  their  ministra- 


tions there  ;*  so  that  the  usual  order  of  divine  grace 
is,  for  its  showers  to  fall  on  what  might  be  called 
morning  sowings.  The  seasons  of  youthful  years, 
or  youthful  means,  are  the  usual  times  of  conver- 
sion ;  and  those  who  misimprove  either  of  these,  are 
in  general  found  to  neglect  religion  for  ever  after. 

I  am  aware,  that  instances  to  the  contrary  are 
sometimes  found  ;  and  therefore  none  who  are  in- 
clined to  seek  God  at  any  age  should  despair:  yet 
they  but  rarely  occur,  and  therefore  let  none  pre- 
sume. True  repentance  is  never  too  late ;  but  late 
repentance  is  seldom  produced. 

It  is  very  probable,  that  some  who  shall  read  these 
pages,  will  deliberately  and  sincerely  make  up  their 
mind  to  serve  God  at  some  future  time,  after  they 
have  a  little  longer  enjoyed  the  world.  Mistaken 
youth!  Sinful  young  people  !  Let  them  consider  what 
their  intentions  amountto;  "  I  will  goon  sinningalit- 
tle  longer,  and  then  I  will  repent.  I  will  serve  Satan, 
and  the  world,  and  sin,  as  long  as  I  can,  and  when 
I  am  worn  out  in  their  service,  or  weary  of  it,  I  will 
turn  to  God  and  try  the  ways  of  religion.  O  Lord  ! 
the  preserver  of  my  days,  spare  my  life  a  little  long- 
er to  disobey  thee,  to  insult  thee,  and  then  give  me 
thy  grace  to  assist  me  to  turn  from  my  wicked  ways 
and  live."  What  wickedness!  What  shocking 
impiety!  What  daring  madness!  Do  they  not 
tremble'?  Are  they  not  terrified  at  this  view  of 
their  own  conduct?  Can  they  live  another  day  in 
this  state  of  mind?  Can  they  give  their  eyes  to 
sleep  with  such  a  purpose  in  their  bosom  ?  Let 
them  consider  how  just  it  is  that  God  should  reserve 
the  dregs  of  his  wrath  for  those  who  reserve  only 
the  dregs  of  their  time  for  Him. 

Now,  now,  my  children  is  the  accepted  time,  this 
is  the  day  of  salvation.  "  To-day  if  ye  will  hear 
.his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."  You  know 
not  what  another  day,  hour,  moment,  may  bring 
forth.  Opportunity,  mercy,  salvation,  heaven,  eter- 
nal glory,  are  all  upon  the  wingof  the  present  hour; 
condemnation,  hell,  eternal  torment  and  despair, 
may  all  be  in  the  train  of  the  next.  That  door  of 
grace  which  is  open  to-day,  may  be  shut  to-morrow ; 
that  sceptre  of  mercy  which  is  stretched  out  to-day, 
may  be  withdrawn  to-morrow.  Oh,  the  noble  pur- 
poses that  have  withered,  the  sublime  prospects  that 
have  failed,  the  millions  of  immortal  souls  that  have 
perished  by  putting  off  the  present  season,  for  a  more 
convenient  time.  "  Soul  opportunities,"  says  an 
old  author,  "are  more  worth  than  a  thousand 
worlds."  And  they  are  rapidly  slipping  by  with 
the  days  of  your  youth. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ON   THE    INFLUENCE    OF    RELIGION   UPON  THE  TEMPORAL 
INTERESTS    OF    ITS   PROFESSOR. 

Godliness  has  the  promise  of  the  life  that  is  to 
come;  it  conducts  to  glory,  honor,  immortality  :  this 
is  its  chief  commendation.  Revelation  has  drawn 
aside  the  veil  which  hangs  over  the  unseen  state, 
and  urged  you,  my  children,  upon  the  great  busi- 
ness of  religion,  by  a  contemplation  of  the  dark 
world  of  hell,  and  of  the  splendors  of  the  celestial 
city.  It  might  seem,  that  after  such  an  appeal, 
every  other  were  useless,  and  that  to  speak  of  other 
advantages  than  eternal  life,  were  only  adding  a 
drop  to  the  ocean,  a  taper  to  the  sun:  but  there  are 
persons  who  are  wrought  upon  more  by  present 
good,  however  small,  than  any  future  prospect  of 
the  greatest  gain ;  who  are  more  governed  by 
illustrations  borrowed  from  things  seen  and  tem- 
poral, than  by  those  which  are  derived  from  things 


*  See  Acts  xiii.  40,  48;  xxii.  18;  xxviii.  23—28, 


38 


CIIRITIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


Knseen  and  eternal.  In  this  respect  also,  and  on 
this  ground,  religion  can  plead  its  advantages,  for 
't  has  "the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,"  as  well 
as  that  which  is  to  come.  I  do  not  assert,  that  reli- 
gion will  conduct  all  its  followers  to  wealth,  honor, 
and  health.  No.  Still,  however,  it  exerts  a  friend- 
ly influence  on  all  the  temporal  interests  of  man- 
kind, and  protects- them  from  many  evils,  to  which, 
without  it,  they  are  exposed. 

1.  It  exercises  and  improves  the  understanding. 

From  beginning  to  end,  religion  is  an  intellectual 
process.  Whatever  raises  man  above  the  dominion 
of  the  senses,  and  renders  him  independent  of  these, 
as  sources  of  gratification,  must  have  a  salutary 
influence  upon  the  mind.  Now  the  objects  which 
religion  exhibits,  are  such  as  the  mental  faculties 
alone  can  converse  with  :  and  the  moment  a  man 
begins  to  feel  solicitude  about  spiritual  things,  he 
begins  to  experience  a  considerable  elevation  of 
character.  And  then  the  subjects  of  divine  truth, 
are  of  the  most  sublime  and  lofty  kind.  They 
form  the  Alps  in  the  world  of  mind.  The  existence 
and  attributes  of  the  great  God;  the  system  of 
Providence,  embracing  all  worlds  and  all  ages;  the 
scheme  of  redemption,  planned  from  eternity  for 
the  salvation  of  millions  of  rational  creatures;  the 
immortality  of  the  soul;  the  solemnities  of  judg- 
ment; the  everlasting  states  of  the  righteous  and 
the  wicked ;  these  are  the  every-day  topics  of 
thought  to  a  Christian.  Can  a  man  live  in  the 
daily  contemplation  of  these  vast  ideas,  and  not 
feel  an  elevating  influence  upon  his  understanding  1 
It  will  probably  be  said,  that  science  will  have  the 
same  effect.  This  is  admitted  in  part.  But  how 
many  are  there  to  whom  philosophical  pursuits  are 
utterly  inaccessible.  Besides  ^his,  it  might  be  re- 
plied that  nothing  but  religion  will  infallibly  guard 
the  soul  from  being  debased  by  vicious  indulgences. 

Read  the  missionary  records,  and  learn  by  these 
interesting  details,  what  religion  has  done  for  the 
Negroes  of  the  West  Indies,  the  Hottentots  of  South 
Africa,  the  Esquimaux  of  Labrador,  the  fur-clad 
Greenlanders  of  the  arctic  regions,  and  the  volup- 
tuous cannibals  of  the  South  Sea  Islands.  It  has 
raised  ihem  from  savages  into  rational  creatures; 
it  has  awakened  their  dormant  understanding; 
sharpened  their  powers  of  perception  ;  taught  them 
the  art  of  reasoning ;  and  invested  them  with  the 
power  of  eloquence. 

But  why  do  I  go  to  distant  countries,  while  our 
own  furnishes  illustrations  so  numerous,  and  so 
striking  1  How  many  persons  are  there,  who  were 
educated  in  our  Sunday  schools,  and  who  are  now 
filling  stations  of  importance,  credit,  and  usefulness, 
who,  but  for  religion,  would  never  have  risen  in 
the  scale  of  society,  or  ascended  above  the  lowest 
level  of  poverty.  Education,  it  is  true,  gave  the 
first  impulse  to  their  minds;  but  it  was  an  impulse 
which  would  have  soon  spent  its  force,  had  it  not 
been  continued  and  increased  by  religion.  I:  was 
this  that  gave  the  sober,  serious,  and  reflective  turn 
of  mind  which  has  led  to  such  mental  improvement: 
and  they  who,  but  for  the  power  of  godliness,  would 
have  been  still  earning  their  bread  at  the  plough  or 
the  anvil,  are  filling  the  place  of  tradesmen  or 
clerks;  or  are  raised  to  the  distinction  of  preaching 
with  ability  and  success,  the  truths  of  salvation.* 

Pveligion  guards  the  health. 

*  As  a  proof  of  the  influence  which  religion  has 
in  strengthening  and  elevating  the  powers,  of  even 
the  most  cultivated  understanding,  I  may  give  the 
following  quotation  from  the  Life  of  the  Rev. 
Henry  Martyn,  a  book  which  I  most  emphatically 
recommend  to  the  perusal  of  all  young  people,  as 
one  of  the  most  interesting  publications  that  modern 
«imes  have  produced. 


I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  rose  will  ever  bloom 
upon  the  countenance  of  piety,  but  I  will  affirm, 
that  where  it  already  displays  its  beauty  and  sheds 
its  fragrance,  religion  will  prevent  those  vices, 
which,  like  worms  at  the  root  of  a  flower,  consume 
its  strength,  and  shorten  its  existence.  How  many 
diseases  are  generated  by  sin.  It  is  calculated  that 
even  in  a  time  of  war,  there  are  more  who  perish 
by  drunkenness  and  licentiousness,  than  by  the 
sword.  "  Ye  victims  of  voluptuousness,  ye  martyrs 
of  concupiscence,  who  formerly  tasted  the  pleasures 
of  sin  for  a  season,  but  now  are  beginning  to  feel 
the  horrors  of  it  for  ever;  you  serve  us  for  demon- 
stration and  example.  Look  at  these  trembling 
hands,  that  shaking  head,  those  disjointed  knees, 
that  faltering  resolution,  that  feeble  memory,  that 
worn  out  body  all  putrefaction  ;  these  are  the  dread- 
ful rewards  which  vice  bestows  now,  as  pledges  of 
what  Satan  will  bestow  presently,  on  those  on  whom 
he  is  preparing  to  exhaust  his  fury."  Religion  will 
prevent  all  this;  that  passion  which  wastes  the 
strength  as  with  a  fever  ;  that  ambition  which  wears 
out  the  frame  faster  than  hard  labor;  that  malice 
which  robs  of  sleep;  that  gambling  which  hurries 
a  man  backward  and  forward  between  the  delirium 
of  hope  and  the  torture  of  fear;  that  gluttony  which 
brings  an  apoplexy;  that  drunkenness  which  preys 
as  a  slow  fire  on  the  organs  of  life;  that  debauch- 
ery which  corrupts  the  whole  mass  of  the  blood, 
and  brings  the  infirmities  of  age  on  the  days  of 
youth:  yes,  religion  keeps  off  all  these  vices  and 
their  consequences.  "  The  fear  of  the  Lord  pro- 
longed days;  it  is  a  fountain  of  life  to  guard  us 
from  the  snares  of  death."  But  of  the  drunkard 
and  the  fornicator  it  may  be  said,  "His  bones  are 
full  of  the  sins  of  his  youth,  which  lie  down  with 
him  in  the  dust.  Though  wickedness  be  sweet  in 
his  mouth  ;  though  he  hide  it  under  his  tongue; 
though  he  spare  it,  and  forsake  it  not,  but  keep  it 
still  within  his  mouth  ;  yet  his  meat  in  his  bowels 
is  turned,  it  is  the  gall  of  asps  within  him."* 

3.  Religion  builds  up  and  protects  the  reputation. 

It  prevents  those  sins  which  render  a  man  dis- 
honorable and  infamous:  it  promotes  all  those  vir-  ^ 
lues  which  raise  and  cherish  esteem.  How  much 
is  the  liar,  the  extortioner  and  imposing  tradesman, 
the  unfaithful  servant,  the  unkind  husband,  the 
cruel  oppressive  master,  despised.  Who  respects 
the  individual  who  is  notoriously  addicted  to  vice, 
and  flagrantly  neglectful  of  the  lowest  obligations 
of  virtue'?  Whereas  a  man  of  consisient  piety, 
who  is  known  to  be  a  real  Christian,  and  whose 
Christianity  renders  him  scrupulously  true,  honest 
and  upright,  such  a  man  is  universally  esteemed. 
The  wicked  may  laugh  at  his  piety,  but  is  he  not 
the  very  man  with  whom  they  love  to  trade;  in 
whose  character  they  find  sufficient  vouchers  for 
the  propriety  of  his  conduct ;  and  in  whose  fidelity 

"  Since  I  have  known  God  in  a  saving  manner." 
he  remarks,  painting,  poetry,  and  music,  have  had 
charms  unknown  to  me  before.  I  have  received, 
what  I  suppose  is  a  taste  for  them  ;  for  religion  has 
refined  my  mind,  and  made  it  susceptible  of  impres- 
sions from  the  sublime  and  beautiful.  O  how  reli- 
gion secures  the  heightened  enjoyment  of  those 
pleasues  which  keep  so  many  from  God,  by  their 
becoming  a  source  of  pride." 

And  it  may  be  fairly  argued  that  the  sublimity  of 
Milton's  genius,  was  owing  in  no  small  degree  to 
the  influence  of  religion  upon  his  mind.  This  is 
at  once  far  more  direct  and  obvious  in  its  tendency, 
than  any  nafural  scenery,  however  bold  and  striking 
may  be  its  features;  since  piety  not  only  brings  the 
mind  in!o  the  region  of  sublime  mental  scenery  bnS 
fixes  the  eye  most  intently  upon  it. 

*  Job  xx.  11—14. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT 


39 


they  can  repose  unbounded  confidence  1  This  was 
remarkably  exemplified  in  the  instance  of  the  mis- 
sionary Schwartz,  who  labored  to  spread  the  gos- 
pel in  the  southern  part  of  the  Indian  peninsula. 
Such  was  the  repute,  in  which  this  holy  man  was 
held  by  the  native  princes  of  Hindostan,  that  when 
Tippoo  Saib  was  about  to  enter  into  a  treaty  with 
the  Company,  not  being  disposed  to  place  much  con- 
fidence in  iheir  agents,  he  exclaimed,  "Send  to  me 
the  missionary  Schwartz,  I  will  treat  with  him,  for 
I  can  confide  in  his  veracity." 

How  many  persons  has  the  want  of  religion 
brought  to  an  untimely  end!  No  man  would  ever 
have  been  exiled  as  a  felon,  or  executed  as  a  male- 
factor, if  he  had  lived  under  the  intluence  of  piety. 
No  jail  would  have  been  needed,  no  gallows  erect- 
ed, if  all  men  were  pious.  Godliness  may  not  in- 
deed guard  us  from  poverty,  but  it  will  certainly 
save  us  from  infamy.  It  may  not  advance  us  to 
wealth,  bul  it  will  assuredly  raise  us  to  respectability. 

4.  Religion  promotes  our  secular  interests. 

I  do  not  pretend  that  piety  bears  into  the  church 
the  cornucopia  of  worldly  wealth,  to  pour  down 
showers  of  gold  on  all  who  court  her  smiles  and 
bend  to  her  sway  ;  but  still  there  is  a  striking  ten- 
dency in  her  influence,  to  improve  our  worldly  cir- 
cumstances. 

It  certainly  prevents  those  vices  ivhich  tcyid  to  pover- 
ty. Penury  is  often  the  effect  of  vice.  How  many 
have  hurled  themselves  and  their  families  from  the 
pinnacles  of  prosperity  to  the  depths  of  adversity, 
oy  a  course.of  wicked  and  profligate  extravagance. 
Multitudes  have  spent  all  their  substance,  like  the 
prodigal  son,  upon  harlots  and  riotous  living.  Pride 
has  ruined  thousands  and  indolence  its  tens  of  thou- 
sands. It  is  a  quaint  observation  of  an  old  writer, 
but  a  very  true  one,  that  one  vice  costs  more  to  keep 
it  than  two  children."  Religion  is  the  most  econo- 
mical, and  sin  the  most  expensive  thing  in  the 
world.  How  much  do  the  drunkard,  debauchee, 
sabbath-breaker,  and  frequenter  of  theatres,  pay  for 
their  sinful  gratifications.  What  is  spent  in  this 
kingdom  every  year  in  the  grosser  sensual  indul- 
gences, would  pay  the  interest  of  the  national  debt. 
Piety  would  save  all  this  to  the  kingdom. 

And  then  it  not  only  prevents  the  vices  which 
tend  to  poverty,  but  it  enjoins  and  cherishes  the  vir- 
tues which  lead  to  prosperity.  It  makes  a  man  indus- 
trious; and  is  not  this  the  way  to  wealth  ;  It  ren- 
ders him  sober,  and  does  not  sobriety  tend  to  ad- 
vance our  fortune1?  It  enforces  a  right  improve- 
ment of  time,  and  surely  this  is  advantageous  to 
every  one.  It  prescribes  frugality,  which  tends  to 
increase.  If  a  young  man  is  in  the  service  of  ano- 
ther, piety,  by  causing  him  to  speak  the  truth,  and 
adhere  to  the  principles  of  honesty,  renders  him 
trust-worthy  and  confidential.  Innumerable  are  the 
cases  in  whi"h  persons,  who  set  out  on  the  journey 
of  life  without  property  and  without  patronage, 
have,  by  dint  of  those  virtues  which  religion  en- 
joins, risen  to  respectability  and  affluence.  They 
were  first  probably  in  a  state  of  servitude,  where, 
by  their  steadiness  and  good  conduct,  they  so  at- 
tached themselves  to  their  employers,  as  to  be- 
come in  their  estimation,  almost  essential  to  the  fu- 
ture success  of  the  business;  and  the  result  has 
1  been,  a  share,  and,  in  some  cases,  the  whole  of  the 
trade,  which  they  had  contributed  so  materially  to 
establish. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  once  walking  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  a  large  manufacturing  town  on  a  very 
oold  winter's  morning,  when  he  overtook  a  plain 
man,  decently  clad,  and  wrapped  in  a  comfortable 
great  coat.  After  the  usual  salutations,  my  friend 
said  to  the  stranger,  "  I  am  srlnd  tosee  von  with  such 
a  good  warm  covering  this  cold  morning."  "  It  was 


not  always  thus,"  the  man  replied.  "  I  was  once  a 
poor  miserable  creature,  and  had  neither  good 
clothes  nor  good  victuals  ;  now  I  have  both,  and  a 
hundred  pounds  in  the  bank."  "What  produced 
this  favorable  change  V  continued  my  friend.  "  Re- 
ligion, Sir.  I  am  a  good  workman,  and,  as  is  too 
commonly  the  case  with  such  men,  spent  half  my 
time,  and  all  my  wages  nearly,  at  the  public  house. 
I  was  of  course  always  pool',  and  always  wretched. 
By  God's  direction  I  was  led  to  hear  the  Methodists, 
when  by  divine  grace,  the  word  reached  my  heart. 
I  repented  of  my  sins,  and  became  a  new  creature  in 
Christ  Jesus  ;  old  things  passed  away,  and  all  things 
became  new.  Religion  made  me  industrious  and  so- 
ber;  nothing  now  went  for  sin;  and  the  result  is, 
that  I  am  comfortable,  and  comparatively  rich." 

Here  then,  is  a  proof  and  an  illustration,  that 
godliness  is  profitable  for  all  things,  having  the 
promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that 
which  is  to  come.  Nor  are  these  proofs  uncommon. 
Many  persons,  now  living  in  circumstances  of  high 
respectability,  are  willing  to  ascribe  all  they  possess 
here,  as  well  as  all  they  hope  for  hereafter,  to  the 
influence  of  religion. 

All  this  is  seen  in  the  case  of  individuals:  but  if 
the  subject  be  carried  out  to  society  at  large,  it  will 
appear  still  more  striking. 

What  but  religion  can  raise  men  from  a  savage 
to  a  civilized  state  1  What  else  could  have  achieved 
the  wonders  which  have  been  wrought  in  Africa, 
in  Otaheite  ;  and  taught  the  rudest  barbarians  to  tilL 
the  ground,  to  learn  trades,  to  clothe  themselves  in 
decent  apparel,  to  read,  to  cast  accounts,  to  print 
books,  to  frame  laws" 

Godliness  alone  can  expel  from  society  the  prac- 
tice of  cruelty,  and  introduce  the  reign  and  preva- 
lence of  mercy.  The  d.rrk  places  of  the  earth  are 
full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty.  Rome  and  Greece, 
in  the  zenith  of  their  glory,  had  neither  a  hospital 
for  the  sick,  nor  an  asylum  for  the  poor:  they  treat- 
ed their  enemies  with  the  most  insolent  cruelty; 
practised  the  most  rigorous  slavery,  instituted 
games,  in  which  myriads  of  human  beings  were 
torn  to  pieces  in  fighting  with  wild  beasts.  What 
a  blessing  has  Christianity  been  to  the  world,  even 
in  relation  to  its  present  comforts.  It  has  suppress- 
ed polygamy,  put  a  stop  to  the  sale  of  children  by 
their  parents,  and  the  abandonment  and  murder  of 
aged  parents  by  their  children;  it  has  rescued  wo- 
men from  their  abominable  degradation  by  the  other 
sex,  and  raised  them  to  their  just  rank  in  society; 
it  has  sanctified  the  bond  of  marriage,  checked  the 
licentiousness  of  divorce  ;  it  has  in  a  great  measure 
destroyed  slavery,  mitigated  the  terrors  of  war, 
given  a  new  sanction  to  treaties,  introduced  milder 
laws,  and  more  equitable  governments;  it  has 
taught  lenity  to  enemies,  and  hospitality  to  stran- 
gers; it  has  made  a  legal  provision  for  the  poor; 
formed  institutions  for  instructing  the  ignorant; 
purified  the  stream  of  justice,  erected  the  throne  of 
mercy.  "  These,  O  Jesus,  are  the  triumphs  and  the 
trophies  of  thy  gospel,  and  which  of  thine  enemies, 
Paganism,  Islamism,  or  Infidelity,  has  done,  or 
could  do,  the  like  1" 

Even  the  avowed  and  inveterate  opponents  of  the 
gospel,  have  been  reluctantly  compelled  to  acknow- 
ledge, in  this  view,  its  excellence.  Voltaire  says 
expressly,  "  that  religion  is  necessary  in  every 
community ;  the  laws  are  a  curb  upon  open  crimes, 
and  religion  on  those  that  are  private."  "No  re- 
ligion," says  Bolingbroke,  "ever  appeared  in  the 
world,  whose  natural  tendency  was  so  much  direct- 
ed to  promote  the  peace  and  happiness  of  mankind, 
as  the  Christian.  The  gospel  of  Christ  is  one  con- 
tinued Irsson  of  the  strictest  morality,  of  justice, 
benevolence,   and   universal    charity.      Supposing 


40 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


Christianity  to  be  a  human  invention  it  is  the  most 
amiable  and  useful  invention  that  ever  was  im- 
posed upon  mankind  for  their  good."  Hume  ac- 
knowledges, that  "  disbelief  in  futurity,  loosens  in 
a  great  measure  the  ties  of  morality,  and  may  be 
supposed,  for  that  reason,  pernicious  to  the  peace 
of  civil  society."  Rousseau  confesses,  "  that  if  all 
were  perfect  Christians,  individuals  would  do  their 
duty,  the  people  would  be  obedient  to  the  laws,  the 
chiefs  just,  the  magistrates  incorrupt,  the  soldiers 
would  despise  death,  and  there  would  be  neither 
vanity  nor  luxury  in  such  a  slate."  Gibbon  ad- 
mits, "  that  the  gospel  discouraged  suicide,  advanc- 
ed erudition,  checked  oppression,  promoted  the 
manumission  of  slaves,  and  softened  the  ferocity  of 
barbarous  nations;  that  fierce  nations  received  at 
the  same  time  lessons  of  faith  and  humanity,  and 
that  even  in  the  most  corrupt  state  of  Christianity, 
the  barbarians  learnt  justice  from  the  law,  and  mer- 
cy from  the  gospel."* 

And  yet  with  such  concessions,  and  after  having 
paid  such  a  tribute  of  praise  to  the  excellence  of 
Christianity,  these  miserable  men  have  been  so 
vile  and  perverse  as  to  conspire  for  her  destruc- 
tion. 

Thus  has  it  been  most  demonstrably  proved  that 
godliness  exerts  a  powerful  and  favorable  influence 
over  the  temporal  interests  of  mankind.  Neglect  it, 
my  children,  and  you  know  not  what  awaits  you  ei- 
ther in  this  world  or  in  that  which  is  to  come.  De- 
cent, and  sober,  and  steady,  although  not  pious,  you 
may  fancy  yourselves  far  enough  removed  from 
the  probability  of  that  wretchedness  which  vice 
brings  with  it.  But,  ah  !  in  some  unguarded  mo- 
ment, temptation  may  be  successful  to  lead  you 
astray;  one  vice  makes  way  for  another;  and  the 
dreadful  progress  described  in  the  chapter  on  the 
deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  may  be  realized  by  you. 
Neglect  religion,  and  you  will  certainly  be  ruined 
for  the  world  to  come,  and  may  be  for  the  life  that 
now  is.  Vice  certainly  brings  hell  in  its  train,  and 
oftentimes  a  dreadful  earnest  of  its  future  torments, 
in  present  poverty,  disease  and  misery. 

I  reflect  with  unutterable  grief,  as  I  now  write, 
upon  many  young  men,  who  were  entering  life  with 
the  greatest  advantages  and  the  brightest  prospects, 
whom,  to  use  a  common  expression,  fortune  favored 
with  her  brightest  smiles;  but  alas!  they  would  not 
be  happy  and  respectable,  for  taking  to  the  ways  of 
sin,  they  dashed  all  the  hopes  of  their  friends,  and 
wantonly  threw  away  the  opportunities  which  a  kind 
providence  had  put  within  their  reach.  They  first 
went  to  the  theatre,  then  to  the  brothel,  then  to  the 
tavern.  They  became  dissipated,  extravagant,  idle. 
Unhappy  youth!  I  know  what  they  might  have 
been:  respectable  tradesmen,  prosperous  merchants, 
honorable  members  of  society:  I  know  what  they 
are:  bloated  rakes,  discarded  partners,  uncertificat- 
ed bankrupts,  miserable  vagrants,  a  burthen  to 
their  friends,  a  nuisance  to  the  community,  and  a 
torment  to  themselves. 

Seek  religion  then;  for,  as  Solomon  says  in  a 
passage  quoted  in  the  former  chapter,  "  She  is  more 
precious  than  rubies:  and  all  things  thou  canst  de- 
sire are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her;  Length  of 
days  13  in  her  right  hand  ;  and  in  her  left  hand, 
riches  and  honor.  Exalt  her  and  she  shall  promote 
thee  ;  she  shall  bring  thee  to  honor,  when  thou  dost 
embrace  her." 

*  See  an  interesting  work,  by  Dr.  Rvan,  entitled, 
"The  History  of  the  Effects  of  Religion  on  Man- 
kind, in  countries  Ancient  andJVlodern,  Barbarous 
and  Civilized."  I  very  particularly  recommend  the 
perusal  of  this  volume  to  all  young  persons  who  can 
procure  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ON   THE   CHOICE    OF    COMPANIONS. 

Man  was  made  for  society,  and  society  is  thought 
to  be  essential  to  his  happiness.  Adam  did  but  half 
enjoy  the  Jovely  and  untainted  scenes  of  Eden, 
while  there  was  no  rational  companion,  to  whom 
he  could  impart  the  raptures  of  his  soul,  and  Para- 
dise was  incomplete  till  God  gave  him  a  friend. — 
How  much  more  might  it  be  expected,  that  now, 
when  the  human  bosom  is  bereft  of  its  innocence, 
man  should  look  out  of  himself  for  happiness,  and 
endeavor  to  find  it  in  society.  Young  people  espe- 
cially, are  anxious  to  form  associations  of  this  kind, 
and  are  in  imminent  danger  of  choosing  compa- 
nions that  will  do  them  no  good.  The  design  of  the 
present  chapter  is  to  put  you,  my  children,  on  your 
guard  against  this  evil,  and  to  assist  you  in  the  se- 
lection of  those  friends  with  whom  you  take  daily 
counsel.  This  subject  has  been  already  adverted  to, 
but  it  is  of  sufficient  importance  to  occupy  a  sepa- 
rate chapter. 

1.  It  becomes  you  very  seriously  to  reflect  on  the 
influence  which  your  companions,  of  whatever 
kind  they  are,  will  certainly  have  in  the  formation 
of  your  character. 

"  We  are  all,"  says  Mr.  Locke,  "  a  kind  of  came- 
lions,  that  take  a  tincture  from  the  objects  which 
surround  us."  A  still  wiser  man  has  told  us,  that 
"  He  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise,  but 
a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed."  Hence 
he  cautions  us;  "  make  no  friendship  with  an  angry 
man,  and  with  a  furious  man  thou  shalt  not  go;  lest 
thou  learn  his  ways,  and  get  a  snare  to  thy  soul." — 
These  admonitions  are  founded  on  the  general  prin- 
ciple, that  the  example  of  our  companions  will  ex- 
ert a  plastic  influence  in  the  formation  of  our  own 
character,  slow  and  silent,  perhaps,  but  irresistible 
and  successful :  and  this  influence  will  be  in  pro- 
portion to  the  love  and  esteem  we  cherish  for  them. 
All  nations  and  all  ages  have  confessed  the  truth 
of  the  sentiment.  The  example  of  a  beloved  com- 
panion is  omnipotent,  more  especially  if  he  be  a 
sinful  one,  because  a  bad  model  finds  in  the  depra- 
vity of  our  nature  something  that  prepares  it  to  re- 
ceive the  impression.  One  evil  companion  will 
undo  in  a  month,  all  that  parents  and  teachers  have 
been  laboring  for  years  to  accomplish.  Here  then 
pause,  and  consider  that  the  character,  of  your  as- 
sociates will  in  all  probability,  be  your  own.  If  you 
do  not  carry  to  them  a  similarity  of  taste,  you  will  be 
sure  to  acquire  it ;  "  for  how  can  two  walk  together 
except  they  be  agreed  1" 

2.  Let  me  now  set  before  you  the  dangers  to  be 
apprehended  from  bad  company. 

By  bad  company  I  mean  all  those  who  are  desti- 
tute of  the  fear  of  God;  not  only  the  infidel,  the 
profligate,  the  profane,  but  those  who  are  living  in 
the  risible  neglect  of  religion.  Now  these  are  not  fit 
companions  lor  you.  They  maybe  respectable  and 
genteel  as  to  their  rank  in  life ;  they  may  be  grace- 
ful and  insinuating  in  their  manners;  they  may  be 
persons  of  fine  taste,  and  cultivated  understandings; 
of  facetious  humor,  and  polished  wit;  but  these 
things,  if  connected  with  irreligious  habits,  only 
make  them  the  more  alarmingly  and  successfully 
dangerous.  They  are  like  the  fair  speech,  and 
lovely  form,  and  glowing  colors,  which  the  serpent 
assumed  when  he  attacked  and  destroyed  the  inno- 
cence of  Eve.  Look  through  these  meretricious  or- 
naments, pierce  this  dazzling  exterior,  and  recog- 
nize the  substance,  the  fang,  and  the  venom  of  the 
wily  foe.  The  more  external  accomplishments  any 
one  has,  if  he  be  without  the  fear  of  God,  the  greater 
is  his  power  to  do  mischief;  and  remember,  that 
when  you  have  listened  to  his  wiles,  and  feel  the 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


41 


sharpness  of  his  tooth,  and  the  deadly  agony  of  his 
venom,  it  will  be  no  compensation  nor  consolation 
that  you  have  looked  on  his  many-tinted  skin,  and 
nave  been  ruined  by  the  fascination  of  his  charms. 
The  companions  you  are  to  avoid  then,  are  those 
who  are  obviously  living  without  the  fear  of  God. 

Consider  the  many  dangers  arising  from  such  as- 
sociates. You  will  soon  outlive  all  sense  of  serious 
piety,  and  lose  all  the  impressions  you  might  have 
received  from  a  religious  education.  These  you 
cannot  hope  to  preserve  ;  you  might  as  soon  expect 
to  guard  the  impressions  you  had  traced  with  your 
finger  on  the  sand  from  the  tide  of  the  Atlantic 
ocean.  Even  they  whose  religious  character  has 
been  formed  for  years,  find  it  hard  to  preserve  the 
spirituality  of  their  mind  in  irreligious  company. 
"  Throw  a  blazing  firebrand  into  snow  or  rain," 
says  Bolton,  "and  its  brightness  and  heat  will  be 
quickly  extinguished;  so  let  the  liveliest  Christian 
plunge  himself  into  sinful  company,  and  he  will 
soon  find  the  warmth  of  his  zeal  abated,  and  the 
tenderness  of  his  conscience  injured."  How  then 
can  you  expect  to  maintain  a  sense  of  religion, 
whose  habits  are  scarcely  formed,  and  whose  cha- 
racter has  yet  so  much  of  the  tenderness  and  sup- 
pleness of  youth'?  Do  consider  your  proneness  to 
imitate:  your  dread  of  singularity;  your  love  of 
praise;  your  morbid  sense  of  shame.  Can  you  bear 
the  sneer,  the  jest,  the  broad,  loud  laugh]  With 
none  to  defend  you,  none  to  join  you  in  your  reve- 
rence for  piety,  what  are  you  to  do  single  and 
alone] 

In  such  company  you  lay  yourselves  open  to 
temptation,  and  will  probably  be  drawn  into  a  great 
deal  of  guilt.  In  private  and  alone,  the  force  of 
temptation  and  the  power  of  depravity  are  very 
great,  but  how  much  greater  when  aided  by  the  ex- 
ample of  intimate  friends.  As  united  fires  burn  the 
fiercer,  and  the  concentrated  virus  of  many  persons 
thrown  into  the  same  room  infected  with  the  plague, 
renders  the  disease  more  malignant,  so  a  sinful 
community  improves  and  grows  in  impiety,  and 
every  member  joins  his  brother's  pollution  to  his 
own. 

Nothing  is  so  contagious  as  bad  morals.  Evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners.  Multitudes 
have  committed  those  sins  without  scruple  in  soci- 
ety, which  they  could  not  have  contemplated  alone 
without  horror.  It  is  difficult  indeed  to  wade  against 
the.  torrent  of  evil  example;  and  in  general,  what- 
ever is  done  by  the  party,  must  be  done  by  every  in- 
dividual of  which  it  is  composed. 

In  such  company  you  will  throw  yourselves  out 
of  the  way  of  repentance  and  reformation.  The 
little  relish  you  once  had  for  devotional  exercises 
will  soon  be  lost.  Your  Bible  will  fall  into  desue- 
tude, the  house  of  God  will  be  neglected,  and  pious 
friends  carefully  shunned.  Should  an  occasional 
revival  of  your  serious  feelings  take  place  under  a 
sermon,  or  the  remonstrances  of  a  friend,  they  will 
be  immediately  lulled  again  to  repose,  or  banished 
from  your  bosom  by  the  presence  and  conversation 
of  an  irreligious  companion. 

In  many  ca  >e  •  evil  society  has  destroyed  for  ever 
even  the  temporal  interests  of  those  who  have  fre- 
quented i;.  Habits  of  dissipation,  folly,  and  extra- 
vagance have  been  acquired;  character  has  been 
ruined,  business  neglected,  poverty  and  misery  en- 
tailed. But  if  this  should  not  ensue,  the  influence 
of  evil  association  will  go  to  ruin  your  souls,  and 
sink  you  to  perdition.  A  companion  of  fools  shall 
be  destroyed  ;  their  path  is  the  way  to  hell,  going 
down  to  111"  chambers  of  death.  Yes  ;  if  you  con- 
nect yourselves  with  them,  they  will  drag  you  into 
the  vortex  of  their  own  ruin,  as  they  sink  in  the 
gulf  of  perdition.  Is  there  the  companion  on  earth 
whose  society  you  will  seek  or  retain  at  this  dread- 


ful hazard]  Is  there  one,  for  the  sake  ol  whose 
friendship  you  will  be  willing  to  walk  with  him  to 
the  bottomless  pit  ]  What  though  you  could  have 
the  society  of  the  first  poets,  philosophers,  whs,  and 
fashionables  of  the  age,  and  yet  were  to  lose  your 
own  souls,  what  would  this  profit  you  !  Will  it 
soothe  the  agonies  of  your  spirit  in  those  regions  of 
horrible  despair,  to  remember  what  you  enjoyed  in 
the  company  of  your  gay  companions  on  earth] 
Alas  !  alas !  all  that  rendered  your  intercourse  on 
earth  delightful,  will  then  come  to  a  final  end. 
There  will  be  no  opportunities  granted  you  to  gra 
tify  your  sensual  desires  together;  no  delicious 
food,  no  intoxicating  liquors;  there  are  no  amusing 
tales,  no  merry  songs  there;  no  feast  of  reason  nor 
the  flow  of  soul  there;  no  coruscations  of  wit  will 
°nliven  the  gloom  of  hell ;  no  gay  fancy  will  brighten 
the  darkness  of  eternal  despair,  no  sallies  of  humor 
shall  illumine  the  blackness  of  everlasting  night; 
'■  but  there  shall  be  weeping  and  wailing  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth;  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire 
that  is  never  quenched." 

What  mind  but  His,  who  comprehends  the  uni- 
verse in  his  survey,  can  conceive  the  multitudes 
that  have  been  ruined  for  both  worlds  by  the  influ- 
ence of  bad  company.  Their  names  have  been  re- 
corded on  every  roll  of  infamy,  and  found  in  every 
memorial  of  guilt  and  wretchedness.  The  records 
of  the  workhouse  and  the  hospital;  of  the  jails  and 
the  hulks;  or  the  gallows  and  the  dissecting-room, 
would  declare  the  mischief;  and  could  we  look  into 
the  prison  of  lost  souls,  a  crowd  of  miserable  ghosts 
would  meet  our  eye,  who  seem  to  utter  in  groans  of 
despair,  this  sad  confession,  "  We  are  the  wretched 
victims  of  evil  associations." 

In  the  large  and  populous  town  where  Providence 
has  fixed  my  lot,  I  have  had  an  extensive  sphere  of 
observation  ;  and  I  give  it  as  my  decided  convic- 
tion and  deliberate  opinion,  that  improper  associates 
are  the  most  successful  means  which  are  employed  by 
Satan  for  the  ruin  of  men's  souls. 

The  advice  then  which  I  offer  is  this: 

1.  Be  not  over  anxious  about  society.  Do  not 
take  up  the  opinion  that  all  happiness  centres  in  a 
friend.  Many  of  you  are  blessed  with  a  happy 
home,  and  an  agreeable  circle  round  your  own  fire- 
side.* Here  seek  your  companions,  in  your  parents 
your  brothers,  and  sisters. 

2.  Determine  to  have  no  companion  rather  than 
an  improper  one.  The  one  case  is  but  a  privation 
of  what  is  pleasant,  the  other  is  the  possession  of  a 
positive  evil. 

3.  Maintain  a  dignified  but  not  proud  reserve. 
Do  not  be  too  frank  and  ingenuous.  Be  cautious 
of  too  hastily  attaching  yourselves  as  friends  to 

*  Let  me  here  address  a  word  to  parents.  As  you 
would  not  drive  your  children  to  seek  improper 
companions  abroad,  seek  to  make  them  contented 
and  happv  at  home.  Render  their  own  house  plea- 
sant to  them,  and  they  will  rarely  feel  a  desire  to 
seek  happiness  in  the  houses  of  others.  Be  you 
their  companions  and  friends,  and  they  will  not  be 
anxious  to  seek  foreign  ones.  As  far  as  circum- 
stances will  admit,  be  much  at  home  yourselves, 
and  that  will  keep  your  children  there.  Spend 
what  evenings  you  can  in  the  bosom  of  your  family. 
Point  out  to  your  children  what  books  to  peruse. 
Read  with  them  ami  to  them.  Converse  with  them 
in  a  free  and  ensraging  manner.  Do  nor  be  house- 
hold tyrants;  driving  your  children  from  your  pre- 
sence by  severity,  petulance,  and  i'l  humor;  but 
conduct  yourselves  with  that  affection  and  affability 
which  shall  render  your  return  welcome  to  your 
family,  and  draw  your  children  in  a  little  crowd  of 
smiling  f  tees  round  you  the  moment  you  entei  the 
room. 


42 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


others,  or  them  10  you.  Be  polite  and  kind  to  all, 
but  communicative  and  familiar  with  few.  Keep 
your  hearts  in  abeyance,  till  your  judgment  has 
most  carefully  examined  the  characters  of  those 
who  wish  to  be  admitted  to  the  circle  of  your  ac- 
quaintance. Neither  run  nor  jump  into  friendships, 
but  walk  towards  them  slowly  and  cautiously. 

4.  Always  consult  your  parents  about  your  com- 
panions, and  be  guided  by  their  opinions.  They 
have  your  interests  at  heart,  and  see  further  than 
you  can. 

5.  Cultivate  a  taste  for  reading  and  mental  im- 
provement; this  will  render  you  independent  of 
living  society.  Books  will  always  furnish  you  with 
intelligent,  useful,  and  elegant  friends.  No  one  can 
be  dull  who  has  access  to  the  works  of  illustrious 
authors,  and  has  a  taste  for  reading.  And  after  all, 
there  are  comparatively  few  whose  society  will  so 
richly  reward  us  as  this  silent  converse  with  the 
mighty  dead. 

6.  Choose  none  for  your  intimate  companions  but 
those  who  are  decidedly  pious,  or  persons  of  very 
high  moral  worth.  A  scrupulous  regard  to  all  the 
duties  of  morality;  a  high  reverence  for  the  Scrip- 
tures; a  belief  in  their  essential  doctrines;  a  con- 
stant attendance  on  the  means  of  grace,  are  the 
lowest  qualifications  which  you  should  require  in 
the  character  of  an  intimate  friend. 

Perhaps  I  shall  be  asked  one  or  two  questions  on 
this  subject,  to  which  an  answer  ought  to  be  re- 
turned. "  If,"  say  you,  "  I  have  formed  an  acquaint- 
ance with  a  young  friend  before  I  had  any  serious 
impressions  upon  my  mind,  ought  I  now  to  quit  his 
society,  if  he  still  remains  destitute  of  any  visible 
regard  to  religion  1"  First  try,  by  every  effort 
which  affection  can  dictate,  and  prudence  direct, 
to  impress  his  mind  with  a  sense  of  religion ;  if, 
after  a  while,  your  exertions  should  be  unavailing, 
candidly  tell  him  that,  as  you  have  taken  different 
views  of  things,  and  acquired  different  tastes  to 
what  you  formerly  possessed,  and  that  as  you  have 
failed  to  bring  him  to  your  way  of  living,  and  can 
no  longer  accommodate  your  pursuits  to  his,  con- 
science demands  of  you  a  separation  from  his  so- 
ciety. Sir  Matthew  Hale,  one  of  the  most  upright 
and  able  judges  that  ever  sat  upon  the  bench,  was 
nearly  ruined  by  his  dissolute  companions.  When 
young,  he  had  been  very  studious  and  sober;  but 
the  players  happening  to  come  to  the  town  where  he 
was  studying,  he  became  a  witness  of  their  perform- 
ance, by  which  he  was  so  captivated,  that  his  mind 
lost  its  relish  for  study,  and  he  addicted  himself  to 
dissipated  company.  'When  in  the  midst  of  his  as- 
sociates one  day,  it  pleased  God  to  visit  one  of  them 
with  sudden  death.  Sir  Matthew  was  struck  with 
horror  and  remorse.  He  retired  and  prayed,  first 
for  his  friend,  that  if  the  vital  spark  were  not  fled, 
he  might  be  restored;  and  then  for  himself,  that  he 
might  never  more  be  found  in  such  places  and  com- 
pany as  would  render  him  unfit  to  meet  death. — 
From  that  day  he  quitted  all  his  wicked  compa- 
nions, walked  no  more  in  the  way  of  sinners,  but 
devoted  himself  to  piety  and  literature. 

I  shall  be  asked  again  probably,  "  What  am  I  to 
do,  if  I  can  find  in  my  situation  no  individual  of  my 
own  rank  and  circumstances  in  life,  who  is  a  par- 
taker of  true  piety;  ought  I,  in  this  case,  to  associate 
with  those  who  are  much  below  me,  and  who  can- 
not be  my  companions  in  any  thing  but  piety  !"  In 
reply  to  this,  I  observe,  that  it  is  character  which 
constitutes  respectability,  and  not  the  adventitious 
circumstances  of  fortune  or  rank:  and  to  conduct 
ourselves  in  anv  degree  as  if  we  were  ashamed  of 
the  followers  of  Christ,  because  they  are  poor,  is  an 
offence  against  our  divine  Lord.  To  forsake  prayer 
meetings,  benevolent  institution',  Sunday  schools, 
or  places  where  the  gospel  is  preached,  merely  be- 


cause we  find  none  there  of  sufficient  fortune  to  as- 
sociate with  us;  to  treat  our  poorer  brethren  with 
cold  neglect  and  haughty  distance;  to  refuse  to  be 
seen  speaking  with  them,  and  to  them,  as  if  they 
were  beneath  us;  this  is  most  manifestly  wrong; 
for  it  is  carrying  the  distinctions  of  the  world  into 
the  church.  Still,  however,  as  religion  was  never 
intended  to  level  these  distinctions,  it  might  not  be 
adviseable  to  choose  bosom  companions  from  those 
who  are  far  below  us  in  worldly  circumstances. 
Some  inconvenience  would  arise  from  the  practice, 
and  it  would  occasion,  in  many  cases,  the  ways  of 
godliness  to  be  spoken  ill  of. 

Young  persons  of  good  habits  should  take  great 
heed  that  they  do  not,  by  insensible  degrees,  become 
dangerous  characters  to  each  other.  That  social 
turn  of  mind,  which  is  natural  to  men,  and  espe- 
cially to  young  persons,  may  perhaps  lead  them  to 
form  themselves  into  little  societies,  particularly  at 
the  festive  season  of  the  year,  to  spend  their  even- 
ings together.  But  let  me  entreat  you  to  be  cautious 
how  you  spend  them.  If  your  games  and  your  cups 
take  up  your  time  till  you  entrench  on  the  night, 
and  perhaps  on  the  morning  too,  you  will  quickly 
corrupt  each  other.  Farewell  then  to  prayer,  and 
every  other  religious  exercise  in  secret.  Farewell 
then  to  all  my  pleasing  hopes  of  you,  and  to  those 
hopes  which  your  pious  parents  have  entertained. 
You  will  then  become  examples  and  instances  of 
all  the  evils  I  have  so  largely  described.  Plead 
not  that  these  things  are  lawful  in  themselves;  so 
are  most  of  those  in  a  certain  degree  which,  by  their 
abuse,  prove  destructive  to  men's  souls  and  bodies. 
If  you  meet,  let  it  be  for  rational  and  Christian  con 
versalion;  and  let  prayer  and  other  devotions  have 
their  frequent  place  among  yon  ;  and  if  you  say  oi 
think  that  a  mixture  of  these  will  spoil  the  company, 
it  is  high  time  for  you  to  stop  your  career,  and  call 
yourselves  to  an  account;  for  it  seems  by  such  a 
thought  that  you  are  lovers  of  pleasure  much  more 
than  lovers  of  God.  Some  of  those  things  may  ap- 
pear to  have  a  tincture  of  severity,  but  consider 
whether  I  could  have  proved  myself  faithful  to  you, 
and  to  him  in  whose  name  I  speak,  if  I  had  omitted 
the  caution  I  have  now  been  giving  you.  I  shall 
only  add  that,  had  I  loved  you  less  tenderly,  I 
should  have  warned  you  more  coldly  of  this  dan- 
gerous and  deadly  snare.* 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


ON   BOOKS. 


Tiif.  invention  of  the  art  of  printing  forms  an  era 
in  the  history  of  mankind,  next  in  importance  to  the 
promulgation  of  the  law,  and  the  publication  of  the 
gospel.  Until  this  splendid  gift  was  bestowed  upon 
man,  books,  which  were  all  in  manuscript,  were  cir- 
culated within  a  comparatively  narrow  sphere,  and 
knowledge  was  in  the  possession  of  only  a  privileged 
few.  This  invaluable  art,  however,  rendered  the 
fountains  of  information  accessible  to  all,  and  gave 
opportunity  to  the  poorest  of  our  race,  to  slake  their 
mental  thirst  at  the  deepest  and  purest  streams  of 
truth.  There  was  a  time  when  ignorance  was  ra- 
ther a  misfortune  thrm  a  reproach;  and  when,  in- 
deed, a  craving  after  informaiion  would,  with  many, 
have  been  rather  a  calamity  than  a  benefit,  since 
the  means  of  satisfying  the  appetite  were  beyond 
their  reach.  The  state  of  things  is  altered  now, 
and  almost  a  whole  circle  of  science  may  be  pur- 
chased for  a  few  shillings.     Education  is  also  much 


*  See  Dr.  Doddridge's  sermon,  entitled  "A  Dis- 
suasive from  Keeping  Ead  Company." 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


improved  and  extended.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, ignorance  is  a  deep  reproach  ;  and  a  young 
person  who  can  suffer  days  and  weeks  to  pass  with- 
out taking  up  a  book,  is  a  pitiable  spectacle  of  dolt- 
ish inanity.  Cultivate,  then,  my  children,  a  taste 
for  reading;  and  in  order  to  this,  there  must  be  a 
thirst  after  information.  "  Knowledge,"  says  Lord 
Bacon,  "is  power;"  and  if  it  were  not  power,  it  is 
pleasure.  It  gives  us  weight  of  character,  and  pro- 
cures for  us  respect.  It  enables  us  to  form  an  opin- 
ion with  correctness,  to  state  it  with  clearness,  to 
offer  it  with  confidence,  and  to  enforce  it  with  argu- 
ment. It  enlarges  the  sphere  of  our  usefulness,  by 
raising  the  degree  of  our  intluence.  Other  things 
being  equal,  that  man  will  be  the  most  useful  who 
has  the  greatest  measure  of  information.  Here  I 
shall  offer  some  directions  for  your  guidance  in  the 
selection  of  books.  Books  may  be  divided  into  two 
classes. 

First,  such  as  relate  to  religion. 

Of  these,  the  Bible  of  course  occupies  the  supreme 
place,  an  elevation  exclusively  its  own.  It  is,  as  its 
title  signifies,  the  book; — the  standard  of  all  right 
sentiments;  the  judge  of  all  other  works.  Sir  Wil- 
liam Jones,  that  prodigy  of  learning,  wrote  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  his  Bible  these  remarks:  "  I  have  care- 
fully and  regularly  perused  these  holy  Scriptures, 
and  am  of  opinion  that  the  volume,  independently 
of  its  divine  origin,  contains  more  sublimity,  purer 
morality,  more  important  history,  and  finer  strains 
of  eloquence,  than  can  be  collected  from  all  other 
books,  in  whatever  language  they  may  have  been 
written."  Salmatius,  the  learned  antagonist  of  Mil- 
ton, said  on  his  death-bed,  "that  were  he  to  begin 
life  again,  he  would  spend  much  of  his  time  in  read- 
ing David's  psalms  and  Paul's  epistles."  What- 
ever books  you  neglect,  neglect  not  the  Bible.  What- 
ever other  books  you  read,  read  this.  Let  not  a  day 
Sass  without  perusing  some  portion  of  holy  writ. 
Lead  it  devoutly;  not  from  curiosity,  nor  with  a 
view  to  controversy;  but  to  be  made  wise  unto  sal- 
vation. Read  it  with  much  prayer.  Read  it  with 
a  determination  to  follow  its  guidance  wheresoever 
it  leads.* 

In  addition  to  the  Bible,  there  are  many  unin- 
spired religious  books  which  I  recommend.  In  the 
class  of  biography,  Hunter's  Scripture  Characters  is 
a  most  fascinating  production.  Brook's  Lives  of 
the  Puritans,  Gilpin's  Lives  of  the  Reformers,  Cox's 
Life  of  Melancthon,  are  all  useful  and  interesting. 
Mr.  Williams'  Life  and  Diary  will  show  you  how 
the  tradesman  may  be  united  with  the  Christian, 
and  how  a  man  may  be  busy  for  both  worlds.  The 
Life  of  Pearce,  by  Fuller,  is  an  excellent  work. 
Martyn's  Memoirs  is  the  most  interesting  piece  of 
bi  igraphy  published  in  modern  times.  Dnrant's 
Life  and  Remains  of  his  Son  are  singularly  in- 
structive. 

Should  you  wish  to  read  on  doctrinal  theology,  I 
strongly  recommend  Dwight's  system.  On  thecri- 
denccs  of  Christianity,  Bishop  Watson's  Apology,  in 
reply  to  P.iinc:  ljkewk",  Bogue's Essay,  Chalmers' 
Historical  Evidences,  the  masterly  work  of  Paley, 
and  Campbell  on  Miracles,  a  work  which  meets  the 
subtleties  of  Hume. 

On  church  history,  I  recommend  Burnet's  History 
of  the  Reformation  ;  Campbell,  for  his  admirable 
description  of  the  rise,  progress,  and  spirit  of  pope- 
ry ;  Mosheim,  for  his  account  of  the  errors  and  cor- 
ruptions of  the  Church ;  and  Mil ner,  for  his  anxiety 
to  trace  true  piety,  wherever  it  is  to  be  found,  amidst 
th"  prevailing  ignorance  and  vice  of  the  times.  He 
is,  however,  too  credulous,  and  not  so  impartial  in 

*  I  recommend  to  the  young  a  diligent  and  serious 
p°rusal  of  Bickersteth's  Help  to  the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures;  a  very  valuable  treatise. 


his  treatment  of  the  questions  which  bear  on  dis- 
sent, as  the  dignity  and  candor  of  an  historian  re- 
quire. Jones's  History  of  the  Waldenses  is  a  very 
interesting  work. 

Secondly,  the  other  division  of  books  includes  all 
the  varied  classes,  which  relate  to  the  affairs  of  this 
life. 

Enjoying,  as  Britons,  the  advantages  of  a  politi- 
cal constitution,  which  is  the  work  of  ages,  and  the 
admiration  of  the  world,  yon  should  acquaint  your- 
selves with  its  theory,  and  for  this  purpose  may  read 
Custance's  short  work,  De  Lolme's  more  elaborate 
and  philosophical  production,  and  the  first  volume 
of  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  together.with  a  more 
modern  work  of  Lord  John  Russel's. 

Young  men  should  acquaint  themselves  with  the 
principles  of  trade  and  commerce,  and  of  course 
should  be  acquainted  with  Adam  Smith's  "  Wealth 
of  Nations." 

History  is  a  class  of  reading  in  which  you  ought 
to  be  at  home;  and  ai  Britons,  it  would  be  to  your 
deep  disgrace  to  be  ignorant  of  the  details  of  your 
own  country.  In  this  department  you  ought  nut  to 
be  satisfied  with  mere  facts,  and  names,  and  dates, 
but  should  read  with  an  eye  which  discriminates 
and  marks  the  changes  which  events  introduce  into 
the  manners,  laws,  liberties,  and  governments  of  na- 
tions. History  is  something  more  than  a  mere 
chronicle  of  facts;  and  our  knowledge  of  its  details 
should  be  such  as  enables  us  to  trace  the  progress  of 
society,  and  the  march  of  improvement.  The  his- 
tory of  Goldsmith  should  prepare  you  for  the  larger 
and  popular  work  of  Hume.  TL:5  beautiful  simpli- 
city of  Hume's  composition,  together  with  his  phi- 
losophical mode  of  analyzing  character,  and  tracing 
events,  renders  his  work  peculiarly  fascinating: 
but  unhappily,  Hume  was  a  confirmed  infidel,  and 
must  be  read  with  a  mind  ever  upon  its  guard 
against  the  poison  which  he  has  infused  into  his 
narrative;  and  his  views  on  the  great  question  of 
civil  liberty  were  not  the  most  liberal.  When  you 
read  this  author,  remember  that  although  you  are 
drinking  a  pleasant  draught  from  a  goblet  of  bur- 
nished gold,  there  is  poison  in  the  cup :  happily,  the 
deleterious  infusion  floats  upon  the  surface,  and  may 
be  therefore  easily  detected.  An  English  history, 
in  which  there  shall  be  the  most  sacred  regard  to 
the  principles  of  pure  morality,  evangelical  religion, 
and  rational  liberty,  is  still  a  desideratum  in  the 
literature  of  our  country.* 

The  ancient  history  of  Rollin,  eloquent,  pure,  and 
moral,  should  be  read  by  every  young  person.  Gold- 
smith's Greece  should  prepare  for  the  masterly  work 
of  Mitford;  and  his  Rome,  for  the  gorgeous  pro- 
duction of  Gibbon.  Unhappily,  the  same  remark 
will  apply  to  this  latter  writer,  as  to  his  contempo- 
rary Hume:  he  was  an  infidel,  though  in  a  more 
covert  way  than  the  Scotch  historian.     If  you  have 


*  Some  interesting  and  valuable  books,  entitled 
"Studies  in  History,"  have  been  published  by  the 
Rev.  S.  Morrel,  theological  tutor  in  the  dissenting 
academy  at  Wymondley.  His  moral  reflpctio-is  are 
rather  too  long,  and  too  much  detached  from  the 
history.  Hume  has  so  incorporated  his  infidelity 
with  his  history,  that  it  is  impossible  to  read  the  one 
without  th"  other.  In  this  way  a  moral  and  reli- 
gious history  should  be  written.  To  use  a  simile 
borrowed  from  weaving,  the  religion  and  the  narra- 
tive should,  like  the  warp  and  the  woof,  be  wrought 
into  each  other.  Where  they  are  entirely  detached, 
young  people  find  the  thread  of  the  history  too  much 
broken,  and  leave  the  comment  to  follow  the  text. 
Mr.  Lingard,  a  Roman  Catholic  author,  is  now 
publishing  a  very  well  written  history  of  England, 
in  which  his  views  and  feelings,  as  a  Catholic,  are, 
however,  sufficiently  prominent. 


44 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT 


leisure  and  inclination  to  peruse  Roman  history, 
Orevier,  who  was  a  pupil  of  Rollin,  has  supplied 
the  means,  in  his  "Lives  of  the  Emperors;"  and 
Hooke,  also,  in  his  Roman  History,  which  is  car- 
ried down  to  the  death  of  Oclavius.  Robertson's 
historical  works  are  eminently  entitled  to  attention, 
especially  his  "  Charles  the  Fifth,"  the  introduc- 
tory volume  of  which  contains  a  view  of  the  pro- 
gress of  society  in  Europe,  from  the  subversion  of 
the  Roman  empire  to  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century;  and  also  presents  a  masterly  survey  of  the 
gradations  by  which  the  social  institutions  of  anti- 
quity have  passed  through  the  barbarism  of  the  dark 
ages,  into  all  that  characterizes  the  state  of  modern 
Europe.  Bishop  Burnet's  History  of  his  own  Times, 
ought  to  be  perused  as  the  work  of  an  author  who 
wrote  the  narrative  of  events  which  he  witnessed, 
who^e  veracity  can  be  trusted,  if  not  his  discrimina- 
tion. 

In  the  department  of  English  composition,  Addi- 
son and  Johnson,  though  moral  writers,  in  iheusual 
acceptation  of  the  term,  are  not  always  correct  in 
their  principles,  if  indeed  the  New  Testament  is  the 
standard  of  moral  sentiments.  It  is  desirable  to 
cultivate  a  good  taste,  and  an  elegant  style  of  com- 
position :  and  for  this  purpose,  the  productions  of 
these  two  celebrated  writers  may  be  read,  together 
with  Burke  on  the  Sublime,  Alison  on  Taste,  Blair's 
Lectures,  and  Campbell  on  Rhetoric. 

Poetry  is  a  bewitching,  and  if  not  of  a  strictly 
moral  character,  a  dangerous  species  of  writing.  I 
by  no  means  condemn  it,  for  this  would  betray  a 
Gothic  destitution  of  taste,  as  well  as  an  ignorance 
of  some  of  the  first  principles  of  our  nature.  The 
ear  is  tuned  to  enjoy  the  melody  of  numbers,  and  the 
imagination  formed  to  delight  in  the  creations  of 
fancy.  But  still  it  must  be  recollected,  that  the  ima- 
gination is  amongst  the  inferior  faculties  of  mind, 
and  that  the  gratification  of  the  senses  is  amongst 
the  lowest  ends  of  a  rational  existence :  only  a  limit- 
ed perusal  of  poetry  is  therefore  to  be  allowed ;  such 
an  indulgence  in  this  mental  luxury  and  recreation, 
as  will  not  unfit  the  mind,  or  deprive  it  of  opportu- 
nity for  severer  and  more  useful  pursuits.  We 
should  use  poetry  as  we  do  those  pleasing  objects 
of  nature,  from  which  it  derives  its  most,  lovely 
images ;  not  as  the  regions  of  our  constant  abode, 
but  as  the  scenes  of  our  occasional  resort.  Although 
the  present  age  can  boast  the  noble  productions  of 
such  men  as  Scott,  Southey,  Campbell,  and  Words- 
worth, whose  poems  every  person  of  real  taste  will 
read,  yet  I  recommend  the  more  habitual  perusal  of 
Spencer  and  Milton  among  the  ancients,  and  Cow- 
per  and  Montgomery  among  the  moderns:  the  two 
first  for  their  genius,  and  the  others  for  their  piety.* 

The  whole  wide  range  of  Natural  History  and 
Experimental  Philosophy,  presents  a  scene  of  inte- 


*  As  for  Bvron,  possessing,  as  he  does,  the  very 
soul  of  poetrv,  beyond  all  his  contemporaries,  his 
exquisite  pathos,  and  peerless  beauty  can  make  no 
atonement  for  his  vices,  and  should  have  no  power 
to  reconcile  us  to  his  works.  He  is  indeed,  as  he 
has  been  styled,  the  master  of  a  Satanic  school :  in- 
fidelity and  immorality  are  the  lessons  which  all  his 
pages  teach  ;  and  nearly  all  his  characters  embody 
and  enforce.  Never  before  did  these  dispositions 
receive  such  patronage  from  the  poetic  muse.  Never 
was  genius  seen  more  closely  allied  to  vice,  than  in 
the  productions  of  this  popular,  but  dangerous  writer. 
His  works  are  enough  to  corrupt  the  morals  of  a  na- 
tion, and  seem  indeed,  to  have  been  written  for  this 
dreadful  purpose.  He  stands  like  a  volcano  in  the 
world  of  letters,  srand  and  magestic,  dark,  lowering, 
and  fiery:  while  every  new  work  is  but  another 
eruption  of  lava  upon  the  interests  beneath.  He 
seems  to  have  been  stirred  up  by  the  evil  spirit  to 


resting  research,  through  which  authors  of  the  first 
respectability  stand  always  ready  to  conduce  you, 
unfolding  at  every  step  some  new  proof  of  the  ".xist- 
ence,  and  some  fresh  display  of  the  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  of  the  great  First  Cause.  The  sub- 
lime wonders  of  astronomy  elevate  the  mind,  and 
throw  open  an  almost  infinite  field  of  contemplation 
and  astonishment.  Chymistry,  by  its  combinations, 
affinities,  and  repulsions ;  by  its  principles  as  a  the- 
ory, and  the  unlimited  practical  uses  of  these  prin- 
ciples, is  an  endless  career  of  pleasing  and  useful 
study.  Optics,  pneumatics,  electricity,  with  all  their 
attendant  sciences,  have  been  treated  of  by  writers, 
whose  productions  assist  us  to  explore  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  God :  while  botany  shows  that  the  weed 
we  trample  under  our  feet,  no  less  than  the  mighty 
orb  which  rolls  throush  illimitable  space,  obeys  the 
laws,  assumes  the  place,  and  accommodates  itself 
to  the  order  appointed  by  its  Creator. 

As  to  that  class  of  books  denominated  novels,  I 
join  with  every  other  moral  and  religious  writer  in 
condemning,  as  the  vilest  trash,  the  greater  part  of 
the  productions,  which,  under  this  name,  have  car- 
ried a  turbid  stream  of  vice  over  the  morals  of  man- 
kind. They  corrupt  the  taste,  pollute  the  heart,  de- 
base the  mind,  immoralize  the  conduct.  They 
throw  prostrate  the  understanding,  sensualize  the 
affections,  enervate  the  will,  and  bring  all  the  high 
faculties  of  the  soul  into  subjection  to  an  imagina- 
tion which  they  have  first  made  wild,  insane,  and 
uncontrollable.  They  furnish  no  ideas,  and  gene- 
rate a  morbid,  sickly  sentimentalism,  instead  of  a 
just  and  lovely  sensibility.  A  wise  man  should  de- 
spise them,  and  a  good  man  should  abhor  them. — 
Of  late  years  they  have,  it  is  true,  undergone  a  con- 
siderable reformation.  The  present  extraordinary 
favorite  of  the  literary  world,  has  indeed  displaced, 
and  sent  into  oblivion,  a  thousand  miserable  scrib- 
blers of  love  stories,  who  still  however  fling  back  at 
him,  as  they  retire,  the  ancient  taunt,  "  Art  thou  too 
become  as  one  of  us  V  His  works  discover  prodi- 
gious talent,  astonishing  information,  and  a  power 
of  delineating  character  truly  wonderful.  But  what 
is  their  merit  beyond  a  power  to  amuse  1  Who 
ever  wrote  so  much  for  so  little  real  usefulness? — 
They  are  still,  in  part,  works  of  fiction,  and  in  mea- 
sure, exert  the  same  unfriendly  influence  on  the 
public  mind  and  taste  as  other  works  of  fiction  do. 

As  to  religious  novels,  they  are  rarely  worth  your 
attention.  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  this  species  of 
writing  become  the  general  reading  of  the  religious 
public.  Symptoms  of  a  craving  appetite  for  this 
species  of  mental  food  have  been  very  apparent  of 
late.  These  are  far  more  likely  to  lead  young  per- 
sons of  pious  education  to  read  other  kind-;  of  novels, 
than  they  are  to  attract  the  readers  of  the  latter  to 
pious  tales.     They  have  already,  in  many  cases, 

attempt,  by  his  fascinating  poems,  that  mischief, 
which  the  wit  of  Voltaire,  the  subtleties  of  Hume, 
and  the  popular  ribaldries  of  Paine,  had,  in  vain, 
endeavored  to  achieve. 

At  length  the  indignation  of  heaven  seems  to  have 
been  roused,  and  to  have  scorched  with  its  lightning 
the  wings  of  his  lofty,  but  impious  genius;  inas- 
much as  his  later  productions  evince  a  singu'nr  des- 
titution of  that  talent  by  which  the  earlier  effnsions 
of  his  muse  were  characterized.  One  can  scarcely 
suppose  it  possible,  that  even  he  could  read  the  last 
cantos  of  his  most  licentious  work,  wilhoul  secretly 
exclaiming,  under  a  consciousness  of  their  inferiori- 
ty, "  How  am  I  fallen  ! !" 

If  3roung  people  would  not  be  cursed  by  the  infi- 
delity and  immorality  which  lurk  in  hi-;  pages,  let 
them  beware  how  they  touch  his  volumes,  as  mucn 
as  they  would  to  embrace  a  beautiful  form  infected 
with  the  plague. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


45 


formed  a  taste  for  works  of  ficiion,  which  is  grati- 
fying itself  with  far  more  exceptionable  productions. 
They  have  become  the  harbingers  in  some  families 
of  works  which,  till  they  entered,  would  have  been 
forbidden  to  pass  the  threshold. 

It  is  very  evident  that  the  taste  of  the  present  age 
is  strongly  inclined  for  works  of  fiction.  I  am  not 
unacquainted  with  the  arguments  by  which  such 
productions  are  justified,  nor  am  I  by  any  means 
prepared  to  pronounce  a  sweeping  sentence  of  con- 
demnation upon  them.  Genius  is  elicited  and  che- 
rished by  writing  them  ;  and  taste  is  formed,  cor- 
rected, and  gratified  by  reading,  them.  Provided 
they  are  totally  free  from  all  unscriptural  sentiments 
and  anti-christian  tendency,  they  form  a  recreation 
for  the  mind,  and  keep  it  from  amusements  of  a 
worse  character.  I  am  also  aware  that  they  may 
be,  and  have  been,  made  the  vehicle  of  much  in- 
struction. Johnson  tells  us  that  this,  amongst  many 
other  arts  of  instruction,  has  been  invented,  that  the 
reluctance  against  truth  might  be  overcome ;  and 
as  physic  is  given  to  children  in  confections,  pre- 
cepts have  been  hidden  under  a  thousand  appear- 
ances, that  mankind  may  be  bribed  by  a  pleasure  to 
escape  destruction.  In  his  beautiful  allegory  of 
Truth,  Falsehood,  and  Fiction,  he  represents  Truth 
as  so  repeatedly  foiled  in  her  contests  with  False- 
hood, that  in  the  anger  of  disappointment,  she  peti- 
tions Jupiter  to  be  called  back  to  her  native  skies, 
and  leave  mankind  to  the  disorder  and  misery  which 
they  deserved,  by  submitting  willingly  to  the  usur- 
pation of  her  antagonist.  Instead  of  granting  her 
request,  he  recommended  her  to  consult  the  Muses 
by  what  methods  she  might  obtain  an  easier  recep- 
tion, and  reign  without  the  toil  of  incessant  war. — 
It  was  then  discovered,  that  she  obstructed  her  own 
progress,  by  the  severity  of  her  aspect  and  the  so- 
lemnity of  her  dictates;  and  that  men  would  never 
willingly  admit  her,  till  they  ceased  to  fear  her; 
since,  by  giving  themselves  up  to  Falsehood,  they 
seldom  made  any  sacrifice  of  their  ease  or  pleasure, 
because  she  took  the  state  that  was  most  engaging, 
and  always  suffered  herself  to  be  dressed  and  paint- 
ed by  Desire.  The  Muses  wove  in  the  loom  of 
Pallas  a  loose  and  changeable  robe,  like  that  in 
which  Falsehood  captivated  her  admirers  ;  with  this 
they  invested  Truth,  and  named  her  Fiction.  She 
now  went  out  again  to  conquer  with  more  success; 
for  when  she  demanded  entrance  of  the  Passions, 
they  often  mistook  her  for  Falsehood,  and  delivered 
up  their  charge  ;  but  when  she  had  once  taken  pos- 
session, she  was  soon  disrobed  by  Reason,  and  shone 
out,  in  her  original  form,  with  native  effulgence  and 
resistless  beauty. 

This  is  plausible  ;  but  will  not  history  and  biogra- 
phy answer  all  the  ends  of  fiction,  unattended  with 
its  injurious  effects'?  Here  all  is  life,  variety,  and 
interest.  Here  is  every  thing  to  amuse,  to  recreate. 
Here  the  finest  moral  lessons  are  inculcated  in  the 
detail  of  facts.  Here  arc  passions,  motives,  actions, 
all  forming  the  most  exquisite  delineations  of  cha- 
racter, set  home  upon  the  heart  with  the  aid  of  the 
powerful  conviction  that  these  are  facts.  lam  sure 
that  none  can  have  attended  to  the  more  secret  and 
subtle  operations  of  their  own  minds,  without  per- 
ceiving that  a  display  of  virtue  or  vice,  embodied 
in  a  fact,  hns  inconceivably  more  power  over  the 
mind,  than  the  same  character  exhibited  by  the  most 
extraordinary  genius  in  a  fiction.  While  reading 
the  latter,  we  may  have  been  deeply  affected,  we 
may  have  glowed  with  anger  at  the  sight  of  vice, 
melted  with  pity  at  the  display  of  misery,  or  soared 
in  rapture  at  the  exhibition  of  excellence  ;  but  when 
the  book  is  laid  down,  and  the  mind  recovers  from 
the  illusion,  does  not  the  recollection,  that  all  this 
was  the  creation  of  imagination,  exert  a  cold  and 
chilling  influence  upon  the  heart,  and  go  far  to  efface 


almost  every  favorable  impression,  till,  by  a  kind  of 
revenge  for  the  contiol  whic  i  a  fiction  has  had  over 
us,  we.  determined  to  forget  a  1  we  have  felt  1  We 
cannot  do  this  in  rising  from  i  fact. 

Fiction  is  generally  overwrought.  It  is  vice  in. 
caricature,  or  virtue  in  enamel:  the  former  is  fre- 
quently too  bad  to  be  dreaded  as  likely  to  happen  to 
us  :  the  latter  too  high  to  be  an  object  of  expectation. 
All  the  attendant  circumstances  are  too  artificially 
contrived.  There  is  little  that  is  like  it  in  real  life. 
Our  passions  are  too  much  excited,  our  hopes  are 
too  much  raised  :  and  when  we  come  from  this  ideal 
world  into  the  every  day  scenes  of  ordinary  life, 
we  feel  a  sense  ofdulness,  because  every  thing  looks 
lame  and  common-place.  The  effect  of  such  works 
is  great  for  the  time,  but  it  is  not  a  useful  effect :  it 
is  like  the  influence  of  ardent  spirits,  which  fits  men 
for  desperate  adventures,  but  not  for  the  more  steady 
and  sober  efforts  of  ordinary  enterprise. 

Observe  then,  although  I  do  not  totally  condemn 
all  works  of  fiction,  for  then  I  should  censure  the 
practice  of  Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake, 
whose  parables  were  fictitious  representations;  yet 
I  advise  a  sparing  and  cautious  perusal  of  them, 
whether  written  in  poetry  or  prose.  History,  bio- 
graphy, travels,  accounts  of  the  manners  and  customs 
of  nations,  will  answer  all  the  ends  of  fiction;  they 
will  amuse,  and  they  will  in  the  most  easy  and  pleas- 
ing way  instruct.  They  will  exhibit  to  us  every 
possible  view  of  human  nature,  and  every  conceiva- 
ble variety  of  character.  They  will  introduce  us  to 
a  real  world,  and  exhibit  to  us  the  failings  and  the 
excellences  of  men  of  like  passions  with  ourselves! 
and  who,  according  to  the  complexion  of  their  cha- 
racter, may  be  regarded  as  beacons  to  warn  us,  or 
the  polar  star  to  guide  us. 

Again,  and  again,  I  say,  cultivate  my  children,  a 
taste  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  :  thirst  after 
information,  as  the  miser  does  after  wealth;  treasure 
up  ideas  with  the  same  eagerness  as  he  does  pieces 
of  gold.  Let  it  not  be  said,  that  for  you  the  great- 
est of  human  beings  have  lived,  and  the  most 
splendid  of  human  minds  have  written  in  vain. — 
You  live  in  a  world  of  books,  and  they  contain 
worlds  of  thought.  Devote  all  the  time  that  can 
be  lawfully  spared  from  business  to  reading.  Lose 
not  an  hour.  Ever  have  some  favorite  author  at 
hand,  to  the  perusal  of  whose  productions  the  hours 
and  half  hours,  which  would  otherwise  be  wasted, 
might  be  devoted.  Time  is  precious.  Its  fragments, 
like  those  of  diamonds,  are  too  valuable  to  be  lost. 
Let  no  day  pass  without  your  attempting  to  gain 
some  new  idea.  Your  first  object  of  existence,  as  I 
have  already  stated,  should  be  the  salvation  of  your 
soul :  the  next,  the  benefit  of  your  fellow-creatures; 
and  then  comes  the  improvement  of  your  mind.* 


CHAPTER  XV. 


ON   AMUSEMENTS   AND   RECREATIONS. 

It  is  a  trite  remark,  that  the  mind,  like  a  bow,  will 
lose  its  power  by  being  always  strained  ;  and  that 
occasional  relaxation  from  the  cares  of  business,  is 
necessary  to  preserve  the  vigor  and  elasticity  of  the 
human  faculties.  Allowing  this  to  be  true,  it  be- 
comes a  question,  in  what  way  recreation  may  be 


*  I  most  earnestly  recommend  to  all  young  per- 
sons the  perusal  of  Mr.  H.  F.  Burder's  Treatise  on 
Mental  Culture;  then  the  well  known  work  of  Dr. 
Watts,  "  On  the  improvement  of  the  Mind;"  and 
if  they  arc  disposed  to  pursue  the  subject,  Dugald 
Stewart's  elegant  and  valuable  work  on  Mental 
Phi.osophy. 


46 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


lawfully  sought ;  or,  in  other  words,  what  kind  of 
amusement  may  be  innocently  resorted  to.  Here 
two  rules  may  be  laid  down. 

1.  All  recreations  are  improper,  which  have  an 
injurious  influence  upon  the  moral  and  religious  cha- 
facter.  This  is  an  axiom.  No  reasoning  is  neces- 
sary to  support  it ;  no  eloquence  is  requisite  to  illus- 
trate it;  none  but  an  atheist  can  oppose  it. 

2.  All  recreations  are  improper,  which,  by  their 
nature,  have  a  tendency  to  dissipate  the  mind,  and 
unfit  it  for  the  pursuits  of  business ;  or  which  en- 
croach too  much  on  the  time  demanded  for  our  ne- 
cessary occupations.  This  rule  is  as  intelligible 
and  as  just  as  the  former. 

These  two  directions,  the  propriety  of  which  all 
must  admit,  will  be  quite  sufficient  to  guide  us  in 
the  choice  of  amusements. 

First,  there  are  some  diversions,  which,  by  lead- 
ing us  to  inflict  pain  produce  cruelty  of  disposition. 

A  reluctance  to  occasion  misery  even  to  an  insect, 
is  n„t  a  mere  decoration  of  the  character,  which  we 
are  left  at  liberty  to  wear  or  to  neglect;  but  it  is  a 
disposition  which  we  are  commanded,  as  matter  of 
duty  to  cherish.  It  is  not  mere  sensibility,  but  a 
necessary  part  of  virtue.  It  is  impossible  to  inflict 
pain,  and  connect  the  idea  of  gratification  with 
such  an  act,  without  experiencing  some  degree  of 
mental  obduration.  We  are  not  surprised  that  he 
who,  while  a  boy,  amused  himself  in  killing  flies, 
should,  when  he  became  a  sovereign,  exhibit  the 
character  of  a  cruel  and  remorseless,  tyrant.  To 
find  pleasure  in  setting  brutes  to  worry  and  devour 
each  other,  is  a  disposition  truly  diabolical;  and 
the  man  who  can  find  delight  in  dog-fighting,  cock- 
fighting,  bull-baiting,  is  quite  prepared  to  imitate 
those  cannibals  who,  in  the  popular  insurrections 
and  massacres  of  the  French  Revolution,  sported 
with  the  mangled  carcasses  and  palpitating  limbs 
of  their  murdered  victims,  and  dragged  them  about 
with  their  teeth  in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuilleries. 

Horse-racing,  in  addition  to  the  cruelty  with  which 
it  is  attended,  is  generally  a  means  of  assembling 
on  the  course,  ail  the  gamesters,  swindlers,  and 
black-legs  in  the  neighborhood,  and  is  the  cause  of 
much  drunkenness,  debauchery,  and  ruin. 

All  field-sports,  of  every  kind,  are,  in  my  view, 
condemned  by  the  laws  of  humanity.  Snooting, 
coursing,  hunting,  angling,  are  all  cruel.  What 
agony  is  inflicted  in  hooking  a  worm  or  a  fish  :  in 
maiming  a  bird :  in  chasing  and  worrying  a  hare  : 
and  to  find  sport  in  doing  this,  is  inhuman  and  un- 
christian. To  say  that  these  animals  are  given  for 
food,  and  must  be  killed,  is  not  a  reply  to  my  argu- 
ment. I  am  not  contending  against  killing  them, 
or  eating  them,  but  against  the  act  of  killing  them 
for  sport.  The  infliction  of  death,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, and  upon  any  creature,  however  insig- 
nificant in  the  scale  of  creation,  is  too  serious  a 
matter  to  be  a  source  of  amusement.  No  two  terms 
can  be  more  incongruous  than  death  and  sport.  It 
seems  perfectly  monstrous,  that  after  having  sub- 
jected the  irrational  creation  to  the  terrors  of  disso- 
lution by  his  guilt,  man  should  experience  pleasure 
in  executing  the  sentence.  Death  is  the  enemy 
even  of  brutes;  and  the  irrational  creation  manifest 
symptoms  of  instinctive  horror  at  his  approach; 
and  to  find  delight  in  throwing  the  shuddering  vic- 
tim to  the  devourer,  is  shocking.  I  would  extend 
these  remarks  to  all  animals,  and  say,  that  it  is  un- 
lawful to  find  sport  in  killing  such  as  are  noxious. 
Wolves,  bears,  serpents,  are  to  be  extirpated,  because 
their  continuance  endangers  human  life ;  but  to  find 
pleasure  in  the  act  of  killing  even  these,  has  a  hard- 
ening tendency  on  the  human  heart. 

Secondly,  Some  amusements  tend  to  cherish 
selfish  and  avaricious  feelings,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  produce  that  gambling  taste ,  which  tends  to  the 


utter  ruin  of  both  the  temporal  and  eternal  interests 
of  mankind.  Billiards,  cards,  dice,  have  this  ten- 
dency ;  and  indeed,  all  other  games  that  are  played 
for  money.  The  object  of  the  player  in  these  games 
is  to  get  money,  by  a  hasty  process.  What  arts  of 
fraud  and  deception  are  often  resorted  to,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  loss  and  shame  of  defeat,  and  secure 
the  game  and  honor  of  success.  What  anger  and 
ill-will  are  often  produced  in  the  mind  of  the  un- 
successful party.  Even  the  rules  of  decorum,  ob- 
served in  polished  society,  are  not  sufficient,  in  many 
cases,  to  restrain  the  passionate  invective,  and  the 
profane  oath.  I  may  here  most  confidently  appeal 
to  the  frequenters  of  the  card-table  for  the  truth  of 
what  I  say,  when  I  affirm,  that  a  want  of  success 
during  an  evening  at  whist  is  a  trial  of  temper, 
which  few  are  able  to  bear  with  honor  to  themselves, 
or  the  comfort  of  those  around  them.  Passion, 
petulance,  and  sullenness,are  always  waiting  under 
the  table,  ready  to  appear  in  the  persons  and  con- 
duet  of  the  loser.  I  have  had  scenes  described  to 
me  by  spectators  of  them,  which  I  should  have 
thought  a  disgrace  to  the  vulgar  company  assembled 
at  an  alehouse,  much  more  to  the  genteel  party  in 
the  drawing-room.  Have  not  the  most  serious  mis- 
understandings arisen  from  this  source  between 
man  and  wife  1  What  wrath  and  fury  has  the 
latter,  by  her  tide  of  ill  success,  brought  down  upon 
her  head  from  her  irritated  husband.  The  winner 
sees  all  this,  retains  his  ill-gotten  gain,  and  knows 
not  that  all  the  while  a  chilling  frost  of  selfishness 
is  upon  his  heart,  freezing  up  the  generous  feelings 
of  his  nature.  Nothing  is  more  bewitching  than 
the  love  of  gambling.  The  winner  having  tasted 
of  the  sweets  of  gain,  is  led  forward  by  the  hope 
of  still  greater  gain,  while  the  loser  plunges  deeper 
and  deeper  in  ruin,  with  the  delusive  expectation 
of  retrieving  his  lost  fortune.  How  many  have 
ruined  themselves  and  their  families  for  ever  by 
this  mad  passion.  How  many  have  thrown  down 
the  cards  and  the  dice,  only  to  take  up  the  pistol  or 
the  poison  ;  and  have  rushed,  with  all  their  crimes 
about  them,  from  the  gambling-table  to  the — fiery 
lake  in  hell. 

To  affirm  that  these  remarks  are  applicable  only 
to  those  who  play  high,  is  nothing;  because  it  is 
the  nature  of  vice  to  be  progressive.  Besides,  it  is 
a  fact,  that  many  tradesmen,  and  even  laboring  peo- 
ple, have  ruined  themselves  by  the  love  of  play. 
It  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  most  ensnaring  practice, 
leading  on  from  one  degree  to  another,  till  multi- 
tudes, who  began  with  only  an  occasional  game, 
end  in  the  most  confirmed  and  inveterate  habits  of 
gambling;. 

Thirdly.  Some  amusements  tend  to  foster  vanity 
and  pride,  while  at  the  same  time,  they  generate  a 
distaste  for  all  the  serious  pursuits  of  religion,  and 
the  sober  occupations  of  domestic  life. 

If  I  mistake  not,  these  remarks  will  apply  to  balls, 
routs,  and  concerts.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the 
morals  of  society  have  not  suffered  considerable  de- 
terioration by  assemblies.  Circumstances  are  con- 
nected with  this  species  of  amusement,  the  tendency 
of  which  is  more  than  questionable.  The  mode  of 
dress  adopted  at  these  fashionable  resorts;  the  nature 
of  the  employment ;  the  dissipating  tendency  of  the 
music,  the  conversation,  and  the  elegant  uproar: 
the  lateness  of  the  hour  to  which  the  dazzling  scene 
is  protracted ;  the  love  of  display  which  is  produced ; 
the  false  varnish  which  is  thrown  over  many  a 
worthless  character,  by  the  fascinating  exterior 
which  he  exhibits  in  a  ball-room  have  a  tendency 
to  break  down  the  mounds  of  virtue,  and  expose 
the  character  to  the  encroachments  of  vice.  And 
if  it  were  conceded,  which  it  certainly  cannot  be, 
that  no  immoral  consequence  results  to  those  who 
occupy  the  upper  walks  of  life,  who  are  protected 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


47 


by  the  decorum  of  elegant  society,  yet  what  mis- 
chief is  produced  to  their  humble  imitators,  who 
attend  the  assemblies  which  are  held  in  the  barn  or 
the  alehouse.  I  look  upon  dancing  among-  these, 
to  be  a  practice  fraught  with  immorality  ;  and  my 
soul  is  horrified  at  this  moment  by  remembering 
the  details  of  a  most  tragic  event  which  occurred 
in  this  aeighborhood,  a  few  years  since,  to  an  inter- 
esting female,  who,  after  hiving  lost  tier  virtue  on 
the  night  that  followed  the  dance,  was  found,  a  few 
hours  after,  murdered  either  by  her  seducer  or  her- 
self. Have  nothing  to  do  then  with  this  fascinating, 
though  injurious  species  of  amusement.  Besides, 
what  an  encroachment  does  it  make  upon  time, 
which  is  demanded  for  other  pursuits.  How  does 
it  dissipate  the  mind,  and  poison  it  with  a  vain  and 
frivolous  taste  for  dress,  and  personal  decoration. 
How  completely  does  it  unfit  the  soul  for  piety,  and 
even  the  necessary  occupations  of  domestic  life. 
Let  there  be  a  love  once  acquired  lor  these  elegant 
recreations  by  any  female,  and,  from  my  heart,  I 
pity  the  man  who  is  destined  to  be  her  husband. 

My  opinion  of  the  stage  1  shall  reserve  for  a 
separate  chapter.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  reply 
to  a  question  which  no  doubt,  ere  this  you  are  ready 
to  ask,  "  What  amusements  I  would  recommend." 

I  do  not  hesitate  at  once  to  observe,  that  young 
people  stand  in  much  less  need  than  is  supposed,  of 
any  amusement  properly  so  called.  Their  spirits 
are  buoyant,  their  cares  are  light,  their  sorrows 
few,  and  their  occupations  rarely  very  fatiguing  to 
the  mind.  What  more  is  necessary  beyond  mere 
change  of  employment,  I  should  say,  may  be  found 
in  engagements  both  strengthening  to  the  body 
and  improving  to  the  mind.  A  country  ram- 
ble amidst  the  beauties  of  nature,  where,  sur- 
rounded by  sights  and  sounds  which  have  awak- 
ened and  cherished  the  spirit  of  poetry,  we  may 
admire  the  works  of  God  and  man  together,  will, 
to  every  mind  of  taste  or  piety,  be  quite  enough  to 
refresh  and  stimulate  the  wearied  faculties.  The 
perusal  of  an  entertaining  and  instructive  book, 
where  our  best  authors  have  said  their  best  things, 
and  in  their  best  manner  too,  will  have  the  same 
effect.  My  children,  acquire  a  taste  for  reading. 
Aspire  to  an  independence  of  the  butterfly-pursuits 
of  the  pleasure-hunter.  Seek  for  that  thirst  after 
knowledge,  which  when  the  soul  is  jaded  with  the 
dull  and  daily  round  of  secular  affairs,  shall  con- 
duct her  to  the  fountains  of  thought  contained  in 
the  well-stocked  library  ;  where,  as  she  drinks  the 
pure  perennial  streams  of  knowledge,  she  forgets 
in  their  murmurs  the  toils  of  the  day.  Or,  the 
study  of  natural  philosophy,  attended  where  an  ap- 
paratus can  be  commanded,  with  a  course  of  illus- 
trative experiments,  would  be  at  once  refreshing 
and  instructive.  And  where  young  people  are  hap- 
pily situated  beneath  the  wing  of  their  parents,  the 
pleasures  of  home,  the  agreeable  intercourse  of  the 
domestic  circle,  are  no  mean  or  insufficient  recrea- 
tions from  the  fatigues  of  business. 

But  perhaps  many  a  youthful  bosom  will  at  this 
thought  heave  a  sigh,  and  sorrowfully  exclaim,  "I 
am  not  at  home.  In  that  beloved  retreat,  and  with 
its  dear  inhabitants,  I  should  want  no  amusement. 
My  father's  greeting  smile  ;  my  mother's  fond  cm- 
brace;  the  welcome  of  my  brothers  and  my  sisters; 
the  kind  looks,  the  fond  inquiries,  the  interesting 
though  unimportant  conversation  of  all,  would  re- 
cruit my  strength,  and  recreate  my  mind.  But  I 
am  far  from  these.  I  am  in  a  distant  town,  a  stran- 
ger in  a  strange  place  ;  a  mere  lodger,  where  the 
attentions  which  I  receive  are  all  bought  and  paid 
for.  Wearied  and  dispirited,  I  ofttimes  return 
from  the  scene  of  labor,  and  find  in  the  cold  and 
heartless  salutation  of  my  host,  and  in  the  dreary 
solitude  of  my  own  chamber,  that  I  am,  indeed,  no 


at  home.  Often  and  often  as  I  sit  musing  away  the 
hour  that  intervenes  between  business  and  sleep, 
and  carrying  out  into  painful  contrast  my  lodging 
and  my  home,  I  involuntarily  exclaim, 

"  My  friends  do  they  now  and  then  send 
A  wish  or  a  thought  after  me." 

Who  can  wonder  that  in  such  a  situation  I  should 
occasionally  pay  a  visit  to  the  theatre,  or  the  con- 
cert, and  seek  to  forget  that  I  am  not  at  home,  by 
amusements  which  have  a  tendency  to  drown  re- 
lieclion  ami  divert  my  mind.  Oh!  give  me  again 
the  pleasures  of  home,  and  I  will  make  a  cheerful 
surrender  of  all  that  1  have  adopted  as  their  substi- 
tutes." 

I  feel  for  such  young  persons.  I  too  have  been  in 
their  situation  ;  I  have  felt  all  that  they  feel.  1  have 
wept  at  the  contrast  between  being  a  stranger  or  a 
guest,  and  a  happy  child  at  home.  I  too  have  re- 
turned at  night  to  meet  the  silent  look,  or  cheerless 
greeting  of  the  hostess,  instead  of  the  smiling  coun- 
tenance and  fond  expression  of  the  mother  that  bore 
me,  the  father  that  loved  me.  I  too  have  retired  to  my 
room  to  weep  at  thoughts  of  home.  I  can  therefore 
sympathise  with  you.  And  shall  I  tell  you  how  in 
these  circumstances  I  alleviated  my  sorrows,  anil 
rendered  my  situation  not  only  tolerable,  but  even 
sometimes  pleasant'?  By  the  exercises  and  influ- 
ence of  true  religion;  by  the  intercourse  of  a  holy 
fellowship  with  pious  companions;  and  by  the  as- 
sistance of  books.  Try,  do  be  persuaded  to  try,  the 
same  means: 

"  Religion,  what  treasures  untold 
Reside  in  that  heavenly  word, 
More  precious  than  silver  and  gold, 
Or  all  that  this  earth  can  afford." 

This  will  find  you  a  home,  and  a  father  and 
friends  in  every  place.  It  will  soften  your  banish- 
ment, and  open  to  you  springs  of  consolation,  which 
shall  send  their  precious  streams  into  your  forlorn 
abode.  It  will  render  you  independent  of  the  thea- 
tre, and  the  concert,  and  the  ball  room.  It  will 
guard  you  from  vices,  which,  where  they  are  com- 
mitted, only  serve  to  render  the  recollection  of  home 
still  more  intolerable.  It  will  give  you  an  interest 
and  a  share  in  all  the  religious  institutions  which 
are  formed  in  the  congregation  with  which  you  as- 
sociate, and  will  thus  offer  you  a  recreation  in  the 
exercise  of  a  holy  and  enlightened  philanthropy. 

In  addition  to  this,  cultivate  a  taste  for  reading. — 
Employ  your  leisure  hours  in  gaining  knowledge. 
Thus  even  your  situation  will  be  rendered  compa- 
ratively comfortable,  and  the  thoughts  of  home  will 
neither  destroy  your  happiness,  nor  send  you  for 
consolation  to  the  polluting  sources  of  worldly 
amusement. 

But  there  are  some  who  will  reply,  "  I  have  nei- 
ther taste  for  religion  or  reading,  and  what  amuse- 
ments do  you  recommend  to  me  ?  None  at  all. — 
What !  that  man  talk  of  amusement,  who,  by  his  own 
confession,  is  under  the  curse  of  heaven's  eternal 
law,  and  the  wrath  of  heaven's  incensed  King? — 
Amuscme?it! !  what,  for  the  poor  wretch  who  is  on 
the  brink  of  perdition,  the  verge  of  hell,  and  may 
the  next  hour  be  lifting  up  his  eyes  in  torments,  and 
calling  for  a  drop  of  water  to  cool  his  parched 
tongue.  Diversion!  what,  for  him  who  is  every  mo- 
ment exposed  to  that  sentence,  "  Depart  from  me, 
accursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels."  What!  going  on  to  that 
place  where  the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is 
never  quenched;  where  there  is  weeping,  and  wail- 
ing and  gnashing  of  teeth,  and  calling  for  amuse- 
ments ! !  Oh  monstrous  inconsistency!!  We  have 
heard  of  prisoners  dancing  in  their  chains,  but  who 


48 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


ever  heard  of  a  poor  creature  asking  for  amuse- 
ments on  his  way  to  the  place  of  execution  1  This 
is  your  case.  While  you  have  no  taste  for  religion, 
you  are  certainly  under  sentence  of  eternal  death. — 
You  are  every  day  travelling  to  execution.  Yet  you 
are  asking  for  amusements!  And  what  will  be  your 
reflections  in  the  world  of  despair,  to  recollect  that 
the  season  of  hope  was  employed  by  you,  not  in 
seeking  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  and  everlasting 
happiness,  but  in  mere  idle  diversions,  which  were 
destroying  you  at  ihe  very  time  they  amused  you. — 
Then  will  you  learn,  when  the  instruction  will  do 
you  no  good,  that  you  voluntarily  relinquished  the 
fulness  of  joy  which  God's  presence  affords,  and  the 
eternal  pleasures  which  are  to  be  found  at  his  right 
hand,  for  the  joy  of  fools,  which,  as  Solomon  truly 
says,  is  but  as  "  the  crackling  of  thorns  beneath  the 
pot."  Before  you  think  of  amusements,  seek  for  religion. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ON    THEATRICAL   AMUSEMENTS. 

1  do  not  hesitate  for  a  moment,  to  pronounce  the 
theatre  to  be  one  of  the  broadest  avenues  which  lead 
to  destruction ;  facinating,  no  doubt  it  is,  but  on 
that  account  the  more  delusive  and  the  more  dan- 
gerous. Let  a  young  man  once  acquire  a  taste  for 
this  species  of  entertainment,  and  yield  himself  up 
to  its  gratification,  and  he  is  in  imminent  danger  of 
becoming  a  lost  character,  rushing  upon  his  ruin. — 
All  the  evils  that  can  waste  his  property,  corrupt 
his  morals,  blast  his  reputation,  impair  his  health, 
embitter  his  life,  and  destroy  his  soul,  lurk  in  the 
purlieus  of  a  theatre.  Vice,  in  every  form,  lives, 
and  moves,  and  has  its  being  there.  Myriads  have 
cursed  the  hour  when  they  first  exposed  themselves 
to  the  contamination  of  the  stage.  From  that  fatal 
evening  they  date  their  destruction.  Then  they 
threw  off  the  restraints  of  education,  and  learnt  to 
disregard  the  dictates  of  conscience.  Then  their 
decision,  hitherto  oscillating  between  a  life  of  vir- 
tue and  of  vice,  was  made  up  for  the  latter.  But  I 
will  attempt  to  support  by  argument  and  facts  these 
strong  assertions. 

The  stage  cannot  be  defended  as  an  amusement : 
for  the  proper  end  of  an  amusement  is  to  recreate 
without  fatiguing  or  impairing  the  strength  and  spi- 
rits. It  should  invigorate,  not  exhaust  the  bodily 
and  mental  powers;  should  spread  an  agreeable  se- 
renity over  the  mind,  and  be  enjoyed  at  proper 
seasons.  Is  midnight  the  time,  or  the  heated  atmo- 
sphere of  a  theatre  the  place,  or  the  passionate, 
tempestuous  excitement  of  a  deep  tragedy  the  state 
of  mind,  that  comes  up  to  this  view  of  the  design  of 
amusement !  Certainly  not. 

But  what  I  wish  particularly  to  insist  upon  is,  the 
immoral  and,  anti-christian  tendency  of  the  stage.  It 
is  an  indubitable  fact,  that  the.  stage  has  flourished 
most,  in  the  most  corrupt  and  depraved  state  of  so- 
ciety; and  that  in  proportion  as  sound  morality,  in- 
dustry, and  religion  advance  their  influence,  the 
theatre  is  deserted.  It  is  equally  true  that  amongst 
the  most  passionate  admirers,  and  most  constant 
frequenters  of  the  stage,  are  to  be  found  the  most 
dissolute  and  abandoned  of  mankind.  Is  it  not  too 
manifest  to  be  denied,  that  piety  as  instinctively 
-shrinks  from  the  theatre,  as  human  life  does  from 
the  point  of  a  sword  or  the  draught  of  poison?  Have 
not  all  those  who  have  professed  the  most  elevated 
piety  and  morality,  borne  an  unvarying  and  uni- 
form testimony  against  the  stage'?  Even  the  more 
virtuous  pagans  condemned  this  amusement,  as  in- 
jurious to  morals  and  the  interests  of  nations.  Plato, 
Livy,  Xenophon,  Cicero,  Solon,  Cato,  Seneca,  Ta- 


citus, the  most  venerable  men  of  antiquity;  the 
brightest  constellation  of  virtue  and  talents  which 
ever  appeared  upon  the  hemisphere  of  philosophy, 
have  all  denounced  the  theatre  as  a  most  abundant 
source  of  moral  pollution,  and  assure  us  that  both 
Greece  and  Rome  had  their  ruin  accelerated  by  a 
fatal  passion  for  these  corrupting  entertainments. — 
William  Pryne,  a  satirical  and  pungent  writer, 
who  suffered  many  cruelties  for  his  admirable  pro- 
ductions in  the  time  of  Charles  I,  has  made  a  cata- 
logue of  authorities  against  the  stage,  which  con- 
tains every  name  of  eminence  in  the  heathen  and 
Christian  worlds:  it  comprehends  the  united  testi- 
mony of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  churches;  the  de- 
liberate acts  of  fifty-four  ancient  and  modern,  ge- 
neral, national,  provincial  councils  and  syDods,  both 
of  the  Western  and  Eastern  churches;  the  condem- 
natory sentence  of  seventy-one  ancient  Fathers,  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty  modern  Popish  and  Protest- 
ant authors ;  the  hostile  endeavors  of  philosophers 
and  even  poets;  with  the  legislative  enactments  of 
a  great  number  of  Pagan  and  Christian  states,  na- 
tions, magistrates,  emperors  and  princes. 

The  American  Congress,  soon  after  the  declara- 
tion of  Independence,  passed  the  following  motion  . 

"  Whereas  true  religion  and  good  morals  are  the 
only  solid  foundation  of  public  liberty  and  happi- 
jiess, 

"  Resolved,  That  it  be,  and  hereby  is,  earnestly 
recommended  to  the  several  states,  to  take  the  most 
effectual  measures  for  the  encouragement  thereof, 
and  for  the  suppression  of  theatrical  entertainments, 
horse-racing,  gaming,  and  such  other  diversions  as 
are  productive  of  idleness,  dissipation,  and  a  gene- 
ral depravity  of  principles  and  manners." 

Now  must  not  this  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
very  strong  presumptive  evidence  of  the  immoral 
tendency  of  the  stage  1  Does  it  not  approach  as 
near  as  can  be  to  the  general  opinion  of  the  whole 
moral  world  1 

But  let  us  examine  the  average  character  of  those 
productions  which  are  represented  on  the  stage.  If  we 
go  to  Tragedy,  we  shall  find  that  pride,  ambition, 
revenge,  suicide,  the  passionate  love  of  fame  and 
glory,  all  of  which  Christianity  is  intended  to  ex- 
tirpate from  the  human  bosom,  are  inculcated  by 
the  most  popularplays  in  this  department  of  the  dra- 
ma. It  is  true,  gross  cruelty,  murder,  and  that  law- 
less pride,  ambition,  and  revenge,  which  trample 
on  all  the  rights  and  interests  of  mankind,  are  re- 
probated ;  but  I  would  ask,  who  needs  to  see  vice 
acted  in  order  to  hate  it  1  or  will  its  being  acted  for 
our  amusement  be  likely  to  increase  our  hatred  of  it 
upon  right  principles!  As  to  Comedy,  this  is  a 
thousancl  times  more  polluting  than  tragedy.  Love 
and  intrigue  ;  prodigality  dressed  in  the  garb  of  ge- 
nerosity; profaneness  dignified  with  the  name  of 
fashionable  spirit ;  and  even  seduction  and  adultery ; 
these  are  the  usual  materials  which  the  comic  muse 
combines  and  adorns  to  please  and  instruct  her  vo- 
taries. This  department  of  the  drama  is  unmixed 
pollution.  How  often  is  some  profligate  rake  in- 
troduced to  the  spectators,  furnished  with  a  few 
traits  of  frankness  and  generosity,  to  interest  them 
by  his  vicious  career;  and  -who  so  far  reconciles 
them  all  to  his  crimes,  as  to  tolerate  his  atrocities 
for  the  sake  of  his  open-hearted,  good-humored  vir- 
tues. Who  can  wonder  that  young  women  should 
be  prepared  by  such  stuff  for  any  intrigue  with  a 
bold  and  wily  adventurer;  or  that  young  men 
should  be  encouraged  to  play  the  good-natured,  he- 
roic rake,  which  they  have  seen  such  a  favorite 
with  the  public  on  the  stage?  Besides,  how  satura- 
ted are  both  tragedies,  and  comedies  with  irrever- 
end  appeals  to  heaven,  profane  swearing,  and  all 
the  arts  of  equivocation  and  falsehood,  and  decep- 
tion !     What  lascivious  allusions  are  made  ;  what 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


49 


impure  passages  are  repeated  !  What  a  fatal  influ- 
ence must  this  have  upon  the  delicacy  ol'  female 
modesty.  Think  too  of  a  young  man  coming  at  the 
hour  of  midnight  from  such  a  scene,  with  his  pas- 
sions inflamed  by  every  thing  he  has  seen  and  every 
thing  he  has  heard;  and  then  having  to  pass 
through  ranks  of  wretched  creatures  waiting  to  en- 
snare him  and  rob  him  of  his  virtue  ;  does  it  not  re- 
quire extraordinary  strength  of  principle  to  resist 
the  attack  ? 

I  admit  that  modern  plays  are  in  some  measure 
purified  from  that  excessive  grossness  which  pollut- 
ed the  performances  of  our  more  ancient  dramatists. 
But  who  knows  not  that  vice  is  more  mischievous 
in  some  circles  of  society,  in  proportion  as  it  is  more 
refined.  The  arch  equivoque  and  double  entendre  of 
modern  plays,  "  are  well  understood,  and  applied 
by  a  licentious  audience;  and  the  buzz  of  approba- 
tion, which  is  heard  through  the  whole  assembly, 
furnishes  abundant  proof  that  the  effect  is  not  lost." 
Little  will  go  down  with  the  public  in  the  shape  of 
comedy,  farce,  or  opera,  but  what  it  pretty  highly 
seasoned  with  indelicate  allusions.  Hence  it  is  that 
even  the  newspaper  critics,  whose  morality  is,  in 
general,  not  of  the  most  saintly  character,  so  often 
mention  the  too  barefaced  indecencies  of  new  plays. 
Dramatic  writers  know  very  well  how  to  cater  for 
the  public  taste. 

How  many  sentiments  are  continually  uttered  on 
the  stage,  how  many  indelicate  allusions  are  made, 
which  no  man  who  had  any  regard  to  the  virtue  of 
his  sons,  or  the  feelings  of  his  daughters,  would  al- 
low to  be  uttered  at  his  tabic.  Are  not  whole  pas- 
sages repeatedly  recited,  which  no  modest  man 
would  allow  to  be  read  before  his  family  1  Nothing 
but  the  continuance  of  numbers  could  induce  many 
females  to  sit  and  listen  to  what  they  hear  at  the 
theatre.  Were  any  man  to  be  in  the  habit  of  quoting 
in  company  the  words  which  are  in  constant  itera- 
tion at  the  playhouse,  would  he  not  be  regarded  as 
a  person  most  dangerous  to  the  virtue  of  others'? 
And  yet  these  nauseating  exhibitions  are  heard  with 
pleasure,  when  they  are  heard  with  the  multitude. 
Can  this  be  friendly  to  modesty,  to  virtue,  to  piety  ! 
Must  there  not  be  an  insensible  corrosion  going  on 
under  such  an  influence  upon  the  fine  polish  of  fe- 
male excellence,  and  upon  the  principle  of  the  other 
sexl  Is  this  avoiding  the  appearance  of  evil '!  Is 
it  in  accordance  with  that  morality  which  makes  an 
unchaste  feeling  to  be  sin,  and  that  injunction  which 
commands  us  to  watch  the  heart  with  all  diligence  1 

If  indeed  the  word  of  God  be  the  standard  of  mo- 
rals, and  no  one  but  an  infidel  can  deny  it,  then  the 
whole  mass  of  plays  must  be  condemned,  and  with 
them  the  whole  system  of  the  playhouse.  To  ask 
whether  the  theatre  can  be  justified  before  the  bar 
of  Christianity,  whether  it  is  in  accordance  with  its 
doctrines,  precepts,  example,  spirit,  design,  is  really 
to  insult  common  sense.  I  suppose  its  most  passion- 
ate admirers  will  not  try  it  in  such  a  court ;  for  that 
system  which  sums  up  all  its  morality,  both  in  ac- 
tion and  in  motive,  in  that  one  sublime  and  holy 
precept,  "  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever 
ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God,"  cannot  look  with 
a  tolerating  eye  upon  the  stage.  The  morality  of 
the  stage  and  of  the  gospel  are  as  diametrically  op- 
posed to  each  other  as  the  east  and  tJie  west.  They 
stand  thus  opposed  to  each  other:— pride  to  humili- 
ty; ambition  to  moderation;  revenge  to  forgiveness; 
falsehood  to  truth;  lust  to  pnriiv,  profanity  to  pi- 
ety; sensuality  to  spirituality.  Let  any  man  read 
our  Lord's  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  St.  Paul's 
eighth  or  twelfth  chapter  to  the  Romans,  and  say  if 
the  play  and  the  playhouse  can  be  in  unison  with 
Christianity. 

Then  remember  all  the  accompaniments  of  the  stage, 
the  fascinations  of  music,  painting,  action,  oratory; 


and  say,  if  when  these  are  enlisted  in  the  cause  of 
fiction,  they  do  not  raise  the  passions  above  their  pro- 
per tone,  aid  thus  induce  a  dislike  to  grave  and  se- 
rious subjects,  and  a  distaste  for  all  the  milder  and 
more  necessary  virtues  of  domestic  life. 

Add  to  this  the  company  which  is  generally  attract 
ed  to  the  theatre.  I  do  not  say  that  all  who  frequent 
the  theatre  are  immoral;  but  I  do  affirm,  that  the 
most  polluting  and  polluted  characters  of  the  town 
are  sure  to  be  there.  Is  it  not  a  fact,  that  a  person 
who  would  not  wish  to  have  his  eyes  and  earsshock- 
ed  with  sights  and  sounds  of  indecency,  must  keep 
at  a  dis!ance  from  the  avenues  of  the  stage'?  for 
these  are  ever  crowded  with  the  loosest  characters 
of  both  sexes.  Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  lite  of 
Johnson,  has  a  remark  which  strikingly  illustrates 
and  confirms  what  1  have  now  advanced.  "Although 
it  is  said  of  plays  that  they  teach  morality,  and  oi" 
the  stage  that  it  is  the  mirror  of  human  life,  these 
assertions  have  no  foundation  in  truth,  but  are  mere 
declamation:  on  the  contrary,  a  playhouse,  and  the 
region  about  it,  are  the  hotbeds  of  vice.  How  else 
comes  it  to  pass,  that  no  sooner  is  a  theatre  opened 
in  any  part  of  the  kingdom,  than  it  becomes  sur- 
rounded by  houses  of  ill  fame!  Of  this  truth,  the 
neighborhood  of  the  place  I  am  now  speaking  of 
(Goodman's  Fields  Theatre)  has  had  experience; 
one  parish  alone,  adjacent  thereunto,  having,  to  my 
knowledge,  expended  the  sum  of  thirteen  hundred 
pounds  in  prosecutions,  for  the  purpose  of  removing 
those  inhabitants,  whom,  for  instruction  in  the  sci- 
ence of  human  life,  the  playhouse  had  drawn  thi- 
ther." 

The  arguments  against  the  stage  are  strengthened 
by  a  reference  to  the  general  habits  of  the  performers, 
and  the  influence  which  their  employment  has  in  the 
formation  of  their  character.  And  here  I  may  as- 
sert, that  the  sentiments  of  mankind  have  generally 
consigned  this  wretched  class  of  beings  to  infamy. 
The  story  of  the  unfortunate  Laberius  exhibits,  in  a 
strong  point  of  view,  the  odium  which  was  attached 
to  the  profession  of  an  actor  among  the  Romans 
Compelled  by  Caesar,  at  an  advanced  period  of  life, 
to  appear  on  the  stage  to  recite  some  of  his  own 
works,  he  fell  his  character,  as  a  Roman  citizen,  in- 
sulted and  disgraced;  and  in  some  affecting  verses, 
spoken  on  the  occasion,  he  incensed  the  audience 
against  the  tyrant,  by  whose  mandate  he  was  obliged 
to  appear  before  them.  "  After  having  lived,"  said 
he,  "  sixty  years  with  honor,  I  left  my  house  this 
morning  a  Roman  knight,  but  shall  return  to  it  this 
evening  an  infamous  stage-player.  Alas!  I  have 
lived  a  day  too  long." 

As  to  the  feelings  ofmod.em  times,  is  there  a  fami- 
ly in  Britain,  of  the  least  moral  worth,  even  amongst: 
the  middling  class  of  tradesmen,  which  would  not 
feel  itself  disgraced  if  any  one  of  its  members  were 
to  embrace  this  profession  1  I  ask,  if  the  character 
of  players  is  not  in  general  so  loose,  as  to  make  it 
matter  of  surprise  to  find  one  that  is  truly  moral  1 
A  performer,  whether  male  or  female,  that  main- 
tains an  unspotted  reputation,  is  considered  as  an 
exception  from  the  general  rule.  Their  employ- 
ment, together  with  the  indolent  line  of  life,  to  which 
it  leads,  is  most  contaminating  to  their  morals.  The 
habit  of  assuming  a  feigned  character,  and  exhibit- 
ing unreal  passions,  must  have  a  very  injurious  ef- 
fect on  their  principles  of  integrity  and  truth.  They 
are  so  accustomed  to  represent  the  arts  of  intrigue 
and  gallantry,  that  it  is  little  to  be  wondered  at,  ir 
they  should  practise  them  in  the  most  unrestrained 
manner. 

Shuter,  whose  facetious  powers  convulsed  whole 
audiences  with  laughter,  and  whose  companionable 
qualities  often  "set  the  table  in  a  roar,"  was  a  mi- 
serable being.  The  following  anecdote,  told  from 
the  best  authority,  will  confirm  this  assertion:  ana 


50 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


I  am  afraid,  were  we  acquainted  with  many  of  his 
profession,  we  should  find  that  his  case  is  hy  no 
means  singular.  "Shuter  had  heard  Mr.  White- 
field,  and  trembled  with  apprehension  of  a  judgment 
to  come;  he  had  also  frequently  heard  Mr.  Kins- 
man, and  sometimes  called  on  him  in  London.  One 
day,  accidentally  meeting  him  in  Plymouth,  after 
.•ome  years  of  separation,  he  embraced  him  with 
rapture,  and  inquired  if  that  was  the  place  of  his 
residence.  Mr.  Kinsman  replied,  "yes;  but  I  am 
just  returned  from  London,  where  I  have  preached 
so  often,  and  to  such  large  auditories,  and  have 
been  so  indisposed,  that  Dr.  Fothergill  advised  my 
immediate  return  to  the  country  for  change  of  air." 
"And  I,"  said  Shuter,  "have  been  acting  Sir  John 
Falstaffso  often,  that  I  thought  I  should  have  died, 
and  the  physicians  advised  me  to  come  into  the 
country  for  the  benefit  of  the  air.  Had  you  died,  it 
would  have  been  in  serving  the  best  of  masters;  but 
had  /,  it  would  have  been  in  the  service  of  the  devil. 
Oh,  sir!  do  you  'hink  I  shall  ever  be  called  again  1 
I  certainly  was  once  ;  and  if  Mr.  Whitefield  had  let 
me  come  to  the  Lord's  table  with  him,  I  never 
should  have  gone  back  again.  But  the  caresses  of 
the  great  are  exceedingly  ensnaring.     My   Lord 

E sent  for  me  to-day,  and  I  was  glad  I  could 

not  go.  Poor  things  !  they  are  unhappy,  and  they 
want  Shuter  to  make  them  laugh.  But  oh,  sir,  such 
a  life  as  yours! — As  soon  as  I  leave  you,  I  shall  be 
King  Richard.  This  is  what  they  call  a  good  play, 
as  good  as  some  sermons.  I  acknowledge  there  are 
some  striking  and  moral  things  in  it;  but  after  it,  I 
shall  come  again  with  my  farce  of  '  A  dish  of  all 
sorts,'  and  knock  all  that  on  the  head.  Fine  re- 
formers we  \"  Poor  Shuter!  once  more  thou  wilt 
be  an  object  of  sport  to  the  frivolous  and  the  gay, 
who  will  now  laugh  at  thee,  not  for  thy  drollery, 
but  for  thy  seriousness;  and  this  story,  probably, 
will  be  urged  against  thee  as  the  weakness  of  a  no- 
ble mind  ;  weakness  let  it  be  called,  but  in  spite  of 
himself,  man  must  be  serious  at  last.  And  when  a 
player  awakes  to  sober  reflection,  what  agony  must 
seize  upon  his  soul.  Let  those  auditories,  which  the 
comic  performer  has  convulsed  with  laughter,  wit- 
ness a  scene  in  which  the  actor  retires  and  the  man 
appears;  let  them  behold  him  in  the  agonies  of 
death,  looking  back  with  horror  on  a  life  of  guilt, 
while  despair  is  mingled  with  forebodings  of  the  fu- 
ture. Players  have  no  leisure  to  learn  to  die;  and 
if  a  serious  thought  wander  into  the  mind,  the  pain- 
ful sigh  which  it  excites  is  suppressed,  and,  with  an 
awful  desperation,  the  wretched  creature  rushes 
into  company  to  be  delivered  from  himself.  A  more 
careless,  a  more  unreflecting  being  than  a  player, 
cannot  exist ;  for  if  an  intense  impression  of  the  "dig- 
nity of  reason,  the  importance  of  character,  and  fu- 
ture responsibility,  be  once  felt,  he  can  be  a  player 
no  longer. 

To  send  young  people  therefore  to  the  playhouse 
to  form  their  manners,  is  to  expect  they  will  learn 
truth  from  liars,  virtue  from  profligates,  and  mo- 
desty from  harlots. 

Can  it  then  be  right,  even  on  the  supposition  that 
we  could  escape  the  moral  contagion  of  the  stage, 
to  support  a  set  of  our  fellow-creatures  in  idleness, 
and  in  a  profession  which  leads  to  immorality,  licen- 
tiousness, and  profligacy"? 

But,  my  dear  children,  I  have  not  only  arguments 
to  bring  in  proof  of  the  immoral  tendency  of  the 
stage,  but  I  have  facts.  It  is  useless  to  contend 
against  these.  I  am  distressed,  while  I  write,  to 
think  of  the  once  promising  young  men  who,  to  my 
certain  knowledge,  have  been  utterly  ruined  by  re- 
sorting to  this  scene  of  polluting;  amusement.  I  am 
not  allowed  to  disclose  the  details,  or  I  could  a  tale 
unfold  that  would  shock  every  right  feeling  in  your 
hearts. 


It  was  but  a  few  days  since,  that  a  venerable  and 
holy  man,  now  the  deacon  of  a  Christian  church, 
said  to  me,  "  Sir,  the  theatre  had  nearly  brought  me 
to  the  gallows.  There  I  found  associates  who  in- 
troduced me  to  every  crime.  When  likely  to  be 
prevented,  by  want  of  money,  from  going  to  meet 
them  at  the  theatre,  I  robbed  my  father,  to  gain  a 
shilling  admission  to  the  gallery." 

Take  warning,  then,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  theatre.  Avoid  it  as  one  of  the  avenues  to  the 
broad  road  which  leadeth  to  destruction.  Run  not 
with  the  multitude  to  do  evil.  Be  not  thrown  off 
your  guard,  and  enticed  to  sin,  by  being  directed  to 
some  who  have  never  been  injured  by  such  amuse- 
ments. Would  it  be  any  inducement  to  you  to  ven 
ture  near  a  lazaretto,  to  be  pointed  to  some  person 
who  had  breathed  an  atmosphere  tainted  with  the 
plague  without  receiving  the  infection!  I  admit 
that  the  dauger  is  not  the  same  in  all  cases.  Per- 
sons whose  connections,  habits,  characters, are  form- 
ed, may  not  receive  so  much  injury  as  younger  per- 
sons; though  the  most  virtuous  and  moral  cannot, 
I  am  sure,  escape  all  harm ;  even  they  must  have 
their  mental  purity  injured,  and  their  imagination 
corrupted;  they  must  acquire  a  greater  and  greater 
distaste  for  religion,  and  irreverence  towards  God  ; 
but  to  young  people,  and  to  young  men  especially, 
the  danger  is  greater  than  I  can  describe  ;  to  them 
the  doors  of  the  theatre  are  as  the  jaws  of  the  de- 
vouring Hon.* 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ON   THE    PERIOD   WHICH     ELAPSES    BETWEEN    THE   TIME 
OF    LEAVING   SCHOOL,    AND   THE   AGE    Of   MANHOOD. 

Young  people,  while  at  school,  generally  look  for- 
ward with  much  desire,  and  longing  anticipation, 
to  the  happy  time  when  they  shall  terminate  their 
scholastic  pursuits,  throw  off  the  restraints  of  the 
seminary,  and  enter  upon  the  engagements  which 
are  to  prepare  them  for  their  future  station  in  life. 
They  are  seldom  aware  of  the  immense  importance 
of  this  period  of  their  existence;  and  but  rarely  con- 
sider, thai,  it  is  at  this  time  the  character  usually  as- 
sumes its  permanent  form. 

I  will  suppose,  my  dear  children,  that  you  have 
now  quitted  the  school-room  for  the  warehouse,  the 
office,  or  the  shop;  exchanged  grammars  and  dic- 
tionaries for  journals  and  legers;  and  the  researches 
of  learning  for  the  pursuits  of  business.  All  is  new. 
and  all  is  interesting.  Youthful  feelings  are  subsid- 
ing into  something  like  a  consciousness  of  approach- 
ing manhood;  and  the  comparative  insignificance 
of  the  schoolboy  is  giving'way  to  the  incipient  impor- 
tance of  the  man  of  business.  At  this  very  point 
and  period  of  your  history,  it  becomes  you  to  halt 
and  reflect.  Instead  of  being  led  on  in  joyous 
thoughtlessness,  by  the  new  scenes  that  are  open- 
ing before  and  around  you,  and  leaving  your  habits 
and  your  character  to  be  formed  by  accident  or  by 
chance,  I  beseech  you  to  ponder  on  the  very  critical 
circumstances  in  which  you  are  now  placed. 

The  period  which  elapses  from  fourteen  to  eighteen 
years  of  age,  is  indeed  the  crisis  of  your  history  and 
character.  It  is  inconceivably  the  most  eventful  and 
influential  term  of  your  whole  mortal  existence. — 
Comparing  the  mind  to  substances  which,  under  the 
influence  of  heat,  are  capable  of  being  moulded  to 
any  form,  it  is  at  this  period  of  its  history  that  il  is 

*  I  most  earnestly  recommend  to  all  young  persons 
who  have  any  doubts  upon  this  subject,  or  any  taste 
for  theatrical  representations,  the  perusal  of  an  ad- 
mirable treatise  on  this  subject  by  Dr.  Styles. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


51 


in  tbe  most  suitable  temperature  and  consistency  to 
yield  to  the  plastic  influence  of  external  causes,  and 
to  receive  its  permanent  form  and  character  :  before 
this,  it  is  too  fluid  and  yielding,  and  afterwards  too 
stiff  and  unbending.  This,  this  is  the  very  time, 
when  the  ever  variable  emotions,  passions,  and  pur- 
suits of  boyhood,  begin  to  exhibit  something  like  the 
durable  and  settled  forms  of  manhood. 

In  reference  to  the  affairs  of  this  life ;  if  a  young 
person  ever  become  a  good  mechanic,  or  a  good 
tradesman,  he  gains  the  elements  of  his  future  ex- 
cellence about  this  period.  So  it  is  in  poetry,  paint- 
ing, learning.  Before  this,  the  first  decisive  and 
unequivocal  traits  of  genius  sometimes  appear,  and 
even  after  this,  they  are  sometimes  developed  ;  but 
generally  speaking,  it  is  from  the  age  of  fourteen  to 
eighteen,  that  the  marks  of  future  eminence  are  put 
forth.  It  is  the  vernal  season  of  mind,  and  habit, 
and  genius.  The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  the 
formation  of  character.  Then  the  passions  acquire 
new  vigor,  and  exert  a  mighty  influence;  then  the 
understanding  begins  to  assert  its  independence,  and 
to  think  for  itself;  then  there  is  a  declaration  of  its 
liberty  on  the  part  of  the  mind,  and  a  casting  away 
of  the  trammels  of  education;  then  there  is  a  self- 
confidence  and  a  self-reliance,  which  have  received 
as  yet  few  checks  from  experience;  then  the  so- 
cial impulse  is  felt,  and  the  youth  looks  round  for 
companions  and  friends;  then  the  eye  of  parental 
vigilance,  and  the  voice  of  parental  caution,  are 
generally  at  a  distance.  Then,  in  fact,  the  future 
character  is  formed.  At  this  time,  generally 
speaking,  religion  is  chosen  or  abandoned ;  and  the 
heart  is  given  to  God  or  the  world.  Can  any 
thing  be  more  awfully  important,  than  these  reflec- 
tions, to  those  who  are  yet  about  this  agel  You  are 
now  deciding  for  both  worlds  at  once.  You  are  now 
choosing  to  become  a  Christian  on  earth,  and  a  se- 
raph in  heaven,  or  a  worldling  here,  and  a  fiend 
hereafter.  You  are  now  setting  out  on  a  journey 
which  is  to  conduct  you  to  glory,  honor,  immortali- 
ty, and  eternal  life,  or  to  the  blackness  of  darkness 
forever.  Yes,  the  starting  point  for  the  realms  of 
eternal  day,  or  the  regions  of  eternal  night  has  ge- 
nerally been  found  to  be  within  the  period  which  I 
have  named. 

These  remarks  apply  more  strictly  to  young  men 
than  to  persons  of  the  opposite  sex:  inasmuch,  as 
females  generally  remain  at  home,  under  the  eye, 
and  voice,  and  example  of  parental  piety,  and  are 
far  less  exposed  thin  boys  to  the  temptations  and 
sins  of  youth.  All  young  men,  therefore,  of  this 
age,  should  pause  and  reflect  thus: — "  I  am  now  ar- 
rived at  that  period,  which  must  be  considered  as 
the  most  eventful  era  of  my  whole  existence  :  when 
my  character,  both  for  time  and  eternity,  will  in  all 
probability  be  formed;  when  I  may  be  said  to  be 
commencing  the  career  which  is  to  terminate  in 
heaven  or  hell ;  as  well  as  that  path  which  is  to  lead 
me  to  respectability  and  comfort,  or  to  depression 
and  poverty  in  the  present  world.  How  critical 
my  age!  How  important  that  I  should  consider 
wisely  my  situation,  and  decide  aright !" 

Permit  me  to  give  you  a  little  advice,  in  some 
measure  suited  to  your  circumstances. 

1.  Most  sacredly  observe  the  Sabbath,  and  constant- 
ly attend  the  menus  of  grace. 

Let  nothing  induce  you  to  prostitute  the  hallowed 
day  to  worldly  pleasure.  Never  listen  to  the  entice- 
ments of  a  companion,  who  would  tempt  you,  even 
once  to  forsake  the  house  of  God.  Abandon  such 
an  acquaintance.  He  is  unfit  for  you,  and  will  ruin 
yn.  Sabbith-breakin?  is  a  sin  of  most  hardening 
tendency.  When  tempted  to  commit  it,  imagine  you 
hear  the  awful  voice  of  divine  prohibition,  followed 
with  the  loud  deep  groan  of  a  holy  father,  and  the 
exclamation  of  a  pious  moiher,  "Oh,  my  son  !  my 
Number  46. 


son  !  do  not  pierce  my  heart  with  anguish."  Attach 
yourselves  to  asound,  evangelical  ministry,  and  lis- 
ten not  to  those  who  subvert  the  very  foundations  of 
the  gospel.  Avoid  those  preachers  who  oppose  all 
that  is  peculiar  to  Christianity. 

2.  Keep  up  attention  to  the  private  duties  of  Re- 
ligion. 

Never  let  a  day  pass  without  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  private  prayer.  While  these  practices 
are  continued,  I  have  hope  of  you:  they  show  that 
piety  has  still  some  hold  upon  your  heart.  Secure 
some  portion  of  every  day,  if  it  be  but  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening,  for  this 
most  important  duty.  Should  you  not  have  a  cham- 
ber to  yourselves,  let  not  the  company  of  others  pre- 
vent your  keeping  up  this  practice.  It  would  be 
better,  however,  in  this  case  to  retire  to  your  room 
when  you  can  have  it  to  yourself. 

3.  Be  very  careful  in  the  selection  of  companions. 

All  that  f  have  before  said  on  the  subject  of  com- 
pany, applies  with  great  force  to  this  period  of  your 
life.  It  is  now  that  the  mischief  of  evil  associations 
will  be  felt  in  all  its  devastating  influence.  One  bad 
companion  at  this  time,  when  the  character  is  as- 
suming its  permanent  fojm,  will  give  a  most  fatal 
direction.  Your  company  will  probably  be  courted; 
but  resist  every  overture  which  is  not  made  by  in- 
dividuals of  well-known,  unbending  virtue. 

4.  Strive  to  excel  in  the  business  or  profession  to 
which  your  life  is  to  be  devoted. 

It  is  quite  a  laudable  ambition  for  a  man  to  aspire 
to  eminence  in  his  secular  vocation.  Be  not  satisfied 
with  mediocrity  in  any  thing  that  is  lawful.  Even 
as  a  tradesman,  you  should  endeavor  to  be  distin- 
guished. It  will  give  you  weight  in  society,  and 
thus,  by  increasing  your  influence,  augment  the 
means  of  your  usefulness.  A  dolt,  however  pious 
he  may  be,  possesses  but  little  weight  of  character. 
Give  your  mind  therefore  to  business.  Penetrate 
into  all  its  secrets,  comprehend  all  its  principles 
study  all  its  bearings.  Care  nothing  about  pleasure; 
but  find  your  recreation  in  your  employment.  It  is 
astonishing  how  few  rise  to  eminence  in  their  call- 
ing, either  in  trade  or  in  the  professions.  The  sum- 
mits are  gained  by  a  very  small  number  ;  the  mul- 
titude grovel  below.  Why  1  Because  they  did  no* 
seek  nor  begin  to  ascend  during  their  apprentice- 
ship. They  did  not  give  themselves  wholly  to  these 
things  during  this  important  season.  Excellence  in 
any  department  of  human  affairs,  can  be  looked  for. 
only  from  diligent  and  early  culture.  Industry  and 
close  application  will  keep  you  out  of  the  way  of 
temptation.  Let  your  mind  be  occupied  with  busi- 
ness, and  there  will  be  neither  leisure  nor  inclina- 
tion for  polluting  amusements. 

5.  If  your  attention  to  business  leaves  any  time 
unoccupied,  I  advise  you  to  carry  on  a  course  of 
reading. 

Make  companions  of  useful  books,  and  you  will 
need  no  other.  And  as  it  is  every  man's  chief 
praise  to  excel  in  his  own  profession,  let  your  reading 
bear  a  relation  to  that  in  which  you  are  engaged.* 

(!.  If  you  can  find  a  pious  and  intelligent  associate, 
embrace  the  opportunity  of  innocent  and  pleasurable 
companionship;  "  for  as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  a 
man  sharpeneth  the  countenance  of  his  friend." — 
With  smcIi  a  friend,  carry  on  some  course  of  intel- 
lectual improvement,  and  both  give  and  receive  the 
stimulis  which  fellowship  affords. 

Asain  and  again,  remember  the  tremendous  im- 
portance which  attaches  to  the  period  to  which  this 
chapter  more  particularly  refers;  and  believing,  as 
you  must,  that  it  is  from  fourteen  to  eighteen,  the 


♦The  author  hopes  he  shall  be  pardoned  for  the 
frequency  with  which  he  urges  a  taste  for  reading. 
He  knows  the  importance  of  the  subject. 


52 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT, 


character,  in  relation  to  both  worlds,  is  generally 
formed,  judge  what  manner  of  persons  ye  ought  to 
be  at  that  time,  if  you  wish  to  be  a  good  tradesman, 
and  real  Christian  upon  earth,  or  a  glorified  and 
happy  spirit  in  heaven.* 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ON    PUBLIC   SPIRIT. 

You  are  born,  my  dear  children,  in  no  common  age 
of  the  world.  You  have  entered  upon  the  stage  of 
existence,  when  some  of  the  most  interesting  scenes 
of  the  great  drama  are  being  presented.  There 
are  eras,  when  the  moral  world  seems  to  stand  still, 
or  to  retrograde;  and  there  are  others,  when  it  is 
propelled  with  accelerated  movements  towards  the 
goal.  Ours  is  of  the  latter  kind.  After  the  dark  and 
stormy  epoch,  which  was  terminated  by  the  glorious 
revolution  of  1G88,  the  churches  of  Christ,  blessed 
with  religious  liberty,  sunk  to  inglorious  repose. — 
Little  was  done,  either  to  improve  the  moral  condi- 
tion of  our  own  population  at  home,  or  the  state  of 
heathen  countries  abroad.  Whitefield  and  Wesley 
broke  in  upon  this  slumber,  when  it  seemed  to  be 
most  profound.  From  that  time,  the  spirit  of  reli- 
gious zeal  awoke,  and  increasing  its  energies,  and 
multiplying  its  resources  till  our  days,  it  now  exhi- 
bits a  glorious  array  of  means  and  instruments,  from 
which  in  the  long  run,  might  be  expected  the  con- 
version of  the  world. 

Christendom  presents  at  this  moment  a  sublime 
and  interesting  spectacle  in  its  Bible  Societies,  Mis- 
sionary Societies  Tract  Societies,  with  all  the  other 
institutions  adapted  to  the  moral  wants  of  every 
class  and  condition  of  mankind.  War  is  not  only 
declared,  but  prosecuted  with  vigor,  against  the 
powers  of  darkness  ;  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  are  march- 
ing forth  to  the  field  of  conflict ;  the  sound  of  the 
trumpet  is  heard,  and  the  call  of  warriors  floats  on 
the  gale.  Spiritual  patriotism  is  breathed  into  the 
souls  of  all  denominations  of  Christians.  Instru- 
ments of  the  holy  warfare  are  invented  and  distri- 
buted, which  suit  the  hands  of  persons  of  every 
rank,  condition,  stature,  and  strength  ;  while  females 
are  invited  to  emulate  the  Span  an  women  of  anti- 
quity, and  assist  in  this  conflict  by  the  side  of  their 
fathers,  husbands,  and  brothers. 

All  young  people  ought  to  enlist  themselves  in 
this  cause.  They  should  rise  up  into  life,  determin- 
ed to  do  all  the  good  they  can,  and  to  leave  the  world 
better  tha.n  they  found  it.  To  see  them  reluctant  to 
come  forward,  is  an  indelible  disgrace  to  them.  It 
is  a  poor,  miserable  kind  of  life  to  live  only  for  our- 
selves ;  it  is,  in  fact,  but  half  living.  It  is  an  oppo- 
sition both  to  reason  and  revelation.  He  that  does 
nothing  to  bless  others,  starves  his  own  soul.  You 
must  therefore  set  out  in  life,  my  children,  with  a 
resolution,  by  God's  help,  to  act  the  part  of  a  reli- 
gious philanthropist.  "  He  that  converteth  a  sinner 
from  the  error  of  his  ways,  shall  save  a  soul  from 
death,  and  hide  a  multitude  of  sins."  Aspire  to 
this  honor.  Think  how  many  things  you  can  al- 
ready do.  You  can  instruct  a  class  of  ignorant 
children  in   a  Sunday  school.*     You  can  teach 

*  See  an  excellentlittle  work,  pntitled, "  Character 
essential  to  Success  in  Life,  addressed  to  those  who 
are  approaching  Manhood,"  by  the  Rev.  Isaac  Tay- 
lor, of  Ongar. 

*  It  is  to  the  great  dishonor  of  many  young  people, 
in  affluent  circumstances, that  they  are  retiring  from 
our  Sunday  schools,  and  leaving  the  work  to  those 
who  are  in  humbler  life.  Well,  we  must  do  with- 
out them  ;  but  let  them  remember,  that  for  their  in- 


adults  to  read.  You  can  distribute  religious  tracts- 
You  can  join  in  the  labors  of  Bible  associations,  of 
the  exertions  of  juvenile  missionary  societies. 

Here,  however,  I  must  suggest  a  caution  or  two. 
Females,  who  are  employed  in  the  labor  of  collect- 
ing gratuitous  contributions  to  public  societies  of 
any  kind,  should  be  very  watchful  against  fh<?  least 
infringement  on  that  delicacy  and  modesty  of  charac- 
ter which  is  the  chief  ornament  of  their  sex.  Their 
exertions,  I  know  are  the  life's  blood  of  some  causes; 
be  it  so :  but  let  their  benevolence  flow  like  the  vital 
fluid  through  the  veins — unseen,  unheard.  I  be- 
lieve, that,  in  general,  the  strictest  rules  of  modesty 
have  been  observed  by  the  female  collectors  of  our 
Missionary  Societies  ;  but  I  have  heard  of  instances 
very  much  to  the  contrary.  Happily,  such  cases 
are  rare.  I  think  it  quite  questionable  whether  very 
young  females,  whose  characters  are  scarcely  form- 
ed, should  be  thus  employed. 

It  is  more  necessary  still  to  caution  young  men 
against  acquiring,  by  their  activity,  a  bold,  forward, 
obtrusive,  and  dictatorial  temper.  If  zeal  should 
render  them  conceited,  vain,  and  meddling,  it  would 
be  a  heavy  deduction  from  its  clear  amount  of  use- 
fulness. There  is  some  little  danger,  lest  Satan, 
perceiving  it  to  be  impossible  to  repress  the  ardor 
of  youth,  should  attempt  to  corrupt  it. 

Observing  these  cautions,  you  cannot  be  too  ai- 
dent  in  the  cause  of  religion,  and  the  interests  of 
the  human  race.  Those  who  are  likely  to  occupv 
the  middling  classes  of  society,  who  are  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  persons  in  comparatively  affluent 
circumstances,  and  are  likely,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  to  occupy  the  same  rank  themselves,  should 
feel  most  specially  bound  to  consecrate  their  ener- 
gies to  the  public  welfare,  inasmuch  as  thev  possess 
far  more  means  of  usefulness  than  others," and  are 
likely  to  have  greater  influence  in  society.  But 
even  the  poorest  can  do  something.  There  is  no 
one  who  is  destitute  of  all  the  means  of  doing  good. 
In  France,  during  the  reign  of  the  late  Emperor, 
the  conscription  law  extended  to  persons  of  all 
ranks  in  society ;  and,  in  the  same  regiment,  the 
sons  of  the  rich  and  of  the  poor  contended,  side  by 
side,  for  the  glory  of  their  country ;  nor  did  the 
former  think  themselves  degraded  by  such  an  asso- 
ciation ;  they  felt  that  to  fight  under  the  imperial 
and  victorious  eagle,  was  an  honor  sufficient  to  an- 
nihilate every  other  consideration.  How  much 
more  justly  will  this  apply  to  persons  who  are  mar- 
shalled under  the  banner  of  the  cross! 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  young  people 
should  begin  life  with  a  considerable  portion  of  pub- 
lic spirit  in  their  character;  since  it  is  rarely  found 
that  this  virtue,  if  planted  late,  attains  to  any  con- 
siderable magnitude,  beauty,  or  fruitfulness.  The 
seeds  of  benevolence  should  be  sown,  together  with 
those  of  piety,  in  the  first  spring  of  our  youth; 
then  may  we  expect  a  rich  autumnal  crop.  The 
first  lesson  which  a  child  should  learn,  from  his 
parents  is,  how  to  be  blessed  ;  and  the  second,  how  to 
be  a  blessing. 

You  have  been  taught  this,  my  children,  from  the 
very  dawn  of  reason  ;  now  then  practise  it.  Live 
for  some  purpose  in  the  world.  Act  your  part  well. 
Fill  up  the  measure  of  your  duty  to  others.  Con- 
duct yourself  so  as  that  you  shall  be  missed  with 
sorrow  when  you  are  gone.  Multitudes  of  our  spe- 
cies are  living  in  such  a  selfish  manner,  that  they 
are  not  likely  to  be  remembered  a  moment  after 
their  disappearance.  They  leave  behind  them 
scarcely  any  traces  of  their  existence,  but  are  for- 
gotten almost  as  though  they  had  never  been.     The}' 

dolence,  or  pride,  or  whatever  else  be  the  cause  of 
their  secession,  they  must  give  an  account  at  the 
bar  of  Christ. 


CHRISTIAN     FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


53 


are,  while  they  live,  like  one  pebble  lying  unobserv- 
ed amongst  millions  on  the  shore,  and  when  they 
die,  they  are  like  that  same  pebble  thrown  into  the 
sea,  which  just  ruffles  the  surface,  sinks,  and  is  for- 
goiten,  without  being  missed  from  the  beach.  They 
are  neither  regretted  by  the  rich,  wanted  by  the 
poor,  nor  celebrated  by  the  learned.  Who  has  been 
the  better  for  their  life!  Who  are  the  worse  for 
their  death  !  Whose  tears  have  they  dried  up,  whose 
wants  supplied,  whose  miseries  have  they  healed? 
Who  would  unbar  the  gate  of  life,  to  readmit 
them  to  existence  ;  or  what  face  would  greet  them 
back  again  to  our  world  with  a  smile  ?  Wretched, 
unproductive  mode  of  existence!  Selfishness  is  its 
own  curse — it  is  a  starvelling  vice.  The  man  that 
does  no  good,  gets  none.  He  is  like  the  heath  in 
the  desert,  neither  yielding  fruit,  nor  seeing  when 
good  cometh;  a  stunted,  dwarfish,  miserable  shrub. 
We  are  sent  into  the  vw rid  to  do  good,  and  to  be 
destitute  of  public  spirit,  is  to  forget  one  half 
our  errand  upon  earth.  Think  what  opportunity 
there  is  for  the  increase  and  operations  of  this  noble 
disposition.  We  are  in  a  world  which  abounds 
with  evil.  There  are  six  hundred  millions  of  im- 
mortal souls,  yet  enslaved  in  their  minds  by  the 
chains  of  Pagan  superstition  or  Mohammedan  de- 
lusions, aliens  to  the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  stran- 
gers to  the  covenants  of  promise,  without  God  and 
without  hope  in  the  world  :  there  are  one  hundred 
and  twenty  millions  following  the  Papal  Beast,  and 
bearing  his  image  :  there  are  nine  millions  of  the 
seed  of  Abraham,  wandering  as  vagabonds  over 
the  face  of  the  whole  earth,  with  the  thick  veil  of 
unbelief  upon  their  hearts.  In  our  own  country, 
many  towns  and  villages  are  yet  unblessed  with  the 
faithful  preaching  of  the  gospel :  multitudes  of 
adults  are  still  without  Bibles  to  read,  and  myriads 
of  children  without  a  knowledge  of  letters:  igno- 
rance of  the  grossest  kind,  vice  of  the  most  abomi- 
nable forms,  are  to  be  found  in  every  street.  And 
then,  as  to  positive  misery,  what  aboundings  are  to 
Le  seen  in  every  collection  of  human  abodes:  where 
can  we  go  and  not  hear  the  groans  of  creation  as- 
cending around  us,  and  not  see  the  tears  of  sorrow 
flowing  in  our  path?  Poverty  meets  us  with  its 
heart-breaking  tale  of  want  and  wo:  disease  in  a 
thousand  shapes  appeals  to  our  compassion ;  widows, 
orphans,  destitute  old  men,  and  fatherless  babes, 
with  numbers  ready  to  perish,  are  almost  every 
where  to  be  seen.  Shall  we  live  at  the  centre 
of  so  much  sin,  ignorance,  and  wretchedness,  and 
not  feel  it  our  duty  to  do  good!  What  a  wretch 
must  he  be,  who,  in  such  a  world,  is  destitute  of 
pupt.tc  spirit?  For  all  that  selfishness  ever  hoard- 
ed, may  you  my  children,  never  be  cursed  with  an 
unfeeling  heart.  Here  is  something  for  all  to  do, 
and  all  should  do  what  they  can. 

Consider  the  felicity  of  doing  good.  Public  spirit 
is  a  perennial  source  of  happiness  in  a  man's  own 
bosom.  The  miser  is  rightlv  named:  the  word  sig- 
nifies miserable, and  miserable  he  is.  Benevolence 
is  happiness.  Its  very  tears  are  more  to  be  desired 
than  the  must  exulting  smiles  which  avarice  ever 
bestowed  upon  its  accumulating  treasures.  Who 
does  not  covet  that  exquisite  delight  which  Job  must 
have  experienced  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  and 
of  which  he  thus  speaks:  "When  the  ear  heard 
me,  then  it  blessed  me ;  and  when  the  eye  saw  me, 
then  it  gave  witness  unto  me:  because  I  delivered 
the  poor  that,  cried,  and  the  fatherless,  ami  him  that 
had  none  to  help  him.  The  blessing  of  him  thai 
was  ready  to  perish  came  upon  me  :  and  I  caused 
the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy.  I  was  eves  to  the 
blind,  and  fee't  was  I  to  the  lame.  I  was  a  father  to 
the  poor,  and  i he  cause  that  I  knew  not  I  searched 
out."  O  tell  me,  what  are  all  the  pleasures  of  sense 
or  appetite,  all  the  gay  festivities  of  worldly  amuse- 


ments, when  compared  with  this?  To  do  good,  is 
to  be  like  God  in  operation  and  bliss ;  for  he  is  the 
blessed  God,  because  he  is  the  merciful  God. 

Public  spirit  ismost  honorable.  Even  the  heathen 
accounted  a  benefactor  a  most  honorable  character. 
Never  does  humanity  appear  adorned  with  so  bright 
a  crown  of  glory,  as  when  distinguished  benevo- 
lence, united  with  humble  piety,  enters  into  the  cha- 
racter. When  a  young  lady,  instead  of  frittering 
away  her  time  in  frivolous  pursuits,  parties  of  plea- 
sure, personal  decoration,  or  scenes  of  vanity,  em- 
ploys her  hours  in  visiting  the  cottages  of  the  poor, 
alleviating  the  sorrows  of  the  wretched,  reading  to 
the  sick,  how  like  an  angel  does  she  appear:  and 
one  can  almost  fancy  that  she  is  watched  with  ex- 
alted delight,  on  her  visits  of  mercy,  by  the  heaven- 
ly messengers  who  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salva- 
tion, and  who  hail  her  as  a  coadjutor  in  their  em- 
bassies of  love.  What  is  the  most  celebrated  beau- 
ty that  ever  became  the  centre  of  attraction,  and 
the  object  of  voluptuous  gaze,  and  the  subject  of 
general  envy  to  one  sex,  of  admiration  to  the  other 
in  the  ball-room,  where,  amidst  the  blaze  of  dia- 
monds and  the  perfumery  of  the  East,  she  display- 
ed her  charms;  compared  with  that  modest  and  re- 
tiiing  young  woman,  who,  in  her  woollen  cloak 
and  miry  shoes,  is  seen  on  a  cold  wintry  day  at  the 
sick-bed  of  the  poor  expiring  mother,  first  reviving 
the  sinking  frame  of  the  sufferer  with  the  cordials 
she  has  prepared  with  her  own  hands,  then  dispens- 
ing bread  to  her  clamorous  hungry  babes,  then 
comforting  her  agitated  mind  with  the  consolations 
of  religion,  and,  last  of  all,  soothing  the  troubled 
breast  of  the  distressed  husband  with  the  prospect 
of  a  country,  where  there  shall  be  no  more  death  ! 

Of  what  is  the  man  of  polished  manners,  insinu- 
ating address,  sparkling  wit,  and  endless  anecdote, 
whose  society  is  courted,  and  who  is  the  life  of  eve- 
ry company  into  which  he  enters;  who  every  where 
receives  the  incense  of  praise,  and  the  worship  of 
admiration;  I  say,  what  is  this  man,  in  real  gran- 
deur, utility,  and  moral  beauty  of  character,  to  the 
unassuming  youth,  who,  though  well  educated  and 
extensively  read,  and  with  a  mind  that  could  luxu- 
riate in  all  the  pleasures  of  literary  pursuits,  de- 
votes a  large  portion  of  his  time  to  the  exercises  of 
benevolence:  who  on  a  Sabbath  journeys  to  some 
neighboring  village  on  foot,  sustaining  the  storms 
of  winter,  and  the  sultry  heats  of  summer,  to  teach 
a  school  of  ignorant  children,  bound  to  him  by  no 
tie  but  that  of  our  common  nature,  to  read  the  word 
of  God  :  who  is  often  seen  in  the  retired  streets  and 
allevs  of  his  own  town,  checking  the  torrents  of 
wickedness  by  the  distribution  of  tracts,  or  the  cir- 
culation of  the  Bible:  who,  when  fatigued  with  bu- 
siness, would  gladly  seek  the  repose  of  home,  or 
else,  thirsting  for  knowledge,  would  fain  converse 
with  books,  but  instead  of  this,  devotes  his  evening 
hours  to  assist  in  managing  the  business  of  public 
institutions ! 

Need  I  ask  which  of  these  two  is  the  most  honor- 
able character  ?  They  admit  of  no  comparison. — 
The  wreath  ofliterary  fame,  the  laurel  of  the  war- 
rior, the  tribute  of  praise  offered  to  superior  wit,  are 
empty  and  worthless  compared  with  the  pure  bright 
crown  of  the  philanthropist.  There  is  a  time  com- 
ing when  the  former  shall  be  of  no  value  in  the  eyes 
of  their  possessors,  or  the  world  ;  but  the  distinctions 
of  superior  beneficence,  belon™  to  an  order  which 
^hall  be  acknowledged  in  heaven,  and  shall  be  worn 
with  unfading  brilliancy  through  eternity. 

I  exhort,  therefore,  my  children,  that  you  do  all 
the  good  you  can,  both  to  the  souls  and  bodies  of 
your  fellow-creatures:  for  this  end,  as  I  have  al- 
ready  -aid,  vou  were  born  into  t!ie  world  ;  and  so- 
ciety has  claims  upon  your  attention,  which  you 
cannot  neglect  without  disregarding  the  authority 


54 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


of  God.  Give  your  property  for  this  purpose. — 
Begin  life  with  a  conviction  that  every  one  ought  to 
devote  a  fair  portion  of  his  worldly  substance  for 
the  benefit  of  others.  No  man  ought  to  set  apart  a 
less  proportion  of  his  income  for  the  good  of  the 
public,  than  a  tenth.  Whatever  estate  yours  should 
he,  whether  great  or  small,  consider  that  it  comes 
to  you  wiih  a  reserved  claim  of  one  tenth  for  the 
public.  Consider  yourself  as  having  a  right  to  only 
nine  tenihs.  Pay  tithes  of  all  you  possess  to  the 
cause  of  God  and  man.  Be  frugal  in  your  general 
expenditure,  that  you  may  have  the  more  to  do  good 
with.  Waste  not  that  upon  unnecessary  luxuries 
of  dtess  or  living,  which  thousands  and  millions 
want  for  necessary  comfort  and  religious  instruc- 
tion. The  noblest  transformation  of  property  is  not 
into  personal  jewels,  or  splendid  household  furni- 
ture, or  costly  equipages;  but  into  clothing  for  the 
naked,  food  for  the  hungry,  medicine  for  the  sick, 
knowledge  for  the  ignorant,  holiness  for  the  vicious, 
salvation  for  the  lost. 

Give  your  influence,  whatever  it  be,  to  the  cause 
of  the  public.  We  have  all  a  circle  of  influence, 
and  it  is  more  extensive  than  we  imagine.  We  are 
all,  and  always  doing  good  or  harm.  Two  persons 
never  meet,  however  short  the  duration,  or  what- 
ever be  the  cause  of  the  interview,  without  exerting 
some  influence  upon  each  other.  An  important 
transaction,  a  casual  hint,  a  studied  address,  each 
and  all  may  become  the  means  of  controlling  the 
mind  of  those  with  whom  we  have  to  do.  Let  your 
influence  be  all  thrown  into  the  scale  of  the  public 
good.  Do  your  own  duty,  and  endeavor  to  rouse 
others  to  do  theirs. 

Let  your  exertions  in  the  public  cause,  be  the  re- 
sult of  deliberate  purpose,  not  of  mere  accident.  Set 
yourselves  to  do  good.  Pursue  a  system,  and  act 
not  from  caprice.  Let  not  your  zeal  be  a  blaze  at 
one  time,  and  a  mere  spark  at  another.  Study  your 
situation,  circumstances,  talents,  and  let  your  benevo- 
lence flow  through  that  channel  which  Providence  has 
more  especially  opened  before  you.  All  are  not  fitted 
for,  nor  are  (hey  called  to  the  same  work.  In  the 
division  of  the  labor  of  mercy,  occupy  that  station, 
and  be  content  with  that,  work,  to  which  you  are 
obviously  destined.  Avoid  the  disposition  which 
will  be  first  in  the  front  rank,  or  no  inhere.  This  is 
selfishness,  not  benevolence:  selfishness  operating 
in  the  way  of  activity,  instead  of  indolence:  of  giv- 
ing, instead  of  hoarding.  Be  anxious  to  do  good, 
though,  like  the  ministering  angels,  your  agency 
should  never  be  seen,  but  only  felt.  Do  not  be  dis- 
couraged by  difficulty,  nor  disheartened  by  ingrati- 
tude :  seek  your  reward  in  the  approbation  of  con- 
science, and  the  smile  of  God,  not  in  the  acknow- 
ledgments of  men.  Persevere  to  the  end  of  life; 
and  be  not  weary  in  well  doing.  Be  diligent,  for 
the  world  is  dying  around  you,  and  you  are  dying 
"with  it.  You  are  young:  but  you  are  mortal. — 
Your  time  of  working  may  be  short,  and  therefore 
strive  to  do  much  in  a  little  time;  for  a  man's  life 
is  not  to  be  measured  so  much  by  the  years  that  he 
lives,  as  by  the  work  he  does.  You  may  die,  but  if 
yon  do  good,  your  work  lives  ;  lives  and  multiplies 
its  kind  on  earth,  and  then  follows  you  to  heaven, 
to  live  in  your  own  remembrance,  and  in  the  hap- 
piness of  others  through  everlasting  ages. 

"  As  therefore  we  have  opportunity,  let  us  do  good 
unto  all  men  ;  especially  unto  them  that  are  of  the 
household  of  faith  :  and  let  us  not  be  weary  in  well 
doing,  for  in  due  season  we  shall  reap  if  we  faint 
not."* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


*  Every  young  person  ought  to  read  that  incom- 
parable work  of  Cotton  Mather's,  entitled,  "Essays 
to  do  good,"  ediled  by  the  Rev.  G.  Burder. 


ON  FEMALE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS,  VIRTUES,  AND  PCHSUSTS.* 

As  the  perusal  of  these  volumes  is  intended  for 
those  who  may  be  supposed  to  have  finished,  or  are 
near  the  completion  of  scholastic  pursuits,  all  that 
can  be  designed  in  this  chapter,  is  to  follow  up  the 
object  of  a  good  education,  which  probably  it  might 
have  been  the  felicity  of  many  of  my  female  readers 
to  receive;  or,  in  the  opposite  case,  to  correct  the 
faults,  and  point  out  in  what  way  to  supply  the  de- 
fects of  a  bad  one. 

"A  young  lady  may  excel  in  speaking  French 
and  Italian,  may  repeat  a  few  passages  from  a  vo- 
lume of  extracts;  play  like  a  professor,  and  sing 
like  a  Syren  ;  have  her  dressing-room  decorated 
with  her  own  drawings,  tables,  stands,  screens,  and 
cabinets;  nay,  she  may  dance  like  Sempronia  her- 
self, and  yet  may  have  been  very  badly  educated. — 
I  am  far  from  meaning  to  set  no  value  whatever  on 
any  or  all  of  these  qualifications;  they  are  all  of 
them  elegant,  and  many  of  them  properly  tend  to 
the  perfecting  of  a  polite  education.  These  things 
in  their  measure  and  degree  may  be  done,  but  there 
are  others  which  should  not  be  left  undone.  Many 
things  are  becoming,  but  '  one  thing  is  needful.' — 
Besides,  as  the  world  seems  to  be  fully  apprized  of 
the  value  of  whatever  tends  to  embellish  life,  there 
is  less  occasion  here  to  insist  on  its  importance. 

"  But  though  a  well-bred  young  lady  may  lawful- 
ly learn  most  of  the  fashionable  arts,  yet  it  does  not 
seem  to  be  the  end  of  education  to  make  women  of 
fashion  dancers,  singers,  players,  painters,  actresses, 
sculptors,  gilders,  ramishers,  engravers,  and  em- 
broiderers. Most  men  are  commonly  destined  to 
some  profession,  and  their  minds  are  consequently 
turned  each  to  its  respective  object.  Would  it  not 
be  strange  if  they  were  called  out  to  exercise  their 
profession,  or  to  set  up  their  trade,  with  only  a  little 
general  knowledge  of  the  trades  of  other  men,  and 
without  any  previous  definite  application  to  their 
own  peculiar  calling'?  The  profession  of  ladies,  to 
which  the  bent  of  their  instruction  should  be  turned, 
is  that  of  daughters,  wives,  mothers,  and  mistresses 
of  families.  They  should  heMherefore  trained  with 
a  view  to  these  several  conditions,  and  be  furnished 
with  a  s'ock  of  ideas  and  principles,  and  qualifica- 
tions and  habits,  ready  to  be  applied  and  appropria- 
ted, as  occasion  may  demand,  to  each  of  these 
respective  situations  ;  for  though  the  arts,  which 
merely  embellish  life,  must  claim  admiration,  yet 
when  a  man  of  sense  comes  to  marry,  it  is  a  com- 
panion whom  he  wants,  and  not  an  artist.  It  is  not 
merely  a  creature  who  can  paint,  and  play,  and 
dress,  and  dance;  it  is  a  being  who  can  comfort  and 
counsel  him;  one  who  can  reason  and  reflect,  and 
feel,  and  judge,  and  act,  and  discourse,  and  discri- 
minate ;  one  who  can  assist  him  in  his  affairs,  light- 
en his  cares,  soothe  his  sorrows,  purify  his  joys, 
strengthen  his  principles,  and  educate  his  children. "t 

This  is  sound  reasoning,  and  unquestionable  dis- 
cretion ;  it  proceeds  on  the  obvious  and  indisputable 
principle,  that  the  excellence  of  means  is  to  be  judged 
of  by  their  adaptation  to  the  end  to  be  produced ;  and 
the  value  of  an  instrument  to  be  appreciated  by  its 
fitness  for  the  work  contemplated.  That  is  a  per- 
fect female  education,  which  best  prepares  a  wo- 
man for  the  station  in  society  which  Providence 
has  destined  her  to  occupy.  And  what  is  that  sta- 
tion? To  be  wives,  mothers,  and  mistiesses. — 
Think  not  that  this  is  degrading  woman  below  her 

*  The  Author  has  departed  in  this'chapter  from 
the  style  of  direct  and  particular  address  to  his  child- 
ren, to  a  more  general  form  of  instruction. 

•f  Mrs.  Hannah  More. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


55 


just  rank',  or  that  such  a  station  requires  nothing 
more  than  an  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
kitenen,  or  a  memory  well  stored  with  the  responses 
of  the  "  Cook's  Oracle."  If  to  be  the  suitable  com- 
panion of  a  sensible  man;  the  judicious  mother  of 
a  rising  family;  the  neat  and  orderly  and  frugal 
mistress  of  an  extensive  household  ;  if  to  be  quali- 
fied to  counsel  her  husband  in  the  intricacies  of  life, 
to  soothe  him  in  his  troubles,  to  lighten  his  heart  of 
half  its  load  of  care,  to  enliven  his  solitude  with  the 
charm  of  her  conversation,  and  render  his  home 
"  the  soft  green,"  on  which  his  weary  spirit  shall 
love  to  repose;  if  to  be  qualified  to  train  up  her 
children  in  the  paths  of  religion,  to  form  them  to 
habits  of  virtue,  to  preside  over  their  education,  and 
the  formation  of  their  character,  so  as  to  multiply 
in  them  her  own  image  of  female  excellence,  and 
raise  in  each  of  them  her  second  lovely  self;  if  to 
be  qualified  to  render  her  house  attractive,  both  to 
its  stated  inhabitants,  and  the  friends  who  may  oc- 
casionally resort  to  it :  I  say,  if  this  be  a  low  station, 
and  fitness  for  it  be  nothing  more  than  mean  quali- 
fications, where,  in  all  this  world  shall  we  find  any 
one  that  is  high,  or  noble,  or  useful  1 

For  these  sacred  occupations  has  Providence  des- 
tined the  female  sex;  and  say,  what  kind  of  educa- 
tion fits  for  such  a  scene  of  endearing  and  important 
duties'  1  For  such  a  circle  of  obligations,  she  should 
indeed  be  accomplished :  "  no  term  however,  has  been 
more  abused  than  this.  Accomplishment  is  a  word 
that  signifies  completeness,  perfection.  But  I  may 
safely  appeal  to  the  observation  of  mankind,  whether 
they  do  not  meet  with  swarms  of  youthful  females, 
issuing  from  our  boarding  schools,  as  well  as  emerg- 
ing from  the  more  private  scenes  of  domestic  edu- 
cation, who  are  introduced  into  the  world,  under 
the  broad  and  universal  title  of  accomplished  ladies, 
of  whom  it  cannot  very  truly  be  pronounced,  that 
they  illustrate  the  definition,  by  a  completeness 
which  leaves  nothing  to  be  added,  and  a  perfection 
which  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired." 

"  This  phrenzy  of  accomplishments,  unhappily, 
is  no  longer  restricted  within  the  usual  limits  of 
rank  and  of  fortune  ;  the  middle  orders  have  caught 
the  contagion,  and  it  rages  downward  with  increas- 
ing violence,  from  the  elegantly  dressed,  but  slen- 
derly por'ioned  curate's  daughter,  to  the  equally 
fashionable  daughter  of  the  little  tradesman,  and  of 
the  more  opulent,  but  not  more  judicious  farmer. — 
And  is  it  not  obvious,  that  as  far  a*  this  epidemical 
mania  has  spread,  this  very  valuable  part  of  society 
is  declining  in  usefulness,  as  it  rises  in  its  unlucky 
pretensions  to  elegance]  And  this  revolution  of 
the  manners  of  the  middle  class,  has  so  far  altered 
the  character  of  the  age,  as  to  be  in  danger  of  ren- 
dering obsolete  the  heretofore  common  saying,  that 
11  most  worth  and  virtue  are  to  be  found  in  the  mid- 
dle station."  For  I  do  not  scruple  to  assert,  that  in 
general,  as  far  as  my  observation  has  extended,  this 
class  of  females,  in  what  relaies  both  to  religious 
knowledge,  and  to  practical  industry,  falls  short, 
both  of  the  verv  high  and  the  very  low.  Their 
new  course  of  education,  and  the  habits  of  life,  and 
elegance  of  dress,  connected  with  it,  peculiarly  un- 
fits them  for  the  active  duties  of  their  own  very  im- 
portant condition  ;  while,  with  frivolous  eagerness 
and  second-hand  opportunities,  they  run  to  snatch 
a  few  of  those  showy  acquirements  which  decorate 
the  great.  This  is  done  apparently  with  one  or 
other  of  these  views;  either  to  make  their  fortune 
bv  marriage,  or,  if  that  fail,  to  qualify  them  to  be- 
come teachers  of  others :  hence  the  abundant  multi- 
plication of  superficial  wives,  and  of  incompetent 
and  illiterate  governesses."* 

By  accomplishments,  I  believe,  are  usually  in- 


*  Mrs.  More. 


tended  dancing,   music,    drawing,  the  language?, 
&c.  &c. 

As  for  dancing,  if  it  be  allowable  at  all  in  a  sys- 
tem of  Christian  education,  it  cannot  be  permitted 
to  rise  to  a  higher  rank  than  that  of  mere  physical 
training,  which  should  be  strictly  confined  to  the 
school,  and  laid  aside  for  ever  when  the  school  is 
quitted  for  home.  Balls  of  every  kind,  public  and 
private,  babij  assemblies  and  adult  ones,  are,  in  my 
judgment,  reprehensible  and  injurious;  and  if  our 
Lord's  exposiiion  of  the  seventh  commandment  be 
correct,  I  am  perfectly  sure  that  an  assembly-room 
is  no  place  for  Christian  morals:  the  half-naked 
costume,  there  exhibited,  has  the  same  effect  as 
Montesquieu  ascribes  to  the  dances  of  the  Spartan 
virgins,  which  taught  them  "to  strip  chastity  itself 
of  modesty."  Piety  looks  round  in  vain,  in  a  ball- 
room, for  one  single  object  congenial  with  its  nature. 

Music  has  not  the  same  objections.  The  acquisi- 
tion of  this  pleasing  science  requires  a  vigorous  ex- 
ercise of  that  faculty  of  the  mind  which  is  the  foun- 
dation of  all  knowledge — I  mean  attention;  and 
therefore,  like  the  mathematics,  is  valuable,  not 
merely  for  its  own  sake,  but  as  a  part  of  mental  edu- 
cation.* Besides  this,  the  ear  is  tuned  by  its  Maker 
to  harmony,  and  the  concord  of  sweet  sounds  is  a 
pleasant  and  innocent  recreation.  Music  becomes 
sinful,  only  when  too  much  time  is  occupied  in  ac- 
quiring the  science,  or  when  it  is  applied  to  demo- 
ralizing compositions.  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion 
that,  in  general,  far  more  time  is  occupied  in  this 
accomplishment  than  ought  to  be  thus  employed. 
Many  pupils  practise  three,  four,  five,  hours  a  day. 
Now,  suppose  four  hours  a  day  be  thus  spent,  com- 
mencing from  six  years  of  age,  and  continuing  till 
eighteen,  then  leaving  out  the  Sundays,  and  allow- 
ing thirteen  days  annually  for  travelling,  there  will 
be  14,400  hours  spent  at  the  pianoforte,  which,  al- 
lowing ten  hours  a  day  for  the  time  usually  devoted 
to  study,  will  make  nearly  four  years  out  of  twelve, 
given  to  music.  Can  this  be  justified,  my  female 
friends,  on  any  principle  of  reason  or  revelation  1 
What  ideas  might  have  been  acquired,  what  a  stock 
of  knowledge  amassed,  what  habits  of  mental  apph 
cation  formed,  in  this  time!  And  what  renders 
this  the  more  culpable  is,  that  all  this  time  is  spent 
in  acquiring  a  science  which,  as  soon  as  its  possessor 
is  placed  at  the  head  of  a  family,  is  generally  ne- 
glected and  forgotten.  If  it  be  really  true,  there- 
fore, that  music  cannot  be  acquired  without  prac- 
tising four  hours  a  day,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
the  sacrifice  is  far  too  costly;  and  females  should 
forego  the  accomplishment,  rather  than  purchase  it 
at  such  a  rate.  If  the  great  design,  and  chief  excel- 
lence of  the  female  character,  were  to  make  a  figure 
for  a  few  years  in  the  drawing-room,  to  enliven  the 
gay  scene  of  fashionable  resort,  and,  by  the  fresh- 
ness of  her  charms,  and  the  fascination  of  her  ac- 
complishments, to  charm  all  hearts,  and  conquer 
one,  then  let  females  give  all  their  precious  hours 
till  thev  can  play  like  Orpheus,  or  sing  like  a  Syren  ; 
but  if  it  be  what  I  have  already  stated,  then,  indeed, 
it  will  sound  like  a  meagre  qualification  for  a  wife, 
a  mother,  or  a  mistress,  to  say  "she  is  an  exquisite 
performer  on  the  harp  or  piano." 

Dravnns,  with  all  the  fancy  operations  of  the 
brush,  the  pencil,  the  needle,  and  the  scissors,  are 
innocent  and  agreeable,  provided  they  are  kept  in 

*  This,  however,  supposes  that  the  pupil  is  really 
made  to  comprehend  the  theory  of  music  as  she 
goes  on,  and  is  made  to  play  by  the  notes,  instead  of 
the  memory.  The  ignorance  of  some  teachers,  and 
the  indolence  of  others,  deprive  music  of  all  its  salu- 
tary power  to  strengthen  the  mind,  and  reduces  it  to 
the  mere  business  of  teaching  a  child  to  play  a  few 
tunes,  which,  bullfinch  like,  she  has  learnt  by  rote. 


56 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


the  place  of  recreations,  and  are  not  suffered  to  rise 
into  occupations.  Of  late  years  they  have  acquired 
a  kind  of  hallowed  connection,  and  Fancy  has  been 
seen  carrying  her  painted  and  embroidered  produc- 
tions to  lay  on  the  altar  of  Mercy  and  of  Zeal. 
These  things  are  sinful  only  when  they  consume 
too  much  time,  and  draw  the  mind  from  the  love  and 
pursuit  of  more  important  and  more  necessary  du- 
ties. They  are  little  elegant  trifles,  which  will  do 
well  enough  to  fill  up  the  interstices  of  our  time,  but 
must  not  displace  the  more  momentous  objects, 
which  require  and  occupy  its  larger  portions. 

The  languages  are  accomplishments,  for  which 
there  is  a  great  demand  in  the  system  of  modern 
education.  I  confess  plainly,  at  once,  that  I  rate  the 
importance  of  French  at  a  much  lower  rate  than 
many  do.  I  believe  not  one  in  a  hundred  who  pre- 
tend to  learn  it,  ever  derive  the  least  advantage  from 
it.  The  object  of  acquiring  a  foreign  language,  is 
to  converse  with  those  who  speak  it,  or  to  be  as  a 
key  to  all  the  literature  which  it  contains.  To  be 
able  to  hammer  out  a  few  sentences,  ill-pronounced 
and  worse  constructed;  to  tell  what  a  table,  or  a 
house,  or  a  door  is,  or  pass  the  usual  compliments 
in  French,  is  a  miserable  reward  for  years  of  dream- 
ing or  yawning  over  Levizac  or  Du  Fief.  If,  then, 
you  have  begun  French,  or  Italian,  and  still  retain 
any  thing  of  what  you  have  learnt,  give  a  moderate 
portion  of  your  time  to  recover  what  else  will  soon 
be  utterly  lost;  for  nothing  is  so  soon  lost  from  the 
mind  as  a  little  of  a  foreign  language.  Pursue  the 
study  till  you  can,  at  least,  read  it  with  nearly  as 
much  ease  as  your  mother  tongue.  Perhaps  the 
chief  advantage  from  this  accomplishment  is,  that 
it  raises  our  reputation  a  little  in  elegant  society, 
and  so  far  increases  our  weight  of  character,  arid 
thus  enlarges  the  sphere  of  our  usefulness. 

On  the  subject  of  accomplishments, then,  my  views 
are  sufficiently  explicit.  The  greater  part  of  them 
I  by  no  means  condemn.  Cusiom  has  rendered  them 
necessary,  religion  allows  them  to  be  innocent,  and 
ingenuity  can  render  them  useful.  Piety  is  not  in 
a  state  of  hostility  with  taste,  and  would  not  look 
more  lovely  in  Gothic  barbarity  than  in  Grecian 
elegance.  Provided  she  maintain  all  her  sanctity, 
dignity,  spirituality  and  benevolence,  she  does  not 
appear  less  inviting:,  when  attired  by  the  Muses  and 
attended  by  the  Graces.  Females'  may  play,  and 
draw,  and  paint,  and  write  Latin,  and  speak  Italian 
and  French,  provided  the  time,  the  money,  and  the 
admiration  lavished  on  these  external  acquirements, 
be  all  within  reasonable  limits:  provided  they  are 
regarded  as  sources  of  private  entertainment,  hot  as 
arts  of  public  display;  are  considered  as  recreations 
from  more  severe  and  necessary  pursuits,  not  as  the 
chief  end  of  education  ;  and  are  viewed  as  the  mere 
appendages  of  excellence,  not  its  substitute. 

It  unfortunately  happens,  however,  that  the  fe- 
male who  has  in  reality  received  the  worst  educa- 
tion, often  makes  the  best  figure  in  soeietv.  There 
are  many  schools  which,  (to  adopt  a  simile  borrow- 
ed from  the  trades  of  my  own  town,)  instead  of  re- 
sembling the  jeweller's  workshop,  where  sterling  gold 
and  real  diamonds  are  polished,  are  nothing  more 
ihan  gilders,  varnishers,  and  platers,  whose  object 
i  is  to  give  the  brightest  surface  in  the  shortest 
t  ne  and  at  the  least  expense.  The  paste  and  the 
j  It  look  very  well,  perhaps  be'ter  than  the  gem  and 
»  le  gold,  because  more  of  it  can  be  obtained  for  the 
same  sum:  but  which  will  wear  best,  and  last  the 
longest1?  It  requires  much  self-denial,  sturdy  at- 
tachment to  solid  excellence  and  nobleness  of  mind, 
for  a  female  of  few  accomp'ishments,  but  many  vir- 
tues, to  go  home  from  a  company  where  some  gild- 
ed, varnished  mind  has  received,  for  her  music  or 
singing,  the  tribute  of  admiration,  and  still  to  prefer 
the  uncommanding  excellence  of  character,  to  all 


the  fascinations  of  exterior  decorations.  But  look 
onward  in  life.  See  the  future  career  of  both.  The 
Syren  wins  the  heart,  for  which,  as  a  prize,  she  has 
sung  and  played.  She  marries,  and  is  placed  at  the 
head  of  a  rising  family.  But,  alas!  the  time  she 
should  have  spent  in  preparing  to  be  a  companion 
to  her  husband,  a  mother  to  her  children,  a  mistress 
to  her  servants,  was  employed  at  the  piano,  in  qua- 
lifying her  to  charm  the  drawing-room  circle.  She 
succeeded,  and  had  her  reward,  but  it  ended  when 
she  became  a  wife  and  a  mother.  She  had  neither 
good  sense  nor  information ;  neither  frugality,  or 
der,  nor  system  ;  neither  ability  to  govern  herser' 
vants,  nor  guide  her  children;  her  husband  sees 
every  thing  going  wrong,  and  is  dissatisfied  ;  he 
caught  the  nightingale  to  which  he  listened  with 
such  transport  in  her  native  bower;  but  she  is  now 
a  miserable  looking,  moping,  silent  bird  in  her  cage. 
All  is  discontent  and  wretchedness,  for  both  at  length 
find  out  that  she  was  better  qualified  to  be  a  pablic 
singer  than  a  wife,  or  a  mother,  or  a  mistress. 

Far  different  is  the  case  with  the  unostentatious 
individual  of  real  moral  worth.  She  too  wins  a 
heart  more  worth  winning  than  the  prize  'ast  spoken 
of.  Some  congenial  mind,  looking  round  for  an  in- 
dividual who  shall  be  a  helpmate  indeed,  sees  in 
her  good  sense  and  prudence,  her  weH-stored  un- 
derstanding, her  sobriety  of  manners,  her  sterling 
piety,  the  virtues  likely  to  last  through  life,  with  fo- 
liage ever  verdant,  fruit  ever  abundant.  They  are 
united:  the  hopes  of  lovers,  rational,  unromantic, 
founded  on  kindred  minds,  and  kindred  hearts,  are 
realized  in  all  the  fond  endearments  of  wedded  life. 
Although  the  first  bloom  and  freshness  of  youthful 
affection  fades  away,  its  mellowness  still  remains, 
and  mutual  esteem  still  continues  and  grows.  Their 
family  increases,  over  which  she  presides  in  the 
meekness  of  wisdom,  the  order  of  system,  and  the 
economy,  not  of  meanness,  but  of  prudence.  To 
her  children,  whom  her  husband  trusts  with  confi- 
dence to  her  care,  she  is  the  instructer  of  their  minds, 
the  guide  of  their  youth.  Their  father  sees  them 
rising  up  to  prove  the  wisdom  of  his  choice,  when  he 
selected  a  wife  rather  for  virtues  than  accomplish- 
ments; their  mother  delights  in  a  husband  who  is 
one  with  her  in  all  her  views,  and  approves  of  all 
her  doings.  They  pass  through  life  together, bless- 
ing and  being  blessed;  mutual  comforters  and  mu- 
tual counsellors,  often  saying,  if  not  singing, 
"Domestic  happiness,  thou  only  bliss 
Of  Paradise  that  hast  survived  the  fall ! 
Thou  art  not  known  where  Pleasure  is  ador'd, 
That  reeling  goddess  with  the  zoneless  waist." 
How  true  and  how  beautiful  are  the  words  at 
Solomon:  "  Who  can  find  a  virtuous  woman's  for 
her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The  heart  of  her  hus- 
band doth  safely  trust  in  her,  so  that  he  shall  have 
no  need  of  spoil.  She  will  do  him  good  and  not 
evil  all  the  days  of  her  life.  She  layeth  her  hands 
to  the  spindle,  and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She 
stretcheth  out  her  hands  to  the  poor :  vea,  she  reach- 
eth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needv.  Her  husband  is 
known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sitteth  among  the  el- 
ders of  the  land.  Strength  and  honor  are  her  cloth- 
ing; and  she  shall  rejoice  in  time  to  come.  She 
opene'h  her  mouth  with  wisdom,  and  in  her  tongue 
is  the  law  of  kindness.  She  looketh  well  to  the  ways 
of  her  household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idle- 
ness. Her  children  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed, 
her  husband  also,  and  hepraiseth  her.  Manydav^n- 
ters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest  them 
all.  Favor  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a 
woman  that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised. 
Give  her  of  the  fruit  of  her  hands,  and  let  her  own 
works  praise  her  in  the  gates."* 


*  Proverbs  xxxi. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT 


57 


A  beautiful  comment  on  this  lovely  passage  is  to 
be  found  in  the  "Friend,"  by  Coleridge;  amongst 
some  "  Specimens  of  Rabbinical  wisdom  selected  from 
the  Mishna."  It  is  entitled,  "  Whoso  hath  found  a 
*  virtuous  wife,  hath  a  greater  treasure  than  costly 
pearls." 

"  Such  a  treasure  had  the  celebrated  teacher  Rab- 
bi Meir  found.  He  sat  during  the  whole  of  one 
Sabbaih-day  in  the  public  school,  and  instructed  the 
people.  During  his  absence  from  his  house,  his  two 
sons  died,  both  of  them  of  uncommon  beauty,  and 
enlightened  in  the  law.  His  wife  bore  them  to  her 
bed-chamber,  laid  them  upon  the  marriage  bed,  and 
spread  a  white  covering  over  their  bodies.  In  the 
evening  Rabbi  Meir  came  home.  '  Where  are  my 
»ons,'  he  asked,  '  that  I  may  give  them  my  blessing  V 
'They  are  gone  to  the  school,'  was  the  answer.  '  I 
repeatedly  looked  round  the  school,'  he  replied,  '  and 
I  did  not  see  them  there.'  She  reached  to  him  a 
goblet:  he  praised  the  Lord  at  the  going  out  of  the 
Sabbath,  drank,  and  again  asked,  '  Where  are  my 
sons,  that  they  too  may  drink  of  the  cup  of  blessing]' 
'  They  will  not  be  far  off,'  she  said,  and  placed  food 
before  him  that  he  might  eat.  He  was  in  a  glad- 
some and  genial  mood,  and  when  he  had  said  grace 
after  the  meal,  she  thus  addressed  him: — 'Rabbi, 
permit  me  one  question.'  'Ask  it,  then,  my  love,' 
he  replied.  'A  few  days  ago  a  person  entrusted 
some  jewels  to  my  custody,  and  now  he  demands 
them  again ;  should  I  give  them  back  to  him  V  '  This 
is  a  question,'  said  Rabbi  Meir,  '  which  my  wife 
should  not  have  thought  it  necessary  to  ask.  What ! 
wouldst  thou  hesitate  or  be  reluctant  to  restore  to 
every  one  his  own 7'  'O  no,'  replied  she,  'but  I 
thought  it  best  not  to  restore  them  without  acquaint- 
ing thee  therewith.'  She  then  led  him  to  their  cham- 
ber, and  stepping  to  the  bed,  took  the  white  cover- 
ing from  the  dead  bodies.  '  Ah,  my  sons !  my  sons !' 
thus  loudly  lamented  the  father,  'my  sons!  the  light 
of  mine  eyes,  and  the  light  of  my  understanding! 
I  was  your  father,  but  ye  were  my  teachers  in  the 
law!'  The  mother  turned  awav  and  wept  bitterly. 
At  length  she  took  her  husband  by  the  hand,  and 
said,  '  Rabbi,  didst  thou  not  teach  me  that  one  musl 
not  he  reluctant  to  restore  that  which  was  entrusted 
to  our  keeping!  See,  the  Lord  gave,  the  Lord 
has  taken  awav,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord !'  '  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord !'  echoed 
Rabbi  Meir,  'and  blessed  be  his  name  for  thy  sake 
too;  for  well  is  it  written,  Whoso  hath  found  a  vir- 
tuous wife,  hath  a  greater  treasure  than  costly 
pearls:  she  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom,  and  in 
her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness.'" 

My  young  female  friends,  have  you  no  ambition 
to  answer,  in  future  life,  these  beautiful  patterns  of 
female  excellence  1  Have  you  no  desire,  that  if  Pro- 
vidence should  place  you  at  the  head  of  a  familv, 
you  may  shine  forth  in  all  the  mild  radiance  of  do- 
mestic feminine  excellence!  Is  there  not,  as  you 
read,  some  spirit-stirring  desires  in  your  soul  ?  Does 
not  all  the  glitter  of  mere  external  accomplishments 
fade  awnv  into  darkness  before  such  efful?ent  vir- 
tue! Does  not  all  the  painted  insignificance  of  mere 
drawing-room  charms  dwindle  into  nothing  before 
that  solid  excellence,  which  is  a 

"Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets'?" 

If  so,  and  ye  would  thus  bless  and  be  blessed,  make 
up  your  mind  deliberately  to  this  opinion,  and  abide 
by  it,  that  what  is  useful  is  infinitely  to  be  preferred 
to  what  is  dazzling:  and  virtuous  excellence  to  be 
more  ardently  coveted  than  fashionable  accomplish- 
ments. A  ri?ht  aim  is  of  unspeakable  consequence. 
Whatever  we  propose,  as  the  crand  paramount  ob- 
ject, will  form  the  character.  We  shall  subordinate 
every  thing  else  to  it:  and  be  this  your  aim,  to  ex- 


cel   RATHER   IN  THE    SOLID   AND   USEFUL    ATTAINMENTS, 
THAN  IN  EXTERNAL  SHOWV  DECORATIONS. 

Seek  a  large  portion  of  what  is  usually  denomi- 
nated GOOD  SENSE. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  define  what  I  mean,  and  per- 
haps it  is  not  necessary,  for  every  one  knows  what 
I  intend  by  this  quality.  It  is  that  sobriety  of  cha- 
racter, that  quick  perception  of  all  the  proprieties 
of  life,  that  nice  discernment  of  what  is  best  to  be 
done  in  all  the  ordinary  circumstances  of  human  so- 
ciety, which  shall  enable  us  to  act  with  credit  to 
ourselves,  and  comfort  to  others.  It  is  a  thoughtful, 
cautious  way  of  judging  and  acting,  and  is  equally 
opposed  to  that  rashness  which  acts  with  precipi- 
tancy, and  that  ignorance  which  cannot  act  at  all. 
It  is,  in  fact,  prudence,  accommodating  itself  to  all 
the  relations  of  life,  and  ever-varying  circumstances 
of  society. 

Store  your  mind  with  useful  information. 

Read  much,  and  let  your  reading  be  of  a  right 
kind.  Reject  with  disdain,  as  you  ought,  the  libel 
which  has  been  circulated  by  some  against  your  un- 
derstanding, that  poetry  and  novels  are  the  books^ 
most  adapted  to  the  understanding  and  feelings  of 
young  ladies.  On  this  topic  I  refer  you  to  the  chap- 
ter on  books.  1  cannot,  however,  but  insert  a  few 
additional  hints  on  the  subject  here. 

To  assist  in  the  right  formation  of  your  charac- 
ter, I  very  urgently  recommend  the  perusal  of  Mrs. 
Hannah  Mare's  "  Strictures  on  the  Modern  System 
of  Female  Education:"  for  although  this  work  is 
more  particularly  intended  for  mothers,  it  may  be 
read  with  immense  advantage  also  by  daughters. 
The  views  of  this  incomparable  woman  are  so  cor- 
rect, and  so  enlarged,  so  accordant  with  reason,  and 
what  is  still  more  important,  so  harmonious  with  re- 
velation, that  you  cannot  look  up  to  a  better  guide. 
Gisborne's  "Duties  of  Women"  may  also  be  read 
with  great  advantage.  Cox's  "  Female  Biography ," 
and  Gibbon's  "  Lives  of  Pious  Women,"  with  Wil- 
liams' "Life  of  Mrs.  Savage,"  in  this  department  of 
reading,  will  be  found  interesting  books. 

History  should  of  course  occupy  much  of  your 
time.  Here  you  should  be  at  home.  But  do  not 
read  merely  to  acquire  a  mental  chronicle  of  names 
and  dates.  To  know  when  such  a  king  reigned,  by 
whom  such  a  country  was  conquered,  or  where 
such  a  battle  was  fought,  is  one  of  the  lowest  ends 
of  reading  the  annals  of  nations.  In  Mrs.  Mores 
work  you  will  find  an  admirable  chapter,  "  On  the 
religions  and  moral  use  of  History  and  Geography," 
to  which,  with  great  pleasure,  I  refer  you. 

Poetry  should  be  resorted  to  as  a  recreation,  and 
a  recreation  only.  On  this  subject  I  need  not  repeat 
what  I  have  already  stated,  except  to  add,  that  as 
you  have  not  learned  the  dead  languages,  I  should 
advise  you  to  add  to  the  productions  of  your  own  na- 
tional muse,  the  immortal  poems  of  Homer  and  Vir- 
gil, which  may  be  read,  the  former  in  the  transla- 
tions of  Pope  and  Cowper,  and  the  latter  in  that  of 
Dryden. 

Botany  seems,  if  not  to  belong  to  your  se<r.  to  be 
peculiariv  appropriate  to  it.  The  elementary  'rea- 
lises of  Chymistn/,  such  as  "  Conversations  on  Chy- 
mistry,  by  a  Lady,"  and  Parke's  Catechism,  might 
he  read  with  great  benefit:  and  indeed  the  element- 
ary treatises  of  the  whole  range  of  natural  philoso- 
phv,  if  you  have  leisure,  should  be  read. 

As  vou  mav  be  one  day  called  to  train  the  minds 
of  your  own  children,  you  should  not  have  the  phi- 
losophy of  education  to  learn  when  you  want  it  to 
use;  and  therefore  should  now  become  acquainted 
with  all  that  is  connected  with  this  invaluable  sci- 
ence. Miss  Edzeworth's  Treatise  on  Practical  Edu- 
cation,* with  Mrs.  Mores  work,  will  be  found  most 


*  Never  was  there  a  writer  that  better  understood 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


s'8 

interesting  as  well  as  instructive.  And  if  you  are 
willing  to  go  still  farther,  I  would  advise  you  to 
study  Watts'  "Improvement  of  the  Mind"  and  his 
"  Logic ;"  Mr.  Burder's  "  Hints  on  Mental  Culture ;" 

Dugald  Stewart's  work  on  "  The  Philosophy  of  the 
Human  Mind;"  and  some  parts  of  Locke's  treatise 
"  On  the  Human  Understanding ."  Some  of  these 
works  will  certainly  require  close  application,  and 
hard  thinking;  but  they  will  amply  reward  the  la- 
bor of  research;  and  the  powers  of  the  mind,  like 
those  of  the  body,  strengthen  by  exercise.  "  Serious 
study  serves  to  harden  the  mind  for  mote  trying 
conflicts;  it  lifts  the  reader  from  sensation  to  intel- 
lect ;  it  abstracts  her  from  lhe  world  and  its  vani- 
ties; it  fixes  a  wandering  spirit,  and  fortifies  a  weak 
one;  it  divorces  her  from  matter,  it  corrects  that 
spirit  of  trifling,  which  she  naturally  contracts  from 
the  frivolous  turn  of  female  conversation,  and  the 
petty  nature  of  female  employments;  it  concentrates 
her  attention,  assists  her  in  a  habit  of  excluding  tri- 
vial thoughts,  and  thus  even  helps  to  qualify  her  for 
religious  pursuits." 

Thus  would  I  have  a  female  qualified  for  her  sta- 
tion as  a  wife,  mother  and  mistress:  but  this  is  not 
all;  for  mental  improvement  should  be  associated 
with  a  correct  knowledge  of  household  affairs.  She 
who  is  to  preside  over  a  family,  should  be  most  in- 

imately  acquainted  with  every  thing  that  can  pre- 
serve its  order  or  promote  its  comfort.  That  must 
be  a  most  injudicious  mother,  who  is  not  anxious  to 
teach  a  daughter  how  to  manage  a  family  to  the 
greatest  advantage;  and  that  must  be  a  weak  and 
silly  girl,  who  is  not  willing  to  be  taught.  All  the 
time,  therefore,  must  not  be  given  to  books ;  for 
learned  ladies,  without  neatness,  without  order,  with- 
out economy,  without  frugality, 

"May  do  very  well  for  maidens  or  aunts, 
But,  believe  me,  they'll  never  make  wives." 

A  husband's  home  should  be  rendered  comforta- 
ble for  himself  and  his  children,  or  else  they  are 
both  very  likely  to  wander  from  home  for  comfort. 
Cleanliness,  neatness,  frugality,  order,  are  all  of 
great  importance  in  the  habits  of  a  wife,  mother  and 
mistress,  for  the  want  of  which,  no  knowledge,  how- 
ever profound  or  extensive,  can  be  a  substitute.  It 
is  not  at  all  requisite  that  a  wife  should  be  either  an 
accomplished  housemaid,  or  a  perfect  cook,  but  she 
ought  to  be  able  to  judge  of  these  qualifications  in 
others:  and  the  want  of  this  ability  has  led  many  a 
man,  who  was  blessed  with  a  learned  wife,  to  ex- 
claim, with  something  between  disgust  and  despair, 
"  I  now  find,  to  my  cost,  that  knowledge  alone  is  as 
poor  a  qualification  for  a  wife,  as  personal  beauty 
or  external  accomplishments." 

Before  I  close  this  chapter,  I  must  mention  one  or 
two  dispositions,  which  young  females  should  assi- 
duously cherish  and  unostentatiously  exhibit. 

The  first  is  filial  obedience ;  not  that  this  is  bind- 
ing upon  daughters  only,  for  what  son  is  he  that  ho- 
noreth  not,  loveth  not,  comforteth  not,  his  father 

the  philosophy  of  education  than  this  extraordinary 
woman :  all  she  has  written,  from  the  work  above 
mentioned  down  to  "Eaily  Lessons,"  may  be  read 
with  advantage,  not  only  by  those  who  are  to  learn, 
but  by  those  who  are  to  teach.  I  regret,  in  common 
with  many  others,  the  exclusion  of  religion  from  her 
productions,  and  the  occasional  introduction  of  ir- 
religious exclamations;  but  on  the  general  princi- 
ples of  education,  and  the  formation  of  the  charac- 
ter, in  every  other  view  of  it  than  in  reference  to 
religion,  MissEdgeworth  remains  unequalled.  How 
deeply  to  be  deplored,  that  from  the  works  of  such  a 
writer,  the  spirit  and  genius  of  Christianity  should 
be  systematically  excluded. 


i  and  his  mother  1  Wherever  Providence  should  casi 
j  his  lot,  or  in  whatever  circumstances  he  should  be 
!  placed,  let  him  continue  in  every  possible  way  to 
>  promote  the  happiness  of  his  parents.     Young  peo- 
j  pie  are  but  too  apt  to  think,  that  the  obligations  to 
j  filial  piety  diminish  in  number  and  strength,  as 
I  years  increase.     I  am  afraid  that  really  one  of  the 
|  signs  of  the  times,  and  it  is  no  bright  one,  is  the  de 
crease  of  this  amiable  and  lovely  virtue.     I  think  J 
see  rising — I  wish  I  may  be  in  error — a  spirit  o*  in- 
dependence, which  is  aiming  to  antedate  the  period 
of  manhood,  and  to  bring  as  near  to  fourteen  as  pos- 
sible, the  time  when  the  yoke  of  parental  control 
may  be  thrown  off.    This  is  neither  for  the  comfort 
of  the  parents,  nor  the  advantage  of  the  children 
It  is  not  obedience  only  that  should  not  be  refused; 
for  where  this  is  denied,  there  can  be  neither  reli- 
gion nor  virtue;  but  all  that  public  way  of  showing 
them  honor,  and  all  that  privale  way  of  promoting 
their  comfort,  for  which  opportunities  are  constant- 
ly presented.    There  is  no  period  in  the  life  of  a  fa- 
ther or  a  mother,  when  the  obligation  to  be  in  some 
measure  subject  to  them,  and  in  all  measure  to  pro- 
mote their  happiness,  ceases.     It  has  been  brought 
as  an  allegation  against  the  bard,  whom  an  English- 
man might  be  proud  to  name,  that  he  was  so  severe 
a  father,  as  to  have  compelled  his  daughters,  after 
he  was  blind,  to  read  aloud  to  him,  for  his  sole  plea- 
sure, Greek  and  Latin  authors,  of  which  they  did 
not  understand  a  word.    Compelled  his  daughters ! ! 
What  daughters  must  they  be  who  need  compulsion 
in  such  a  case ! ! 

The  following  is  the  description  of  a  daughter 
which  I  have  somewhere  met  with  : — "  M.  E.  S.  re- 
ceived her  unhappy  existence  at  the  price  of  her 
mother's  life,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  she  fol- 
lowed, as  the  sole  mourner,  the  bier  of  her  remain- 
ing parent.  Prom  her  thirteenth  year,  she  had 
passed  her  life  at  her  father's  sick  bed,  the  gout 
having  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  limbs;  and 
beheld  the  arch  of  heaven  only  when  she  went  forth 
to  fetch  food  or  medicines.  The  discharge  of  her 
filial  duties  occupied  the  whole  of  her  time  and  all 
her  thoughts.  She  was  his  only  nurse,  and  for  the 
last  two  years  they  lived  without  a  servant.  She 
prepared  his  scanty  meal,  she  bathed  his  aching 
limbs,  and,  though  weak  and  delicate  from  constant 
confinement,  and  the  poison  of  melancholy  thoughts, 
she  had  acquired  an  unusual  power  in  her  arms, 
from  the  habit  of  lifting  her  old  and  suffering  father 
out  of  and  into  his  bed  of  pain.  Thus  passed  away 
her  early  youth  in  sorrow ;  she  grew  up  in  tears,  a 
stranger  to  the  amusements  of  youth,  and  its  more 
delightful  schemes  and  imaginations.  She  was  not, 
however,  unhappy  ;  she  attributed  no  merit  to  her- 
self for  her  virtues  ;  but  for  that  reason  were  they 
the  more  her  reward.  "  The  peace  which  passeth 
all  understanding,"  disclosed  itself  in  all  her  looks 
and  movements.  It  lay  on  her  countenance  like  a 
steady  unshadowed  moonlight;  and  her  voice,  which 
was  at  once  naturally  sweet  and  subtile,  came  from 
her  like  the  fine  flute  tones  of  a  masterly  performer, 
which  still  floating  at  some  uncertain  distance,  seem 
to  be  created  by  the  player,  rather  than  to  proceed 
from  the  instrument.  If  you  had  listened  to  it  in 
one  of  those  brief  Sabbaths  of  the  soul,  when  the 
activity  and  discursiveness  of  the  thoughts  are  sus- 
pended, and  the  mind  quietly  eddies  round  instead 
of  flowing  onward  (as  at  late  evening  in  the  spring, 
1  have  seen  a  bat  wheel  in  silent  circles  round  and 
round  a  fruit  tree  in  full  blossom,  in  the  midst  of 
which,  as  within  a  close  tent  of  the  purest  white,  an 
unseen  nightingale  was  piping  its  sweetest  notes,) 
in  such  a  mood,  you  might  have  half  fancied,  halt- 
felt,  that  her  voice  had  a  separate  being  of  its  own 
— that  it  was  a  living  something  whose  mode  of 
existence  was  for  the  ear  only  :  so  deep  was  her  re- 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


59 


signation,  so  entirely  had  it  become  the  habit  of  her 
nature,  and  in  all  she  did  or  said  so  perfectly  were 
her  movements,  and  her  utterance  without  effort, 
and  without  the  appearance  of  effort.  Her  dying 
father's  last  words,  addressed  to  the  clergyman  who 
attended  him,  were  his  grateful  testimony,  that  du- 
ring his  long  and  sore  trial,  his  good  Maria  had 
behaved  to  him  like  an  angel ;  that  the  most  disa- 
greeable offices,  anil  the  least  suited  to  her  age  and 
sex,  had  never  drawn  an  unwilling  look  from  her  ; 
and  that  whenever  his  eye  had  met  hers,  he  had 
been  sure  to  see  in  it  either  the  tear  of  pity,  or  the 
sudden  smile  expressive  of  her  alfectioa  and  wish 
to  cheer  him.  "  God,"  said  he  "  will  reward  the 
good  girl  for  all  her  long  dulifulness  io  me  !"  He 
departed  during  the  inward  prayer,  which  followed 
these  his  last  words.  His  wish  will  be  fulfilled  in 
eternity !" 

What  daughter  can  read  this  and  not  admire, 
and,  if  need  be,  imitate  the  conduct  of  Maria? — 
Few  are  called  to  these  self-denying  acts  of  filial 
piety  ;  but  who  would  not  do  all  they  could  to  sweet- 
en, as  far  as  may  be,  the  dregs  of  life  to  an  aged 
mother  or  a  blind  father  7  It  has  been  observed 
that  a  good  daughter  generally  makes  an  exemplary 
wife  and  mother. 

Sensibility,  when  blended  with  a  sound  judgment, 
and  guided  in  its  exercises  by  good  sense  and  prudence, 
is  a  lovely  ornament  of  the  female  character.  By 
sensibility,  I  mean  a  susceptibility  of  having  emo- 
tion excited  by  external  objects;  a  habit  of  mind,  in 
which  the  affections  are  easily  moved,  by  objects 
calculated  and  worthy  to  produce  feeling.  Of 
course,  this  is  an  evil  or  an  excellence,  according  as 
it  is  united  with  other  mental  habits.  An  excess  of 
sensibility,  is  one  of  the  most  injurious  ingredients 
which  can  enter  into  the  formation  of  character. — 
Where  it  is  united  with  a  weak  judgment,  and  a 
wild  imagination,  it  exposes  its  possessor  to  the 
greatest  possible  dangers,  and  opens  in  her  own  bo- 
som a  perpetual  source  of  vexation,  misery,  and 
self-torment.  If  we  were  to  trace  to  their  source 
many  of  those  quarrels  which  have  alienated  friends, 
and  made  irreconcileable  enemies;  those  mortifica- 
tions of  pride  and  vanity,  which  have  ended  in  lu- 
nacy;  those  hasty  and  imprudent  marriages  which 
have  terminated  in  universal  wretchedness;  those 
acts  of  profligacy,  suicide,  and  even  murder,  which 
have  stained  the  annals  of  mankind;  we  should 
find  the  germ  of  all  these  mischiefs  in  an  excess  of 
morbid  sensibility.  Feeling,  like  fire,  is  a  good  ser- 
vant, but  a  bad  master :  a  source  of  comfort  and  a 
means  of  usefulness,  if  well  governed;  but  if  left  to 
rage  without  control,  an  engine  of  destruction,  and 
a  cause  of  misery.  Every  heart  should  have  an 
altar,  on  which  this  fire  should  be  perpetually  kept 
burning,  but  then  prudence  should  ever  be  on  the 
watch,  lest  it  should  consume  the  temple. 

Young  females  are  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
led  away  by  the  representation,  that  an  unfeeling 
womiu,  though  she  be  pure  as  a  statue  of  Parian 
marble,  yet  withal,  if  she  be  as  cold,  is  a  most  un- 
lovely character.  This  I  admit,  and  therefore  1 
class  a  well-governed  sensibility,  amongst  the  deco- 
rations of  the  female  character.  But,  then,  the  ten- 
dency of  this  remark  is  certainlv  mischievous,  since, 
according  to  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  usually  both 
made  and  received,  it  means,  that  an  excess  of  feel- 
ing, rather  adorns  than  injures  the  character.  It 
will  be  f  >und,  generally  speaking,  that  young  people 
rather  force  the  growth,  than  check  the  luxuriance 
of  their  feelings  :  which  is  just  in  the  inverted  order 
of  nature,  since  the  affections  generally  grow  with- 
out culture,  the  judgment  scarcely  ever.  The  voice 
of  flattery,  also,  is  all  on  the  side  of  feeling.  A 
warm-hearted  girl  carried  away  by  her  feelings, 
and  misled  by  a  wild  and  ardent  imagination,  will 


find  many  more  admirers  than  the  sensible,  prudent, 
and  reserved  one ;  and  for  this  plain  reason,  because 
there  are  more  fools  in  the  world  than  wise  men. — 
Follow  out  the  history  of  the  two  characters.  It  is 
the  end  that  proves  all. 

Imprudent  attachments,  rash  friendships,  misdi- 
rected anxieties,  eccentric  charities,  fickle  schemes, 
groundless  anticipations,  mortifying  disappoint- 
ments, harassing  litigations,  with  innumerable  other 
evils,  come  in  the  train  of  excessive  and  ungoverned 
sensibility.  Let  young  women  therefore  remember, 
that  the  understanding  is  the  queen  amongst  the  fa- 
culties of  the  soul,  beneath  whose  despotic  sway,  the 
imagination  and  affections  may  be  as  active  and  as 
ardent  as  they  please,  so  that  they  never  offend 
against  the  laws  of  their  sovereign. 

With  these  limitations,  I  will  admit  that  sensibili- 
ty is  an  ornament  of  female  character.  A  cold,  un- 
feeling, heartless  woman,  who  has  no  tear  for  sor- 
row, no  smile  for  excellence;  who  has  no  power 
but  that  of  niggardly  calculation,  and  no  emotions, 
but  those  which  by  a  sort  of  centripetal  force,  are 
all  drawn  to  self  as  the  centre  of  gravity,  is  a  libel 
upon  her  sex.  She  may  hare  prudence,  but  it  is 
likely  to  degenerate  into  cunning;  frugality,  but  it 
will  in  all  probability  soon  become  avarice;  cau- 
tion, but  it  will  be  changed  into  suspicion  ;  intellect, 
but  it  will  be  proud,  censorious  and  cynical.  Pure 
sensibility  is  the  soil  in  which  the  generous  affec- 
tions grow  ;  it  cherishes  that  mercy  which  is  full  of 
good  fruits;  gives  birth  to  all  the  enterprises  of  be- 
nevolence, and  when  touched  and  purified  with  a 
'•  live  coal  from  the  altar,"  will  give  a  keener  taste 
for  the  spirit  of  religion,  a  richer  enjoyment  of  its 
privileges,  and  a  quicker  zeal  in  discharging  its  du- 
ties :  but  then  it  must  be  feeling  associated  with 
principle,  and  guided  in  all  its  exercises  by  a  sound 
judgment. 

A  retiredness  of  disposition  is  also  an  exquisite 
ornament  of  the  female  character.  Even  the  most 
distant  approach  to  whatever  is  forward  in  manner, 
and  vain  in  conversation,  should  be  most  studiously 
avoided.  Delicate  reserve,  without  awkward  hash- 
fulness,  is  no  small  part  of  the  loveliness  of  every 
young  female,  especially  in  all  her  conduct  towards 
the  opposite  sex.  A  lady  who  takes  pains  to  be  no- 
ticed, generally  gains  her  object  without  its  reward  ; 
for  she  is  noticed,  but  at  the  same  time  she  is  de- 
spised. Nothing  can  be  more  disgusting,  than  a 
bold  obtrusiveness  of  manners  in  a  female,  except 
it  be  that  affectation  of  retiredness  which  retreats 
only  to  be  followed.  Flippancy  and  pertness  are 
sometimes  mistakenly  substituted  by  their  possessor, 
for  smartness  and  cleverness.  These  latter  quali- 
ties never  look  well  when  they  are  studied  :  they 
are  never  tolerable,  but  when  they  are  natural;  and 
are  amongst  the  last  things  which  we  should  se>»k 
to  acquire :  for  when  obtained  in  this  way,  they  ap- 
pear no  better  than  ornaments  stuck  on,  instead  of 
being  wrought  in.  1  am  not  contending  against 
that  ease  of 'manners,  which  the  most  retiring  female 
may  and  should  adopt,  even  in  the  company  of  gen- 
tlemen ;  that  artless  and  elegant  freedom,  which  is 
compatible  with  the  most  delicate  reserve;  but  mere- 
ly that  thirsting  mode  of  address,  which  determines 
to  attract  attention. 

A  love  (if  display,  has  been  thought  to  be  amongst 
the  blemishes  which  usually  attach  to  female  cha- 
racter in  general.  I  do  not  now  refer  to  the  petty 
concerns  of  dress,  for  this  is  truly  pitiable;  and  an 
individual  silly  enough  to  indulge  such  a  butterfly, 
peacock  tas'e  as  this,  is  too  weak  to  affoid  any  ra- 
tional hopes  of  having  her  follies  corrected.  Argu- 
ments are  lost  upon  that  little  mind,  whose  ambition 
cannot  comprehend,  or  value,  or  covet,  a  distinction, 
of  greater  worth  than  a  richer  silk,  a  more  graceful 
plume,  or  a  more  modern  fashion.    This  Lilliputian 


60 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


heroine,  armed  at  every  point  with  feathers,  flowers, 
and  ribbons ;  supported  by  all  her  auxiliary  forces 
of  plumassieurs,  frisseurs,'milliners,  mantuamakers, 
perfumers,  &c.  &c.  &c.  contending  for  the  palm  of 
victory  on  the  arena  of  fashion,  must  be  left  to  her 
fate  to  conquer  or  to  fall ;  1  have  no  concern  with 
h°r.  But  there  is  vanity  of  another  kind,  against 
which  I  would  caution  young  females,  and  this  is, 
a  fondness  for  exhibiting  their  fashionable  accomplish- 
ments, or  mental  acquirements.  Pedantry  in  a  man 
is  bad  enough,  but  in  a  woman  is  still  worse.  Few 
things  are  more  offensive  than  to  sec  a  female  la- 
boring to  the  uttermost  to  convince  a  company  that 
she  has  received  a  good  intellectual  education,  has 
improved  her  advantages,  and  is  really  a  sensible, 
clever  woman  ;  at  one  time  almost  vociferating 
about  nitrogen,  oxygen,  and  caloric;  then  boasting 
her  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  greatest  geniuses 
of  the  age ;  and  last  of  all  entering  into  a  stormy 
debr'e  on  politics  or  finance. 

Now  observe,  I  am  not  contending  against  a  wo- 
wan's  acquainting  herself  with  these  subjects,  for  I 
reject  with  indignation  the  calumny  that  the  female 
mind  is  unequal  to  the  profoundest  subjects  of  hu- 
man investigation,  or  should  be  restricted  in  its  stu- 
dies to  more  feminine  pursuits  ;  much  less  am  I 
anxious  to  exclude  the  stores  of  female  intellect,  and 
the  music  of  female  tongues  from  the  feast  of  reason 
and  the  flow  of  soul.  No.  Too  long  have  the  softer 
sex  been  insulted  by  the  supposition,  that  they  are 
incapable  of  joining  or  enriching  the  mental  com- 
munion, and  conversation  of  the  drawing-room.  I 
most  unequivocally,  unhesitatingly  say,  that  they 
have  a  much  smaller  share  of  conversational  inter- 
course than  their  natural  talents,  and  their  acquired 
information,  entitle  them  to. 

All  I  am  contending  against  is,  that  love  of  display, 
which  leads  some  to  force  themselves  upon  the  at- 
tention of  a  company:  which  is  not  contented  with 
sharing,  but  is  ambitious  of  monopolizing  the  time 
and  opportunities  of  rational  discourse.  Some  sil- 
versmiths and  jewellers,  who  wish  to  attract  public 
attention,  make  a  splendid  display  of  gems  and 
jewels  in  their  window;  but  their  window  contains 
their  whole  stock,  they  have  no  store  besides :  there 
are  others  who.  making  all  proper  exhibition,  can 
conduct  their  customers  from  room  to  room  within, 
each  filled  with  stores  of  inestimable  value.  Not 
unlike  the  former,  some  persons  make  a  grand  dis- 
play in  conversation,  but  their  tongue,  like  the  shop 
window,  exhibits  all  they  possess,  they  have  very 
little  besides  in  the  mind  ;  but  there  are  others,  who 
like  the  latter  tradesman,  are  not  deficient  in  re- 
spectable display,  but  then,  besides  the  ideas  which 
they  exhibit  in  conversation,  they  have  a  valuable 
stock  of  knowledge  in  the  mind. 

To  conclude  this  Ion?  chapter,  I  must  again  re- 
mind you,  that  True  Religion  is  the  deep  basis  of 
excellence  ;  Sound  Morality  its  lofty  superstruc- 
ture ;  Good  Sense,  General  Knowledge,  Correct 
feeling-,  the  necessary  furniture  of  the  fabric ;  and 
unaffected  Modesty  and  Fashionable  Accomplish- 
ments, its  elegant  decorations. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ON    PRUDENCE,    MODESTY,    AND   COURTESY. 

Religion,  my  dear  children,  is  the  first  and  the  prin- 
cipal thing  which  I  am  anxious  that  you  should 
possess,  but  it  is  not  the  only  one.  It  is  the  basis  of 
excellence,  which  should  be  well  laid,  to  bear  what- 
soever things  are  lovely,  or  of  good  report;  or, 
changing  the  metaphor,  it  is  that  firmness  and  soli- 
dity of  character,  which,  like  the  substance  of  the 


diamond,  best  prepares  it  to  receive  a  polish,  and  i" 
rendered  more  beautiful  and  more  valuable  by  being 
polished.  The  religion  of  some  persons  is  like  the 
gem  in  the  rough,  the  excellence  of  which  is  con- 
cealed and  disfigured  by  many  foreign  adhesions: 
there  is  real  principle  at  the  bottom,  but  it  is  so  sur- 
rounded by  imprudence,  rudeness,  ignorance,  slo- 
venliness, and  other  bad  qualities,  that  it  requires  a 
skilful  eye  to  discern  its  worth.  I  most  earnestly 
admonish  you,  therefore,  to  add  to  your  piety 

1.  Prudence. 

By  prudence,  I  mean  a  calculating  and  delibera- 
tive turn  of  mind,  as  to  the  tendency  of  our  words 
and  actions;  coupled  with  a  desire  so  to  speak  and 
act,  as  to  bring  no  inconvenience  either  upon  our- 
selves or  others.  It  is  that  right  application  of 
knowledge  to  practice,  which  constitutes  wisdom. 
A  person  may  have  an  immensity  of  knowledge, 
with  scarcely  a  grain  of  prudence  ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  stores  of  his  understanding,  may  al- 
ways have  his  peace  destroyed.  I  am  aware  that 
prudence  is  too  often  regarded  by  the  ardent  and 
sanguine  minds  of  the  young,  as  a  cold  and  heart- 
less virtue;  a  sort  of  November  flower,  which, 
though  regular  in  its  growth,  and  mild  in  color,  has 
neither  glow  nor  fragrance,  but  stands  alone  in  the 
garden  as  the  memorial  of  departed  summer,  the 
harbinger  of  approaching  winter.  Youth  are  cap- 
tivated by  what  is  frank  and  generous,  even  when 
it  leads  to  "Headlong  Hall."  If  by  prudence  I 
mean  mere  cold  reserve,  or  that  selfishness  which 
chills  the  ardor  of  kindness,  and  freezes  the  spring 
of  benevolence  in  the  heart,  you  might  well  beware 
of  a  disposition  so  unlovely:  but  when  1  simply 
mean  a  habit  of  thinking  before  you  speak  or  act, 
lest  your  thoughtlessness  should  prove  injurious  to 
the  comfort  of  your  own  mind,  or  the  comfort  of 
others;  when  I  only  require  you  to  exercise  that 
judgment  upon  the  tendencies  of  your  conduct, 
which  is  one  of  the  chief  distinctions  of  a  rational 
creature ;  when  I  merely  call  upon  you  to  put  forth 
the  power  of  foresight  which  God  has  planted  in 
your  nature,  surely,  surely,  there  is  nothing  unsuited 
either  to  your  age,  or  to  the  most  generous  mind  in 
this.  That  rashness  of  speech,  or  conduct,  which 
is  always  involving  a  person,  and  his  friends  too, 
in  difficulties,  inconveniences,  and  embarrassments, 
has  little  to  commend  itself  to  your  admiration,  with 
whatever  good  temper  or  gay  fancy  it  may  happen 
to  be  associated  ;  society  must  be  a  chaos,  if  all  its 
members  were  formed  upon  this  model. 

You  must  have  seen,  mv  dear  children,  the  mis- 
chiefs which  imprudence  has  brought  in  its  train. 
What  strifes  have  been  engendered  by  a  rash,  un- 
guarded use  of  the  tongue,  by  persons  giving  a  hastv 
opinion  of  the  character,  conduct,  and  motives  of 
others:  I  believe  that  a  moiety  of  the  quarrels 
which  exist,  may  be  traced  up  to  this  source.  If, 
then,  you  would  journey  along  through  life  in  honor 
and  in  peace,  I  cannot  give  you  a  more  important 
piece  of  advice  than  this:  "  Be  very  cautious  how 
you  give  an  opinion  of  the  character,  conduct,  or 
motives  of  others.  Be  slow  to  speak.  For  one 
that  has  repented  of  having  held  his  tongue,  myri- 
ads have  bitterly  grieved  over  the  imprudent  use  of 
it.  Remember  what  Solomon  savs,  "  A  prating  fool 
shall  fall ;"  and  almost  all  fools  do  prate  :  silence  is 
generally  a  characteristic  of  wise  men,  especially 
in  reference  to  the  concerns  of  others.  I  know  not 
a  surer  mark  of  a  little,  emnty  mind,  than  to  be  al- 
ways talking  about  our  neighbor's  affairs.  A  col- 
lector of  rags  is  a  much  more  honorable,  and  cer- 
tainly a  far  more  useful  member  of  society,  than  a 
collector  and  vender  of  tales. 

But  let  vour  prudence  manifest  itself  in  reference 
to  your  conduct,  as  well  as  your  words.  Never  act 
till  you  have  deliberated.     Some  persons  invert  the 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


CI 


«rder  of  nature  and  reason  ;  they  act  first  and  think 
afterwards;  and  the  consequence  very  generally 
proves,  as  might  have  been  expected,  that  first  im- 
pressions are  fallacious  guides  to  wise  actions.  I 
scarcely  know  any  thing  against  which  young  peo- 
ple should  be  more  seriously  warned,  than  this  habit 
of  acting  from  first  impressions;  nor  any  thing 
■which  they  should  be  more  earnestly  advised  to  cul- 
tivate, than  an  almost  instinctive  propensity  to  look 
forward,  and  to  consider  the  probable  results  of 
any  proposed  line  of  conduct.  This  calculating 
temper  is  to  be  preferred  far  above  the  knowledge 
of  the  rash ;  for  it  will  preserve  both  the  peace  of 
its  possessor,  and  that  of  others,  who  have  to  do 
with  hiin.  Multitudes,  by  a  want  of  prudence  in 
the  management  of  their  pecuniary  affairs,  have 
ruined  themselves,  plunged  their  families  into  want, 
and  involved  their  friends  in  calamity.  They  have 
engaged  in  one  rash  speculation  after  another,  and 
formed  one  unpromising  connection  after  another; 
scarcely  recovered  from  the  complicated  mischief 
of  one,  before  they  were  involved  in  the  embarrass- 
ment of  the  next,  till  the  final  catastrophe  came  in 
all  its  terrors,  which  might  have  been  foreseen,  and 
v:as  predicted  by  every  one  except  the  rash  projector 
himself.  When  we  consider  that  in  such  cases  a 
man  cannot  suffer  alone,  but  must  extend  the  effects 
of  his  conduct  to  others,  prudence  will  appear  to  be 
not  only  an  ornament  of  character,  but  a  virtue ; 
and  imprudence  not  only  wear  to  immorality,  but  a 
part  of  it. 

Begin  life,  then,  with  a  systematic  effort  to  culti- 
vate a  habit  of  sound  discretion,  and  prudent  fore- 
sight: and  for  this  purpose,  observe  attentively  the 
conduct  of  others;  profit  both  by  the  sufferings  of 
the  rash,  and  the  tranquillity  of  the  cautious:  ren- 
der also  your  own  past  experience  subservient  to 
future  improvement.  I  knew  a  person,  who  having 
imprudently  engaged  in  a  litigation,  which  cost  him 
a  considerable  sum  of  money  to  compromise,  made 
the  following  entry  in  his  diary: — "March — Paid 
this  day,  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  for  wisdom." 
Experience,  it  has  been  said,  keeps  a  dear  school : 
but  some  people  will  not  learn  in  any  other:  and 
they  are  fortunate  who  improve  in  this.  I  most  em- 
phatically recommend  to  you  the  diligent  study  of 
the  book  of  Proverbs,  as  containing  more  sound 
wisdom,  more  prudential  maxims  for  the  right  go- 
vernment of  our  affairs  in  this  life,  than  all  other 
books  in  the  world  put  together. 

2.  Modesty  is  a  very  bright,  ornament  of  the 
youthful  character:  without  it,  the  greatest  attain- 
ments and  the  strongest  genius  cannot  fail  to  create 
disgust. 

Conceitedness  I  have  already  stated  to  be  one  of 
the  obstacles  to  youthful  piety,  and  even  where  its 
mischief  does  not  operate  so  fatally  as  this,  it  cer- 
tainly disfigures  religion.  Young  people  should 
consider,  that  even  if  they  have  much  knowledge, 
they  have  but  liltle  experience.  Every  thing  pert, 
flippant,  obtrusive,  and  self-confident,  is  highly  un- 
becoming in  those  who,  whatever  they  may  know 
of  scholastic  literature,  have  but  little  acquaintance 
either  with  themselves  or  mankind.  Strong  intel- 
lect and  great  attainments  will  soon  commend 
themselves,  without  any  pains  being  taken  to  force 
them  upon  our  attention  ;  and  they  never  appear 
so  lovely,  nor  attract  us  with  such  force,  as  when 
seen  through  a  veil  of  modesty.  Like  the  coy  vio- 
let, which  discloses  its  retreat  rather  by  its  fragrance 
than  by  i::  color,  so  youthful  excellence  should  mo- 
destly leave  others  to  find  out  its  concealment,  and 
not  ostentatiously  thrust  itself  on  public  attention. 
I  do  not  wish  to  inculcate  that  diffidence  which 
makes  young  people  bashful  and  timid,  even  to 
awkwardness  and  sheepishncss;  which  prevents 
even  the  laudable  exertions  of  their  powers;   and 


which  is  not  only  distressing  to  the  subjects  of  it 
themselves,  but  painful  toothers.  Nothing  can  be 
further  from  my  views  than  this;  for  it  is  a  positive 
misery  *.o  be  able  neither  to  speak  nor  be  spoken  to, 
without  blushing  to  the  ears  and  trembling  to  the 
very  toes :  but  there  is  a  wide  difference  between 
this  bashfulness  and  genuine  modesty.  Modesty  is 
a  habit,  or  principle  of  the  mind,  which  leads  a  man 
to  form  an  humble  estimate  of  himself,  and  prevents 
him  from  ostentatiously  displaying  his  attainments 
before  others:  bashfulness  is  merely  a  state  of  timid 
feeling:  modesty  discovers  itself  in  the  absence  of 
every  thing  assuming,  whether  in  look,  word,  or 
action  ;  bashfulness  betrays  itself  by  a  downcast 
look,  a  blushing  cheek,  a  timid  air :  modesty,  i hough 
opposed  to  assurance,  is  not  incompatible  with  an 
unpretending  confidence  in  ourselves;  bashfulness 
altogether  unmans  us,  and  disqualifies  us  for  our 
duty. 

Modesty  shields  a  man  from  the  mortifications 
and  disappointments  which  assail  the  self-conceited 
man  from  every  quarter.  A  pert,  pragmatical 
youth,  fond  alike  of  exalting  himself,  and  depre- 
ciating olhers,  soon  becomes  a  mark  for  the  arrows 
of  ridicule,  censure,  and  anger;  while  a  modest 
person  conciliates  the  esteem  of  all,  not  excepting 
his  enemies  and  rivals,  he  disarms  the  resentment 
even  of  those  who  feel  themselves  most  injured  by 
his  superiority,  he  makes  all  pleased  with  him  by 
making  them  at  ease  with  themselves  ;  he  is  at  once 
esteemed  for  his  talents,  and  loved  for  the  humility 
with  which  he  bears  them.  Arrogance  can  neither 
supply  the  want  of  talents,  nor  adorn  them  where 
they  are  possessed. 

It  is  of  importance  to  cultivate  modesty  in  youth, 
for  if  wanting  then,  it  is  seldom  obtained  after- 
wards. Nothing  grows  faster  than  conceitedness; 
and  as  no  weed  in  the  human  heart  becomes  more 
rank,  so  none  is  more  offensive  than  this.  I  have 
known  individuals,  who,  by  their  extensive  infor- 
mation and  strong  sense,  might  have  become  the 
delight  of  every  circle  in  which  they  moved,  have 
yet  by  their  positive,  dogmatical,  and  overbearing 
temper,  inspired  such  a  dread,  that  their  arrival  m 
company  has  thrown  a  cloud-shadow  on  every 
countenance.  A  disputatious  temper  is  exceedingly 
to  be  dreaded.  Nothing  can  be  more  opposed  to 
the  peace  of  society  than  that  disposition,  which 
converts  every  room  into  the  arena  of  controversy, 
every  company  into  competitors,  and  every  diver- 
sity of  sentiment  into  an  apple  of  discord.  There 
are  times  when  a  man  must  state  and  defend  his 
own  opinions;  when  he  cannot  be  silent;  when  he 
must  not  only  defend,  but  attack;  but  even  in  such 
cases  he  should  avoid  every  thing  dogmatical  and 
overbearing;  all  insulting  contempt  of  others,  and 
all  that  most  irritating  treatment,  which  makes  an 
antagonist  appear  like  a  fool.  Our  arguments 
should  not  fall  and  explode  with  the  noise  and  vio- 
lence of  thunderbolts,  but  insinuate  themselves  like 
the  lisrht  or  the  dew  of  heaven. 

Take  it,  my  dear  children,  as  the  result  of  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  century's  observation  and  experience, 
in  no  contracted  circle  of  human  life,  that  verbal 
controversy  in  company  produces  very  little  good 
and  a  great  deal  of  harm.  In  such  a  situation  men 
contend  for  victory,  not  for  truth  ;  and  each  goes 
into  a  war  of  words,  determined  to  avoid,  if  possi- 
ble, the  disgrace  of  a  public  defeat. 

3.  Courtesy  is  a  most  valuable  disposition. 

This  is  enjoined,  not  only  by  those  authors  who 
are  the  legislators  of  the  drawing-room,  but  by  him 
wtio  has  published  laws  for  the  government  of  the 
heart.  "Be  courteous,"  saith  the  word  of  God. — 
Bv  courtesy  I  mean  that  benevolence  of  disposition 
which  displavs  itself  in  a  constant  aim  to  please 
those  with  whom  we  associate,  both  by  the  matter 


02 


CHRISTIAN     FATHER'S     PRESENT 


and  manner  of  our  action?  ;  in  little  things  as  well 
as  great  ones.  Crabbe,  in  his  English  Synonymes, 
has  given  us  this  definition  of  courtesy  and  com- 
plaisance : — "  Courteous  in  one  respect  comprehends 
more  than  complaisant;  it  includes  the  manner,  as 
well  as  the  acrion  ;  it  is,  properly  speaking,  polish- 
ed complaisance:  on  the  other  hand,  complaisance 
includes  more  of  the  disposition  in  it  than  courle- 
ousness;  it  has  less  of  the  polish,  but  more  of  the 
reality  of  kindness.  Courteousncss  displays  itself 
in  the  address  and  the  manners,  complaisance  in  di- 
rect good  offices;  courteousncss  is  most  suitable  for 
strangers ;  complaisance  for  friends,  or  the  nearest 
lelatives  :"  among  well-bred  men,  and  men  of  rank, 
it  is  an  invariable  rule  to  address  each  other  cour- 
teously on  all  occasions  whenever  they  meet,  whether 
acquainted  or  otherwise  ;  there  is  a  degree  of  com- 
plaisance due  between  husbands  and  wives,  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  members  of  the  same  family,  which 
caniot  be  neglected  without  endangering  the  har- 
mony of  their  intercourse.  It  is  my  earnest  desire, 
my  children,  that  you  should  be  both  courteous  and 
complaisant.  The  union  of  both  these  constitutes 
true  politeness.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  study  the 
the  works  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  which  have  been 
aptly  described  as  teaching  the  manners  of  a  danc- 
ing master,  and  the  morals  of  a  prostitute  ;  but  true 
politeness,  such  as  consists  of  the  union  I  have  al- 
ready mentioned,  is  excellence  carried  to  its  high- 
est polish. 

Life  is  made  up  for  the  most  part  of  petty  trans- 
actions, and  is  chequered  more  by  the  light  and 
shade  of  minor  pains  and  pleasures,  than  by  the 
deeper  hues  of  miseries  and  ecstacies.  Occasions 
rarely  happen,  when  we  can  relieve  or  be  relieved 
by  the  more  splendid  efforts  of  benevolence;  while 
not  a  day,  scarcely  an  hour,  passes  without  an  op- 
portunity of  giving,  or  receiving  gratifications  of 
complaisance.  "  Politeness,"  says  our  great  Es- 
sayist, in  the  RambCer,  "  is  one  of  those  advantages 
which  we  never  estimate  rightly  but  by  the  inconve- 
nience of  its  loss.  Its  influence  upon  the  manners  is 
constant  and  uniform,  so  that,  like  an  equal  motion, 
it  escapes  perception.  The  circumstances  of  every 
action  are  so  adjusted  tc  each  other,  that  we  do  not 
see  where  any  error  could  have  been  committed, 
and  rather  acquiesce  in  its  propriety,  than  admire 
its  exactness." 

"Wisdom  and  virtue  are  by  no  means  sufficient 
without  the  supplemental  laws  of  good  breeding,  to 
secure  freedom  from  degenerating  into  rudeness,  or 
self-esteem  from  swelling  into  insolence  ;  a  thousand 
incivilities  may  be  committed,  and  a  thousand  offi- 
ces neglected,  without  any  remorse  of  conscience, 
or  reproach  from  reason." 

"  The  true  effect  of  genuine  politeness  seems  to 
be  rather  ease  than  pleasure.  The  power  of  de- 
lighting must  be  conferred  by  nature,  and  cannot  be 
delivered  by  precept,  or  obtained  by  imitation  ;  but 
though  it  be  the  privilege  of  few  to  ravish,  and 
to  charm,  every  man  may  hope,  by  rules  and  cau- 
tion, not  to  give  pain,  and  may  therefore,  by  the 
help  of  good  breeding,  enjoy  the  kindness  of  man- 
kind, though  he  should  have  no  claim  to  higher  dis- 
tinctions." 

The  universal  axiom  in  which  all  complaisance 
is  included,  and  from  which  flow  all  the  formalities 
lhat  custom  has  established  in  civilized  nations,  is, 
That  no  man  shall  give  any  preference  to  himself:  a 
rule  so  comprehensive  and  certain,  that  perhaps  it 
is  not  easy  for  the  mind  to  imagine  an  incivility, 
without  supposing  it  to  be  broken. 

Think  not,  however,  that  politeness  is  only  to  be 
acquired  by  frequenting  what  is  called  fashionable 
company,  and  places  of  public  entertainment :  com- 
plaisance is  the  offspring  of  benevolence,  the  tiny 
daughter  of  kindness;  and  this  may  be  found  in  the 


cottage,  where  I  have  often  seen  as  much  real  cour- 
tesy as  v  as  ever  found  in  a  mansion.  Hear  the  tes- 
timony of  Dr.  Johnson  on  this  subject. 

"  I  have  indeed  not  found,  among  any  part  of 
mankind,  less  real  and  rational  complaisance,  than 
among  those  who  have  passed  their  lime  in  paying 
and  receiving  visits,  in  frequenting  public  entertain- 
ments, in  studying  the  exact  measures  of  ceremony, 
and  in  watching  all  the  variations  of  fashionable 
courtesy." 

"  They  know,  indeed,  at  what  hour  they  may  be 
at  the  door  of  an  acquaintance,  how  many  steps 
they  must  attend  him  towards  the  gate,  and  what 
interval  should  pass  before  his  visit  is  returned;  but 
seldom  extend  their  care  beyond  the  exterior  and 
unessential  parts  of  civility,  nor  refuse  their  own 
vanity  any  gratification,  however  expensive  to  the 
quiet  of  another." 

By  a  neglect  of  complaisance,  many  persons  of 
substantial  excellence  have  deprived  their  virtues 
of  much  of  their  lusture,  and  themselves  of  much 
kindness ;  of  whom  it  is  very  common  to  have  it 
said — "Yes,  he  is  a  good  man,  but  I  cannot  like 
him."  Surely  such  persons,  by  an  ill  economy  of 
reputation,  have  sold  the  attachment  of  the  world 
at  too  low  a  price,  since  they  have  lost  one  of  the 
rewards  of  virtue,  without  even  gaining  the  profits 
of  wickedness.* 

4.  On  admiration  of  the  characters  of  others,  I 
think  it  important  to  say  a  few  things.  To  observe, 
admire,  and  imitate  the  excellences  of  those  around 
us,  is  no  less  our  duty  than  our  interest.  It  is  a  just 
tribute  to  their  moral  worth,  and  the  means  of  pro- 
moting our  own.  It  is  of  great  consequence,  how- 
ever, that  our  admiration  of  character  should  be 
well  directed  ;  for  as  we  naturally  imitate  what  we 
admire,  we  should  take  care  that  we  are  attracted 
and  charmed  only  by  real  excellence.  Do  not  be 
led  astray,  my  children,  by  a  mere  speciousness, 
or  showiness  of  character.  Let  nothing  be  regarded 
by  you  as  worthy  your  admiration,  which  is  not  in 
connection  with  moral  worth.  Courage,  frankness, 
heroism,  politeness,  intellect,  are  all  valuable  dis- 
positions of  mind;  but  unless  they  are  united  with 
genuine  principle  and  true  integrity,  they  only  ren- 
der their  possessor  more  dangerous,  and  invest  him 
with  greater  power  to  do  mischief.  Suffer  not  your 
imagination  to  be  captivated  by  the  dazzling  proper- 
ties of  a  character,  of  which  the  substantial  parts 
are  not  approved  by  your  judgment ;  nothing  is  ex- 
cellent which  is  not  morally  so.  The  polished  rake, 
the  generous  profligate,  the  witty  and  intelligent 
skeptic,  are  to  be  shunned  as  serpents,  whose  varie- 
gated and  beautiful  skin  should  have  no  power  to 
reconcile  us  to  their  venom.  Yon  may  be  charged 
with  want  of  taste,  or  coldness  of  heart,  for  with- 
holding your  approbation;  but  it  is  a  far  sublimer 
attainment,  and  certainly  a  more  difficult  one,  to 
have  a  taste  and  ardor  only  in  the  cause  of  holi- 
ness. Be  cautious  to  examine  every  character 
which  is  presented  to  you  for  admiration,  to  pene- 
trate the  varnish  of  exterior  accomplishments;  and 
if  you  find  nothing  of  genuine  integrity  beneath, 
withhold  the  tribute  of  your  approbation,  regardless 
of  the  sneers  of  those  sha.  ow  minds,  who  have  nei- 
ther the  power  to  try  the  things  that  differ,  nor  the 
virtue  to  approve  only  such  as  are  excellent. 

It  is  a  very  important  hint  to  give  to  young  peo- 


*  See  the  Rambler,  Nos.  56  and  98.  The  British 
Essayists,  especially  the  Spectator,  Rambler,  and 
Idler,  though  not  always  strictly  Scriptural  in  their 
views  of  human  nature,  and  moral  obligation,  con- 
tain an  inexhaustible  fund  of  entertainment  and  in- 
struction, conveved  in  a  most  fascinating  style  of 
composition.  Who  need  covet  a  novel  that  can  con- 
verse with  Addison  ind  Johnson  1 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT 


63 


p!e,  just  setting  out  in  life,  to  analyze  character 
before  they  admire  it;  remembering  that,  to  borrow 
an  illusion  from  chymistry,  a  deadly  poison  may  be 
held  in  solution  by  the  most  beautifully-colored  li- 
quid whirl)  the  eye  can  behold. 

5.  An  extreme  dread  of  singularity ,  arising  out  of 
a  morbid  sensibility  to  shame,  is  a  dangerous  dis- 
position of  mind  to  which  young  people  are  very 
liable. 

There  are  some  who  are  so  ambitious  to  be 
thought  originals,  that  they  affect  distinction  in  fol- 
ly, or  even  in  vice  :  th^y  can  even  bear  to  be  laugh- 
ed at,  if  it  may  be  admitted  that  they  are  without 
a  prototype;  and  are  content  to  be  persecuted,  pro- 
vided it  be  for  the  sake  of  their  originality.  These 
martyrs  to  strangeness  are  in  one  extremity  of  cha- 
racter, of  which  the  other  is  that  great  dread  of  be- 
ing ridiculed  as  singular,  which  tries  a  man's  at- 
tachment, even  to  the  cause  of  virtue.  There  are 
some  so  acutely,  so  morbidly  sensible  to  the  least 
sneer,  that  they  are  put  in  dreadful  peril  of  forsak- 
ing the  cause  of  righteousness  and  morality,  rather 
than  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  it.  I  have  already 
in  part  considered  this,  and  stated  it  to  be  one  of  the 
obstacles  to  early  piety;  but  it  not  only  obstructs  the 
entrance,  but  the  subsequent  path  of  piety,  and 
should  therefore  be  most  vigorously  opposed  by  all 
who  are  subject  to  its  influence.  A  sense  of  shame, 
when  felt  in  reference  to  what  is  wrong,  is  one  of 
the  guardians  of  virtue;  in  this  meaning  of  the 
phrase,  it  can  never  be  too  acute,  nor  can  it  be  too 
delicately  susceptible  of  impression.  When  one  has 
ceased  tn  be  ashamed  of  doing  what  is  wrong,  and 
the  last  blush  with  which  a  tender  conscience  once 
suffused  the  countenance  has  vanished,  the  progress 
of  sin  is  nearly  completed,  and  the  sinner  may  be 
considered  as  near  the  end  of  his  career.  But  when 
a  person  is  so  morbidly  sensible  to  ridicule,  that  he 
shrinks  from  it,  even  in  the  performance  of  that 
which  is  right,  he  not  only  lets  down  his  dignity, 
but  endangers  his  principles. 

There  is  something  noble  and  heroic  in  that  dis- 
position, which  can  dare  to  be  singular  in  the  cause 
of  religion  and  morality;  which,  with  a  mind  con- 
scious of  doing  right,  can  fight  single  handed,  the 
battles  of  the  Lord,  against  the  host  of  scorners  by 
which  it  may  be  surrounded.  It  is  not  a  part  of  vir- 
tue to  be  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  others,  except 
that  opinion  be  opposed  to  the  principles  of  truth  and 
holiness,  then  it  is  the  very  height  of  virtue  to  act 
above  it,  and  against  it. 

Ridicule  is  certainly  not  the  test  of  truth,  but  it 
i;  one  of  the  most  fiery  ordeals  of  that  courage  by 
which  the  truth  is  professed  and  supported.  Many 
have  been  vanquished  by  scorn,  who  were  invulner- 
able to  rage;  for  men  in  general  would  much  rather 
have  their  hearts  reproached  than  their  heads, 
deeming  it  less  disgraceful  to  be  weak  in  virtue  than 
deficient  in  intellect.  Strange  perversion  !  the  ef- 
fect of  that  pride  which,  being  injected  into  our  na- 
ture by  the  venom  of  the  serpent  in  paradise,  still 
continue-;  to  infect  and  destroy  us.  Let  us  oppose 
this  working  of  evil  within  us,  and  crucify  this  af- 
fection and  lust  of  the  flesh.  Let  no  ridicule  de- 
ter us  from  doing  what  is  right,  or  avoiding  what  is 
wrong.  Let  us  emulate  the  sublime  example  of  the 
apostle,  who  exclaimed,  "  We  are  fools  for  Christ's 
sake."  This  is  the  noblest  effort  of  human  courage, 
the  loftiest  achievement  of  virtue,  to  be  "faithful 
found  amongst  the  faithless,"  and  willing  to  bear 
any  contumely  rather  than  act  in  opposition  to  the 
convictions  of  our  judgment,  and  the  dictates  of  our 
conscience.  Infinitely  to  be  preferred  is  it,  to  be 
scorned  for  doing  what  is  right  than  applauded  for 
doing  what  is  wrong.  From  the  laughter  of  the 
wicked  you  may  find  a  refuge  in  the  approbation  of 
your  conscience,  and  the  smile  of  your  God  ;  but  in 


what  a  miserable  situation  is  that  poor  cowardly 
wretch,  whose  dread  of  singularity  has  led  him  to 
sacrifice  the  convictions  of  his  conscience,  and  who 
has  nothing  to  comfort  him  under  the  frown  of  De- 
ity, but  the  applause  of  fools. 

Neither  in  little  things,  nor  in  great  ones,  suffer 
your  dread  of  singularity  to  turn  your  feel  from  the 
path  of  integrity.  Arm  yourselves  with  this  mind, 
to  do  what  is  right,  though  you  can  find  neither 
companion  nor  follower. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


ON    REDEEMING     TIME. 


It  was  a  very  important  admonition  which  St. 
Paul  delivered  to  the  Ephesian  church, — "  Redeem- 
ing the  time  because  the  days  are  evil."  The  con- 
text in  which  it  stands  is  equally  striking:  he  had 
just  admonished  those  to  whom  he  wrote,  not  to 
walk  as  fools;  thus  implying,  that  a  man  can  give 
no  greater  proof  of  folly,  nor  more  effectually  act 
the  part  of  a  fool,  than  to  waste  his  time  :  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  a  just  appreciation  and  a  right  im- 
provement of  time,  is  amongst  the  brightest  displays 
of  true  wisdom. 

Seneca  has  somewhere  observed,  that  we  are  all 
of  us  complaining  of  the  shortness  of  time,  and  yet 
have  much  more  than  we  know  what  to  do  with. — 
We  are  always  mourning  that  our  days  are  few, 
and  yet  acting  as  though  there  would  be  no  end  of 
them.  This  plainly  proves,  that  we  neither  value 
time  correctly,  nor  improve  it  diligently.  The  late 
Rev.  Henry  Martyn  was  known  at  the  University 
by  the  designation  of  "  The  man  who  never  wasted 
an  hour."  Nothing  can  belter  explain  what  I  mean 
by  improving  time ;  it  is  never  wasting  it,  but  al- 
ways appropriating  it  to  some  useful  purpose.  Many 
considerations,  mv  children,  urge  this  upon  us. 

It  is  the  most  precious  thing  in  the  world.  In  the 
bestowment  of  it,  God  differs  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  distributes  most  of  his  other  gifts:  in 
the  latter  he  is  profuse,  in  the  former  parsimonious. 
He  can,  of  course,  give  us  but  a  moment  at  a  time, 
but  that  he  does  without  ever  promising  another; 
as  if  to  teach  us  highly  to  value,  and  diligently  to 
improve  the  present  moment,  by  the  consideration 
that,  for  aught  we  know,  it  may  be  the  last. 

Time,  when  once  gone,  never  returns.  Where  is 
yesterdav  1 — "  With  the  ages  beyond  the  flood,"  and 
we  could  as  soon  hope  to  bring  back  one,  as  the 
other.  We  talk  of  fetching  up  a  lost  hour ;  but  the 
thing  is  impossible.  A  moment  once  lost  is  lost 
for  ever;  we  could  as  rationally  set  out  to  find  a 
sound  that  had  expired  in  air,  as  to  find  a  lost  mo- 
ment. We  may  as  well  attempt  to  crowd  two  hours 
into  the  duration  of  one,  as  the  employment  of  two 
hours  into  one:  for,  in  reality,  what  we  do  in  any 
given  portion  of  time,  might  have  been  done  in  it, 
although  we  had  not  wasted  the  preceding  one. 

How  much  is  there  of  our  time,  which  can  be  applied 
to  no  purpose,  except  preparing  tis  for  improving 
other  portions  of  our  existence.  How  much  goes 
away  in  sleep,  and  in  all  the  other  demands  of  na- 
ture, for  its  refreshment  and  invigoration  :  this  is  not 
lost,  if  the  subsequent  period  be  rightly  applied  and 
diligently  employed,  any  more  than  the  time  spent 
in  oiling  the  wheels  of  a  carriage,  impedes  the  jour- 
ney, because  it  goes  the  faster  afterwards.  But  then, 
if  we  sleep  at  night,  it  is  that  we  might  be  busy  in 
the  day;  if  we  eat  and  drink,  it  is  that  we  might  be 
better  able  to  work;  and  certainly  a  recollection  ot 
the  great  portion  of  our  time  that  is  necessary  for 
refreshment  and  repose,  should  be  a  stimulus  to  us 
to  employ  the  remainder  with  the  greater  diligence, 


64 


CHRISTIAN  FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


We  should  regard  it  as  an  infirmity  of  nature,  that 
so  much  sleep,  and  time  for  eating  and  drinking, 
is  necessary,  and  endeavor,  by  diligence  in  our 
waking,  working  hours,  to  improve  the  surplus. 

Then  add  to  this  the  portions  of  time  which  are 
irresistibly  engrossed  by  the  tyranny  of  custom;  all 
that  passes  in  regulating  the  superficial  decorations 
of  life,  or  is  given  up  in  the  reciprocations  of  civil- 
ity to  the  disposal  of  others,  all  that  is  torn  from  us 
by  the  violence  of  disease,  or  stolen  imperceptibly 
away  by  lassitude  and  langor;  that  large  portion 
which  is  spent  amidst  the  toys  of  childhood,  and  af- 
terwards amidst  the  imbecility  of  old  age  :  I  say,  add 
up  these  things,  and  when  you  have  subtracted  the 
amount  from  the  gross  sum  of  man's  life,  how  small 
is  the  remainder  !  Even  the  active  and  busy  part 
of  mankind  apply  very  little  more  than  a  third  part 
of  their  existence  to  any  valuable  purpose.  By  this 
mode  of  calculation,  the  old  man  of  eighty  has  lived 
but  little  more  than  twenty-six  years;  and  the  man 
of  forty  but  little  more  than  thirteen.  A  most  co- 
gent reason  for  not  wasting  an  hour. 

We  should  never  forget,  that  our  time  is  amongst 
the  talents  for  which  we  must  give  account  at  the  bar 
of  God.  Time,  being  not  the  least  precious  of  these, 
will  be  required  with  a  strictness  proportionate  to 
its  value.  Let  us  tremble  at  this  idea,  as  well  we 
may.  Wc  must  be  tried,  not  only  for  what  we  have 
done,  but  for  what  we  had  time  to  do,  yet  neglected 
to  do  it:  not  only  for  the  hours  spent  in  sin,  but  for 
those  wasted  in  idleness.  Let  us  beware  of  that 
mode  of  spending  time,  which  some  call  killing  it, 
"for  this  murder,  like  others,  will  not  always  be 
concealed ;  the  hours  destroyed  in  secret,  will  ap- 
pear when  we  least  expect  it,  to  the  unspeakable 
terror  and  amazement  of  our  souls  ;  they  arise  from 
the  dead,  and  fly  away  to  heaven,  whither  they 
might  have  carried  better  news,  and  there  tell  sad 
tales  of  us,  which  we  shall  be  sure  to  hear  of  again, 
when  we  hold  up  our  hands  at  the  bar,  and  they 
shall  come  as  so  many  swift  witnesses  against  us." 

It  might  stir  us  up  to  diligence  in  the  improve- 
ment of  our  time,  to  think  how  much  of  it  has  been 
already  misspent.  What  days,  and  weeks,  and 
months,  and  years,  have  already  been  utterly  wasted, 
or  exhausted  upon  trifles  totally  unworthy  of  them. 
They  are  gone,  and  nothing  remains  of  them  but 
the  guilt  of  having  misimproved  them.  We  cannot 
call  them  back  if  we  would;  and  all  we  can  do,  is 
to  let  their  memorial,  like  the  recollection  of  any 
other  dead  friends,  whom  we  treated  improperly 
while  they  lived,  lead  us  to  value  more  highly,  and 
to  use  more  kindly,  those  that  remain. 

How  much  of  our  time  is  already  gone,  and  how 
little  may  be  yet  to  come.  The  sands  of  our  glass 
may  be  almost  out,  without  the  possibility  of  having 
it  turned.  Death  may  be  at  the  door.  When  you 
begin  a  day  you  know  not  that  you  shall  end  it; 
when  you  lie  down  that  you  shall  rise  up;  when 
you  go  from  home  that  you  shall  ever  return.  For 
what  is  your  life ;  it  is  even  as  a  vapor  that  appear- 
eth  for  a  little  while,  and  then  vanisheth  ;  a  bubble 
that  rises,  and  shines,  and  bursts.  We  know  not  in 
any  one  period  of  our  existence,  but  that  it  may  be 
the  last.  Surely,  surely,  we  should  then  improve 
our  time,  when  we  may  be  holding;,  for  aught  we 
know,  the  last  portion  of  it  in  our  hands.  With  the 
absolute  certainty  of  a  life  as  long  as  Methuselah's 
not  an  hour  should  be  wasted  ;  how  much  less,  when 
we  know  not  that  there  is  a  day  in  reversion  for  us  ! 

But  what  are  the  purposes  for  which  time  should  be 
redeemed  ? 

For  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  the  business  of  reli- 
gion, the  preparation  for  eternitv.  Yon  are  immor- 
tal creatures,  my  children,  and  must  live  for  ever 
in  torment  or  in  bliss  ;  and  certainlv  you  cannot  be 
forming  a  right  estimate  of  the  value  of  time,  nor 


be  rightly  employing  it,  if  the  soul  be  forgotten,  sal- 
vation neglected,  and  eternity  left  out  of  considera- 
tion. "  For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul ;  or  what  shall 
a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ]"  A  man  may 
attain  to  the  science  of  Newton,  the  genius  of  Mil- 
ton, the  learning  of  Bentley,  the  wealth  of  Croesus, 
and  the  fame  of  Alexander  ;  but  if  the  salvation  of 
the  soul  be  neglected,  he  will  through  eternity  con- 
fess and  curse  his  folly,  in  losing  his  time.  Our 
great  business  in  this  world  is  to  prepare  for  the 
next ;  time  is  capital  given  us  to  trade  with  for  eter- 
nity; and  that  man  who  goes  from  the  stage  of  life 
without  having  attended  supremely  to  the  great  bu- 
siness of  religion,  will  appear  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  unseen  world,  as  well  as  to  himself,  an  object  of 
amazement  for  his  unparalleled  folly  in  wasting  his 
time  upon  matters,  which,  compared  with  eternal 
happiness,  were  utterly  insignificant. 

We  must  redeem  time  for  the  pursuit  of  business, 
for  it  is  ordained  that  men  shall  gain  their  bread  by 
the  sweat  of  their  brow  :  for  the  improvement  of  our 
mind,  so  far  as  circumstances  will  allow,  in  all  use- 
ful knowledge ;  and  for  the  exercise  of  benevolence. 
These  are  the  objects  which  we  must  ever  keep  in 
view,  as  the  claimants  who  prefer  their  demands 
for  the  years  and  the  days  which  God  hath  given  us 
upon  earth. 

And  from  what  is  our  time  to  be  redeemed  1 — 
From  sloth.  How  much  of  it  is  consumed  by  this 
lazy,  slumbering  monster  !  How  many  golden 
hours  are  wasted  upon  the  downy  pillow !  Late 
rising  is  the  enemy  of  piety,  of  knowledge,  of  health, 
of  affluence;  and  the  cause  of  ignorance,  irreligion, 
and  poverty.  Shall  religion,  wisdom,  benevolence, 
my  dear  children,  be  found  knocking  at  your  cham- 
ber door,  morning  after  morning,  exclaiming, — 
"  Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  !"  and  re- 
ceive no  other  answer  than,  "  a  little  more  sleep, 
and  a  little  more  slumber."  A  habit  of  early  rising 
has,  in  many  cases,  been  a  fortune  to  the  pocket, 
and,  in  many  more,  a  fortune  to  the  mind.  Reckon- 
ing that  a  day  consists  of  ten  hours  active  employ- 
ment, the  difference  of  life  between  an  individual 
who  rises  at  six  o'clock,  and  another  who  rises  al 
eight,  is,  in  the  term  of  sixty  years,  no  less  than 
equal  to  twelve  years,  and  those  the  best  years  of  a 
man's  existence.  There  is  in  this  calculation  thai 
which  proves  late  rising  not  only  to  be  a  loss,  but  a 
crime.  It  is  so  much  deducted  from  a  man's  exist- 
ence, and  actually  given  to  his  grave. 

Many  of  ihe  most  distinguished  characters  in  the 
literary  world  owe  their  eminence  to  early  rising 
It  is  recorded  of  Buffon,  the  celebrated  natural  his- 
torian, that  wishing  to  acquire  the  habit  of  early 
rising,  both  from  his  love  of  knowledge  and  of  fame, 
he  promised  his  servant  half  a  crown  for  every 
morning  on  which  he  should  prevail  upon  him  to 
leave  his  bed  by  a  given  time.  The  servant  went, 
most  resolutely  to  work,  under  a  commission  that 
authorized  him  to  drag  Buffon,  if  necessary,  out  of 
bed  ;  and  in  spite  of  threats  and  ill-usage,  which  he 
often  had  to  endure  from  his  somnolent  master,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  him  from  his  chamber  by  the  sti- 
pulated hour.  And  Buffon  informs  us,  that  to  the 
unwearied  perseverance  of  his  servant,  the  world  is 
indebted  for  his  work  on  Natural  History. 

It  is  a  most  injurious  practice  to  invert  the  order 
of  nature,  and  sit  up  late  instead  of  rising  early. — 
Nocturnal  studies  rapidly  undermine  the  strongest 
constitution.  Dr.  Owen,  a  name  dear  to  all  who 
love  sterling  piety  and  profound  theological  learn- 
ing, used  to  say,  when  suffering  through  his  exces- 
sive application  to  study,  "  That  he  would  gladly 
give  up  all  the  knowledge  he  had  acquired  after  ten 
o'clock  at  night,  if  he  could  recover  all  the  strength 
he  had  lost  by  studies  carried  on  after  that  hour." 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


C5 


"  Let  your  sleep,  then,  be  necessary  and  healthful, 
not  idle  and  expensive  of  time,  beyond  the  needs  and 
conveniences  of  nature  ;  and  sometimes  be  curious 
to  see  the  preparation  which  the  sun  makes,  when 
he  is  coming  forth  from  his  chambers  in  the  east." 

Redeem  time,  from  the  vain  pursuits  of  personal 
decoration  and  dress.  This  applies  chiefly,  though 
not  exclusively,  to  the  softer  sex.  It  is  shocking'to 
think  how  much  precious  time  is  wasted  at  the  toi- 
lette, in  the  silly  ambition  of  rivalling  the  butterfly, 
the  ostrich,  and  the  peacock.  What  a  reproach  to 
a  rational  creature  is  it  to  neglect  the  improvement 
of  the  mind  for  the  adornings  of  the  body  ;  this  is 
like  painting  the  outside  of  the  house,  and  trailing 
over  it  the  myrtle,  the  rose,  and  the  jessamine,  while 
the  interior  is  left  to  be  dark,  damp,  inconvenient, 
and  filthy. 

Unprofitable  reading  is  another  consumer  of  time 
which  must  be  avoided.  Worldly  amusements  and 
parties  of  pleasure,  are  also  injurious.  I  do  not  by 
this  mean  to  condemn  the  occasional  intercourse  of 
friends  in  the  social  circle,  where  the  civilities  of 
life  are  given  and  received,  the  ties  of  friendship 
strengthened,  and  the  mind  recreated,  without  any 
injury  being  done  to  its  spiritual  or  moral  interests. 
But  the  theatre,  the  card-table,  the  billiard-table, 
are  all  to  be  avoided  as  vile  thieves,  which  steal 
our  time  and  hurt  our  souls.  Pleasure  parties  in 
general  are  to  be  watched  with  care,  and  resorted 
to  but  seldom,  for  they  seldom  pay  for  the  time  that 
is  spent.  "  There  are  a  multitude  of  people  in  the 
world,  who,  being  idle  themselves,  do  their  best  en- 
deavors to  make  others  so  ;  in  which  work,  partly 
through  a  disposition  in  those  others  to  be  made  so, 
and  partly  through  a  fear  and  false  shame,  which 
hinders  them  from  fraying  away  such  birds  of  prey, 
they  are  too  often  suffered  to  succeed.  An  assem- 
bly of  such  persons  can  be  compared  only  to  a 
slaughter-house,  where  the  precious  hours, and  often 
the  characters  of  all  their  friends  and  acquaintance, 
are  butchered  without  mercy." 

We  must  redeem  time  from  the  trifling  conversa- 
tion and  gossip  of idle  companions:  "for  no  man," 
says  Jeremy  Taylor,  "  can  be  provident  of  his  time, 
that  is  not  prudent  in  the  choice  of  his  company: 
and  if  one  of  the  speakers  be  vain,  tedious,  and 
trifling,  he  that  hears  and  he  that  answers,  are  equal 
losers  in  their  time."  The  Idler  says,  "that  there 
are  always  some  drones  in  society  who  make  much 
noise,  but  no  honey  "  We  should  avoid  all  those 
who  talk  much,  but  say  little,  and  watch  against 
persons  whose  conversation  is  like  the  buzz  of 
moths  and  caterpillars,  not  only  disagreeable,  but 
carrying  on  a  system  of  spoliation  ;  and  who  eat 
into  an  hour  before  we  are  aware  that  the  mischief 
is  commenced.  Such  persons  should  consider,  that 
in  consuming  a  man's  time,  they  are  committing  a 
felony  upon  his  property,  for  time  is  a  part  of  his 
capital.  And  all  others  should  retire  from  such 
persons,  for  idleness  is  contagious. 

If  you  would  redeem  the  time,  you  should  not 
only  avoid  absolute  idleness,  or  doing  nothing,  but 
a  slow  and  sauntering  habit  of  doing  any  thing.  To 
use  an  old  proverb,  "  We  ought  not,  I  admit,  to 
make  greater  haste  than  good  speed."  There  are 
some  persons  who  are  always  in  a  hurry,  and  all 
they  do  bears  marks  of  haste.  Every  thing  is  half 
done,  or  ill  done.  But  there  is  a  wide  difference 
between  habits  of  despatch,  and  bustling  hurry.  A 
thing  is  not  better  done  for  having  twice  as  much 
time  consumed  upon  it  as  it  needs.  There  are  in- 
dividuals who  seem  always  to  creep  to  an  engage- 
ment and  always  to  slumber  over  it.  As  it  respects 
general  habits,  a  parent  can  scarcely  teach  a  child 
a  more  valuable  art  than  despatch  without  bustle; 
nor  can  any  one  that  values  his  time,  cultivate  a 
more  desirable  one  for  himself. 


Order  and  punctuality  are  essential  to  a  right  im- 
provement of  time.  I  mention  these  things  together 
because  they  are  so  closely  connected,  and  have 
such  a  mutual  influence  on  each  other.  One,  in- 
deed, is  the  order  of  place,  the  other  is  the  order  of 
time.  The  best,  and  indeed  the  only  rules,  which 
any  man  can  with  propriety  prescribe  for  himself, 
are  these:  "  A  time  for  every  tiling,  and  every  thing 
in  its  time  :  a  place  forevery  thing,  and  every  thing 
in  its  place."  A  habit  of  order  may  be  fairly  said 
to  lengthen  a  man's  life,  not  by  multiplying  its  hours, 
but  by  enabling  him  more  advantageously  to  em- 
ploy them.  Disorderly  habits  are  perpetually  wast- 
ing our  time.  When  a  person  has  no  one  place  for 
any  one  thing,  but  lays  every  thing  by  just  wher- 
ever he  may  happen  to  be,  he  is  sure  to  spend  his 
life  in  confusion.  He  never  knows  where  to  find 
what  he  wants.  Let  such  a  person  conceive  what 
an  amount  of  time  would  be  made  up  by  all  the 
minutes  and  hours  which  he  has  employed  during 
his  life  in  looking  for  misplaced  articles ;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  mortification  he  has  endured,  and 
the  inconvenience  in  which  others  have  been  in- 
volved. In  business,  order  is  property,  and  every 
tradesman  deficient  in  this  virtue,  ought,  in  taking 
stock,  to  have  this  item  on  the  loss  side  of  the 
balance-sheet,  "  So  much  los3  for  want  of  order.'' 
And  as  disorderly  habits  waste  our  time,  they  are 
not  only  improper,  but  actually  sinful. 

Punctuality  is  another  habit  very  important  to  a 
right  improvement  of  time.  Fix  your  time,  and 
then  keep  it.  Perhaps  you  know  some  persons  who 
are  always  behind  hand.  The  clock  is  to  them  an 
article  without  use ;  they  do  all  things  as  if  by  whim 
or  impulse.  They  are  thus  mischief-makers  with- 
out malice ;  and  as  far  as  in  them  lies,  bring  a  chaos 
into  human  affairs.  An  individual  who  keeps  a 
company  of  twelve  persons  waiting  for  him  but  five 
minutes,  wastes  an  hour.  "  Punctuality"  says  an 
elegant  writer,  "is  a  quality  which  the  interest  of 
mankind  requires  to  be  diffused  through  all  the 
ranks  of  life,  but  which  many  seem  to  consider  as 
a  vulgar  and  ignoble  virtue,  below  the  ambition  of 
greatness  or  the  attention  of  wit ;  scarcely  requisite 
among  men  of  gayety  and  spirit,  and  sold  at  its 
highest  rate  when  it  is  sacrificed  to  a  frolic  or  a  jest."* 

That  a  want  of  order  and  punctuality  should  be 
thought  a  mark  of  genius  or  gentility,  is  astonishing, 
and  I  believe  is  rarely  thought  so,  except  by  those 
who  have  nothing  of  either  but  the  affectation  of 
them.  Many,  I  have  no  doubt,  have  set  up  for  great 
wits,  and  fine  ladies,  upon  no  other  pretensions  to 
either  than  a  sturdy  opposition  to  all  order  of  time 
and  place. 


*  Punctuality  has  another  reference  besides  our 
time,  I  mean  to  our  word.  To  promise  without  in- 
tending to  perform,  is  absolute  falsehood.  But  we 
ought  to  be  very  cautious  how  we  bind  ourselves  by 
a  promise  which  is  subject  to  contingencies  beyond 
our  foresight,  or  above  our  control.  Many  a  man 
has  subjected  himself  to  the  reproach  of  a  liar  with- 
out intending  to  deceive.  Some  people  make  all 
engagements  with  their  eyes  shut,  and  no  sooner 
open  them  than  they  find  it  impossible  to  fulfil  their 
word.  We  should  always  pause  before  we  issue 
these  verbal  promissory  notes,  and  calculate  whether 
we  have  the  means  to  meet  them  when  they  are 
presented  for  payment.  Nothing  can  be  more  un- 
just or  cruel,  than  a  wilful  want  of  punctuality  in 
pecuniary  transactions.  It  is  unkind  to  keep, 
throngh  our  delays,  a  cook  storming  over  a  spoiling 
dinner  in  the  kitchen,  and  her  mistress  fretting  in 
the  drawing-room  ;  but  to  defeat  the  expectation  of 
a  tradesman,  dependant,  perhaps,  for  a  settling,  im- 
portant to  his  credit,  upon  our  punctuality,  is  a  spe- 
cies of  cruelty  perfectly  inhuman. 


r.G 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S     PRESENT. 


.1  good  method  wisely  arranged  and  punctually  ob- 
served in  the  distribution  of  our  time,  would  mate- 
rially assist  us  in  rightly  employing  it.  Religion, 
business,  mental  improvement,  the  exercises  of  be- 
nevolence, ought  all,  so  far  as  the  ever-varying  cir- 
cumstances of  life  will  admit,  to  have  their  proper 
allotments.  Each  hour  should  know  its  proper  em- 
ployment, and  receive  its  proper  care  in  its  season. 
No  man  should  leave  his  days  to  be  occupied  by 
whatever  accident  or  chance  can  seize  them;  for 
then  trifles,  being  more  common  and  clamorous  than 
other  things  of  greater  importance,  are  likely  to  run 
off  with  the  greatest  share. 

Have  always  some  work  in  hand,  which  may  be 
going  on  during  the  many  intervals,  for  many  there 
will  be,  both  of  business  and  recreation.  Pliny,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  where  he  gives  an  account  of  the 
various  methods  he  used  to  fill  up  every  vacancy  of 
time,  after  several  employments  which  he  enume- 
rates, says,  "Sometimes  I  hunt;  but  then  I  carry 
with  me  a  pocket-book,  thai  whilst  my  servants  are 
busy  in  disposing  of  the  nets  and  other  matters,  I 
may  be  employed  in  something  that  may  be  useful 
to  me  in  my  studies ;  and  that  if  I  miss  of  my  game, 
I  may  at  the  least  bring  home  some  of  my  own 
thoughts  with  me,  and  not  have  the  mortification  of 
having  caught  nothing  all  day."  This  is  the  way 
to  excellence  and  wisdom ;  and  it  is  a  road  open  to 
all.  Carry  about  with  you,  therefore,  some  book, 
or  subject,  which  will  gather  up  the  fragments,  that 
nothing  be  lost ;  for  these  fragments,  like  chips  of 
diamond,  or  filings  of  gold,  are  too  precious  to  be 
thrown  away.  It  is  with  our  property  as  it  is  with 
our  time,  when  we  look  at  it  in  the  gross,  we  spend 
freely  because  it  seems  as  if  it  would  never  be  ex- 
hausted; and  when  we  have  hours,  half-hours,  or 
quarters,  we  squander  them  because  they  are  not 
worth  keeping.  There  is  a  proverb  which  our  fru- 
gal ancestors  have  taught  us,  "  Take  care  of  the 
shillings,  and  the  pounds  will  take  care  of  them- 
selves." So  in  reference  to  our  time,  I  would  say, 
"  Take  care  of  your  hours,  and  the  years  will  take 
care  of  themselves."  A  man  that  is  thrifty  in  his 
money,  will  grow  rich  upon  what  another  throws 
away  as  not  worth  saving  ;  so  a  man  that  is  thrifty 
of  his  time,  will  grow  wise  by  those  interstitial  va- 
^neies  which  intervene  in  the  most  crowded  vari- 
ety of  employment,  and  which  many  are  foolish 
enough  to  squander  upon  trifles,  or  saunter  away  in 
idleness. 

Avoid  procrastination.  Do  at  once  what  at  once 
ought  to  be  done.  Let  not  the  season  of  action  be 
spent  in  the  hesitancy  of  skepticism,  or  the  purpose 
of  future  effort.  Do  not  let  to-morrow  be  perpetually 
the  time  when  every  thing  is  to  be  done,  unmindful 
that  the  present  time  alone  is  ours,  as  the  past  is  dead, 
and  the  future  yet  unborn.* 

Erasmus  furnishes  one  of  the  most  striking  in- 
stances on  record  of  the  fruits  of  a  diligent  improve- 
ment of  time.  "  His  life  was  one  continual  pere- 
grination ;  ill  supplied  with  the  gifts  of  fortune,  and 
led  from  city  to  city,  and  from  kingdom  to  king- 
dom, by  the  hopes  of  patrons  ana  preferment,  hopes 
which  always  flattered  and  always  deceived  him, 
he  yet  found  means,  by  ui.shaken  constancy  and  a 
vigilant  employment  of  those  hours  which,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  restless  activity,  will  remain  un- 
engaged, to  write  more  than  another,  in  the  same 
condition,  would  have  hoped  to  read.  Compelled 
by  want  to  attendance  and  solicitation,  and  so  much 
versed  in  common  life,  that  he  has  transmitted  to 
us  the  most  perfect  delineation  of  the  manners  of  his 
age  ;  he  joined  to  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  such 
application  to  books,  that  he  will  stand  for  ever  in 

*  See  an  admirable  story  in  Miss  Edgeworlh's 
Popular  Tales,  entitled  To-Morrow. 


the  first  rank  of  literary  heroes.  How  this  profi- 
ciency was  obtained,  he  sufficiently  discovers  by  in- 
forming us  that  the  'Praise  of  Fully,'  one  of  his 
most  celebrated  performances,  was  composed  by  him 
on  the  road  to  Italy,  lest  the  hours  which  he  spent 
on  horseback  should  be  tattled  away  without  regard 
to  literature." 

A  right  improvement  of  time,  then,  my  dear 
children,  is  the  way  to  knowledge,  which  does  not 
in  every  case  require  uninterrupted  leisure;  only 
keep  the  mind  open  to  receive  ideas,  and  diligently 
employ  every  spare  moment  in  collecting  them,  and 
it  is  astonishing  how  rapidly  the  accumulation  ot 
mental  treasure  will  go  forward.  But  it  is  chiefly 
in  reference  to  eternity  that  I  exhort  you  to  redeem 
the  time.  Too  many  attempt  to  justify  their  neglect 
of  religion  by  pleading  a  want  of  opportunity  to  at- 
tend to  its  high  concerns:  but  how  inadmissible 
such  a  plea  is,  the  subject  of  this  chapter  plainly 
proves:  for,  as  we  have  formerly  shown,  religion  is 
a  right  disposition  of  mind  towards  the  great  and 
blessed  God;  and  we  now  see  that  such  a  disposi- 
tion, besides  the  more  solemn  seasons  of  public  and 
private  prayer,  will  pour  its  influence  over  the  whole 
of  a  man's  life,  and  fill  the  interstices  which  are  left 
between  the  most  crowded  occupations,  with  ejacu- 
latory  petitions  to  heaven,  and  the  aspirations  of  a 
soul  panting  after  God,  and  the  anticipations  of  a 
renewed  mind  looking  towards  eternity. 

Remember,  then,  above  all  things,  that  time  was 
given  you  to  repent  of  sin,  to  pray  for  pardon,  to  be- 
lieve in  Christ  to  work  out  your  salvation,  to  lay  up 
treasures  in  heaven,  to  prepare  for  the  solemnities  of 
judgment,  and  secure  that  happiness  which  is  not 
measured  by  the  revolution  of  years,  but  is,  in  the 
strictest  sense  of  the  word— eternal. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

ON    THE    OBLIGATION    TO    ENTER     INTO     FELLOWSHIP 
WITH   A    CHRISTIAN    CHURCH. 

Religion  is  a  personal  thing,  and  the  gospel  first  ad- 
dresses us  in  our  individual  and  separate  existence. 
We  must  each  for  himself  repent  of  sin,  believe  in 
Christ,  obey  the  law.  Nothing  can  be  a  substitute  for 
this:  no  line  of  pious  ancestry,  no  connection  with  liv- 
ing Christians,  no  communion  with  the  church  of  God, 
will  be  of  any  avail  to  us  in  the  absence  of  faith  and 
holiness.  Still,  however,  religion,  though  personal  in 
its  nature,  is  social  in  its  tendency  and  exercises:  it  is 
superinduced  on  a  being  formed  for  society,  and  who 
carries  this  propensity  of  his  heart  into  his  every  situ- 
ation. Hence  his  piety  leads  him  to  seek  the  compa- 
nionship of  men  of"  like  precious  faith."  Christianity 
acknowledges  and  hallows  this  principle  of  our  nature, 
and  exhibits  it  in  her  own  divine  institutions.  The 
New  Testament,  therefore,  while  it  insists  on  the  ne- 
cessity of  a  personal  religion,  equally  demands  a  social 
one.  It  knows  nothing  of  that  piety  which  keeps  its 
possessor  separate  and  apart  from  those  who  partake 
with  him  of  the  "  common  salvation."  The  first  thing 
we  read  of,  after  the  miraculous  effusion  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  is  the  preaching  of  the  gospel ;  the  next  the  con- 
version of  sinners,  and  then  we  find  that  "  they  that 
gladly  received  the  word  were  baptised  ;  and  the  same 
day  there  were  added  to  them  about  three  thousand 
souls.  And  they  continued  steadfastly  in  the  apostle's 
doctrine,  and  fellowship,  and  breaking  of  bread,  and 
prayers.  And  all  that  believed  were  together,  and  had 
all  things  common.  And  they  continuing  daily  with 
one  acci  rd  in  the  temple,  and  breaking  bread  from 
house  to  house  did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness, 
and  singleness  of  heart,  praising  God,  and  having 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


<;: 


favor  with  the  people.  And  the  Lord  added  to  the 
church  daily,  such  as  should  he  saved.'1 

Such  is  the  lovely  picture  which  the  inspired  histori- 
au  gives  us  of  the  first  effect  of  the  preaching  of  liie 
gospel,  in  which  we  perceive,  not  only  that  souls  were 
converted,  but  that  immediately  upon  their  conversion 
they  were  drawn  to  each  other  by  the  force  of  mutual 
love,  and  formed  a  voluntary  and  blessed  fellowship. 
No  one  that  believed  the  gospel  remained  separate  and 
apart  from  the  rest,  but  gave  himself  up  to  be  one  with 
the  Church  ;  and  indeed,  till  he  did  this,  was  not  ac- 
knowledged as  a  Christian.  This  was  always  the  case 
in  the  primitive  times;  as  soon  as  a  man  believed,  that 
same  day,  without  being  put  upon  his  trial  for  months, 
he  united  hiuiselfwith  believers.  No  such  custom  then 
existed,  as  persons,  who  were  acknowledged  to  be 
Christians,  remaining  year  after  year  in  no  visible  con- 
nection with  the  body  of  Christ;  this  is  a  system  of  mo- 
dern times. 

Indulging  a  hope,  which  indeed  is  one  of  the  most 
blissful  expectations  of  my  heart,  that  you,  my  dear 
children,  will  be  partakers  of  the  grace  of  God,  the 
faith  of  the  gospel,  and  the  love  of  Christ,  I  shall  now 
strongly  enjoin  upon  you  an  early  association  with 
some  Christian  society.  It  is  on  these  suppositions 
only  that  I  recommend  it.  It  is  intended,  not  so  much  to 
make  men  Christians,  as  to  maintain  and  improve  their 
Christianity  :  not  as  an  ordinance  of  conversion,  as  of 
edification,  sanctifieation,  and  consolation.  A  Chris- 
tian church  is  thus  described  in  the  Epistles  of  Paul : 
"  To  all  that  be  in  Rome  beloved  of  God,  called  to  be 
saints."  "  Unto  the  Church  of  God  which  is  at  Co- 
rinth, to  them  that  are  sanctified  in  Christ  Jesus,  call- 
ed to  be  saints."  Unless,  therefore,  you  really  believe 
in  Jesus  Christ,  and  are  sanctified  by  the  spirit  of  God, 
you  are  not  meet  to  be  partakers  of  the  inheritance  of 
the  saints  in  light.  If  you  were  to  join  the  church  in 
an  unconverted  state,  you  would  be  as  an  enemy 
amongst  brethren,  a  stranger  amongst  friends,  an 
alien  amongst  citizens,  a  rebel  amongst  subjects.  Tak- 
ing it  then  for  granted  that  you  believe  in  Christ  and 
supremely  love  him,  I  admonish  you  to  connect  your- 
selves in  his  own  way,  with  his  own  people. 

//  is  your  solcmti  and  bounden  duty. 

Mistake  not  by  supposing  that  this  matter  is  left  to 
your  choice  ;  it  is  no  more  optional  than  any  other  part 
of  religion.  Vou  may  just  as  well  imagine  that  it  is 
optional  whether  you  shall  keep  the  sabbath  or  not. — 
Strange  it  is  that  this  part  of  a  Christian's  duty  should 
have  been  detached,  by  many  persons,  from  all  the 
rest,  as  an  observance  which  had  no  obligation  upon 
the  conscience.  Was  it  not  an  invariable  practice,  in 
the  first  aces  of  the  church,  for  those  who  were  con- 
verted, to  enter  immediately  into  the  fellowship  of  the 
faithful  1  Our  Lord's  linguage  in  reference  ti  the  sa- 
cred supper,  is  a  command,  not  an  invitation  ;  it  is  the 
language  of  authority,  not  of  advice  :  "  Do  this  in  re- 
membrance of  me."  Now  as  the  supper  is  a  church 
ordinance,  this  injunction  makes  it  absolutely  impera- 
tive on  all  his  disciples  to  unite  themselves  to  the 
"  household  of  faith." 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  say  that  a  person  cannot  be  a 
Christian  unless  he  be  a  church  member,  for  I  have  al- 
ready observed  that  he  ought  to  be  a  believer  before  he 
enters  into  fellowship:  but  I  will  say,  that  he  who 
loves  Christ,  and  yet  continues  unconnected  with  the 
church,  is  living  in  that  instance  in  direct  disobedience 
to  his  Lord's  commands.  And  if  one  of  the  primitive 
Christians  were  permitted  to  come  from  his  celestial 
seat  into  our  assembly  at  the  time  wo  were  preparing 
to  celebrate  the  supper,  he  would  very  certainly  and 
naturally  conclude,  that  all  those  persons  who  rose  and 
retired  from  the  emblems  of  the  Saviour's  body  and 
blood,  neither  believed  in  him,  loved  him,  nor  obeyed 
him.  And  when  informed,  that  amongst  that  crowd 
there  were  still  some  of  whom  wc  entertained  hope  that 
40* 


ihey  did  in  reality  love  Jesus  Christ,  with  what  sur- 
prise and  emphasis  would  he  exclaim,  "  Love  Christ! 
what  and  live  in  habitual  disobedience  to  his  com- 
mands? We  have,  no  such  love  as  that  in  heaven,  not 
had  we  when  I  lived  on  earth." 

It  is  your  unspeakable  honor  to  be  early  in  the 
church. 

It  has  been  the  dishonor  ,  and  is  still  the  reproach, 
of  multitudes,  that  they  neglect  this  divine  ordinance. 
Admitting  that  upon  the  whole  the  man  is  a  Christian, 
and  yet  through  some  mistaken  notion  is  unconnected 
with  a  company  of  believers,  what  a  spot  is  it  upon 
his  character,  what  a  stain  upon  his  garments,  to  see, 
him,  when  the  company  of  Christ's  disciples  are  col- 
lecting round  the  table,  hurrying  away  with  the  multi- 
tude of  carnal,  worldly,  sensual  persons  ;  thus  associat- 
ing in  this  act  of  disregard  to  Christ's  authority,  with 
some  that  are  profane,  others  that  are  skeptical,  others 
that  are  immoral.  What  a  disgrace  is  it  to  any  one 
who  pretends  to  bear  the  name  of  Christ,  to  be  seen 
thus  turning  his  back  on  the  friends  of  the  Redeemer, 
and  walking  away  from  the  Christian  Institute  with  the 
enemies  of  the  cross.  But  alas!  this  reproach  is  too 
common  to  be  felt  as  it  ought. 

But  it  is  so  much  the  greater  honor  to  observe  this 
duty,  by  so  much  the  more  it  is  neglected.  It  is  con- 
sidered delightful  to  see  the  head  of  the  youthful  sena- 
tor, whose  breast  is  full  of  patriotic  ardor,  lifted  amidst 
the  venerable  forms  of  aged  statesmen;  and  the  juvenile 
warrior  fighting  by  the  side  of  veteran  heroes  in  his 
country's  cause  ;  and  how  much  more  delightful  to  see 
the  young  Christian,  undeterred  by  a  false  and  sinful 
shame,  unrestrained  by  the  examples  of  many  of  his 
seniors,  entering  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful,  and,  in 
the  presence  of  the  world,  exclaiming,  "  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  Christ,  or  his  words,  before  this  adulterous 
and  sinful  generatioti.  Preserve  me,  O  God,  for  in 
thee  do  I  put  my  trust.  O  my  soul,  thou  hast  said 
unto  the  Lord,  thou  art  my  Lord,  my  goodness  extend- 
ed! not  to  thee:  but  to  the  saints  that  are  in  the  earth, 
and  to  the  excellent  in  whom  is  all  my  delight.  Their 
sorrows  shall  be  multiplied  that  hasten  after  another 
God  :  their  drink  offerings  of  blood  will  I  not  offer,  nor 
take  up  their  names  into  my  lips.  I  will  take  the  cup 
of  salvation,  and  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord.  O 
Lord,  truly  I  am  thy  servant,  and  the  son  of  thy  hand- 
maid ;  thou  hast  loosed  my  bonds.  I  will  pay  my  vows 
unto  the  Lord  now,  in  the  presence  of  all  his  people : 
in  the  courts  of  the  Lord's  house,  in  the  midst  of  thee, 
O  Jerusalem.     Praise  ye  the  Lord." 

Oh  my  children,  may  I  see  this  honor  lighting  on 
you  ;  may  it  be  granted  me  to  see  you  sitting  amongst 
the  followers  of  the  Lamb,  associated  with  the  church  of 
the  living  God  ;  and  I  am  not  very  solicitous  for  you  to 
obtain  the  wreath  of  fame,  or  any  of  the  distinctions 
which  men  can  confer  upon  each  other;  the  honor  of 
being  an  early  and  consistent  member  of  that  fellow 
ship,  of  which  God  in  Christ  is  the  head,  is,  in  my 
eyes,  a  crown  of  glory,  compared  with  which  the  dia- 
dems of  monarchs  are  gilded  toys. 

Church  fellowship  is  an  inestimable  privilege. 

It  is  connected  with,  and  leads  to  many  solemn,  de- 
lightful, and  beneficial  observances.  It  is  by  joining 
ourselves  to  the  church,  that  we  have  «  right  to  the 
Lord's  Supper.  This  sacred  feast  is  to  be  observed  by 
the  church  ;  not  by  individuals  in  their  separate  condi- 
tion. In  approaching  the  table  of  the  Lord,  we  are  to 
go  as  one  of  a  company.  It  is  intended  at  once  to  ex- 
hibit our  unity,  and  to  preserve  it.  That  bread  which 
is  the  emblem  of  the  natural  body  of  Christ  broken  for 
sinners,  is  at  the  same  time,  by  its  many  parts  in  union 
with  each  other,  the  emblem  of  his  mystical  body.  It 
is  an  ordinance  which  at  the  same  time  sets  forth  both 
our  union  to  Christ  by  faith,  and  to  each  other  by  love. 
It  shows  one  church  deriving  salvation  from  the  death 
of  one  Redeemer.     Hence  the  object  of  our  partaking 


63 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


of  the  sacred  Supper  is,  to  keep  up  right  affections  to 
Jurist,  and  to  each  other  for  Christ's  sake.  Precious, 
my  children,  are  those  hallowed  seasons  of  communion 
which  are  spent  by  the  disciples  at  the  table  of  the 
Lord.  No  sensual  gratifications  will  bear  any  com- 
parison with  the  sublime  delight  of  those  sacred  enter- 
tainments. What  scenes  of  past  wonder  ~md  sorrow, 
and  triumph  are  brought  to  recollection,  even  the  in- 
carnation, life,  sufferings,  death,  resurrection,  and  as- 
cension of  Jesus  Christ ;  yes,  those  apparently  insig- 
nificant emblems,  bring  before  the  mind,  so  far  as  the 
mind  can  comprehend  it,  the  whole  of  the  vast  scheme, 
devised  from  eternity  jn  the  counsels  of  Omniscience, 
for  the  salvation  of  a  ruined  world,  and  executed  by 
the  Son  of  God  upon  the  cross.  What  present  emo- 
tions of  wonder,  joy,  love,  gratitude,  to  him,  "  who 
loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  blood,  and 
made  us  kings  and  priests  to  God  and  the  Lamb,"  does 
the  Supper  produce  and  cherish.  What  visions  of 
future  glory,  connected  with  the  second  coming  of  our 
Lord,  does  the  institution  call  up  before  the  eye  of  hope. 
How  forcibly  are  the  rich  blessings  of  grace,  and  the 
eternal  blessings  of  glory,  brought  home  upon  the 
heart.  All  the  virtues  of  Christianity  are  strengthened, 
all  its  privileges  are  enjoyed.  The  soul,  by  being 
brought  nearer  to  Christ,  is  brought  nearer  to  his  dis- 
ciples. The  joys  of  salvation  are  more  rich  and  full,  j 
by  being  experienced  in  the  company  of  those  who  are 
heirs  of  the  same  bliss. 

Union  with  the  church  gives  a  right  to  attend  alt.  the 
more  private  meetings  of  the  brethren,  where  pastoral  ex- 
hortation is  delivered,  brotherly  love  is  cherished,  mem- 
bers are  admitted,  and  all  the  transactions  of  the  house- 
hold of  God  are  managed. 

Church  membership  is  connected  with  many  plea- 
sant reflections.  In  such  a  situation  we  have  the  con- 
sciousness of  our  being  where  we  ought  to  be  ;  of  our 
obeying  the  will  of  Christ;  of  our  being  in  the  midst 
of  the  righteous,  as  one  of  their  number,  and  an  object 
of  their  interest. 

It  is  no  inconsiderable  means  of  spiritual  safety.  In 
general  it  may  be  urged  that  the  path  of  duty  is  the 
path  of  safety.  Where  are  we  so  likely  to  enjoy  the 
showers  of  divine  grace,  as  in  those  gardens  of  the 
Lord  on  which  they  more  usually  fall  ?  "  God  meet- 
eth  him  that  worketh  righteousness."  It  is  connected 
with  pastoral  oversigM  and  watchfulness,  with  brotherly 
inspection,  exhortation  and  reproof;  it  secures  an  inte- 
rest in  the  prayers  and  sympathy  of  the  disciples ;  and 
then  it  leads  us  to  consider  the  additional  obligations 
which  lie  upon  us  in  consequence  of  our  profession,  and 
the  more  painful  effects  which  would  thus  follow  an 
act  of  inconsistency:  in  short,  it  seems  to  be  an  addi- 
tional defence  for  us  against  the  dangers  to  which  we 
are  exposed  in  our  spiritual  warfare.  In  looking  for- 
ward to  our  approach  to  the  table  of  the  Lord,  we  shall 
le  led  to  more  frequent  and  serious  examination  ;  in 
looking  back  to  the  vows  which  we  there  brought  our- 
selves under,  we  shall  bo  stirred  uq  to  more  caution ; 
considering  through  the  month  previous,  that  we  are 
soon  to  appear  amongst  the  saints  at  the  sacramental 
board,  we  shall  find  this  a  check  to  temptation,  a  sti- 
mulus to  duty,  a  motive  to  consistency  ;  and  looking 
back  during  the  month  that  follows,  upon  what  then 
took  place,  we  shall  find  the  retrospect  no  less  salutary 
than  was  the  prospect.  A  regard  to  our  own  reputa- 
tion and  comfort  will  join  itself  with  a  concern  for  the 
honor  of  Christ,  and  the  prosperity  of  the  Church,  to 
operate  as  a  preservative  against  unholy  conformity  or 
sinful  indulgence.  We  are  poor  frail  creatures,  and 
out  spiritual  strength  is  so  feeble  as  to  stand  in  need  of 
every  Additional  help;  and  it  is  no  inconsiderable  assist- 
ance that  is  furnished  by  Christian  fellowship.  Com 
panionship  is  one  of  the  hot-beds  both  of  sin  and  holi 
ness.  Trees  grow  better,  as  I  have  already  remarked, 
in  plantations;  they  shelter  each  other  from  the  vio- 


lence of  the  wind,  and  the  severity  of  the  ccld,  aiai 
draw  each  other  into  a  taller  and  a  straighter  growth  : 
so  it  is  with  the  trees  of  righteousness  of  God's  own 
right  hand  planting,  and  it  is  by  being  thus  planted  in 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  that  they  shall  nourish  as  the 
palm  tree,  and  grow  as  the  cedar  in  Lebanon. 

You  may  thus  be  useful  to  others.  Your  parents  will 
rejoice  over  you  with  unutterable  joy  ;  your  ministers 
will  be  encouraged  in  the  work  of  the  Lord;  other 
young  persons,  if  serious,  may  be  drawn  by  you  into 
the  church,  or,  if  unconverted,  may  have  their  atten- 
tion roused,  and  their  conscience  awakened  ;  the  more 
aged  who  have  neglected  this  duty  will  be  stirred  up  to 
shame  and  repentance  :  thus  what  is  so  beneficial  to 
you,  will  extend  its  advantages  to  others ;  and  the 
King  of  Zion  will  look  upon  you  with  peculiar  and  in- 
effable delight. 

Before  this  chapter  closes,  however,  I  must  answer 
the  objections  which  are  but  too  commonly  brought 
by  young  persons,  even  by  those  whose  hearts  are 
right  with  God,  against  this  act  of  obedience  to 
Christ. 

Some  are  in  doubt  about  their  personal  religion 
Where  this  is  the  case,  let  them  not  remain  in  doubt 
any  longer,  but  examine  themselves,  and  bring  the 
matter  to  an  issue.  "  Examine  yourselves,"  saith  the 
apostle,  "whether  ye  be  in  the  faith;  prove  your  own- 
selves."  This  is  too  important  an  affair  to  remain  un- 
decided and  in  suspense.  Nor  need  you  be  kept  in 
the  dark  about  it.  If  you  really  reflect,  you  must 
know  whether  you  believe  the  gospel  or  not ;  whether 
you  love  the  Lord  Jesus  or  not ;  whether  you  are  obey- 
ing God  or  not.  Do  not  doubt  your  religion  under  the 
mistaken  apprehension  that  doubts  are  proofs  of  piety, 
and  evidences  of  humility.  Your  inquiry  is  not  to  be, 
"  Am  I  a  perfect  Christian  ?"  but,  "  Am  I  a  real  one  ?" 
If  you  can  answer  the  latter  question  in  the  affirma- 
tive you  ought  not  to  remain  out  of  the  communion  of 
the  church. 

Others  are  saying,  /  am  not  fit  to  join  the  church  yet. 
Then  you  are  not  fit  to  die.  God  requires  no  other 
prerequisite  to  the  Lord's  table,  than  what  he  does  to 
heaven  ;  and  all  the  fitness  he  requireth  for  either,  is  to 
be  convinced  of  sin,  to  believe  the  gospel,  and  to  for- 
sake unrighteousness. 

lam  afraid,  say  some,  of  making  a  public  profession, 
lest  I  should  dishonor  Christ  by  sinning  after  it.  In  some 
cases  this  is  nothing  more  than  an  excise  for  not  mak- 
ing a  profession  at  all,  as  if  it  were  no  sin  to  offend 
God  before  a  profession  is  made.  Many  dread  the 
idea  of  binding  themselves  by  the  acknowledgment 
that  they  are  Christians  ;  forgetting  that  it  is  their  sin 
not  to  make  a  profession,  and  that  they  will  be  con- 
demned for  neglecting  it,  as  some  others  will  be  for 
disgracing  it.  If,  however,  it  be  really  the  mistaken 
scruple  of  a  timid  mind,  I  would  say  again,  the  way  of 
duty  is  the  way  of  safety ;  do  your  duty,  and  trust  God 
for  preserving  grace.  For  a  man  to  be  afraid  of  doing 
what  is  right,  lest  he  should  afterwards  do  wrong,  is 
singular  caution  :  he  forgets  that  by  his  neglect  he  is 
already  sinning.  What  reason  is  there  in  saying,  "I 
am  very  weak,  and  therefore  will  neglect  this  prop — 
I  am  liable  to  start  aside  ;  and  therefore  will  not  avail 
myself  of  this  Scriptural  restraint." 

1  am  too  young  in  years,  is  the  frequent  thought  of 
young  people.  Certainly  not,  ifyou  are  not  too  young 
to  believe  the  gospel,  to  love  Christ,  and  to  discern  the 
Lord's  body.  Is  there  any  age  specified  in  the  New 
Testament,  below  which  no  one  is  to  join  the  church. 
If  so,  were  is  it  ?  There  is  none.  Faith  working  by 
love  is  the  qualification  for  membership,  not  years. 
Children  often  years  of  age,  or  even  younger,  if  they 
are  believers,  ought  to  be  admitted  as  members.  Age 
has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  we  might  make  any  dif- 
ference, I  was  going  to  say,  the  younger  the  more  wel- 
come.   Jesus  showed  his  favor  to  the  young  when  he 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


6!) 


said.  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me, 
and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
G>d." 

/  am  too  young  in  the  faith,  say  others.  Not  if  you 
are  sincere.  If  we  make  the  word  of  God  our  guide 
ill  this  matter,  (and  what  else  ought  to  guide  us  ?)  then 
we  must  infer  that  a  sincere  belief  of  the  gospel,  with  a 
competent  knowledge  of  the  ends  of  church  fellowship, 
is  all  that  ought  to  be  required  of  a  candidate  for  mem- 
bership. You  may  have  been  converted  only  a  month, 
but  if  truly  converted  that  is  no  objection.  The  same 
day  that  they  believed,  the  three  thousand  persons  con- 
verted under  the  sermon  of  Peter,  were  added  to  the 
Church.  The  privileges  of  fellowship  are  needed,  if 
possible,  more  by  the  young  than  by  the  aged  Chris- 
tian :  they  are  mill;  for  babes,  as  well  as  strong  meat 
for  them  who  have  attained  to  riper  years. 

I  see  it  neglected  by  others  older  than  myself,  even  by  my 
Oicn  brothers  anil  sisters.  Would  it  be  any  excuse  for 
your  neglecting  salvation  altogether,  if  they  were  to  do 
so  1  Certainly  not ;  for  religion  is  a  personal  concern 
the  obligations  of  which  are  in  our  case,  in  no  degree 
dependant  on  the  manner  in  which  they  are  acknow- 
ledged by  others.  The  more  it  is  forgotten  by  others, 
the  more  we  should  feel  excited  to  practise  its  duties 
ourselves.  Your  obedience  is  not  to  be  withheld  be- 
cause your  friends  or  relatives  neglect  theirs.  It  may 
be,  that  your  decision  will  have  a  favorable  influence 
on  their  minds:  if  not,  and  even  on  the  contrary,  you 
should  by  such  an  act  incur  their  displeasure,  you  are 
not  to  let  this  operate  on  your  heart.  Your  duty  to 
Christ  is  paramount  to  all  other  considerations,  and 
)'ou  must  obey  him  though  it  be  by  taking  up  your 
cross. 

J  do  not  like  the  mode  of  admission  to  our  churches. 
"  I  do  not  like  to  be  examined  as  to  my  religious  views 
or  experience,  nor  to  submit  the  state  of  my  mind,  to 
the  consideration  of  the  church."  If  you  mean  to  say 
you  refuse  all  examination,  this  savors  of  pride  or  igno- 
rance, and  plainly  manifests  either  that  you  do  not  un- 
derstand the  nature  of  a  Christian  church,  or  under- 
standing it,  refuse  to  submit  to  its  discipline ;  in  the 
-*  latter  case,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  be  a  Christian  ; 
in  the  former,  you  must  be  better  instructed  before  you 
associate  yourself  with  the  faithful.  If  you  mean  only, 
that  you  would  rather  not  either  icritc,  or  deliver  ver- 
bally before  the  church,  your  views  and  feelings  on  reli- 
gion, I  reply,  that  no  church  ought  to  insist  upon  it; 
all  they  o:.ght  to  do,  is  to  state  what  is  their  usual  cus- 
tom :  but  if  you  have  scruples  of  a  tender  conscience, 
they  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  the  report  of  the  pastor 
and  brethren  who  have  conversed  with  you 

I  tremble  at  the  denunciation,  where  it  is  declared  by  the 
apostle.  "  He  that  eateth  and  drinketJi  unworthily,  eateth  and 
drinlceth  damnation  to  himself."  This  word  had  better 
have  been  rendered  "judgment,"  as  it  refers  to  those 
visitations  of  temporal  punishments,  with  which  the 
members  of  the  Corinthian  Church  were  punished  for 
their  profanation  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  It  certainly 
was  not  the  apostle's  intention,  as  some  weak-  and 
timid  minds  seem  to  think  to  teach  that  sins  committed 
after  this  act  of  Christian  communion,  are  unpardona- 
ble. Transgressions  committed  after  a  participation 
oftheeucharist,  are,  it  is  confessed,  additionally  henious, 
because  committed  against  increased  privileges  and 
obligations,  but  they  are  still  pardonable  through  "the 
blood  of  Christ  which  cleauseth  from  all  sin." 

I  may  be  a  Christian,  and  get  to  heaven  without  Ixim; 
united  with  the  Church.  That  there  are  some  in  this 
case,  I  have  no  doubt;  but  it  becomes  a  question 
whether  any  one  can  really  be  a  Christian,  who  knows 
it  to  be  a  duty,  and  yet  wilfully  neglects  it  under  the 
pretext  just  stated. 

I  do  not  like  the  Church  which  is  formed  in  the  place 
where  I  lice.  lam  neither  pleased  with  the  pastor  nor  the 
people      If  the  minister  is  unholy  and  erroneous,  or 


the  people  divided  into  parties,  and  destitute  of  both 
peace  and  purity,  this  excuse  may  be  admitted;  but  if 
the  objection  apply  to  the  talents  of  the  minister,  or  tho 
worldly  circumstances  of  the  Church,  we  are  discover- 
ing a  spirit  of  pride  and  worldly-mindedness,  in  thus 
refusing  to  obey  the  command  of  Christ,  which  renders 
our  faith  very  questionable,  or  proves  it  to  be  very 
weak. 

Having  thus  explained  the  nature,  and  stated  the 
advantages  of  church  fellowship,  and  replied  to  some  of 
the  excuses  by  which  a  neglect  of  it  is  attempted  to  be 
justified,  I  must  leave  the  subject  to  your  serious  con- 
sideration. It  is  perfectly  obvious  to  every  thinking 
and  observant  mind,  that  the  obligations  to  this  act  of 
duty,  are  not  felt,  at  least  as  they  ought  to  be,  by  many 
who  have  "tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious."  To 
such  persons  I  recommend  the  consideration  of  those 
passages  in  which  a  profession  of  our  faith  before  men, 
is  most  awfully  demanded.  "  Whosoever,"  saith  our 
Lord,  "  shall  confess  my  name  before  men,  him  will  I 
confess  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven:  and 
whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also 
deny  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  These 
words  occur  also,  with  little  variation,  in  the  Gospel  of 
Luke.  The  same  sentiment  is  conveyed  by  the  apos- 
tle Paul :  "  If  thou  shalt  confess  with  thy  mouth  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  shalt  believe  in  thy  heart  that  God  hath  rais- 
ed him  from  the  dead,  thou  shalt  be  saved  :  for  with 
the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness,  and  with 
the  mouth  confession  is  made  unto  salvation."  In  these 
passages,  and  others  of  a  similar  meaning,  a  confession, 
or  profession,  for  the  words  are  nearly  the  same  in  sig- 
nification,* bears  a  very  close  connection  with  the  hope 
of  salvation  :  and  how  any  one  can  be  said  to  make  a 
confession  of  Christ,  who  does  not  connect  himself  with 
a  Christian  church,  I  am  certainly  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand. 

On  this  subject  I  refer  for  a  more  enlarged  view,  to 
my  treatise  on  "  Christian  Fellowship,  or  the  Church 
Member's  Guide." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  A  COMPANION"  FOR  LIFE. 

"  The  first  blessing,"  says  Bishop  Taylor,  "  God  gave 
to  man,  was  society  ;  and  that  society  was  a  marriage  ; 
and  that  marriage  was  confederate  by  God  himself, 
and  hallowed  by  a  blessing.  The  first  miracle  that 
Jesus  Christ  ever  performed,  was  to  do  honor  to  a 
wedding,  which  he  graced  with  his  presence,  and  sup- 
plied with  a  part  of  its  provision.  Celibacy,  like  the 
fly  in  the  heart  of  an  apple,  dwells  in  a  perpetual 
sweetness,  but  sits  alone,  and  is  confined,  and  dies  in 
singularity;  but  marriage,  like  the  useful  bee,  builds  a 
house,  and  gathers  sweetness  from  every  flower  and 
unites  into  societies  and  republics,  and  sends  out  colo- 
nies, and  feed*  the  world  with  delicacies,  and  keeps 
order  and  exercises  many  virtues,  and  promotes  the 
interest  of  mankind,  and  is  that  state  of  good  things  to 
which  God  hath  designed  the  present  constitution  of 
the  world." 

"  But  then  with  how  much  caution,  and  extreme 
care,  and  sound  discretion,  and  fervent  prayer,  ought 
this  union  to  be  formed  ;  for  they  who  enter  into  the 


*  Perhaps  the  English  words  profession  and  nmfes 
sion  have  this  difference  of  signification, — the  former 
means  the  unasked  avowal  of  our  faith;  the  latter,  the 
acknowledgment  of  our  sentiments  when  required  to 
declare  them:  answerable  to  which  professors  means 
Christians  in  general;  confessors,  those  who  in  times 
of  persecution  acknowledge  their  sentiments  at  the  de- 
mand of  their  persecutors. 


70 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER  S    PRESENT. 


state  of  marriage,  cast  a  die  of  the  greatest  contingency, 
and  yet  of  the  greatest  interest  in  the  world,  next  to  the 
last  throw  for  eternity.  Life  or  death,  felicity  or  a  last- 
ing sorrow,  are  in  the  power  of  marriage.  A  woman 
indeed  ventures  most,  for  she  hath  no  sanctuary  to  re- 
tire to  from  an  evil  husband  :  she  must  dwell  upon  her 
sorrow  which  her  own  folly  hath  produced,  and  she  is 
more  under  it,  because  her  tormentor  hath  a  warrant 
of  prerogative,  and  the  woman  may  complain  to  God 
as  subjects  do  of  tyrant  princes,  but  otherwise  she  hath 
no  appeal  in  the  causes  of  unkindness.  And  though 
the  man  can  run  from  many  hours  of  his  sadness,  yet 
he  must  return  to  it  again;  and  when  he  sits  among 
his  neighbors  he  remembers  the  objection  that  lies  in 
his  bosom,  and  he  sighs  deeply." 

Who  then  that  is  wise,  would  not  be  slow  to  decide, 
where  so  much  depends  upon  the  decision  ;  and  grow 
up  in  a  habit  of  putting  the  affections  and  the  imagina- 
tion under  the  control  of  the  judgment?  If  it  be  im- 
portant to  exercise  deliberation  in  reference  to  those 
connections  which  may  be  dissolved  at  pleasure,  how 
much  more  in  the  case  of  those  which  nothing  can  ter- 
minate but  the  stroke  of  death  ! 

The  first  piece  of  advice  I  offer  is,  not  to  think  of  tins 
important  affair  too  soon,  nor  suppose  it  necessary  that  a 
young  person  of  eighteen  or  nineteen  should  begin  to  pay 
and  receive  particular  attentions.  Do  not  court  the  sub- 
ject, nor  permit  your  imagination  to  be  for  ever  dwell- 
ing upon  it.  Rather  put  it  from  you  than  bring  it 
near.  Repress  that  visionary  and  romantic  turn  of 
mind,  which  considers  the  whole  space  that  lies  between 
you  and  the  altar,  as  a  dreary  waste,  all  beyond  it  as  a 
paradise:  in  innumerable  instances  the  very  reverse 
has  been  the  case,  and  the  exchange  of  a  father's  for  a 
husband's  house  has  been  like  the  departure  of  Adam 
and  Eve  from  the  garden  of  Eden  to  a  wide  uncultiva- 
ted wilderness.  "  The  stags  in  the  Greek  epigram, 
whose  knees  were  clogged  with  frozen  snow  upon  the 
mountains,  came  down  to  the  brooks  of  the  valleys, 
hoping  to  thaw  their  joints  with  the  waters  of  the 
stream  ;  but  there  the  frost  overtook  them  and  bound 
them  fast  in  ice,  till  the  young  herdsmen  took  them  in 
their  stranger  snare.  It  is  the  unhappy  chance  of  some 
persons,  finding  many  inconveniences  upon  the  moun- 
tains of  single  life,  they  descend  into  the  valleys  of 
marriage  to  refresh  their  troubles,  and  there  they  enter 
into  fetters,  and  are  bound  to  sorrow  by  the  cords  of  a 
man's  or  a  woman's  peevishness;  and  the  worst  of  the 
evil  is,  that  they  have  to  thank  their  own  follies,  for 
they  fell  into  the  snare  by  entering  an  improper  way  ;" 
and  I  may  be  permitted  to  add,  by  entering  it  too  early 
and  too  hastily. 

It  is  on  this  ground  that  novels,  the  most  pernicious 
mental  poison  the  press  can  disseminate,  are  so  much 
to  be  deprecated  ;  they  inflame  the  imagination  with 
visionary  scenes  and  adventurous  exploits,  on  a  subject 
which  the  heart  ought  never  to  approach  but  under  the 
guidance  of  a  sober  judgment.  Young  people  should 
be  cautious  in  their  social  intercourse,  of  converting 
this  subject  into  matter  of  merriment,  much  more 
should  they  beware  of  aiding  and  abetting  each  other 
in  the  formation  of  such  connections.  Never,  be  the 
confidant  of  individuals  who  are  engaged  in  an  affair 
of  this  kind  unknown  to  their  parents  :  nor  be  the  me- 
dium of  communication  between  them.  Third  per- 
sons, who  have  been  ambitious  of  the  honor  of  match- 
making, have  often  done  mischief  to  others,  which, 
however  they  afterwards  lamented,  they  were  never 
ab|e  to  repair.  I  know  some  whose  lives  have  been 
embittered,  and  ever  will  be,  by  seeing  the  rueful  con- 
sequences of  those  ill-fated  unions,  of  which  they  were 
in  great  measure  the  authors. 

My  next  admonition  is,  Take  extreme  care  of  hasty 
entanglements.  Neither  give  nor  receive  particular  at- 
tentions, which  cannot  be  mistaken,  till  the  matter  is 
well  weighed.     Keep  your  affections  shut  up  at  home 


in  your  hearts,  while  your  judgment,  aided  by  pru- 
dence, prepares  to  make  its  report. 

When  the  subject  comes  fairly  before  your  attention, 
make  it  immediately  known  to  your  parents.  Conceal 
nothing  from  them.  Abhor  the  very  idea  of  clandes- 
tine connections,  as  a  violation  of  every  duty  you  owe 
to  God  and  man.  There  is  nothing  heroic  in  a  secret 
correspondence.  The  silliest  girls  and  weakest  men 
can  maintain  it,  and  have  been  most  frequently 
engaged  in  it.  Spurn  the  individual  who  would  come 
between  you  and  your  natural  guardians.  Harken  to 
the  opinions  of  your  parents,  with  all  that  deference 
which  is  due  to  it.  Rare  are  the  cases  in  which  you 
should  act  in  opposition  to  their  wishes. 

Be  guided  in  this  affair  by  the  dictates  of  prudence. 
Never  think  of  forming  a  connection  till  there  is  a 
rational  prospect  of  temporal  provision.  I  am  not 
quite  sure  that  the  present  age  is  in  this  respect  more 
prudent  than  the  past.  It  is  all  very  pretty  and  pleas- 
ing, for  two  young  people  to  sing  of  love  in  a  cottage, 
and  draw  picturesque  views  of  two  affectionate  hearts 
struggling  together  amidst  the  difficulties  of  life:  hut 
these  pictures  are  seldom  realized.  Connections  that 
begin  in  imprudence,  generally  end  in  wretchedness. 
Young  people  who  marry  without  the  consent  of  their 
parents,  when  that  consent  is  withheld,  not  from 
caprice  but  discretion, often  find  that  they  are  not  unit- 
ed like  two  doves,  by  a  silken  thread,  but  like  two  of 
Sampson's  foxes,  with  a  fire-brand  between  them.  I 
call  it  little  less  than  wickedness  to  marry  without  a 
rational  prospect  of  temporal  support. 

Right  motives  should  ever  lead  to  this  union.  To  mar- 
ry for  property  only,  is  most  sordid  and  vile.  We  are 
informed  that  in  some  parts  of  the  East  Indies,  it  is 
thought  no  sin  for  a  woman  to  sell  her  virtue  at  the 
price  of  an  elephant:  and  how  much  more  virtuous  in 
reality  is  she,  who  accepts  a  man  for  the  sake  of  his  for- 
tune? Where  there  is  no  affection  at  the  hymeneal 
altar,  there  must  be  perjury  of  the  most  awful  kind  ; 
and  he  who  returns  from  church  with  this  guilt  upon 
his  conscience,  has  brought  with  him  a  curse  to  his 
habitation,  which  is  likely  to  make  his  prize  of  little 
worth.  When  such  persons  have  counted  their  money 
and  their  sorrows  together,  how  willingly  with  the  price 
of  their  slavery  would  they  buy  again  their  liberty  ;  and 
so  they  could  be  released  from  each  other,  give  up 
all  claims  to  the  golden  fetter  which  had  chained  them 
together. 

Personal  attractions  alone  are  not  enough  to  form  a 
ground  of  union.  It  is  an  ill  band  of  affections  to  tie 
two  hearts  together  by  a  little  thread  of  red  and  white. 
Few  things  are  more  superficial  or  evanescent  than 
beauty.  The  fairest  flower  often  fades  the  soonest. 
There  ought  to  be  personal  attachment  I  admit,  but 
that  attachment  should  be  to  the  mind  as  well  as  the 
body.  Except  we  discern  something  lovely  that  will 
remain  when  the  color  of  the  cheek  has  faded,  and  tha 
fire  of  the  eye  is  extinguished,  and  the  symmetry  01 
the  form  has  been  destroyed,  we  are  engaging  out 
affections  to  an  object  which  we  may  live  to  witness 
only  as  a  sort  of  ghost  of  that  beauty  which  we  once 
loved.  There  should  be  temper  and  qualities  of  mind 
which  we  think  will  please  us,  and  satisfy  us,  when 
the  novelties  and  charms  of  personal  attractions  have 
faded  for  ever. 

In  the  case  of  pious  young  people,  neither  personal 
nor  mental  qualifications,  nor  the  union  of  both,  should 
be  deemed  a  sufficient  ground  of  union  in  the  absence 
of  religion.  The  directions  of  Scripture  on  this  head 
are  very  explicit.  "  Be  not  unequally  yoked  together 
with  unbelievers;  for  what  fellowship  hath  righteous- 
ness  with  unrighteousness  ;  and  what  communion  hath 
light  with  darkness?  or  what  part  hath  he  that  believeth 
with  an  infidel  ?"  2  Cor.  vi.  14,  16.  "  She  is  at 
liberty  to  marry  whom  she  will,  only  in  the  Lord." 
1  Cor.  vii.  39.     This  is  a  declaration  of  the  will  of 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


God.     It  is  a  clear  unequivocal  annunciation  of  his    fer  from  this  evil?     The  case  of  Solomon  is  a  warning 

mind  on  the  subject.     Viewed  as  advice,  it  is  wise,  for  {  lo  all  ages.     This  was  the  sin  that  Ezra  so  grievously 
it  is  given  by  one  who  is  infallible  ;  but  it  is  more  than    lamented,  so  sharply  reproved ;  and  in  which  lie  was 


advice,  it  is  the  command  of  one  who  has  authority  to 
govern,  the  right  to  judge,  and  the  power  to  punish. 
lie  who  instituted  marriage,  has  thus  laid  down  the 
law,  as  to  the  principles  upon  which  it  is  to  be  con- 
ducted. Pious  young  persons  are  here  commanded  to 
unite  themselves  only  with  those  who  appear  to  be  par- 
takers of  similar  dispositions.  An  infraction  of  this 
law  is  followed  with  many  evils. 

It  offends  others:  it  discourages  ministers:  grieves 
the  church,  and  is  a  stumbling-block  to  the  weak.  It 
is  a  source  of  inexpressible  regret  to  parents.  "And 
Esau  was  forty  years  old  when  he  took  to  wife  Judith, 
the  daughter  of  Beeri,  the  Ilittite,  and  Bashemath,  the 
daughter  of  Elon,  the  Ilittite,  which  were  a  grief  of 
mind  unto  Isaac  and  Rebekah;"  and  Rebekah  said  to 


followed  by  Nehemiah. 

But  I  need  not  go  to  Scripture  for  instances  of  this 
nature:  they  stand  thick  all  around  us.  Whatmisery 
what  irregularities,  what  wickedness,  have  I  seen,  or 
known  to  exist  in  some  families,  where  the  parents 
were  divided  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

Young  people  often  attempt  to  persuade  themselves 
on  very  insufficient  grounds,  that  the  objects  of  their 
regard  are  pious.  They  evade  the  law  of  God,  by  con- 
sidering them  as  hopeful,  inquiring.  But  are  they  de- 
cided ?  In  some  cases  they  wish  them  to  enter  into 
church  fellowship,  as  a  kind  of  proof  that  they  are  god- 
ly. At  other  times  they  believe,  that  although  their 
friends  be  notquite  decided  in  their  religious  character. 


yet,  by  being  united  with  them,  they  will  become  so. 
Isaac,  "  I  am  weary  of  my  life,  because  of  the  daugh-  |  But  are  we  to  do  evil  that  good  may  come  ?  Is  mar- 
ters  of  Heth  :  if  Jacob  take  a  wife  of  the  daughters  of  riage  to  be  considered  one  of  the  means  of  grace  ?     It 


Heth,  such  as  these  who  are  of  the  daughters  of  the 
land,  what  good  shall  my  life  do  me."  This  is  deeply 
alTecting,  and  it  is  but  the  feeling  of  every  truly  Chris- 
tian parent  concerning  his  children  when  they  act  as 
E-au  did. 

But  consider  the  influence  of  an  unsuitable  connec- 
tion on  yourselves.  We  all  need  helps,  not  hinderauces 
to  heaven.  Our  personal  religion  requires  props  to 
keep  it  up,  not  weights  to  drag  it  down.  In  this  case, 
not  to  be  helped  is  to  be  hindered.  The  constant  com- 
panionship of  an  irreligious  husband,  or  wife,  must  be 
most  injurious.  The  example  is  always  near, — it  is 
the  example  of  one  we  love,  and  which  has,  on  that 
account  the  greater  power  over  us.  Affection  is  assi- 
milating ;  it  is  easy  to  imitate,  difficult  to  oppose  those 
^  we  love.  Your  own  religion  is  put  in  awful  peril  daily. 
j  But  if  you  should  escape  unhurt,  still  what  sorrow  will 
such  an  association  produce.  What  a  dreadful,  heart- 
rending idea,  to  love  and  live  with  those  from  whom 
you  fear  you  shall  be  separated  for  ever:  to  he  moving 
hourly  lo  a  point,  when  you  shall  be  torn  from  each 
other  for  eternity.  How  sweet  the  consciousness 
which  lives  in  the  bosom  of  a  pious  couple,  that  if 
separated  to-morrow,  they  have  an  eternity  to  spend 
together  in  heaven  :  but  the  reverse  of  these  feelings 
will  be  yours,  if  you  marry  not  "  in  the  Lord." 

Besides,  how  many  interruptions,  of  conjugal  felicity 
will  you  experience.  Dissimilarity  of  taste,  even  in 
lesser  matters,  sometimes  proves  a  great  bar  to  happi- 
ness. Between  those  who  are  so  nearly  related,  and  so 
constantly  together,  there  should  be  as  great  a  likeness 
of  disposition  as  possible.  But  to  be  unlike  in  the 
most  momentous  of  all  concerns,  is  an  affair  of  per- 
petual recurrence!!  Is  this  the  way  to  be  happy? 
Will  the  strongest  affection  surmo:int  this  obstacle,  or 
ought  the  experiment  to  be  made  ? 

And  then,  think  on  the  influence  it  will  have  on  all  your 
domestic  arrangements  on  your  servants,  and  especially 
on  your  children,  should  you  have  any.  You  will  be 
left  alone,  and  perhaps  counteracted,  in  the  great  busi- 
ness of  family  religion.  Your  plans  may  be  thwarted, 
your  instructions  neglected,  your  influence  opposed. 
Your  offspring,  partaking  of  the  evil  nature  common 
to  their  species,  are  much  more  likely  to  follow 
the  worldly  example  than  the  spiritual  one 


is  much  more  probable  that  such  a  connection  will  do 
injury  to  the  pious  party  than  good  to  the  unconverted 
one.  I  have  seen  the  experiment  often  tried,  but 
scarcely  ever  succeed,  of  marrying  an  unregenerate 
person  with  the  hope  of  converting  him.  Dr.  Dodd 
ridge  says,  he  never  knew  one  instance  in  which  this 
end  was  gained. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  religion,  though  indis 
pensable,  is  the  only  prerequisite  in  the  individual  to 
whom  you  should  unite  yourselves.  Temper,  age, 
rank,  mind,  ability  to  preside  over  domestic  cares, 
should  all  be  taken  into  the  account.  Many,  when 
expostulated  with  on  their  being  about  to  form  an  un- 
suitable connection,  have  replied,  "Oh  he  is  a  very 
good  man,  and  what  more  would  you  have  ?"  Many 
things  :  a  good  disposition,  industrious  habits,  a  proba- 
bility of  supporting  a  family,  a  suitableness  of  age  and 
station,  a  congeniality  of  general  taste.  To  marry  a 
person  without  piety,  is  sinful;  to  mavryfor  piety  alone, 
is  foolish. 

Again  I  entreat  you  to  recollect  that  the  marriage 
union  is  for  life;  and  if  it  be  badly  formed,  is  an  evil 
from  which  there  is  no  refuge  but  the  grave,  iiucu.' 
but  in  death.  An  unsuitable  connection,  as  soon  as  it 
is  found  to  be  so,  throws  a  gloom,  not  merely  over 
some  particular  periods  of  our  time,  and  portions  of 
our  history,  but  over  the  whole  :  it  raises  a  dark  and 
wide  spreading  cloud,  which  extends  over  the  whole 
horizon  of  a  man's  prospect,  and  behind  which  he  sees 
the  sun  of  his  prosperity  go  down  for  ever,  while  it  is 
yet  noon.  It  is  a  subject  on  which  the  most  delicate 
reserve,  the  most  prudent  caution,  and  the  most  fer- 
vent prayer,  are  indispensably  necessary.  It  is  not,  as 
it  is  too  frequently  thought  and  treated,  a  mere  spor- 
tive topic  to  enliven  discourse  with,  or  an  enchanted 
ground  for  the  imagination  to  rove  in,  or  an  object  for 
a  sentimental  mind  to  court  and  dally  with  ;  it  is  a  se- 
rious business,  inasmuch  as  the  happiness  of  many  is 
concerned  in  it;  their  happiness  not  for  a  part  of  their 
lives,  but  the  whole  of  it ;  not  for  time  only,  but  for 
eternity.  And,  therefore,  although  I  would  not.  sur- 
round the  altar  of  Hymen  with  scare-crows,  nor  invest 
it  with  shades  as  deep  as  those  of  the  sepulchre,  which 
men  are  more  afraid  than  eager  to  approach ;  so 
neither  would  I  adorn  it  with  the  garlands  of  folly  till  I 


The  Scripture  is  replete  with  instances  of  the  evil  result-    have  rendered  it  as  frivolous  as  the  ball-room,  where 


ing  from  the  neglect  <f  religious  marriages.  This  was 
the  sin  which  filled  the  old  world  with  wickedness,  and 
prepared  it  for  the  deluge.  Some  of  Lot's  daughters 
married  in  Sodom,  and  perished  in  its  overthrow. 
Ishmael  and  Esau  married  irreligious  persons  and 
were  both  rejected,  and  turned  persecutors.  The  first 
captivity  of  the  Jews,  after  their  settlement  in  the  Holy 
land,  is  ascribed  lo  this  cause.*     What  did  David  sui- 


*  Judges  iii. 


n  and  women  are  paired  for  the  dance,  with  no  re- 
gard to  congeniality  of  mind,  with  no  reference  to  fu 
tore  happiness,  and  no  object  but  amusement. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON    KEEPING  IN  VIEW  THE  GREAT  END  OF  LIKE. 

Never  was  there  a  more  rational  or  important  ques- 
tion proposed  for  the  consideration  of  the  human  un- 


"2 


CHRISTIAN   FATHER'S   PRESENT. 


jierstanding,  than  that  which  stands  first  in  the  Cate- 
chism, and  you,  my  children,  have  been  taught  from 
your  youth  up,  "  What  is  man's  chief  end?"  This,  I 
say,  is  most  rational  and  most  important,  for  every 
thinking  being  should  certainly  ask  himself,  "  What  is 
the  great  end  of  my  existence  ?  I  find  myself  in  a 
world  where  innumerable  objects  present  themselves 
to  my  notice,  each  soliciting  my  heart,  and  each  claim- 
ing to  be  most  worthy  of  its  supreme  regards.  I  have 
faculties  of  mind  capable  of  high  pursuits.  I  perceive, 
by  universal  experience,  that  my  stay  in  this  world 
will  be  very  short,  for  I  am  only  a  stranger  and  sojour- 
ner here  upon  earth,  as  all  my  fathers  were  ;  and  as  I 
am  anxious  not  to  go  out  of  the  world  without  answer- 
ing the  end  for  which  I  came  into  it,  I  would  wish  to 
know  the  chiefpurpose  for  which  I  exist."  Such  a  re- 
flection is  what  every  one  should  make,  but  which  very 
few  do  make.  Would  they  fritter  away  their  lives,  as 
they  do  on  the  most  contemptible  trifles,  if  they  seri- 
ously inquired  for  what  purpose  their  lives  were 
given  ? 

What,  then,  is  the  chief  end  of  man  ?  You  will  per- 
ceive, I  lay  all  the  stress  of  the  inquiry  on  the  adjec- 
tive; for  there  are  many  ends  to  be  kept  in  view, 
tunny  purposes  to  be  accomplished,  many  objects  to  be 
sought.  We  must  provide  for  our  own  sustenance 
and  the  comfort  of  our  family :  we  should  store  our 
mind  with  useful  knowledge  :  endeavor  to  be  useful, 
ornamental,  and  respectable  members  of  society  :  and 
there  are  many  other  things  which  may  be  lawfully 
pursued;  but  we  are  now  considering  that  one  great 
object,  winch  is  paramount  to  all  others,  to  which  all  others 
must  be  subservient,  and  the  loss  ofichich  will  constitute 
life,  whatever  else  we  might  have  gained,  a  lost  ad- 
venture. 

There  are  five  claimants  for  this  high  distinction, 
this  supreme  rank,  in  the  objects  of  human  pursuit, 
the  pretensions  of  which  shall  be  separately  examined. 

Riches,  with  peculiar  boldness,  assert  their  claims  to 
be  "the  one  thing  needful,"  and  multitudes  practically 
confess  the  justice  of  the  demand.  Hence,  there  is  no 
deity  whose  worshippers  are  more  numerous  than 
Iiiainmon.  We  see  many  all  around  us  who  are  obvi- 
ously making  this  world  the  exclusive  object  of  their 
solicitude.  Wealth  is  with  them  the  main  chance. 
For  this  they  rise  early  and  sit  up  late,  eat  the  bread  of 
carefulness  and  drink  the  water  of  affliction.  This  is 
their  language,  "  I  care  for  nothing  if  I  may  but  suc- 
ceed in  business,  and  acquire  property.  I  will  endure 
any  fatigue,  make  any  sacrifice,  suiter  any  privation,  so 
that  [  al  last  may  realise  a  fortune."  It  is  perfectly 
evident  that  beyond  this  they  have  neither  a  wish  nor 
an  object.  Money,  money,  money,  is  their  chief  good, 
and  the  highest  end  of  their  existence.  God,  religion, 
the  soul,  salvation,  heaven,  hell,  are  as  much  forgotten 
as  if  they  were  mere  fables,  and  all  the  energies  and 
anxieties  of  their  soul  are  concentrated  in  wealth. 

Is  this  rational — to  say  nothing  of  religion  ? 

Consider  the  uncertainty  which  attends  the  pursuit  of 
this  object.  Fortune  has  been  often  described  as  a  ca- 
pricious goddess,  not  always  bestowing  her  golden  gifts 
on  those,  who  by  their  prudence  and  industry  seem 
most  to  deserve  them.  "  The  race  is  not  always  to 
the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong."  The  wisest 
and  most  plodding  worldling  sometimes  ends  in  pover- 
ty. And  shall  we  seek  that  as  the  end  of  life,  which 
aj'ler  all  we  may  never  gain?  Shall  we  deliberately 
devote  existence  to  secure  that,  which  after  all  we  may 
never  secure  ?  How  many  miserable  creatures  are 
going  down  to  the  grave,  confessing  that  they  have 
spent  their  lives  in  courting  fortune, and  have  scarcely 
obtained  a  smile,  while  others  who  have  hardly  asked  a 
favor,  have  been  loaded  with  them.  Poor  creatures  ! 
they  may  say  in  reference  to  the  world,  what  Cardinal 
Wolsey  did  in  reference  to  his  king,  "  Had  I  served 
Cod  with  half  the  zeal  that  I  have  served   Mam- 


mon, he  would  not  now  have  forsaken  me  in  my  old 
age." 

But  even  granting  that  the  end  is  secured,  do  riches 
bring  all  the  pleasures  in  their  train  ichich  they  promise  ? 
It  is  a  very  trite  remark,  that  a  man's  happiness  is  not 
in  proportion  to  his  wealth.  "  A  man's  life,"  said 
Christ,  "consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of  things 
which  he  hath  ;"  and  yet  many  act  as  if  they  denied 
the  truth  of  the  sentiment.  Do  you  think  that  all  rich 
men  are  happy,  and  that  all  poor  men  are  miserable  ? 
As  to  mere  animal  enjoyment,  does  the  affluent  man  re 
ceive  a  larger  share  than  his  poorer  neighbor  ?  Whose 
head  acheth  less  for  the  costly  plume  that  waves  on  the 
brow  ?  Whose  body  enjoys  the  glow  of  health  more 
for  the  rich  velvet  which  enwraps  it,  or  the  lace  which 
adorns  it?  Whose  sleep  is  sounder  because  it  is  en 
joyed  on  down?  Whose  palate  is  more  pleased  be- 
cause it  is  fed  with  many  dishes  instead  of  one,  and 
from  silver  instead  of  del'f  ?  Whose  rest  is  more  plea- 
sant because  it  is  taken  upon  rose-wood  and  chintz? 
Whose  bosom  is  more  free  from  pain  because  of  the 
diamond  which  sparkles  there  ?  Do  riches  multiply 
the  number  of  the  senses,  and  give  other  inlets  of  sen- 
sation to  the  soul,  or  increase  the  power  of  those  we 
already  possess  ?  Do  they  add  to  the  just  and  natural 
appetites,  or  afford  greater  gratifications  to  those  we 
already  feel  ?  Do  they  ensure  health,  keep  off  dis- 
ease ?  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Numerous  servants, 
splendid  equipages,  rich  furniture,  luxurious  living, 
are  in  the  amount  of  a  man's  happiness,  but  as  the 
small  dust  of  the  balance.  We  may  say  of  these  things 
as  Pliny  did  of  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  "  They  are  only 
proud  proclamations  of  that  wealth  and  abundance 
which  their  possessor  knew  not  how  to  use." 

Care  is  the  shadow  of  possession,  and  the  magnitude 
of  the  shadow  will  always  be  in  proportion  to  the  di- 
mensions of  the  substance.  Great  wealth  certainly 
makes  a  man  many  anxieties.  What  shall  I  do?  is  a 
question  often  asked  by  affluence,  as  well  as  by  penu- 
ry. There  is  nothing  in  earthly  things  suited  as  a  por- 
tion to  the  desires  of  the  human  mind.  The  soul  of  a 
man  needs  something  better  for  its  provision  than 
wealth.  It  is  on  this  account,  partly,  that  our  Lord 
brands  the  rich  man  in  the  gospel  for  a  fool,  who, 
when  he  surveyed  his  treasures,  he  said  to  his  soul, 
"  Thou  hast  goods  laid  up  for  many  years  in  store ; 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry."  "A  fool  indeed,"  said 
Bishop  Hopkins,  "  to  reckon  his  soul's  goods  by 
barns  full.  He  might  as  wisely  have  boasted  that  he 
had  provided  bams  full  of  thoughts  for  his  body,  as 
barns  full  of  corn  for  his  soul." 

Then  how  precarious  is  the  continuance  of  riches. 
They  appear  to  us  as  in  a  dream  ;  they  come  and  are 
gone  ;  they  stand  by  us  in  the  form  of  a  golden  image, 
high  in  stature  and  deeply  founded  on  a  rock;  but 
while  we  look  at  them  they  are  transformed  into  an 
eagle  with  wings,  and  when  we  are  preparing  to  em- 
brace them  they  fly  away.  What  changes  have  we 
witnessed  even  within  our  own  circle  of  observation. 
How  many  do  we  know,  now  suffering  want,  who  for- 
merly rolled  in  affluence.  They  set  out  in  life  in  the  full 
sunshine  of  prosperity,  but  the  storm  overtook  them, 
which  blasted  every  comfort  they  had  in  the  world. 

And  if  riches  continue  to  the  end  of  life,  how  uncer- 
tain is  life  itself.  How  often  do  we  see  persons  called 
away  by  death  in  the  very  midst  of  their  prosperity. 
Just  when  they  have  most  reason  to  desire  to  live,  then 
they  must  die.  Their  industry  has  been  successful, 
their  desires  after  wealth  have  been  gratified,  they 
build  houses,  plant  gardens,  and  when  preparing  for 
many  years  of  ease  and  enjoyment,  they  quit  all — for 
the  sepulchre  ;  and  then  whose  shall  those  things  be 
which  they  have  amassed  ?  It  is  recorded  of  Saladin, 
the  Saracen  conqueror,  that  after  he  had  subdued 
Egypt,  passed  the  Euphrates,  and  conquered  cities 
without  number ;  after  he  had  retaken  Jerusalem,  and 


CHRISTIAN    FAT  HER' 3    PRESENT. 


73 


performed  exploits  almost  more  than  human,  in  those  ' 
wars  which  superstition  had  stirred  up  for  the  recovery 
of  the  Holy  Land  ;  he  finished  his  life  in  the  perform- 
ance of  an  action  that  ought  to  be  transmitted  to  the 
most  distant  posterity.  A  moment  before  he  uttered 
liis  last  sigh,  he  called  the  herald  who  had  carried  his 
banners  before  him  in  all  his  battles;  he  commanded 
him  to  fasten  to  the  top  of  a  lance  the  shroud  in  which 
the  dying  prince  was  soon  to  be  buried.  "Go,"  said 
ho,  "  carry  this  lance,  unfurl  this  banner,  and,  while 
you  lift  up  this  standard,  proclaim,  This,  this  is  all  that 
remains  to  Saladin  the  Great,  the  Conqueror,  and  the 
King  of  the  Empire,  of  all  his  glory."  Yes,  and  that 
piece  of  crape  in  which  his  perishing  remains  shall  be 
onwrapped,  is  all  that  will  be  left  of  his  wealth  to  the 
rich  man  when  he  quits  the  present  world.  Not  one 
step  will  his  riches  go  with  him  beyond  the  grave. 
What  a  sad  parting  will  that  be  when  the  soul  shall 
leave  all  its  treasures  behind  in  this  world,  and  enter 
upon  another  state  of  existence,  whither  it  cannot  take 
a  farthing,  and  where  it  would  be  useless  if  it  could 
take  it  all.  Then  the  miserable  spirit  like  a  shipwreck- 
ed merchant,  thrown  on  some  strange  coast  after  the 
loss  of  all  his  property,  shall  be  cast  on  the  shore  of 
eternity  without  one  single  comfort  to  relieve  its  press- 
ing and  everlasting  necessities. 

Can  riches  then  substantiate  their  claims  to  be  the 
chief  end  of  man?  What,  when  it  is  so  doubtful, 
whether,  after  all  our  endeavors,  we  shall  possess 
diem  ;  the  possession  of  them  contributes  so  little  to  our 
real  felicity  ;  when  their  continuance  is  so  uncertain  ; 
their  duration  so  short ;  their  influence  upon  our  eter- 
nal destiny  worse  than  nothing  ?  Will  any  reasonable 
creature  have  the  folly  to  assert,  that  the  chief  end  for 
which  God  sent  him  into  this  world,  is  to  amass  pro- 
perty, to  build  a  splendid  house,  and  store  it  with  fur- 
niture equally  splendid;  to  wear  costly  clothes  and 
feed  on  rich  viands ;  to  live  in  affluence  and  die 
rich  ? 

The  next  pretender  to  the  distinction  of  being  the 
supreme  good,  and  man's  chief  object  of  pursuit,  is 
Pleasure.  To  this  many  have  devoted  their  lives : 
some  are  living  for  the  sports  of  the  field,  others  for 
the  gratification  of  the  appetites,  others  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  round  of  fashionable  amusements.  Plea- 
sure, in  one  form  or  other,  is  the  object  of  pursuit  with 
myriads.  As  to  the  gratification  of  our  animal  appe- 
tites, few  will  think  it  necessary  to  have  much  said  to 
persuade  them,  that  to  sink  to  the  level  of  the  brute 
creation,  and  hold  communion  with  swine,  and  goats, 
and  cormorants,  cannot  be  the  chief  end  of  a  rational 
being.  Who  would  not  be  ashamed  to  say,  and  even 
deliberately  to  think,  they  were  sent  into  the  world  to 
consume  so  much  property;  to  devour  the  produce  of 
so  many  men's  labor;  to  eat  and  drink  away  the  little 
residue  of  wit  and  reason  they  have  left;  to  mingle 
with  this  high  and  distinguished  employment,  their  im- 
pure and  scurrilous  jests,  that  they  may  befriend  one 
another  in  proving  themselves  to  be  yet  of  human  race, 
by  this  almost  only  remaining  demonstration  of  it,  that 
they  can  laugh  as  well  as  eat  and  drink.  Surely,  surely, 
that  cannot  be  the  chief  end  of  man,  which  sensualizes, 
brutalizes  his  nature,  which  drowns  his  reason,  under- 
mines his  health,  shortens  his  life,  hurries  him  to  the 
grave.  And  also,  as  to  what  are  called  the  pleasures  of 
Vie  field,  will  any  man  say  that  God  sent  him  into  the 
world  to  ride  after  dogs,  or  run  after  birds,  or  torture 
fishes  upon  a  hook?  Are  all  the  high  faculties  of  the 
soul  to  be  wasted,  all  the  precious  moments  of  life  to  be 
consumed,  in  trying  how  many  foxes,  hares,  pheasants, 
and  trout  we  can  kill:  and  then  to  spend  all  the  time 
we  can  redeem  from  this  converse  ickh  brutes,  in  mak- 
ing ourselves  such? 

Fashionable  amusements  seem  to  be  with  many  the 
end  of  life.  Multitudes  live  for  pleasure  of  this  kind. 
Ball  succeeds  to  concert;  the  private  rout  to  the  pub- 


lic assembly  ;  the  card  party  to  the  dinner  party ;  and 
in  this  tmsy  round  of  fiishionaoie  tollies,  does  the  life  of 
many  pass  away.  Can  it  then  be  the  high  object  of 
existence  to  sing,  and  play,  and  dress,  and  dance ! !  Do 
not  these  things,  when  we  reflect  upon  them,  look  more 
like  the  pursuits  of  butterflies,  and  grasshoppers,  and 
canary  birds,  than  of  rational  creatures?  Is  it  not 
melancholy  to  see  beings  with  faculties  that  fit  them,  if 
rightly  improved,  to  converse  with  philosophers,  with 
angels,  with  God,  sinking  to  the  amusements  of  child- 
ren :  and  employing  time  as  if  it  were  given  to  them 
for  nothing  but  mirth;  and  using  the  world  as  if  it  were 
created  by  God  only  to  be  a  sort  of  play  ground  or  ten- 
nis court  for  its  inhabitants  ? 

Does  this  kind  of  life  satisfy  tltosc  who  pursue  it  ? 
Far,  very  far  from  it.  Can  any  person,  in  reality,  bo 
farther  from  happiness,  than  they  who  live  for  pleasure? 
You  shall  hear  the  testimony  of  a  man  who  will  be 
admitted  by  all  to  be  no  incompetent  judge;  I  mean 
Lord  Chesterfield.  The  world  was  the  god  of  his 
idolatry,  he  tendered  his  service  to  act  as  high-priest 
fortius  divinity,  published  its  liturgy,  and  conducted 
its  ceremonial.  What  happiness  he  found  in  the  wor- 
ship of  his  deity,  and  how  far  he  recommends  others  to 
the  shrine,  you  shall  leatn  from  his  own  pen  :  and  by 
the  vvay,  this  language  furnishes  the  most  powerful 
antidote  that  was  ever  published  to  the  poison  contain- 
ed in  his  trumpery  volumes. 

"  I  have  run,"  says  the  man  of  the  world,  "  the  silly 
rounds  of  business  and  pleasure,  and  have  done  with 
them  all.  I  have  enjoyed  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
and  consequently  know  their  futility,  and  do  not  regret 
their  loss.  I  apprise  them  at  their  real  value,  which 
is,  in  truth,  very  low  ;  whereas  those  that  have  not  ex- 
perienced, always  overrate  them.  They  only  see  their 
gay  outside,  and  are  dazzled  with  the  glare.  But  I 
have  been  behind  the  scenes.  I  have  seen  all  the  coarse 
pullies  and  dirty  ropes,  which  exhibit  and  move  the 
gaudy  machines  ;  and  I  have  seen  and  smelt  the  tallow 
candles,  which  illumine  the  whole  decoration,  to  the 
astonishment  and  admiration  of  an  ignorant  audience. 
When  I  reflect  back  upon  what  I  have  seen,  ami  what 
I  have  heard,  and  what  I  have  done,  I  can  hardly  per- 
suade myself  that  all  that  frivolous  hurry  and  bustle,  and 
pleasure  of  the  world,  had  any  reality;  but  I  look  upon 
all  that  has  passed  as  one  oC  those  romantic  dreams 
which  opium  commonly  occasions;  and  I  do  by  no 
means  desire  to  repeat  the  nauseous  dose,  for  tlf; 
sake  of  the  fugitive  dream.  Shall  I  tell  you  that  I  bear 
this  melancholy  situation  with  that  meritorious  con- 
stancy and  resignation  "vhich  most  people  boast  of? 
No;  for  I  really  cannot  help  it.  I  bear  it — because  I 
must  bear  it,  whether  I  will  or  no.  I  think  of  nothing 
but  of  killing  time  the  best  way  I  can,  now  that  he  is 
become  my  enemy.  It  is  my  resolution  to  sleep  in  the 
carriage  during  the  remainder  of  my  journey." 

Poor,  wretched,  forlorn  Chesterfield,  and  was  it  thus 
thou  didst  close  thy  career!  Is  it  thus  that  the  world 
ling,  in  his  last  moments,  feels  and  acts,  looking  back 
upon  the  past  with  disgust,  and  forward  to  the  future 
with  despair?  Then,  O  God,  in  thy  mercy  "deliver 
me  from  the  men  of  this  world,"  who  have  their  por- 
tion in  this  life. 

"  When  a  Christian  priest,"  says  Bishop  Home,  in 
alluding  to  the  case  of  this  nobleman,  "  speaks  slight- 
ingly of  the  world,  he  is  supposed  to  do  it  in  the  way 
ofdiis  profession,  and  to  decry,  through  envy,  the  plea- 
sures be  is  forbidden  to  taste.  But  here,  I  think,  you 
have  the  testimony  of  a  witness  every  vvay  competent. 
No  one  ever  knew  the  world  better,  or  enjoyed  more 
of  its  favors,  than  this  nobleman.  Yet  you  see  in  how- 
poor,  abject,  and  wretched  a  condition,  at  the  time 
when  he  most  wanted  help  and  comfort,  the  world  left 
him,  and  he  left  the  world.  The  sentences  above  cited 
from  him,  compose,  in  my  humble  opinion,  the  most 
striking  and  affecting  sermon  on  the  subject  ever  yet 


.1 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


preached  to  mankind.  My  younger  friends,  lay  them 
up  in  your  minds,  and  write  them  on  the  tables  of  your 
hearts;  take  them  into  life  with  you;  they  will  prove 
an  excellent  preservative  against  temptation.  When 
vou  have  duly  considered  them,  and  the  character  of 
him  by  whom  they  were  uttered,  you  shall  compare 
them,  if  you  please,  with  the  words  of  another  person, 
who  took  his  leave  of  the  world  in  a  very  different  man- 
ner. '  1  am  now  ready  to  be  offered,  and  the  time  of 
my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I 
have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith;  hence- 
forth there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness, 
which  the  Lord  the  righteous  Judge,  will  give  me  at 
that  day.'  Say,  shall  your  lot  be  with  the  Christian, 
or  the  man  of  the  world;  with  the  apostle,  or  the  liber- 
tine? You  will  not  hesitate  a  moment ;  but  in  reply 
to  those  who  may  attempt  to  seduce  you  into  the  paths 
of  vice  and  error,  honestly  and  boldly  exclaim,  every 
one  of  you,  with  Joshua,  '  Choose  you  this  day  whom 
you  will  serve  ;  but  as  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will 
serve  the  Lord.'  "* 

You  will  also  call  to  remembrance,  my  dear  child- 
ren, that  passage  in  the  Life  of  Colonel  Gardiner, 
whose  history  you  have  read,  or  should  read,  in  which 
he  tells  us,  that  when  living  in  all  kinds  of  dissipation, 
and  when  complimented  for  the  external  gf-iety  of  his 
demeanor,  as  the  "  happy  rake,"  he  was  in  reality  so  per- 
fectly wretched,  and  so  entirely  disgusted  with  his 
mode  of  living,  that,  on  beholding  the  gambols  of  his 
dog,  he  wished  he  could  change  places  with  the  uncon- 
scious animal. 

Is  pleasure  then  the  chief  end  of  life?  Yes,  in  Dr. 
Doddridge's  explanation  of  it,  in  his  beautiful  epigram 
on  his  own  motto — "  Dum  vivimus,  vivamus." 

'  Live  while  you  live,  the  epicure  will  say. 
And  take  the  pleasure  of  the  present  day  : 
Live  while  you  live,  the  sacred  preacher  cries, 
And  give  to  God  each  moment,  as  it  flies. 
Lord  in  my  view  let  both  united  be — 
I  live  in  pleasure  when  I  live  to  thee." 

Fame  is  with  some  the  great  end  of  life.  This  is  an 
object  which  comparatively  few  can  hope  to  attain,  and 
therefore  for  which  few  contend.  Still  there  are  some : 
and  if  they  were  honest,  they  would  tell  you,  that 
vanity,  which  is  another  name  for  the  love  of  fame,  is 
a  passion,  which,  like  the  venom  of  a  serpent  injected 
into  its  own  body,  tortures  itself.  The  pursuit  of  fame 
is  attended  with  a  state  of  mind,  the  most  remote  from 
happiness.  "When  it  succeeds,  it  degenerates  into 
arrogance  ;  when  it  is  disappointed,  (and  it  is  too  often 
disappointed,)  it  is  exasperated  into  malignity,  and 
corrupted  into  envy.  In  this  stage,  the  vain  man  com- 
mences a  determined  misanthropist.  He  detests  that 
excellence  which  he  cannot  reach.  He  lives  upon  the 
calamities  of  the  world  ;  the  vices  and  miseries  of  man- 
kind are  his  element  and  his  food.  Virtue,  talents,  and 
genius,  are  his  natural  enemies,  which  he  persecutes 
with  instinctive  eagerness  and  unremitting  hostility. 
There  are,  who  doubt  the  existence  of  such  a  disposi- 
tion ;  but  it  certainly  issues  out  of  the  dregs  of  disap- 
pointed vanity  :  a  disease  which  taints  and  vitiates  the 

*  Bishop  Home's  Sermons.  The  works  of  this 
author  present  a  beautiful  combination  of  piety,  ele- 
gance, and  pathos.  The  introduction  to  his  Commen- 
tary on  the  Psalms  is  one  of  the  most  delicious  mor- 
sels of  composition  in  the  English  language:  and  if 
the  Commentary  itself  be  too  systematically  conduct- 
ed, on  the  principles  of  a  typical  reference  to  Christ, 
which  I  certainly  think  it  is,  yet  who  is  not  disposed  to 
consider  as  venial  the  sin  of  being  too  evangelical  ? 
The  man  who  wishes  to  keep  alive  the  flame  of  piety 
in  his  soul,  will  find  no  inconsiderable  help  from  Home 
on  the  Psalms,  and  Leighton  on  Peter. 


whole  character,  wherever  it  prevails.  It  forms  the 
heart  to  such  a  profound  indifference  to  the  welfare  of 
others,  that  what  ever  appearance  he  may  assume,  or 
however  wide  the  circle  of  his  seeming  virtues  may 
extend,  you  will  infallibly  find  the  vain  man  in  his  own 
centre.  Attentive  only  to  himself,  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  own  perfections,  instead  of  feel- 
ing tenderness  for  his  fellow-creatures,  as  members  of 
the  same  family,  as  beings  with  whom  he  is  destined  to 
act,  to  suffer,  and  to  sympathize  ;  he  considers  life  as 
a  stage  on  which  he  is  acting  a  part,  and  mankind  in 
no  other  light  than  spectators.  Whether  he  smiles  or 
frowns ;  whether  his  path  is  adorned  with  the  rays  of 
beneficence,  or  his  steps  are  dyed  in  blood ;  an  atten- 
tion to  self  is  the  spring  of  every  movement,  and  the 
motive  to  which  every  action  is  referred."*  When 
therefore  we  consider  that  perpetual  restlessness  of 
mind,  that  mortification,  arising  from  disappointed 
hopes ;  that  envy,  which  is  generated  by  the  success 
of  competitors  ;  that  feverish  excitement,  which  is 
kept  up  by  the  intense  desire  of  victory  ;  the  love  of 
fame  will  appear  too  torturing  a  state  of  mind  to 
be  the  end  of  man's  existence:  it  is  plunging  into  a 
kind  of  purgatory  for  the  mere  chance  of  reaching  a 
celestial  summit. 

Should  the  effort  to  gain  distinction  be  successful, 
will  it  then  reward  the  pains  that  have  been  expended  to 
gain  it  ?  We  have  a  striking  illustration  of  the  emp- 
tiness of  the  rewards  of  fame,  in  the  Memoirs  of  Henry 
Martyn.  He  tells  us,  that  after  a  severe  contest  with 
many  distinguished  competitors,  for  the  prize  of  be- 
ing Senior  Wrangler,  the  highest  mathematical  honor 
which  the  University  of  Cambridge  can  bestow  upon 
its  students,  the  palm  was  awarded  to  him;  and  having 
received  it,  he  exclaims,  "  1  was  astonished  to  find  what 
a  shadow  I  had  grasped."  Perhaps  there  never  yet 
was  a  candidate  for  fame,  whatever  was  the  particular 
object  for  which  he  coirended,  who  did  not  feel  the 
same  disappointment.  The  reward  of  fame  may  be 
compared  to  the  garlands  in  the  Olympic  games,  which 
began  to  wither  the  moment  they  were  grasped  by  the 
hand,  or  worn  upon  the  brow  of  the  victor. 

How  often  do  we  see  the  aspirants  to  a  place  in  the 
Temple  of  Fame  cut  off  by  death;  some  just  when 
they  have  begun  the  difficult  ascent,  others  when  half 
way  up  the  hill,  and  a  few  when  they  have  gained  the 
summit,  and  tread  upon  the  threshold  of  the  sacred 
fane.  A  traveller  thinks  to  gain  immortal  renown  by 
tracing  the  unknown  course  of  a  river,  laying  open  a 
new  continent,  discovering  a  new  island,  or  describing 
the  remains  of  ancient  states;  but  dies  like  Cook  or 
Mungo  Park,  Tweddell,  or  Bowditch,  in  the  very 
midst  of  his  discoveries.  A  warrior  enters  upon  a  mi- 
litary or  naval  life,  and  hopes  to  gather  his  laurels  on 
the  ensanguined  field  of  conflict;  and  falling,  like 
Wolfe  or  Nelson,  in  the  hour  of  victory,  receives  the 
crown  upon  his  bier  instead  of  his  brow;  and  leaves 
his  monument,  in  lieu  of  himself,  to  receive  the  tribute 
of  his  country's  praise.  The  scholar  and  philosopher 
pursue  some  new  object  of  science  or  literature,  and 
hope,  by  their  success,  to  gain  a  niche  for  their  shrine 
in  the  Temple  of  Fame  :  just  as  they  have  established 
their  theory,  and  are  about  to  receive  their  honor, 
they  are  removed  by  death,  to  a  world  where  the  re- 
wards of  talents  have  no  place,  but  virtue  constitutes 
the  sole  distinction. 

O  that  men  were  wise,  and  would  consider  this ! 
Those  distinctions  which  now  excite  the  desires  am: 
inflame  the  ambition  of  so  many  ardent  minds;  whk  r&' 
absorb  the  time,  the  energies,  the  interest,  the  health 
of  their  impassioned  admirers  and  eager  pursuers,  are 
all  of  the  earth,  earthly  ;  all  terminate  with  the  psesent 


*  Mr.  Hall's  Sermon  on  Modern  Infidelity  :  one  of 
the  most  eloquent  and  conclusive  pieces  of  argumenta 
tion  in  the  English  language. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


75 


world,  and  in  reference  to  the  eternal  destiny  of  their 
possessors,  have  not  the  place  of  an  atom,  nor  the 
weight  of  a  feather.  In  the  admiration  and  gratitude 
and  applause  of  their  fellow-creatures;  in  the  records 
of  the  journalist,  the  biographer,  and  the  historian;  in 
the  acknowledgments  of  the  present  generation,  and 
the  remembrance  of  posterity,  they  have  their  reward  ; 
but  if  they  possessed  not  true  piety,  in  these  things 
alone  their  object  terminates.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say 
unto  you.  they  have  their  reward;"  but  the  smile  of 
an  approving  God,  the  hope  of  eternal  life,  the  posses- 
sion of  everlasting  happiness,  is  no  part  of  it.  The 
star  of  their  glory  is  amongst  the  number  which,  at  the 
last  day,  shall  fall  from  the  heavens,  and  set  in  the 
blackness  of  darkness  for  ever.  The  astonishing  works 
of  Shakspeare,  Bacon,  Newton,  Milton,  Locke,  which 
have  surrounded  their  authors  with  such  a  radiant 
crown  on  earth,  will  not  be  mentioned  in  the  judg- 
ment, nor  procure  so  much  consideration  as  a  cup  of 
cold  water,  that  was  given  to  a  disciplo  of  Christ,  out 
of  love  to  his  Master. 

What  is  earthly  renown  to  a  man  that  is  in  eternity? 
If  he  is  in  heaven,  the  praises  of  the  whole  globe  can- 
not add  one  jot  to  his  felicity;  if  he  be  in  hell,  they 
lessen  not  one  pang  of  his  misery:  he  is  in  either  case 
unconscious  of  all — inaccessible  to  all.  To  a  lost  soul 
in  prison  who  had  sunk  to  perdition  under  a  weight  of 
earthly  honors,  what  a  dreadful  sting  must  such  a  re- 
flection as  this  give  to  all  his  sufferings,  "Alas!  alas! 
while  my  memory  is  almost  idolized  on  earth,  I  am 
tormented  in  this  flame." 

Knowledge  presents  itself  to  some  as  the  end  of  life. 
To  store  up  ideas,  to  amass  intellectual  treasures,  is 
the  end  and  delight  of  their  existence;  they  are  never 
satisfied  with  what  they  know,  and  are  always  seeking 
for  something  which  they  do  not  know.  They  are  lite- 
rary misers.  They  labor  in  the  world  of  mind.  These, 
I  admit,  are  far  more  rational  than  the  others,  in  select- 
ing their  chief  end  of  existence.  But  still  they  are  far 
from  wisdom.  The  wisest  of  men  has  told  us,  "  I  gave 
my  heart  to  seek  and  search  out  by  wisdom,  concern- 
ing all  things  that  are  done  under  the  sun.  I  com- 
muned with  mine  own  heart;  lo,  I  have  gotten  more 
wisdom  than  all  they  that  have  been  before  me  at  Jeru- 
salem: yea,  my  heart  had  great  experience  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge.  I  perceived  that  this  also  is  vexation 
of  spirit:  for  in  much  wisdom  is  much  grief;  and  he 
'.hat  increaseih  knowledge  increase th  sorrow.  Of  mak- 
ing many  books  there  is  no  end  ;  and  much  study  is  a 
weariness  of  the  flesh."  Wi'l  knowledge  comfort  its 
possessors  amidst  the  ills  of  life  ?  Will  it  soothe  them 
in  the  agonies  of  death  ?  Will  it  avail  them  at  the  day 
of  judgment?  However  it  may  dignify  and  delight 
them  on  earth,  will  it  entitle  them  to  heaven,  or  pre- 
pare them  for  its  bliss?  No,  no.  Knowledge  alone 
will  raise  no  man  to  the  celestial  city  in  which  God 
dwells.  It  may  elevate  them  to  earth's  pinnacle,  but 
will  leave  them  at  an  infinite  distance  from  heaven's 
threshold.  It  may  lift  them  high  above  the  scorn  and 
contempt  of  men  below,  hut  still  leave  them  all  ex- 
posed to  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God  from  above. — 
There  is  something  ineffably  dreadful  in  anticipating 
the  loss  of  any  human  soul:  but  the  sense  of  agony 
is  increased  when  we  think  of  the  eternal  ruin  of  a 
mind  which  had  accumulated  all  the  stores  of  the  most 
varied  knowledge:  it  is  painful  to  see  the  least  and 
lowest  spark  of  intelligence  fluttering  to  extinction  over 
the  marshes  of  sensuality ;  but  it  is  most  painful  to  see 
one  of  the  highest  order  of  intelligences,  darting,  like 
a  falling  star,  into  the  blackness  and  darkness  of  eter- 
nal night.  It  is  dreadful  to  follow  such  a  spirit  into 
the  unseen  world,  and  to  behold,  in  imagination,  the 
meaner  damned,  whom  he  spurned  on  earth  as  a 
vulgar  herd,  taking  up  against  him  the  ancient  taunt, 
•' Art  thou  also  become  like  unto  us?"  "How  art  thou 
fallen,  O  Lucifer,  sou  of  the  morning  !" 


Domestic  comfort  is  with  many  the  chief,  the  only  end 
of  life.  They  aspire  not  to  riches,  they  pace  not  the 
giddy  round  of  pleasure,  they  have  no  ambition  for 
fame,  they  have  no  taste  for  science  or  learning ;  to 
many  happily  and  live  comfortably,  in  moderate  com- 
petency, is  the  limit  of  their  prospects  and  pursuits. 
And  is  this  all!  This  the  chief  end  of  life  !  Consider, 
much  that  has  been  said  of  riches  will  apply  to  this. 
Although  you  seek  it,  it  is  uncertain  whether  you  will 
succeed.  Should  you  gain  your  object,  how  soon 
may  it  be  taken  from  you  again.  Your  trade  may  be 
ruined,  the  partner  of  your  joys  and  sorrows  may  be 
removed  by  death,  your  health  may  be  impaired ;  if 
none  of  these  things  happen,  you  yourself  may  be  re- 
moved to  another  world  when  the  one  you  now  inha- 
bit may  appear  most  enchanting :  or  if  spared  to  old 
age  in  undiminished  enjoyment,  how  dreadful  is  the 
thought  of  going  from  n  state  of  such  comfort  to  an- 
other, in  which  not  a  ray  of  peace  will  ever  fall  upon 
the  spirit  through  everlasting  ages. 

None  of  the  things  which  I  have  mentioned,  there 
fore,  are  worthy  to  be  the  objects  of  our  supreme  soli- 
citude, or  ultimate  pursuit.  They  may  be  all  taken  up 
as  inferior  and  subordinate  objects.  We  may,  in  mo- 
deration, and  by  honest  industry,  not  only  endeavor  to 
obtain  a  competency,  but  even  affluence;  we  are  al- 
lowed to  desire  and  seek  a  comfortable  settlement  in 
the  world;  we  may  enjoy,  in  measure,  the  lawful 
pleasures  of  life ;  we  may  endeavor,  if  our  motives 
are  right,  to  establish  our  reputation,  not  only  for  vir 
tue,  but  for  talents;  we  may,  to  the  widest  extent, 
pursue  our  researches  after  knowledge:  all  this  is  al- 
lowed, not  only  by  reason,  but  by  revelation.  Reli- 
gion is  not  the  enemy  of  one  single  excellence  of  the 
human  character,  nor  opposed  to  any  of  the  lawful 
possessions  of  the  present  world. 

But  the  question  to  be  decided  is,  What  is  the  chief 
end  of  man  ?  Now  the  definition  which  I  would  give 
of  this  is  as  follows:  "  It  must  be  an  object  suited  to 
the  nature  of  man  as  a  rational  creature;  an  object 
which,  if  sought  in  a  right  manner,  shall  with  absolute 
certainty  be  obtained ;  which  shall  not  interfere  with 
any  of  the  necessary  duties  of  the  present  state;  which, 
when  obtained,  shall  not  only  please  but  satisfy  the 
mind ;  which  shall  prepare  us  for  our  eternal  state  of 
existence,  and  accompany  us  to  the  unseen  world,  as 
our  portion  forever.  All  these  things  must  enter  into 
the  chief  good,  the  great  end  of  life,  the  ultimate  object 
of  pursuit.  There  is  but  one  thing  in  the  universe  to 
which  this  will  apply,  and  to  that  one  it  will  in  all  parts 
of  the  definition  most  strictly  apply,  and  that  is,  tlie  sal- 
vation of  the  sold." 

You  are  immortal  creatures,  lost  sinners,  capable  of 
enjoying  eternal  happiness,  yet  exposed  to  the  sutler 
ings  of  eternal  death  ;  and  what  can  be  the  chief  end 
of  an  immortal  being  short  of  eternal  life.  Once  ad- 
mit that  you  are  going  on  to  eternity,  and  it  would  be 
idiotism  to  deny  that  any  thing  less  than  eternal  hap- 
piness should  be  your  great  aim.  The  Assembly's 
Catechism  has  delined  the  chief  end  of  man  to  be — 
"  To  glorify  God  ami  i  njiiy  him  for  ever."  This  is 
strictly  true,  and  accords  with  what  I  have  said:  for, 
to  glorify  God  is  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul,  and  under  the  influence  of  this 
faith,  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this 
present  evil  world  :  and  thus  glorifying  God  on  earth, 
we  shall  be  taken  to  enjoy  him  for  ever  in  that  state  ot 
ineffable  felicity  which  be  hath  prepared  for  them  that 
love  him.  The  salvation  of  the  soul  is  a  good  which 
suits  our  rational  nature;  it  is  absolutely  certain  to 
those  who  seek  it  in  the  right  way :  it  rather  ensures 
than  interrupts  all  the  other  duties  of  life ;  it  satisfies 
and  delights  the  mind,  giving  consolation  for  its  trou- 
bles, and  contentment  to  its  desires;  it  fits  us  for  our 
eternal  state,  and  goes  with  us  to  glory  as  our  portion 
for  ever. 


76 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


But  there  are  few  who  deny  this  in  theory,  although 
they  neglect  it  in  practice,  and  therefore  I  must  now 
exhort  you  to  keep  this  end  of  life  constantly  in  view. 
Every  man,  when  he  sets  out  on  a  journey  or  pursuit, 
should  have  a  definite  object,  and  constantly  keep  it  in 
view.  My  dear  children,  you  are  setting  out  on  the 
journey  of  life,  you  know  the  chief  object  of  that  jour- 
ney, and  now  ever  keep  it  before  your  mind.  Let 
this  conviction  not  only  be  written  on  your  under- 
standing, like  a  picture  delineated  on  ice,  or  an  im- 
pression produced  on  the  snow,  which  thaws  beneath 
the  next  sun;  but  be  engraven  on  your  heart,  like 
characters  on  a  rock,  which  nothing  ".an  efface — that 
your  main  business  on  earth  is  to  obtain  the  salvation 
of  your  immortal  soul.  Let  this  conviction  lie  at  the 
bottom  of  your  whole  character,  let  it  be  thoroughly 
wrought  into  the  contexture  of  all  your  mental  habits; 
let  it  be  the  main  wheel  in  the  whole  machinery  of 
yonr  conduct.  It  is  recorded  of  a  pilgrim,  on  his  way 
to  Jerusalem,  that  in  passing  through  Constantinople, 
when  that  city  was  in  its  glory,  he  met  with  a  friend 
who,  wishing  to  detain  him  in  the  eastern  metropolis, 
took  him  about  to  see  the  beauties  of  that  celebrated 
place.  "  Very  splendid,"  exclaimed  the  pilgrim,  "  but 
this  is  not  the  holy  city."  So  should  we  say  to  every 
thing  which  would  limit  and  detain  our  hearts  on 
earth,  "Very  good  in  its  place,  but  it  is  not  salvation." 

Often  inquire  of  yourselves  and  examine  your  hearts, 
whether  you  are  keeping  in  mind  this  one  thing  need- 
ful. At  the  close  of  every  division  of  your  time,  of 
your  years,  your  months,  your  weeks,  ask  yourselves 
the  question,  "  Is  my  eye  upon  the  supreme  summit 
of  Christian  desire  and  expectation  ;  or  am  I  beginning 
to  lower  my  aim  and  sink  my  pursuit?" 

Regulate  all  your  feelings  of  admiration  and  pity,  in 
reference  to  the  conduct  and  situation  of  others,  by 
this  object.  If  you  see  the  rich  man  accumulating 
wealth,  the  scholar  increasing  the  stores  of  learning, 
the  philosopher  adding  to  the  discoveries  of  science, 
the  man  of  martial  or  literary  renown  gathering  laurels 
to  decorate  his  brow,  but  at  the  same  time  neglecting 
the  claims  and  despising  the  blessings  of  religion,  view 
them  rather  as  objects  of  pity  than  of  envy  ;  and  rank 
them  amongst  the  individuals  who  are  losing  sight  of 
the  great  end  of  a  rational  creature's  existence.  On 
the  other  hand,  wherever  you  perceive  an  individual, 
however  obscure  in  station,  limited  in  acquirements, 
*>r  afflicted  in  his  circumstances,  but  who  is  yet  glori- 
fying God,  and  preparing  to  enjoy  him  for  ever,  there 
realize  an  individual  who  is  keeping  before  him  the 
great  end  for  which  God  sent  him  into  this  world,  and 
who  is  fairly  entitled  to  your  warmest  congratulations. 

Keep  this  in  view  in  the  selection  of  situations,  and 
the  forming  of  connections.  Are  you  going  out  into 
life?  Accept  of  no  situation,  however  advantageous 
in  a  worldly  point  of  view  it  might  appear,  where  you 
are  likely  to  be  cut  off  from  the  means  of  grace,  and 
the  helps  to  a  life  of  faith  and  holiness;  bring  the  rule 
oflife  to  it,  and  ask,  "  Will  it  help  or  hinder  me  in  the 
pursuit  of  salvation  ?"  Let  this  direct  you  in  choosing 
the  place  of  worship  you  attend,  and  the  minister  you 
h'-ar.  Inquire  not  where  the  people  of  fashion  go,  or 
who  is  the  most  eloquent  preacher;  but  where  the 
most  instructive,  awakening,  and  improving  ministry 
fif  the  word  is  to  be  enjoyed;  and  where  you  are  likely 
lo  be  kept  most  steadily  in  the  pursuit  of  eternal  life. 
In  the  profession  of  your  religion,  dwell  most  on  the 
plain  and  obvious  and  important  truths  of  the  gospel, 
sneh  as  are  most  intimately  connected  with  the  life  of 
piety  in  the  heart;  and  turn  not  aside  to  novelties, 
speculations,  and  religious  curiosities.  In  selecting 
your  avocation  in  life,  keep  this  in  mind,  and  if  there 
be  any  calling  which  in  your  judgment  necessarily 
takes  off  the  mind  from  religion,  choose  another  in 
preference.  In  accepting  or  selecting  a  companion 
for  life,  let  not  this  subject  be  put  out  of  view,  but  con- 


sider how  much  you  will  be  assisted  or  opposed  in 
seeking  eternal  salvation,  according  as  your  nearest 
earthly  friend  shall  be  one  with  you  in  Christ.  In 
pitching  your  tabernacle,  inquire  not  only  what  is  the 
air,  the  prospect,  the  facilities  for  trade  or  pleasure ; 
but  what  are  the  means  of  grace,  the  helps  to  religion, 
the  ministry  of  the  word,  the  company,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. In  short,  let  it  appear  in  all  you  do,  that  the 
salvation  of  your  soul  is  the  one  thing  needful,  the  chief 
business  oflife. 

Act,  in  reference  to  eternal  salvation  and  the  affairs 
of  this  life,  as  a  man  who  most  tenderly  loves  and  ar- 
dendy  longs  for  his  home,  does  upon  his  journey,  in  re- 
ference to  that  home :  he  provides  as  comfortable  an 
inn  as  he  can  honestly  obtain,  he  enjoys  the  prospects 
which  present  themselves  to  his  eye,  he  is  pleased  with 
the  company  he  meets  with  on  the  road,  he  gains  as 
much  knowledge  as  he  can  accumulate  by  the  way,  he 
performs  the  duties  of  his  calling  as  diligently  and  se- 
cures as  much  profit  as  he  equitably  can,  but  still  his 
eye  and  his  heart  are  at  home;  for  his  comfort  there 
and  not  his  pleasure  abroad,  he  is  supremely  anxious ; 
so  far  as  he  can  promote,  or  not  hinder  his  prosperity 
at  home,  he  is  willing  to  gain  knowledge,  take  pleasure, 
secure  respect,  abroad;  but  home  is  his  great  object; 
to  reach  that,  and  prepare  for  its  increasing  comfort,  is 
his  aim  and  his  hope. 

So  act,  my  children,  towards  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 
This,  this  is  the  end  of  life :  keep  it  constantly  in 
mind  ;  never  lose  sight  of  it.  Gain  all  the  knowledge, 
all  the  comfort,  all  the  fame,  all  the  wealth  you  can,  in 
subordination  to  this  one  great  business;  but  remem- 
ber, that  whatever  subordinate  ends  you  may  pursue, 
the  paramount  object  which  you  must  seek,  is  to  glo- 
rify GOD  AND  ENJOY  HIM  FOR  EVER. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ON   THE    MEETING  OF  A    PIOUS    FAMILY    IN   HEAVEN. 

The  strength  of  our  social  feelings,  and  the  pleasure 
which  we  derive  from  the  indulgence  of  them,  has  very 
naturally  originated  the  question, "  Will  those  who  were 
known  to  each  other  on  earth,  renew  their  acquaintance 
in  heaven?"  The  feelings  which  prompted  the  ques- 
tion have  led  us  to  answer  it  in  the  affirmative.  It 
might,  indeed,  be  enough  to  satisfy  our  hopes  in  refer- 
ence to  eternal  happiness,  to  be  assured  that  nothing 
should  be  present  which  could  operate  as  an  alloy — 
nothing  be  absent  that  shall  be  felt  as  a  defect.  We 
know  that  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God  is  employed 
under  the  impulse  of  infinite  love,  in  preparing  a  place 
for  us;  and  we  are  also  assured,  that  God  "  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  our  God,  because  he  hath  pre- 
pared for  us  a  city."  All  that  is  most  essential  to  a 
state  of  perfect  and  everlasting  felicity,  is  exhibited  and 
promised  in  the  word  of  God;  the  beatific  vision  of  God 
and  the  Lamb  ;  complete  resemblance  in  body  and  soul 
to  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  the  light  of  perfect  knowledge;  the 
purity  of  perfect  holiness;  the  glow  of  perfect  love; 
the  eternal  exclusion  of  sin  and  of  the  sinner;  the  com- 
pany and  converse  of  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, and  the  myriads  of  holy  angels;  the  absence  of 
pain  and  sickness,  care  and  labor,  sorrow  and  sighing, 
death  and  the  curse  ;  all  of  which  are  explicitly  assured 
to  the  believer  in  the  gospel  of  Christ — form  a  heaven 
which  might  entirely  satisfy  us,  as  a  state  of  felicity 
seemingly  incapable  of  addition.  This  is  glory,  honor, 
immortality,  eternal  life.  And  yet  in  the  view  of  all 
this,  our  social  nature  often  prompts  that  one  more 
question,  "  Shall  we  know  each  other  in  the  celestial 
world?" 

The  Scripture,  I  admit,  has  not,  in  so  many  words, 
replied  to  the  question,   nor  relieved  the  solicitude 


CHRISTIAN     FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


77 


which  asks  it;  and  in  this  very  reserve  we  see  a  proof 
of  the  wisdom  of  God.  Had  the  Scriptures  been  ex- 
plicit and  diffuse  on  such  topics;  had  they  said  much 
about  the  social  intercourse  of  the  unseen  world;  had 
they  represented  its  felicity  as  arising  in  a  great  degree 
from  the  renewal  of  those  friendships  which  were 
formed  on  earth,  but  suspended  by  death,  how  many 
would  have  concluded,  in  the  total  absence  of  all  reli- 
gious feeling  from  their  hearts,  that  they  were  meet  for 
such  an  inheritance  as  this.  Whereas  the  Bible,  by 
representing  no  part  of  the  happiness  of  heaven  but 
that  which  arises  from  sources  strictly  devotional,  has 
given  no  countenance  to  delusion,  nor  furnished  occa- 
sion for  self-deception.  None  of  the  splendid  visions 
which  lie  hid  behind  the  veil  are  manifested,  but  such 
as  tend  to  impress  us  with  the  conviction,  that  in  order 
to  behold  and  enjoy  them,  we  must  be  holy,  even  as 
God  is  holy. 

These  considerations,  while  they  account  for  the  re- 
serve which  is  maintained  by  the  Scripture  on  this 
subject,  do  not,  by  any  means,  disprove  the  sentiment. 
Though  I  would  not  say  with  Irenceus,  one  of  the  ear- 
liest fathers  of  the  church,  that  separate  souls  retain 
the  likeness  and  figure  of  their  bodies,  so  that  they  may 
be  still  known  thereby  in  the  other  world;  though  I  by 
no  means  pretend  even  to  speculate  on  the  precise 
manner  or  means  whereby  glorified  immortals  will  at- 
tain a  knowledge  of  each  other;  whether  by  revelation 
or  information  ;  by  any  resemblance  being  left  on  the 
newly  raised  body  to  what  they  formerly  were,  or  by 
that  intuition  which  will,  no  doubt,  be  the  way  in  which 
many  things  will  be  known;  yet  still  I  think  that,  in 
some  way  or  other,  this  knowledge  will  be  obtained. 

1.  The  enjoyments  and  occupations  of  heaven  are 
uniformly  represented  as  social :  but  where  is  the 
charm  of  society  without  mutual  knowledge? 

2.  Heaven  is  uniformly  represented  as  perfecting 
all  our  faculties  ;  is  it  then  probable  that  it  will  diminish 
memory,  one  of  the  most  important  of  them?  And  if 
memory  be  still  retained  in  full  vigor,  and  it  be  perpe- 
tually employed,  as  it  inevitably  must  be,  on  the  past 
scenes  of  our  earthly  existence,  is  it  likely  that  the 
friends  and  companions  of  that  existence,  inhabiting 
then  the  same  celestial  world  with  us,  will  be  unknown 
to  us? 

3.  The  chief  grace  that  will  be  increased  in  the  re- 
gions of  the  blest,  next  to  love  to  God,  will  be  love  to 
our  companions  in  glory.  But  will  not  one  of  the  most 
pure,  elevated,  and  delightful  exercises  of  this  holy 
passion  be  wanting,  if  we  are  ignorant  of  our  glorified 
relatives? 

4.  In  the  general  judgment,  which  is  appointed  to 
vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man,  it  is  nearly  certain 
that  individuals  will  be  known  to  each  other;  and  if 
this  be  the  case,  is  it  likely  that  their  mutual  knowledge 
will  be  immediately  obliterated? 

5.  Is  it  likely  that  individuals  whose  names  and 
labors  bear  such  a  close  and  extensive  connection  with 
the  redemption  and  history  of  the  church,  as  those  of 
the  prophets  and  apostles,  will  be  unknown  ?  And  if 
they  are  known,  may  it  not  be  inferred  that  others 
will  be? 

6.  During  our  Saviour's  abode  upon  earth,  he  af- 
forded to  the  three  favored  disciples  a  glimpse  of  the 
heavenly  glory  :  he  himself  was  transfigured,  and  Moses 
and  Eltas  descended  in  celestial  brilliancy.  These 
tvvo  eminent  servants  of  God  were  known  by  the  as- 
tonished apostles;  and  if  known  on  Mount  Tabor,  is 
it  not  likely  they  will  be  known  in  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem ? 

7.  Our  Saviour,  in  one  of  the  most  impressive  of 
his  parables,  represents  the  rich  man  in  torments,  as 
knowing  Lazarus  and  Abraham  in  glory :  now,  though 
it  be  a  parable,  and  though  the  whole  scenery  of  a  pa- 
rable is  not  to  be  considered  as  conveying  some  moral 
sentiment,  yet  certainly  nothing  materially  and  ob- 


viously at  variance  with  the  truth  is  ever  taught  by 
even  the  appendages  of  the  chief  parabolic  idea. 

8.  We  find  the  apostle  Paul  very  frequently  con- 
soling himself  under  the  sufferings  and  persecutions 
which  he  had  to  endure,  by  the  prospect  of  meeting  in 
heaven  those  who  had  been  converted  by  his  ministry 
on  earth.  His  address  to  the  believing  Thessalonians 
is  especially  in  point.  "  What  is  our  hope,  or  joy,  or 
crown  of  rejoicing?  Are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  at  his  coming?"  I  do  not 
see  how  these  Christians  could  be  Paul's  crown  of 
rejoicing  in  that  day,  if  they  were  not  known  to  him. 

These  are  some  of  the  reasons  which  lead  me  to 
suppose  that  in  heaven  the  saints  will  know  each 
other. 

I  am  aware  that  it  is  felt  by  some  as  an  objection  to 
this  sentiment,  that  if  we  shall  know  those  of  our  friends 
who  are  present  in  glory,  we  shall,  of  course,  know  if 
any  of  our  relatives  are  absent:  and  that  if  we  derive 
pleasure  from  the  former  consideration,  we  shall  expe- 
rience as  much  distress  from  the  latter.  The  only  way 
of  solving  this  difficulty  is,  to  suppose  that  as  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  Divine  Being,  and  of  the  wisdom  of 
all  his  schemes  and  operations,  will  constitute  a  chief 
part  of  the  happiness  of  heaven,  we  shall  be  so  con- 
vinced of  the  equity  of  his  dealings  towards  the  wicked, 
so  divested  of  all  the  weakness  of  the  passions,  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  love  of  what  is  right  to  be  done,  that  our 
bliss  will  experience  no  interruption  in  the  absence  of 
our  relatives  from  the  world  of  glory.  This,  I  acknow- 
ledge, is  now  hard  to  conceive.  The  day  shall  de- 
clare it. 

Assuming  then  the  fact,  that  saints  will  know  each 
other  in  the  celestial  state,  let  us  imagine,  my  dear 
children,  if  indeed  the  imagination  is  equal  to  the  ef- 
fort, what  must  be  the  joy  attendant  on  the  final  meet- 
ing of  a  pious  family  in  heaven.  One  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite delights  which  we  ever  experience  on  earth,  is 
the  enjoyment  which  springs  from  the  first  interview 
with  a  friend  from  whom  we  have  been  separated  ; 
and  this  delight  is  in  proportion  to  the  length  of  time, 
and  greatness  of  distance,  and  magnitude  of  danger, 
which  have  intervened  between  the  separation  and  the 
meeting.  What  language  can  describe  the  thrill  of 
transport,  the  almost  agony  of  rapture,  which  the  wife 
experiences  in  that  moment  when  she  receives  a  hus- 
band hack  again  to  her  arms,  who  has  been  away  from 
home  for  months,  who  has  been  separated  from  her  by- 
half  the  circumference  of  the  globe,  and  threatened  to 
be  torn  from  her  for  ever,  by  the  dangers  of  shipwreck 
or  of  battle?  Or  who  shall  set  forth  that  scene  of  do 
mestic  bliss  which  is  exhibited  when  the  sailor-boy, 
after  having  been  absent  for  years,  returns  from  the 
dangers  of  the  sea,  and  the  horrors  of  captivity,  to  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  and  exchanges  extatic  greetings 
with  his  parents,  and  his  sisters,  and  his  brothers,  till 
all  seem  ready  to  dissolve  with  excess  of  joy  .'  What 
then  must  be  the  meeting  of  these  same  relatives  in 
heaven,  after  having  been  separated  by  worlds  atjd 
ages:  that  meeting  when  a  mother  receives  her  chihi- 
ren  to  the  skies  from  this  degenerate  earth,  and  tin; 
father  hails  his  offspring  from  the  world  of  death  to 
the  region  of  life  and  immortality  !  Here  imagination 
confesses  its  weakness.  It  is  a  scene  we  have  never 
witnessed  ourselves;  nor  have  we  ever  conversed  with 
one  who  has.  My  heart,  while  I  write,  seems  to  beat 
quicker  at  the  thought;  and  the  very  anticipation,  my 
dear  children,  raises  a  commotion  of  pleasurable  feel- 
ings in  my  bosom,  which  no  words  could  enable  me  to 
express. 

Then  remember  this  meeting  is  not  for  amere  tran- 
sient interview,  but  for  an  eternal  association.  It  is  to 
take  place  in  a  world  where  adieus  and  farewells  are 
a  sound  unknown.  What  an  interruption  does  it  now 
form  to  the  enjoyment  of  domestic  intercourse,  that 
the  different  branches  of  the  family  cannot  always  live 


78 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


beneath  the  same  roof,  or  in  the  vicinity  of  their  pa- 
rents. One  member  after  another  goes  from  ihe  pa- 
ternal abode,  and  settles  at  a  distance,  till  counties  and 
perhaps  kingdoms  separate  them  from  each  other. — 
Rarely  does  it  happen,  where  the  children  are  nume- 
rous and  grown  to  maturity,  that  they  can  all  meet  to- 
gether. Occasionally  this  does  happen,  perhaps  on  a 
parent's  birth-day,  or  at  the  festive  season  of  the  year, 
and  then  home  puts  forth  all  its  charms,  and  pours  out 
in  copious  streams  its  pure  and  precious  joys:  such  a 
circle  is  the  resort  of  peace  and  love,  where  friends  and 
dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss.  The  parents  look  with 
ineffable  delight  upon  their  children,  and  their  child- 
ren's children,  and  see  their  smiles  of  love  reflected 
from  the  faces  of  the  happy  group.  Piety  gives  the 
finishing  touch  to  the  picture,  when,  ere  they  part, 
they  assemble  round  the  domestic  altar,  and  after  read- 
ing in  that  Book  which  speaks  of  the  many  mansions 
in  our  Father's  house  above,  where  the  families  of  the 
righ' )ous  meet  to  part  no  more;  and  after  blending 
their  voices  in  a  sacred  song  of  praise  to  Him  who 
hath  united  them,  both  by  ties  of  nature  and  of 
grace;  they  receive  the  benedictions,  and  join  in  the 
prayers  of  their  saintly  and  patriarchal  father,  who 
over  the  scene  that  surrounds  him  feels  a  divided  heart, 
one  moment  thinking  he  has  lived  long  enough  in 
that  he  has  been  permitted  to  witness  it,  hut  the  next 
breathing  an  aspiration  to  heaven  for  permission  to 
witness  it  a  few  years  longer. 

This  scene,  and  it  is  not  an  uncommon  one,  is  one 
of  the  purest  to  be  found  on  earth.  It  is,  as  nearly  as 
it  can  be,  paradise  restored ;  or  if  it  be,  as  it  certainly 
is,  still  without  the  gates  of  Eden,  it  is  near  enough  to 
the  sacred  enclosure  to  receive  some  of  the  fruits  which 
drop  over  the  wall.  What  is  wanting  here  ?  I  answer, 
Continuance.  It  is  bliss  only  for  a  season.  It  is  a  day 
that  will  be  followed  with  a  night.  And  the  heart  was 
often  checked  in  the  full  tide  of  enjoyment,  in  the  very 
meridian  of  its  delights,  by  looking  at  the  clock,  and 
counting  how  rapidly  the.  hours  of  felicity  were  rolling 
away,  and  how  soon  the  signal  of  parting  would  be 
struck.  But  the  meeting  in  heaven  shall  be  eternal. 
The  family  shall  go  no  more  out  for  ever  from  the 
mansion  of  their  Father  above.  Their  interview  shall 
not  be  measured  nor  limited  by  time.  They  shall 
meet  for  one  day,  but  then  that  day  will  be  everlasting, 
for  "  there  is  no  night  there."  They  shall  spend  eter- 
nal ages  together.  Neither  the  fear  nor  the  thought  of 
parting  shall  ever  pass  like  a  cloud  over  the  orb  of 
their  felicity,  nor  let  fall  a  passing  shadow  to  disturb 
the  sunshine  of  their  breast.  "  We  are  met,"  shall 
they  say  one  to  another,  "and  we  shall  part  no  more. 
Around  us  is  glory,  within  us  is  rapture,  before  us  is 
eternity." 

Then  add  to  this,  ihe  happy  circumstances  under  which 
they  meet,  and  in  which  they  will  dwell  together  for 
ever. 

They  will  meet  as  spirits  of  just  men  marie  perfect. 
The  best  regulated  families  on  earth  will  sometimes 
experience  little  interruptions  of  their  domestic  enjoy- 
ment. We  all  have  some  imperfection  or  other,  some  in- 
firmity of  temper,  or  some  impropriety  of  manner,  from 
which,  through  want  of  caution  on  one  part,  or  want 
of  forbearance  on  the  other,  occasional  discords  will  be 
heard  to  disturb  the  harmony  of  the  whole.  We  see 
that  others  are  not  altogether  perfect,  and  we  feel  that 
we  are  not  so.  We  lament  the  failings  of  the  rest,  and 
still  more  lament  our  own.  This  prevents  perfect  do- 
mestic bliss;  but  in  heaven  we  shall  all  be  perfect. 
We  shall  see  nothing  in  others  to  censure;  feel  nothing 
in  ourselves  to  lament.  We  shall  have  all  that  venera- 
tion and  love  for  each  other  which  shall  arise  from  the 
mutual  perception  of  unsinning  holiness.  We  shall 
mutually  see  reflected  the  image  of  God  from  our  cha- 
racter. There  will  be  every  thing  lovely  to  attract  es- 
teem, and  the  most  perfect  love  to  show  it.   Every  one 


will  possess  the  virtue  which  is  loved,  and  the  compla- 
cency by  which  it  is  beloved.  Every  one,  conscious 
ofunmingled  purity  within,  approves  and  loves  him- 
self for  that  divine  image,  which-,  in  complete  perfec- 
tion, and  with  untarnished  resemblance,  is  stamped 
upon  his  character.  Each,  in  every  view  which  he 
casts  around  him,  beholds  the  same  glory  shining  and 
brightening  in  the  circle  of  his  parents,  his  brothers, 
and  his  sisters.  Out  of  this  character  grows  a  series 
ever  varying,  ever  improving,  of  all  the  possible  com- 
munications of  beneficence,  fitted  in  every  instance 
only  to  interchange  and  increase  the  happiness  of  all. 
In  the  sunshine  of  infinite  complacency,  the  light  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  the  original  source  of  all  their  own 
beauty,  life,  and  joy,  this  happy  family  will  walk  for 
ever.* 

The  joy  of  that  meeting  will  arise  from  seeing  each 
other  in  the  possession  of  all  that  happiness  which  God 
hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  In  a  family 
where  genuine  affection  prevails,  the  happiness  of  one 
branch  is  the  happiness  of  the  rest;  and  each  has  his 
felicity  multiplied  by  as  many  limes  as  there  are  happy 
members  in  the  circle.  In  heaven,  where  love  is  per- 
fect, how  exquisite  will  he  the  bliss  of  each,  arising 
from  being  the  constant  witness  to  the  bliss  of  all: 
where  the  parents  will  see  the  children  basking  in  the 
sunshine  of  divine  love  :  receiving  the  warmest  ex- 
pressions of  the  favor  of  Christ;  shining  in  the  beau- 
ties of  unsullied  holiness;  and  bounding  in  the  fields 
of  uncreated  light;  and  where  the  children  shall  see 
the  parents,  and  each  other,  in  the  same  happy  cir- 
cumstances; where  each  shall  see  all  the  rest  in  the 
full  possession  of  the  inheritance,  incorruptible,  unde- 
filed,  and  that  fadeth  not  away  ;  the  exceeding  great 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

How  amidst  all  this  unrevealed  and  inconceivable 
splendor  will  the  joy  be  increased  by  a  recollection 
and  enumeration  of  the  benefits  conferred  by  one  party, 
and  the  obligations  incurred  by  the  other.  What  must 
be  the  delight  of  parents  in  thus  seeing  the  fruit  of 
their  prayers,  instructions,  and  anxieties  constantly  be- 
fore their  eyes,  in  the  honor  and  felicity  of  their  glori- 
fied children.  How  happy  and  grateful  will  they  feel 
that  their  solicitude  on  earth  was  chiefly  exercised  in 
reference  to  the  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare  ol  their 
offspring,  and  not  wasted  upon  trifles  which  had  no 
connection  with  piety  or  immortality. 

With  what  thrilling  emotions  of  delight  will  they 
hear  these  children  escribing  all  their  salvation,  so  far 
as  instruments  are  concerned,  to  them;  and  giving  a 
high  place  in  their  anthems  of  praise  to  the  names  of 
their  father  and  mother.  While  on  the  other  hand, 
it  will  raise  the  felicity  of  the  children  to  the  highest 
pitch,  to  see  those  parents  near  them,  to  whom  they 
owe,  under  God,  their  possession  of  heaven.  With 
what  mutual  interest  will  both  parties  retrace  the 
winding  ways  of  Providence  which  led  to  such  a  ter- 
mination of  the  journey  of  life.  How  will  they  pause 
and  wonder  at  those  mysterious  links,  now  invisible, 
but  then  plainly  seen,  which  connected  the  events  of 
their  history,  and  united  them  into  one  perfect  whole. 
Especially,  with  what  intense  excitement  will  they 
mark  each  effort  of  parental  anxiety  for  the  salvation 
of  the  children,  and  see  the  individual  and  collective 
results  of  all.  The  revolutions  of  empires,  the  fate  of 
armies,  will  then  have  less  to  engage  and  charm  the 
attention,  than  the  influence  of  any  one  piece  of  ad- 
vice which  was  delivered  on  earth,  and  which  had  the 
smallest  influence  in  impressing  the  heart,  awakening 
the  conscience,  converting  the  soul,  or  forming  the 
character. 

What  felicity  will  arise  from  the  sublime  converse 
and  employment  of  such  a  slate.  Conceive  of  a  fa- 
mily even  on  earth,  whereof  all  the  numerous  branches 

*  See  Dwight's  Sermon  on  Brotherly  Love. 


CHRISTIAN    FATHER'S    PRESENT. 


79 


of  which  it  is  composer!,  each  one  for  dignity  was  a 
prince,  for  science  a  philosopher,  for  affection  a  bro- 
ther, for  purity  a  saint,  for  meekness  a  child,  all  meet- 
ing in  sublime  and  affectionate  discourse ;  ail  employed 

in  exploring  together  the  secrets  of  nature,  and  tracing 
the  streams  of  knowledge;  blending,  as  they  proceed- 
ed, the  ardor  of  love  with  the  light  of  truth.  But  this, 
what  is  it,  to  the  heavenly  stale,  where,  with  minds  in- 
conceivably more  capacious  than  that  of  Newton's, 
qrhen  he  weighed  the  gravity  and  measured  the  di<- 
rnnce  of  the  stars;  with  hearts  perfect  in  holiness,  and 
ages  endless  as  eternity,  we  shall  converse  on  all  the 
highest  themes  which  the  universe  can  supply.  Think 
of  studying  together  the  laws  of  creation,  the  history  of 
all  God's  providential  dealings  with  mankind,  the  won- 
derful scheme  of  human  redemption,  the  character  of 
the  great  Jehovah,  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  with  all 
that  stands  connected  with  the  whole  range  of  univer- 
sal being,  and  the  manifestation  of  the  First  Cause. 
What  a  view  does  it  give  us  of  the  felicity  of  heaven, 
to  think  of  parents  and  children  engaged  with  mil- 
lions all  around  them,  in  sounding  the  depth  of  that 
ocean  of  eternal  truth,  which  is  as  clear  as  it  is  deep; 
and  eternally  employed  in  acts  of  worship,  exercises 
of  benevolence,  and  other  pleasurable  pursuits,  now 
unknown,  because  unrevealed;  and  perhaps  unre- 
vealed,  because  not  comprehensible  by  our  present 
limited  faculties. 

But,  after  all,  my  dear  children,  I  seem  as  if  I  were 
guilty  of  presumption,  in  thus  attempting  to  describe 
that  which  is  quite  inconceivable.  It  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear what  we  shall  be.  We  now  see  through  a  glass 
darkly.  The  Scriptures  tell  us  much  of  the  heavenly 
state;  but  they  leave  much  untold.  They  give  us 
enough  to  employ  mr  faith,  raise  our  most  lively 
hopes,  and  produce  a  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of 
giory  ;  but  they  offer  nothing  to  satisfy  our  curiosity. 
They  bring  before  us  a  dim  transparency,  on  the  other 
side  of  which  the  images  of  an  obscure  magnificence 
dazzle  indistinctly  upon  the  eye;  and  tell  us,  that  in 
the  economy  of  redemption,  and  the  provisions  of  im- 
mortality, there  is  a  grandeur  commensurate  to  all 
that  is  known  of  the  other  works  and  purposes  of  the 
Eternal.  They  offer  us  no  details;  and  man,  who 
ought  not  to  attempt  a  wisdom  above  that  which  is 
written,  should  be  cautious  how  he  puts  forth  his  hand 
to  the  drapery  of  the  impenetrable  curtain,  which 
God,  in  his  mysterious  wisdom,  has  spread  over  that 
region,  of  which  it  is  but  a  very  small  portion  that  can 
be  known  to  us. 

In  this  state,  amidst  all  this  glory,  honor,  and  felicity, 
it  is  my  sincere  desire,  my  ardent  prayer,  my  constant 
endeavor,  my  supreme  pursuit,  that  your  journey,  my 
dear  children,  and  my  own,  should  terminate.  Every 
thing  else  appears,  in  comparison  of  this,  as  nothing. 
In  the  view  of  this,  thrones  lose  their  elevation,  crowns 
their  splendor,  riches  their  value,  and  fame  its  glory  ; 
hefore  the  elFuljtenee  and  magnitude  of  celestial  ob- 
jects, their  grandeur  dwindles  to  an  invisible  point, 
and  their  brightness  is  but  as  the  shadow  of  death. 
Did  we  not  know  the  depravity  of  our  nature,  and 
that  the  natural  man  knoweth  not  these  things,  because 
they  are  spiritually  discerned,  we  must  indeed  wonder, 
and  inquire  what  bewildering  influence  it  is,  that  is 
exerted  upon  the  human  mind,  by  which  its  attention 
is  so  fatally  diverted  from  things  unseen  and  eternal, 
to  the  shadowy  and  evanescent  form  of  things  seen  and 


temporal.  It  is  only  on  this  ground  that  we  can  ac- 
count for  the  folly,  the  madness,  of  neglecting  lht» 
great  salvation,  and  seeking  any  thing  in  preference 
to  eternal  glory.  Dreadful  madness!  which,  though 
it  indulges  in  the  miscalculations  of  insanity,  has  none 
of  its  excuses.  What  but  this  moral  insanity  could 
lead  men  for  any  object  upon  earth,  to  neglect  the  put  • 
suit,  and  resign  the  hope  of  eternal  life? 

My  children  !  my  children  !  whom  I  love  with  an 
affedtion  which  can  be  equalled  only  by  that  solicitude 
for  your  welfare  to  which  it  has  given  rise,  and  which 
never  sleeps  nor  rests,  receive  my  admonition,  and 
make  eternal  happiness  the  end  of  your  existence. 
Look  at  that  heaven,  which,  though  but  partially  re- 
vealed, is  revealed  with  such  pnre  brightness  on  the 
page  of  eternal  truth,  "  on  the  description  of  which,  so 
to  speak,  the  Holy  Ghost  employs  and  exhausts  the 
whole  force  and  splendor  of  inspiration;"  look  at  it, 
that  state  of  inconceivable,  infinite  eternal  honor  and 
bliss,  and  is  there  aught  on  earth,  aught  of  pleasure  or 
of  gain,  for  which  you  will  deliberately  resign  that 
crown  of  unfading  glory  ? 

I  am  anxious,  as  I  have  already  informed  you,  that 
you  may  live  in  comfort  and  respectability  on  earth. 
I  would  have  your  mind  cultivated  by  learning  and 
science;  your  manners  polished  by  complaisance.- 
your  industry  crowned  with  success:  in  short,  I  should 
be  thankful  to  see  you  living  in  comfort,  respected  and 
respectable  :  but  above  every  thing  else,  I  pray,  I  de- 
sire, I  long  that  you  may  partake  of  that  "  faith,  with- 
out which  it  is  impossible  to  please  God  ;"  and  that 
"  holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.'' 
I  have  fixed  my  aim  for  you  high  as  heaven;  and 
covet  for  you  everlasting  life.  I  love  your  society  on 
earth,  and  wish  to  enjoy  it  through  eternity  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God.  I  hope  I  am  travelling  to  that  goodly 
land,  of  which  God  hath  said,  he  will  give  it  to  us  for 
an  inheritance,  and  I  want  you  to  accompany  me 
thither.  Reduce  me  not  to  the  mere  consolation  of 
David,  who  said,  Although  my  house  be  not  so  with 
God,  yet  hath  he  made  with  me  an  everlasting  cove- 
nant, which  is  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure.  Rather 
let  me  have  to  say  with  Joshua,  "  As  for  me,  and  my 
house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord." 

May  .t  be  granted  me  to  see  you  choosing  the  way 
of  wisdom  and  piety,  and  remembering  your  Creator 
in  the  days  of  your  youth:  giving  to  all  your  virtues 
that  stability  and  beauty  which  can  be  derived  only 
from  religion  ;  first  receiving  by  faith,  and  then  adorn? 
ing  by  holiness,  the  doctrine  of  God  your  Saviour. — 
Then  will  my  highest  ambition,  as  a  parent,  be  gratifi- 
ed, my  most  painful  solicitude  relieved.  I  shall  watch 
your  progress  amidst  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  with  a 
calm  and  tranquil  mind,  assured  that  your  piety  will 
be  your  protector  amidst  the  dangers  of  prosperity  ;  or 
your  comforter  amidst  the  ills  of  adversity.  If  called 
to  follow  your  bier,  and  weep  upon  your  sepulchre,  I 
shall  only  consider  you  as  sent  forward  on  the  road  to 
await  my  arrival  at  your  Father's  house  ;  or  if  called, 
according  to  the  order  of  nature,  to  go  down  first  into 
the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  shall  find  the 
agonies  of  separation  assuaged,  and  the  gloom  of  the 
dying  chamber  irradiated  by  those  bright  visions  of 
glory,  which  connect  themselves  with  the  prospect 
of  the  meeting  of  a  pious  family  in,  the  heavenly 
world. 


CONTENTS. 


An  Address  to  Christian  Parents,    3 

CHAPTER  I. 

On  the  Anxiety  of  a  Christian  Parent  for  the  Spi- 
ritual Welfare  of  his  Children, 8 

CHAPTER  II. 

On  the  Dispositions  with  which  we  should  enter 
upon  an  Inquiry  into  the  Nature  of  Religion, . .       9 

CHAPTER  III. 
On  Right  Sentiments  in  Religion,    11 

CHAPTER  IV 

On  the  Nature  of  True  Religion 14 

CHAPTER  V. 

On  the  Advantages  and  Responsibility  of  a  Pious 
Education,    17 

CHAPTER  VI. 

On  the  most  Prevailing  Obstacles  which  prevent 
Young  People  from  entering  on  a  Religous 
Life, 19 

CHAPTER  VII. 
On  the  Deceitfulness  of  the  Heart,  21 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

On  Transient  Devotions, 23 

CHAPTER  IX. 

On  Decision  of  Character  in  Religion,    26 

CHAPTER  X. 

On  the  Pleasures  of  a  Religious  Life, 29 

CHAPTER  XI. 

On  the  Advantages  of  Early  Piety, 34 

CHAPTER  XII. 

On  the  Influence  of  Religion  upon  the  Temporal 
Interests  of  its  Possessor, 37 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
On  the  Choice  of  Companions,    40 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
On  Books,  42 

CHAPTER  XV. 
On  Amusements  and  Recreations, 45 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

On  Theatrical  Amusements, 48 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

On  the  Period  which  elapses  between  the  time  of 
leaving  School,  and  the  Age  of  Manhood, ....     50 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

On  Public  Spirit,   52 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

On  Female  Accomplishments,  Virtues,  and  Pur- 
suits,       54 

CHAPTER  XX. 
On  Modesty,  Prudence,  and  Courtesy, 60 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
On  Redeeming  Time,    63 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

On  the  Obligation  to  enter  into  Fellowship  with 
a  Christian  Church,    66 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

On  the  Choice  of  a  Companion  for  Life,     69 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

On  keeping  in  View  the  Great  End  of  Life, 71 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

On  the  Meeting  of  a  Pious  Family  ia  Heaven,  . .     76 


THE 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


SYSTEM    OF    DOCTRINAL 


PRACTICAL    CHRISTIANITY. 


Br 


REV.    HENRY   VENN,    A.   M 


PREFACE 


Cs*a%g  to  Cinst  as  unto  a  living  stone,  disallowed 
.*.c*!i<l  of  men,  hut  chosen  of  God,  and  precious  ; 
Ye  also,  as  lively  Hones,  are  built  up  a  spiritual 
house,  an  holy  priestrwod,  to  offer  up  spiritual  sacri- 
fices, acceptable  to  Goa  by  Jesus  Christ. — 1  Pet. 
ii  4,  5. 

Whatever  disputes  may  have  been  raised  concern- 
ing the  nature  of  saving  faith,  it  is  allowed  on  all 
hands  to  be  one  of  the  most  important  Christian 
virtues,  and  essential  to  the  character  of  a  Chris- 
tian. 

I  am  ready  to  profess,  that  in  conformity  with  the 
great  lights  of  the  primitive  church,  of  our  own 
church,  and  all  the  protestant  ones,  at  the  reforma- 
tion, and  long  after,*  I  understand  by  it  "  a  depend- 
ence upon  the  righteousness  and  death  of  Christ, 
as  a  full  satisfaction  to  the  justice  of  God  for  the 
sin  of  the  world,  in  the  breach  of  his  law ;  and  the 
sole  ground  of  our  acceptance  to  the  reward  of 
eternal  life."  And  if  any  explanation  of  this  point, 
now  so  very  offensive  to  many,  should  be  demand- 
ed, the  following  is  humbly  submitted  to  considera- 
tion. 

Sin  is  the  transgression  of  the  law  of  the  most 
high  God  :  which  law,  the  moment  it  is  broken, 
subjects  us  to  its  penalty.  Of  this  the  punishment 
of  the  first  sin  committed  by  the  first  man  is  a  most 
memorable  instance,  and  stands  in  the  front  of  the 
Bible  as  a  perpetual  and  most  important  lesson  of 
instruction  to  mankind,  in  a  point  of  which  they 
would  otherwise  have  been  ignorant:  and  which, 
notwithstanding  the  solemn  manner  in  which  it  is 
related,  many  are  very  apt  to  overlook.  This  fact 
ought  to  be  particularly  remarked,  as  designed  to 
give  us  a  clear  insight  into  the  nature  of  God,  and 
the  nature  of  sin  ;  and  as  being  the  key  to  all  the 
subsequent  discoveries  of  Scripture.  For  if  the  sin 
of  eating  the  forbidden  fruit  cannot  be  pardoned, 
though  its  punishment  was  so  fatal  in  its  conse- 
quences, and  involved  in  them  the  whole  race  of 
Adam,  it  may  fairly  be  presumed  that  sin  must  in 
all  cases  wear  the  same  appearance  in  the  eyes  of 
an  unchangeable  God.  "  He  is  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day  and  for  ever:"  every  sin  therefore,  as  an  act 
of  disobedience  and  rebellion  against  him,  must  be 
the  object  of  his  displeasure  at  all  times,  and  will 
for  ever  separate  from  Jiim  every  soul  of  man,  in 
whom  it  is  found  unpardoned. 

If  you  are  unwilling  to  admit  this  account  of  the 
nature  of  sin,  and  of  the  nature  of  God,  as  being  con- 
trary lo  the  idea  you  have  framed  of  him.  and  dero- 
gatory as  you  suppose  to  his  perfections,  it  is  then  in- 
cumbent on  you  to  prove,  in  what  age  or  period  of 
the  wor'd,  under  what  dispensation,  or  new  discove- 
ry of  the  will  of  God,  and  in  what  part  of  Scripture 
you  find  it  recorded,  that  God  has  revoked  the  de- 
cree against  sin,  and  made  a  change  in  the  law  given 
to  man  at  his  creation,  of  life  upon  obedience,  and 
death  in  case  of  transgression.  The  Scripture,  on  the 
contrary,  in  perfect  harmony  with  itself,  acquaints 
US,  that  at  the  second  promulgation  of  the  law,  God 
appeared  in  the  same  majesty  and  holiness,  and 
with  the  same  denunciation  of  wrath  against  sin- 

*  See  the  Confessions  of  Faith  of  all  the  Reform- 
ed Churches. 


ners,  as  he  did  at  the  beginnins  ;  "  Cursed  is  every 
one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are 
written  in  the  book  of  the  law,  to  do  them."  On 
which,  let  it  be  observed,  that  as  more  than  temporal 
death  was  necessarily  implied  in  the  threatening 
and  curse  to  the  Jews  ;  because  that  was  unavoida- 
bly the  doom  of  all  mankind,  whether  they  obeyed 
or  not ;  so  it  naturally  suggests  to  us,  that  the  first 
threatening,  "  In  the  day  thou  eatest  thereof  thou 
shalt  surely  die,"  was  of  the  same  extent  with  the 
second,  and  its  meaning  precisely  determined  by  it. 
In  this  second  sentence,  then,  there  is  no  relaxation 
of  the  first;  no  contrary  declaration  concerning 
the  case  of  offenders,  nor  the  least  intimation  of 
any  change  in  the  will  of  God  with  respect  to  sin. 
Indeed  it  would  be  strange  if  there  should  be  any; 
such  a  variation  or  inconsistency  in  the  character 
of  God  as  given  by  himself,  would  be  an  argument 
of  much  greater  force  against  the  truth  of  the  Bible 
than  any  yet  alleged.  The  fact  then  is  certain  : 
"  The  wages  of  sin  is  death,"  and  always  will  be 
so  while  God  continues  the  same.  What  he  pub- 
lished and  declared  at  the  giving  of  his  first  uni- 
versal covenant  to  all  mankind,  in  the  person  of 
Adam,  he  renewed  and  confirmed  by  the  delivery 
of  the  law  to  Moses,  which,  as  St.  Paul  observes, 
"  was  added,  because  of  transgressions,  (Gal.  iii. 
19,)  that  the  desert  of  them  might  be  known,  and 
"  That  the  offence  might  abound"  (Rom.  v.  20,)  in 
its  penalty  and  curse  unto  death,  now  once  more 
solemnly  awarded  against  every  offender  and  every 
offence. 

These  two  grand  manifestations  of  the  nature 
and  will  of  God,  of  the  odiousness  and  great  evil  of 
sin,  and  jf  the  manner  in  which  it  is  to  be  treated, 
are  further  exemplified  in  the  judgments  upon  sin- 
ners recorded  in  Scripture.  Very  striking  and  aw- 
ful indeed  they  are;  and  here  we  must  rest  the 
point  for  ever,  unless  we  would  take  upon  us,  as  too 
many  with  horrid  presumption  do,  to  estimate  the 
guilt  of  sin  from  our  own  false  notions  of  it ;  to 
prescribe  a  law  to  God,  to  divest  him  of  his  sove- 
reignty, to  cavil  at  his  wisdom,  and  to  dethrone  his 
justice. 

But  let  the  reason  of  man,  short  as  it  is,  be  judge 
in  the  cause.  The  decree  is  gone  out  from  the 
Almighty,  and  stands  unrepealed  in  the  revelation 
he  has  made  of  himself;  "  Cursed  is  every  one  that 
continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in  the  book  of 
the  law,  to  do  them."  Suppose  now  for  a  moment 
we  are  at  liberty  to  call  this  decree  in  question,  or 
to  tamper  with  the  threatening,  by  taking  allowance 
for  one  sin.  What  is  that  sin  1  And  if  for  one, 
why  not  for  two  or  more  :  and  where  will  yon  sto.pl 
If  once  you  take  the  right  of  judging  out  of  God's 
hands,  there  will  be  no  end  for  pleading  for  trans- 
gression, no  dread  of  it,  no  sense  of  good  and  evil, 
no  submission  to  God's  rule  and  authority,  no  obe- 
dience upon  earth.  The  conclusion  is  evident ;  if 
all  have  sinned,  all  stand  condemned  by  the  sen- 
tence of  a  just  God. 

The  expediency  of  the  remedial  covenant,  of  gos- 
pel erace,  in  which  mercy  and  truth  meet  together, 
righteousness  and  peace  kiss  each  other,  and  God 
is  both  just  and  the  justifier  of  him  that  believeth 
in  Jesus,  is  here  apparent :  anc*  the  nepessitw  <>f  de- 
pendence upon  tin   righteousness   and   death  »r 


PREFACE 


Christ,  is  demonstrated  from  the  preceding  account 
of  God's  unalterable  justice,  and  of  the  guilt  of  sin 
being  the  same  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  One  thing 
is  needful :  we  must  be  declared  free  from  guilt, 
and  invested  with  a  righteousness  which  shall  stand 
before  the  law  of  sinless  perfection,  and  entitle  us 
to  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And  if  we  have  it  not 
in  ourselves,  where  must  we  look  for  it,  but  as  ex- 
isting in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  Dependence 
therefore  upon  that  righteousness,  as  wrought  out 
by  him  for  believers,  and  appointed  of  God  for  sin- 
ners to  trust  in,  is  the  precious  faith  of  the  gospel 
by  which  the  soul  is  justified  before  God.  As  no 
other  will  reconcile  the  divine  attributes,  or  answer 
the  exigencies  of  mankind,  concluded  under  sin, 
and  always  sinners ;  so  nothing  else  must  be  the 
ground  of  our  hope  towards  God. 

Not  works.  Alas !  We  have  none — None  that 
will  bear  to  be  weighed  in  God's  balance,  or  answer 
the  demands  of  his  justice.  Look  at  what  you 
think  the  best  action  of  your  life,  or  the  most  excel- 
lent grace  of  your  soul ;  bring  it  to  the  touch-stone ; 
examine  it  by  the  straight  rule  of  the  command- 
ments, considered  in  their  whole  spiritual  extent, 
and  as  reaching  the  heart  and  all  its  motions.  In 
the  matter  or  manner,  principle  or  end,  be  assured 
you  will  find  some  grievous  flaw,  and  condemna- 
tion instead  of  reward  will  be  your  desert.  Let  the 
judicious  and  pious  Hooker  be  heard  on  this  head. 
"  If  God  (says  he)  should  make  us  an  offer  thus 
large;  search  all  the  generations  of  men,  since  the 
fall  of  our  first  father  Adam  ;  find  one  man  which 
hath  done  one  action,  which  hath  passed  from  him 
pure,  without  any  stain  or  blemish  at  all;  and  for 
that  one  man's  only  action,  neither  man  nor  angel 
shall  feel  the  torments  prepared  for  both  :  do  you 
think  that  this  ransom  to  deliver  men  and  angels 
could  be  found  to  be  among  the  sons  of  men  1"» 

Not  sincerity.  This  has  lately  been  adopted  into 
our  divinity,  as  if  it  were  the  gracious  condition 
of  the  new  covenant,  in  opposition  to  the  law  of 
perfect  obedience.  But  it  is  no  where  mentioned 
as  such  in  Scripture.  So  remarkable  a  variation, 
in  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance,  from  other 
revelations  which  God  had  made  of  hirself,  and 
of  the  terms  of  our  acceptance  with  him,  had  need 
be  very  distinctly  and  expressly  pointed  out;  and 
yet,  when  the  proofs  of  it  are  called  for,  none  are 
produced.  It  is  indeed  altogether  a  claim  of  human 
invention,  and  as  it  acknowledges  defect  of  obedi- 
ence, and  therefore  an  absolute  forfeiture,  it  deli- 
vers us  up  to  justice,  so  long  as  the  law  of  strict 
conformity  to  every  command  of  God  stands  in  full 
force  against  us.  And  let  the  reader  determine, 
after  what  has  been  said,  whether  that  law  was  not 
designed  to  be  the  perpetual  standard  of  the  only 
obedience  God  will  accept  from  man,  or  if  not,  how, 
or  when  it  was  abrogated. 

Not  faith  and  works,  considered  as  co-operating  to 
our  justification,  and  both  together  making  a  claim 
of  acceptance ;  for  works,  which  are  confessed  to 
have  the  nature  of  sin,  by  those  who  call  in  the  aid 
of  faith  to  supply  their  imperfection,  cannot  be  ad- 
mitted to  any  share  in  our  justification,  and  must 
be  excluded  from  the  idea  of  it,  because  the  matter 
turns  entirely  upon  another  point,  and  the  great 
difficulty  is  still  to  be  removed.  Justice  must  be 
satisfied,  the  law  must  be  fulfilled  ;  with  all  our 
duties  sin  is  found  mixed ;  and  unless  it  could  be 
supposed  that  the  new  covenant  is  a  relaxation  of 
every  preceding  one,  in  respect  of  God's  judgment 
of  sin ;  and  that  now  in  this  last  age  of  the  world 
he  has  exhibited  himself  as  acling  under  a  dispens- 
ing power,  and  discharging  sin  of  its  guilt,  our  case 
is  left  desperate. 


*  Discourse  on  justification. 


But  this  is  a  dangerous  expedient,  unwarranted 
by  reason  or  Scripture ;  and  we  therefore  believe, 
that  "  being  justified  by  faith  we  have  peace  with 
God  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  :"  and  that  the 
whole  of  what  will  be  accounted  our  deliverance 
from  the  curse  of  the  law,  is  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  satisfying  the  divine  justice  by  his  obedience 
unto  death,  and,  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his 
grace,  imputed  to  sinners  for  salvation.  This  is 
the  anchor  of  the  soul,  sure  and  steadfast ;  our  full 
security  against  all  fears,  our  first  and  only  justifi- 
cation. 

The  notion  of  a  first  and  second  justification  is 
the  offspring  of  pride  opposing  the  truth  of  God. 
They  who  adopt  it  consider  not  the  justice  of  God 
as  still  existing  in  all  its  rigor,  and  substitute  instead 
of  perfection  what  falls  infinitely  short  of  it.  But 
the  nature  of  God  and  the  nature  of  sin  remain  al- 
ways the  same;  consequently  we  are  as  much  un- 
done as  ever,  if  gospel  mercy  extends  no  farther 
than  to  the  first  benefit  of  remission  of  sins, 
when  we  are  admitted  into  the  Christian  covenant. 
Faith  is  not  to  be  dropped  after  the  beginning  of 
conversion,  as  a  thing  of  no  further  use.  "  The 
just  shall  live  by  faith  ;"  its  utility  is  to  be  expe- 
rienced not  once,  but  always ;  in  every  step  of  our 
progress,  at  the  hour  of  death,  and  at  the  day  of 
judgment ;  in  hope,  comfort,  obedience  here,  and 
in  heaven  for  ever. 

It  is  not  meant  that  faith  has  any  such  effect,  or 
justifies  merely  as  a  work  or  righteousness  of  our 
own.  No,  it  consists  in  the  denial  of  the  merit  of 
all  works,  qualifications  or  habits  as  inherent  in 
man;  and  the  essence  of  it  is  an  unfeigned  humble 
submission  to  the  righteousness  of  God,  as  account- 
ed or  given  to  us,  and  that  not  of  debt  but  of  grace. 
This  may  furnish  an  answer  to  those  who  ask,  Why 
may  not  imperfect  works  justify  as  well  as  imper- 
fect faith  1  taking  it  for  granted  that  one  can  be  no 
more  perfect  than  the  other.  The  reason  is,  that 
the  indispensable  condition  of  justification  by  works, 
is  their  perfection  ;  consequently  a  claim  founded 
on  them  must  either  be  made  good  by  an  obedience 
entirely  sinless,  or  the  hope  of  salvation  be  wholly 
relinquished.  Whereas  faith,  though  it  may  bo 
weak  and  imperfect,  instead  of  exalting  itself 
against  the  justice  of  God,  and  standing  before  him 
in  the.  confidence  of  a  lie,  puts  all  from  itself,  and 
ascribes  to  God  the  whole  glory  of  our  salvation. 

We  shall  close  this  little  argument  with  observ- 
ing, that  faith  is  not  understood,  much  less  possess- 
ed, if  it  is  not  productive  of  more  holiness,  and 
more  gracious  affections,  than  could  possibly  be 
attained  in  any  other  way.  The  charge  of  va- 
cating the  law  as  a  rule  of  life  followed  close  upon 
the  first  preaching  of  salvation  by  faith,  and  a  base 
suspicion  of  its  being  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of 
virtue,  is  hardly  ever  to  be  rooted  out  of  the  minds 
of  men,  till  they  experience  the  power  of  faith 
themselves.  But  this  can  have  no  weight  with 
those  who  remember  the  authoritative  decision  of 
Christ  himself  in  this  point  upon  a  remarkable  oc- 
casion, in  opposition  to  the  secret  conceit  of  a  proud 
Pharisee:  "  to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same 
loveth  little."  Luke  vii.  2.  It  is  acknowledged,  it 
is  strenuously  maintained,  tha^  the  heart  of  man  is 
exceedingly  depraved,  and  our  affections  corrupted 
to  the  very  root :  but  you  charge  the  nature  of  man 
with  greater  depravity  than  you  are  aware  of,  when 
you  suppose  the  superabundant  love  of  God,  mani- 
fested in  the  plan  of  redemption,  and  especially  in. 
the  wonderful  manner  of  its  accomplishment,  can 
kindle  no  love,  and  excite  no  gratitude.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  gospel  grace,  to 
humble  every  believer  in  the  dust,  and  to  fill  him 
with  the  most  dreadful  apprehensions  of  sin,  in 
order  to  raise  him  from  his  dead  state,  and  to  csta- 


PREFACE. 


D'.ish  him  in  obedience  from  love  to  God,  from  holy 
a  (miration  of  his  perfections,  and  from  an  earnest 
desire  to  he  partaker  of  his  blessedness.  And  if 
the  gospel  is  not  effectual  to  this  end  in  the  Spirit's 
hands,  therein  displayed  and  secured  to  every  sin- 
ner who  really  believes  the  gospel ;  if  the  love  of 
the  Holy  Trinity  does  not  touch  every  string  of  our 
hearts,  and  put  all  the  powers  of  our  souls  in  mo- 
tion to  make  some  suitable  returns  to  the  ever- 
blessed  God,  our  condition  is  indeed  hopeless.  We 
may  venture  to  affirm,  that  a  zeal  for  works  truly 
Christian  can  be  built  on  no  other  foundation  ;  and 
that  a  desire  to  perfect  holiness  will  never  have  a 
place  in  the  heart  of  man,  but  under  a  sense  of  re- 
deeming grace,  and  of  the  complete  salvation  that 
it  sets  before  us. 

It  is  therefore  greatly  to  be  lamented,  that  neglect 
of  this  doctrine  should  be  so  much  the  character- 
istic of  our  age ;  and  that  the  gospel-motive  to  obe- 
dience should  not  be  more  generally  inculcated  in 
a  Christian  country.  In  vain  do  we  hope  to  revive 
the  decayed  spirit  of  religion,  and  establish  a  pure 
morality  on  any  other  than  Scripture  grounds.  A 
spurious  kind  of  it,  outward,  partial,  founded  chiefly 
on  love  of  reputation,  with  little  regard  to  God, 
nature  itself  can  discern,  and  in  some  degree  attain. 
Poor  and  low  attainment !  Yet  this  is  what  we  are 
prone  to  substitute  in  the  place  of  inward  spiritual 
renovation,  to  which  nature  is  altogether  averse. — 
But  true  holiness,  which  consists  in  profound  self- 
abasement  and  subjection  to  the  God  and  Father 
of  our  spirits  in  love  of  nature  and  will,  in  heaven- 
ly-mindedness,  in  ardent  longings  after  purity  of 
heart,  is  the  genuine  product  of  a  lively  faith;  and 
I  say  again,  no  where  to  be  found,  till  the  ever- 
blessed  name  of  Jesus,  his  grace  and  truth,  his 
compassion,  dying  love,  and  all-perfect  obedience, 
are  the  meditation,  delight,  and  confidence  of  the 
soul. 

In  this  view,  and  with  these  sentiments  strong 
upon  his  mind,  the  author  has  endeavored  in  the 
following  treatise  to  delineate  The  Complete  Duty 
of  Man.  His  book  bears  this  title  not  from  any 
arrogant  conceit  he  holds  of  its  worth,  but  from  its 
comprehending  the  doctriiies  as  well  as  the  precepts 
of  the  gospel,  from  its  placing  things  in  their  proper 
order  and  preparing  the  way  to  Christian  practice 
by  Christian  faith,  and  to  faith  by  conviction  of  sin. 
The  attempt  may  appear  to  some  unnecessary,  as 
The  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  so  called,  has  long  been 
in  possession  of  general  esteem,  and  is  to  be  found 


in  almost  every  family.  But  it  is  evident  thit  tho 
great  thing  is  wanting  in  that  celebrated  treatise, 
towards  obtaining  the  end  for  which  it  was  written ; 
since  Christ  the  Lawgiver  will  always  speak  in 
vain  unless  Christ  the  Saviour  is  first  known. — 
Christian  morality  is  produced  and  maintained  by 
this  principle,  "  We  love  God,  because  he  first  lov- 
ed us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins:"  all  treatises  therefore  written  to  promote 
holiness  of  living  must  be  deplorably  defective,  in 
which  the  cross  of  Christ  is  not  laid  as  the  founda- 
tion, and  constantly  kept  in  view,  and  every  duty 
enforced  as  having  relation  to  the  Redeemer.  This 
is  the  apostolical  method  of  inculcating  Christian 
obedience  ;  and  all  other  obedience  is  pharisaical, 
a  mere  refined  species  of  self-righteousness. 

It  is  proper  to  apprise  the  reader  that  he  is  in- 
debted to  Mr.  Dickinson's  Letters  for  several  para- 
graphs in  the  chapter  on  the  difference  between 
true  and  false  repentance ;  and  to  Mr.  Maclanrin's 
Sermons  for  several  fine  sentiments  in  the  chapter 
On  the  foundation  of  faith.  In  a  few  other  places 
also  in  the  work,  where  a  masterly  argument,  or  a 
beautiful  illustration  of  the  subject  on  which  the 
author  was  treating,  occurred,  he  has  taken  the 
liberty  of  enriching  his  own  work  with  it. 

Nothing  further  is  necessary  to  be  added,  but  an 
earnest  request,  in  which  the  author  begs  every 
reader  would  join  with  him  to  the  Fountain  of  ail 
good,  that  it  would  please  Him  to  make  the  fol- 
lowing sheets  instrumental  in  giving  to  those  who 
peruse  them,  such  a  manifestation  of  the  glory  of 
God  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  as  shall 
make  sin  and  the  world,  with  their  bewitching 
charms,  appear  vain,  despicable,  odious — such  a 
conviction  of  human  ignorance,  guilt,  and  depravi- 
ty, as  may  infinitely  endear  the  name  of  a  Redeemer 
and  Sanctifier,  and  create  tender  compassion  and 
humbleness  of  mind  one  towards  another — such  a 
knowledge  of  the  pardon  and  peace,  the  strength 
and  power,  the  purity  and  holiness  which  ennoble 
and  bless  those  who  have  scriptural  faith  in  Christ, 
as  may  manifest  the  emptiness  of  deistical  and 
formal  religion,  and  excite  an  earnest  desire  to  be- 
hold the  meridian  glory  of  Christianity  in  the 
eternal  world:  where  every  creature  breaks  forth 
in  fervent  acknowledgment  of  infinite  obligation, 
saying,  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  si.ain  to 

RECEIVE  POWER,  AND  RICHES,  AND  WISDOM,  AND 
STRENGTH,     AND    HONOR,     AND    GLORY,    AND    BLESSING. 


COMPLETE  DUTY  OF  MAIN 


SUNDAY  I.— CHAP.  I. 

ON    THE   EXCELLENCY    OP    THE    SOUL. 

It  is  evident  that  man  is  endued  with  an  active 
principle  entirely  distinct  from  his  body.  For  whilst 
his  body  is  chained  down,  an  unconscious  mass  of 
matter,  to  a  spot  of  earth,  his  soul  can  soar  and  ex- 
patiate in  contemplation;  can  reflect,  and  with  va- 
riety almost  infinite,  can  compare  the  numberless 
objects  which  present  themselves  before  it.  When 
his  body  has  attained  maturity  and  perfect  strength, 
his  soul  arrives  to  a  state  of  perfection,  but  goes  on 
increasing  in  wisdom  and  knowledge;  and  when 
the  body  is  feeble  or  sinks  into  decay,  the  soul  is 
often  full  of  vigor;  or  feels  grief  and  anguish  all  its 
own. 

To  demonstrate  the  excellency  of  the  soul,  in  its 
properties  so  singular  and  admirable,  is  of  great  im- 
portance :  because  all  that  is  comprehended  under 
the  word  religion,  respects  the  soul.  And  many 
precepts  in  the  book  of  God  must  be  resisted  as  un- 
reasonable, or  slighted  as  unnecessary,  if  the  salva- 
tion of  the  soul  is  not  considered  as  the  greatest 
good  man  can  attain ;  the  ruin  of  it,  the  greatest  evil 
he  can  suffer. 

To  prove  the  worth  of  the  soul,  I  shall  make  my 
appeal  to  your  own  observations,  and  to  the  evidences 
of  holy  Scripture,  entirely  waiving  all  philosophical 
inquiries  into  its  nature,  and  all  abstract  reasoning 
concerning  it.* 

Observation  then  upon  what  passes  before  your  eyes 
powerfully  proves  the  worth  and  excellency  of  the 
soul.  For  what  is  the  case  of  thousands  around 
you.  if  it  has  not  already  been  your  own "?  Are 
they  not  mourning  over  some  tender  parent,  some 
affectionate  friend,  or  near  relation  1  One  week,  the 
dear  deceased  how  much  was  he  valued !  What  a 
sprightly  entertaining  companion,  in  the  prime  of 
life,  perhaps  of  personal  comeliness !  The  next,  ah ! 
sudden,  bitter,  prodigious  transformation  !  the  de- 
sirable object  is  become  a  putrid  mass:  the  desirable 
object  is  become  insufferably  loathsome,  fit  only  for 
the  grave  !  Do  you  ask,  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that 
what  was  lovely  to  admiration,  only  a  week  or  a 
day  before,  should  so  soon  be  even  hideous  to  look 
on  ?  The  answer  loudly  proclaims  the  dignity  and 
excellency  of  the  soul.  For  could  the  dead  parent, 
friend,  or  relation,  hold  discourse  with  you  on  the 
subject,  his  answer  would  be  to  this  effect :  "  Are  you 
seized  with  afflicting  surprise  1  Do  you,  with  tears 
of  tenderness,  bewail  the  frightful  change  you  see, 
in  a  form  long  so  familiar  and  so  pleasing  to  youl 
The  cause  is  this — The  immortal  inhabitant,  which 
for  a  few  years  lodged  under  this  roof  of  flesh,  hath 

*  Let  not  this  be  thought  to  proceed  from  any  ig- 
norant contempt  of  philosophical  inquiries,  when 
confined  to  their  proper  sphere ;  since  this  is  the  de- 
termination of  one  of  the  greatest  philosophers  in 
whom  our  nation  glories 

"  All  our  inquiries  about  the  nature  of  the  soul 
(says  Lord  Bacon)  must  be  bound  over  at  last  to  re- 
ligion, for  otherwise  they  still  lie  open  to  many  er- 
rors. For  seeing  the  substance  of  the  soul  was  not 
deduced  from  the  mass  of  heaven  and  earth,  but  im- 
mediately from  God,  how  can  the  knowledge  of  the 
reasonable  soul  be  derived  from  philosophy  !  It 
must  be  drawn  from  the  same  inspiration  from 
whence  the  substance  thereof  first  flowed." — Ad~ 
vancement  of  Learning,  Book  iv.  Chap.  3. 


removed  its  abode.  My  «aul  by  its  presence  gave 
to  my  body  all  its  motion,  life  and  beauty.  The  in- 
stant the  one  took  its  destined  flight,  the  other  began 
to  turn  into  an  offensive  carcase,  which  must  moul- 
der into  dust,  and  dust  remain,  till  his  voice,  who  is 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  unites  it  for  ever  to 
its  former  inmate." 

From  this  most  striking  difference,  therefore,  be- 
tween a  dear  parent,  friend,  or  relation,  active, 
useful,  lovely,  and  the  cold  pale  piece  of  outcast 
earth,  which  he  instantly  becomes  upon  the  depart- 
ure of  his  soul ;  understand  what  dignity  and  worth 
must  necessarily  belong  to  the  soul. 

And  if  from  this  fact,  daily  passing  before  our 
eyes,  you  turn  to  the  page  written  by  inspiration  of 
God,  it  is  impossible  to  remain  ignorant  of  the  ex- 
cellency of  the  soul. 

What  can  be  imagined  more  grand  than  the  ac- 
count of  its  creation  ?  Look  up  to  the  heavens  :  im- 
mensely high,  immeasurably  wide  as  they  are, 
God  only  spake,  and  instantly,  with  all  their  host, 
they  had  their  being.  The  earth,  the  sea,  the  air, 
with  all  their  millions  of  beasts,  birds,  and  fishes, 
were  formed  instantaneously  by  the  breath  of  his 
mouth.  But,  behold !  before  the  human  soul  is 
formed,  a  council  of  the  eternal  Trinity  is  held. — 
God  said,  "  Let  us  make  man  in  our  own  image, 
after  our  own  likeness.  So  God  created  man  in  hi? 
own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  created  he  him," 
Gen.  i.  26,  27.  He  formed  his  soul  in  its  moral  fa- 
culties and  powers,  a  sinless,  immortal  transcript  a 
himself. 

To  deface  this  image,  and  ruin  a  creature  which 
the  love  of  God  had  so  highly  exalted,  was  an  at- 
tempt equal,  to  the  execrable  malice  Satan  bore 
against  God  and  against  the  favorite  work  of  his 
hand.  But  no  sooner  did  the  devil,  by  his  accursed 
subtlety,  bring  on  the  soul  an  injury,  tending  to  its 
utter  destruction,  than  the  most  high  God,  by  the 
method  used  to  recover  it,  declared  a  second  time 
still  more  loudly  the  exceeding  greatness  of  its 
worth.  For  take  a  just  survey  of  the  majesty  of 
Him,  who  only,  of  all  in  heaven,  was  able  or  suffi- 
cient to  restore  the  soul  to  the  favor  and  fruition  of 
God.  Before  him  the  depth  of  the  unfathomable 
seas,  the  height  of  the  loftiest  mountains,  the  vast 
dimensions  of  the  earth,  and  the  immense  circuit  of 
the  skies,  are  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance.  Be- 
fore him,  the  vast  multitudes  which  people  the  whole 
earth,  with  all  their  pomp,  are  less  than  nothing  and 
vanity.  This  is  He,  behold  him  !*  This  is  he  who 
takes  upon  himself  a  work  impossible  for  angels  to 
effect,  the  redemption  of  the  soul.  He  undertakes 
to  replace  it  in  the  favor  of  God — not  by  the  word 
of  his  mouth,  as  in  the  day  that  he  made  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  ;  but  by  a  contrivance  infinitely  costly 

*The  reader  is  desired,  as  he  would  not  wish  to 
dishonor  and  injure  the  Redeemer  by  mean  and  un- 
worthy thoughts  of  him,  to  meditate  deeply  on  the 
grand  and  divine  things  which  are  written  of  him. 
In  the  °vangelical  prophet  Isaiah,  you  will  find  his 
majesty  set"  forth  in  the  most  lofty  and  affecting 
manner,  and  by  a  variety  of  such  glorious  images 
as  will  more  exalt  your  apprehensions  of  him  than 
any  train  of  abstract  reasoning.  In  the  xlth  chapter, 
from  whence  the  above  description  of  his  grandeur 
is  taken,  there  is  enough  declared  both  of  his  grace 
and  divinity  to  make  him  appear  altogether  glo- 
rious. 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF  MAN 


and  painful;  by  a  process  of  many  steps,  each  of 
them  mysterious  to  angels  as  well  as  to  men.  To 
redeem  the  soul,  he  lays  aside  his  glory.  He  is 
born  poor  and  mean.  He  lives  afflicted,  insulted, 
oppressed.  In  his  death  he  is  made  a  sin-offering 
and  a  curse,  presenting  to  the  Father  a  divine  obe- 
dience, and  a  death  fully  satisfactory  to  his  broken 
law.  Pause  then  a  while,  and  duly  consider  who 
the  Redeemer  is,  and  what  he  hath  done.  Then 
will  yon  necessarily  conclude,  that  whatever  the 
world  admires  as  excellent,  and  extols  as  most  va- 
luable, is  unspeakably  mean  when  put  in  the  ba- 
lance against  the  worth  of  the  soul. 

It  is  indeed  a  matter  of  the  utmost  difficult}',  to 
believe  that  one  in  every  perfection  equal  with  the 
eternal  Father  should  abase  himself  to  the  cross, 
and  shed  his  blood  on  it  to  ransom  the  soul.  Here  I 
reason  with  all  its  efforts  is  lost  in  the  unfathomable 
depth  of  mystery;  and  if  left  to  itself,  would  lead 
into  perpetual  cavil,  if  not  to  aflat  denial  of  the  re- 
ality «tf  the  fact.  The  method  used  to  prevent  such 
a  denial,  which  would  be  blasphemy  against  God 
and  perdition  to  ourselves,  still  more  forcibly  adds 
evidence  to  the  worth  of  the  soul.  For  the  same 
eternal  Spirit  which  in  the  beginning  brought  light 
out  of  darkness,  and  order  and  beauty  out  of  chaos, 
comes  down  from  heaven  to  bear  witness  of  Re- 
demption. "  He  shall  glorify  me,"  saith  the  Re- 
deemer, "  for  he  shall  receive  of  mine,  and  shall 
show  it  unto  you."  John  xvi.  14.  In  other  words,  it 
is  his  office  so  to  display  the  glory  of  the  person, 
righteousness,  and  salvation  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  those  truths,  which  are  foolishness  to 
the  reason  of  the  natural  man,  may  be  discerned  in 
all  theirexcellency.  This  eternal  Spirit  (called  the 
Spirit  of  Truth,  because  the  only  effectual  teacher 
of  divine  truth,)  is  continually  present  with  the 
church  of  Christ,  by  his  illumination  to  make 
known  the  things  which  are  freely  given  us  of  God. 

Judge  then,  what  must  be  the  excellency  of  that  j 
immortal  principle  within  you,  which  in  its  original  ! 
birth  is  the  offspring  of  the  God  of  Glory,  and  im-  ; 
pressed  with  his  own  image  ;  then  the  purchase  of 
the  blood  of  his  Son  :  and  now  the  pupil  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.     When  nobility  stoops  io  the  office  of  teach- 
ing, no  one  of  less  dignity  than  the  heir  of  a  king- 
dom must  be  the  scholar.     How  great  then  must  be 
the  excellency  of  the  soul,  which  has  the  Spirit  of 
God    for    its  appointed    instructer   and  continual 
guide? 

It  will  still  further  prove  the  worth  of  the  soul,  to 
consider  that  amazing  elevation  of  glory  to  which 
it  will  be  advanced,  or  that  dire  extremity  of  wo 
in  which  it  will  be  pluneed  hereafter.  Soon  as  the 
few  years  allotted  for  its  education  and  trial  here 
on  earth  expire,  if  grace  and  the  offers  of  salvation 
have  been  duly  accepted  and  improved,  it  will  gain 
admission  into  the  city  of  the  living  God  ;  where 
shines  an  everlasting  day  ;  where  every  thing  is  re- 
moved for  ever  that  might  but  tend  to  excite  fear, 
or  for  a  moment  to  impair  the  completeness  of  fe- 
licity. And  whilst  the  soul  possesses  a  magnificent 
habitation,  eternal  in  the  heavens,  the  company 
with  which  it  will  be  associated,  in  excellency  far 
surpasses  all  the  glories  of  its  place  of  abode.  Man, 
by  revolting  from  God,  was  banished  from  any  com- 
merce with  the  glorious  spirits  that  people  the  in- 
visible world.  But  when  the  designs  of  ^race  are 
accomplished  in  the  soul,  it  becomes  a  partaker  of 
all  the  invaluable  privileges  and  dignities  of  the 
angels.  It  is  clothed  with  a  brightness  of  glory  re- 
fulgent as  the  sun,  it  is  raised  to  such  degrees  of 
excellency  as  exceed  our  highest  reach  of  thought ; 
every  defect  and  blemish  inherent  in  its  present 
condition  is  done  away,  and  its  moral  perfections 
surpass  in  splendor  the  outward  beauty  with  which 
it  is  arrayed.    Now,  if  we  estimate  the  grandeur  of 


a  person  from  the  exalted  station  he  is  born  to  bear, 
and  the  possessions  he  shall  one  day  call  his  own, 
how  great  must  the  worth  of  the  soul  be  judged, 
which,  unless  ruined  by  its  own  incorrigible  sinful- 
ness, is  to  inherit  the  riches  of  eternity  ;  to  stand  be- 
fore the  throne  of  Jehovah  on  a  rank  with  angels-, 
to  drink  of  rivers  of  pleasures  which  are  at  his  right 
hand  for  evermore. 

It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  evidence  equally  strong, 
of  the  value  of  the  soul,  though,  alas!  of  a  very 
melancholy  and  distressing  kind,  with  which  the 
Scripture  account  of  the  extreme  misery  it  must 
suffer  if  it  perishes,  furnishes  us.  If  it  is  nut  counted 
worthy  to  be  admitted,  through  the  Saviour's  medi- 
ation, into  glory  ;  0  sad  alternative  !  its  doom,  like 
the  sentence  pronounced  on  some  offender  of  great 
dignity,  whose  distinction  serves  only  to  inflame  his 
guilt,  is  full  of  horror.  It  is  cut  off'  from  all  com- 
munion with  God  ;  removed  to  an  inconceivable 
distance;  separated  by  an  impassable  gulf.  It  must 
have  him  for  the  avenger  of  its  crimes,  in  com- 
parison of  whose  strength  all  created  might  is 
weaker  than  a  new-born  babe.  That  arm  is  to  be 
stretched  forth  against  it,  which  shoots  the  planets 
in  their  rounds,  and  taketh  up  the  isles  as  a  very 
little  thing.  The  soul  that  perishes,  is  to  suffer  the 
punishment  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels; 
to  suffer  punishment,  the  very  same  in  kind  with 
that  of  the  avowed  enemy  of  the  blessed  God  ;  whose 
business,  whose  only  joy  ever  since  his  fall  from 
heaven,  hath  been  to  defeat,  if  it  were  possible,  all 
God's  designs  of  grace  ;  to  undermine  his  kingdom, 
and  tread  his  honor  in  the  dust;  who  has  already 
seduced  souls  without  number,  and  who  will  go  on 
in  his  course  of  treason  and  enmity  against  God, 
till  the  day  of  executing  full  vengeance  on  him  is 
come.  Though  not  in  equal  torment,  yet  in  the 
same  hell  with  this  execrable  being,  is  the  soul  that 
perishes  to  endure  the  wrath  of  God. 

Whether  you  regard  therefore  the  felicity  or  the 
ruin,  which  the  soul  of  man  in  a  few  fleeting  years 
must  experience,  you  will  find  it  hard  to  determine 
which  of  the  two  most  forcibly  bespeaks  its  gran- 
deur. 

These  evidences,  obvious  to  every  eye  which 
reads  the  Scripture  page,  prove,  in  a  manner  not  to 
be  questioned,  that  the  poorest  beggar  carries  great- 
er wealth  in  his  own  bosom,  and  possesses  a  higher 
dignity  in  his  own  person,  than  all  the  world  can 
give  him.  The  soul,  that  enables  him  to  think  and 
choose,  surpasses  in  worth  all  that  the  eye  ever  saw 
or  the  fancy  ever  imagined.  Before  one  such  im- 
mortal -being,  all  the  magnificence  of  the  natural 
world  appears  diminutive,  because  transitory.  All 
these  things  wax  old,  as  doth  a  garment,  and  all  the 
works  of  nature  shall  be  burnt  up  ;  but  the  years  of 
the  soul,  its  happiness  or  its  wo,  like  the  unchange- 
able God  its  creator,  endure  for  ever. 

From  these  evidences,  you  will  perceive,  that  the 
schemes  which  engage  the  attention  of  eminent 
statesmen  and  mighty  kings,  nay,  even  the  delivery 
of  a  nation  from  ruin  and  slavery,  are  trifles  when 
set  in  competition  with  the  salvation  of  a  single 
soul.  You  will  see  the  propriety  of  that  astonishing 
assertion,  that  in  heaven,  the  seat  of  glory,  and 
among  angels,  whose  thoughts  can  never  stoop  to 
any  thin?  little,  "There  is  joy  over  one  sinner  that 
repentelh."  You  will  see  why  the  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty is  at  so  much  pains  (if  the  expression  may 
be  used)  to  awaken  the  children  of  men  into  a  just 
concern  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls;  why  the 
warnings  he  gives  them  are  so  solemn,  his  calls  so 
repeated  and  pressing,  and  his  entreaties  so  affec- 
tionate. All  these  things  follow  as  the  just  and  na- 
tural conclusions  from  the  matchless  excellency  of 
the  soul. 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN. 


SUNDAY  II.— CHAP.  II. 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF   A  JUST  CONVICTION  OF  THE  SOUl's 
EXCELLENCY. 

The  incomparable  excellency  of  the  soul  has  been 
attempted  to  be  shown  by  various  proofs.  A  clear, 
strong,  and  abiding  conviction  of  this  excellency  is 
the  foundation  of  all  real  religion,  and  on  many  ac- 
counts is  indispensably  necessary. 

For  want  of  a  just  perception  of  the  worth  of  the 
soul,  the  amusements  of  folly  and  the  pleasures  of 
sin  are  looked  upon  by  the  young  as  the  chief  sources 
of  delight.  They  are  shy  of  religion,  notwith- 
standing its  promises  of  peace,  of  joy,  of  eternal 
life  ;  and  they  regard  it  as  a  malevolent  enemy  to 
their  happiness.  But  no  sooner  do  they  once  truly 
apprehend  the  excellency  of  the  soul,  than  ac- 
quaintance with  spiritual  objects  is  sought  after  and 
highly  valued.  Thus  informed,  the  language  even 
of  youthful  hearts  is  this:  "  The  bloom  of  my  days 
and  the  vigor  of  my  life  shall  be  devoted  to  my 
best,  my  everlasting  interest.  A  sight  of  the  worth 
of  my  soul  has  delivered  me  from  the  fascinating 
power  of  polluting  lusts,  and  has  broken  all  the 
magic  force  of  their  cruel  enchantments." 

The  same  knowledge  of  the  worth  of  the  soul  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  preserve  men  inviolably 
honest  amidst  the  temptations  which  abound  in 
trade,  and  in  every  profession.  For  on  the  Ex- 
change, in  the  University,  the  coffee-house,  in  al- 
most every  circle  of  private  company,  infectious 
discourse  in  praise  of  riches  and  honor  is  poured 
forth,  and  contaminates  the  principles  of  those  who 
hear  it.  From  tie  worldly  lusts  natural  to  man 
thus  inflamed  spring  all  the  diseases  of  trade. — 
Hence  the  extortion,  the  falsehood,  the  imposition, 
the  spirit  of  extravagant  speculation,  by  which  the 
character  and  the  peace  of  thousands  are  ruined. — 
They  are  endangered  by  a  rage  for  money,  and  a 
boundless  desire  of  filthy  lucre.  Nothing  can  con- 
trol this  wide-spreading  evil,  but  a  perception  of  the 
soul's  inestimable  worth.  Let  this  take  place,  and 
immediately  the  deformity  of  the  former  false,  de- 
filing ideas  of  worldly  advancement  and  gain  is 
discovered.  Trade  will  then  be  carried  on  with 
temperance  of  affection.  An  enlightened  con- 
science, like  a  vigilant  sentinel,  will  sound  an 
alarm  in  every  hour  of  danger ;  it  will  keep  the 
man  of  trade  and  merchandise  punctually  true  to 
his  best,  his  greatest  interest,  and  enable  him  with 
ease  to  conquer  those  temptations  which  before  led 
him  away  captive  ;  "  What,"  he  will  say,  "  What 
is  a  man  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world, 
and  lose  his  own  soul  1  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in 
exchange  for  his  souH" 

The  necessity  of  a  strong  and  abiding  perception 
of  the  worth  of  the  soul,  appears  also  from  this  con- 
sideration, that  it  is  the  only  ground  of  real  prayer, 
and  the  cause  of  its  success.  In  addresses  from  man 
to  man  hypocrisy  is  detestable  :  how  much  more  in 
addresses  from  man  to  God  !  But  how  is  it  possi- 
ble prayer  can  be  any  thing  more  than  hypocrisy, 
when  the  supplicant  is  not  impressed  with  a  due 
sense  of  the  worth  of  his  soul !  Who  can  deprecate 
the  wiHth  revealed  against  sin,  implore  deliverance 
from  its  defilement,  or  earnestly  entreat  a  supply 
of  his  spiritual  wants,  who  does  not  perceive  the 
worth  of  the  soul  ?  In  the  nature  of  things  we  can 
have  no  deep  concern,  where  we  apprehend  no 
great  misery  if  we  fail  of  success,  or  advantage,  if 
we  are  crowned  with  it.  We  may  indeed  personate 
in  our  closets  or  at  church,  a  man  in  earnest  pur- 
suit of  spiritual  blessings ;  and  be  constant  in  the  use 
of  those  very  prayers  which  such  a  one,  with  the 
noblest  sensibility,  would  pour  out  before  his  God. 
But  unless  we  feel  the  same  spirit,  through  the 
same  knowledge  of  the  excellency  of  the  soul,  we 


ordy  act  a  part  in  the  closet  or  in  the  church,  as  a 
player  does  on  the  stage  :  we  appear  in  a  character 
which  is  no  more  our  own,  than  that  of  the  king  or 
hero  on  the  stage  is  his.  Hence  multitudes  con- 
stantly engaged  in  acts  of  devotion,  remain  grossly 
ignorant,  and  utterly  unaffected  by  every  thing 
which  they  profess  to  believe,  and  day  by  day  seem 
to  implore :  their  confessions  are  deceitful,  their 
prayers  void  of  fervor,  and  their  thanksgivings 
without  gratitude.  But  such  devotion  must  be  as 
unsuccessful  as  it  is  insincere.  God  is  a  God  of 
truth.  He  must  receive  services  just  as  they  are  ; 
and  where  nothing  but  outward  homage  and  fine 
words  are  offered  to  him,  nothing  is  obtained.  Sin 
is  not  pardoned,  nor  evil  tempers  subdued.  All  the 
fruit  of  such  feigned  intercourse  with  the  God  of 
heaven  is  to  flatter  self-love,  and  to  harden  men  in 
presumption,  till  their  hypocrisy  is  at  once  fully  dis- 
covered and  punished. 

On  the  contrary,  are  you  conscious  of  the  worth 
of  your  soul  1  This  will  dispose  you  for  every  de- 
vout exercise.  Godly  sorrow  tor  sin  will  accom- 
pany the  confession  of  it,  when  lamented  as  an  ene- 
my to  your  best,  your  immortal  interest.  Ardent 
and  urgent  will  be  the  pleadings  for  grace  and  par- 
don, when  their  importance,  as  connected  with  a 
soul  of  inestimable  worth,  is  seen  and  felt.  Most 
hearty  and  affectionate  will  be  the  thanksgivings  for 
mercies  already  vouchsafed,  when  every  instance 
of  favor  from  above  is  considered  as  a  pledge  of  the 
eternal  felicity  of  the  soul. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  in  the  same  degree  in 
which  it  is  necessary  to  resist  temptations  to  evil, 
or  profitably  to  engage  in  the  solemn  acts  of  reli- 
gion, it  is  necessary  also  to  be  impressed  with  the 
worth  of  the  soul. 

The  natural  result  of  such  an  impression  will  be 
a  diligent  care  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

Now  the  supreme  wisdom  of  such  carefulness  is 
most  evident  from  comparing  beauty,  honor,  know- 
ledge, riches,  or  whatever  else  is  usually  valued 
amongst  men,  with  the  soul. 

The  elegant  lovely  form,  which  c  vptivates  the  eye 
of  almost  every  beholder,  and  fills  the  mind  that 
possesses  it  with  perpetual  vanity,  ill  rewards  the 
anxious  carefulness  used  to  preserve  it.  No  cau- 
tious attention,  no  human  power  or  skill,  is  able  to 
protect  it  from  the  waste  of  time,  the  blast  of  sick- 
ness, or  the  untimely  stroke  of  death. 

The  place  of  honor,  and  the  name  of  applause, 
for  which  thousands  are  glad  to  sacrifice  their  ease 
and  sell  their  liberty,  is  of  little  value,  since  it  is 
subject  to  all  the  caprice  of  fickle-minded  man.— 
How  many,  once  the  favorites  of  a  court,  the  idols 
of  a  kingdom,  have  lived  to  see  all  their  blooming 
honors  wither,  and  their  names  sink  into  oblivion, 
if  not  contempt. 

Are  you  ambitious  to  climb  the  envied  summit  ol 
literary  fame ;  and  shine  without  a  rival  in  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge  1  In  one  fatal  hour,  a  para- 
lytic stroke,  a  violent  fever,  may  disorder  the  struc- 
ture of  your  brain,  rifle  all  the  cells  of  knowledge, 
and  wipe  away  from  your  memory  the  very  traces 
of  all  that  has  been  committed  to  its  keeping.  Thus 
you  may  be  left  the  sad  survivor  of  yourself:  a  mor- 
tifying spectacle  to  human  pride ;  a  melancholy, 
but  irresistible  proof,  how  much  men  may  rate  the 
attainment  of  human  knowledge  higher  than  its 
precarious  tenure  justifies. 

If  your  great  aim  is  to  become  rich,  of  chief  emi- 
nence in  your  trade,  able  to  command  all  outward 
things  which  can  minister  to  your  vanity  or  plea- 
sure, still  how  unworthy  of  your  supreme  desire 
and  care  is  such  a  condition,  because  absolutely  hv 
secure !  Life  itself,  the  foundation  of  all  temporary 
enjoyments,  is  but  as  a  beauteous  vapor  that  ap. 
peareth  for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanishes  away.— 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


9 


Each  day,  we  know,  is  translating  some  of  the  opu- 
lent sons  of  industry,  into  a  world,  where  not  a  mite 
of  all  their  gain  can  follow  them. 

Nay,  if  you  are  engrossed  by  the  care  of  provid- 
ing for  those  tender  pledges  of  God's  love  to  you, 
the  offspring  of  your  own  body,  whom  you  were  a 
monster  of  cruelty  to  neglect;  yet  here  you  maybe 
suddenly,  be  wholly  disappointed.  Your  darling 
child,  the  living  image  of  yourself,  how  unable  are 
you  to  preserve  its  invaluable  life  from  perils,  and 
from  fierce  disease  !  When  parted  from  you  on  vi- 
sit or  some  business,  you  may,  like  Sisera's  fond 
mother,  be  chiding  its  delay,  and  with  all  the  im- 
patience of  love,  asking,  Wherefore  is  my  son  or 
daughter,  so  long  in  coming  1  whilst  some  appoint- 
ment of  God  has  taken  away  the  desire  of  your  eyes 
with  a  stroke. 

Thus,  if  you  take  a  full  survey  of  every  thing 
which  the  children  of  men  seek  with  greatest  anxie- 
ty to  enjoy  ;  compared  with  a  supreme  concern  for 
the  salvation  of  the  soul,  and  steady  regard  to  its  in- 
terests, how  vain  is  it1?  Nay,  whatever  it  be,  ex- 
cept the  soul,  about  which  you  are  careful,  it  has 
this  most  degrading  circumstance  attending  it,  it  has 
the  condition  only  of  an  annuity  for  life;  each 
successive  year  makes  a  considerable  decrease  in 
its  value,  and  at  death  the  whole  is  at  an  end  for 
ever. 

But  if  your  principal  care  and  solicitude  is  for  the 
salvation  of  your  soul,  all  the  unexpected  disasters, 
disappointments  and  losses  which  harass  the  sinful 
children  of  men,  will  become  affecting  proofs  of  the 
supreme  wisdom  of  your  choice,  and  the  unrivalled 
excellency  of  your  pursuit.  Even  the  tears  that 
stream  down  the  cheeks  of  the  miserable,  and  the 
complaints  of  those  who  are  disappointed  in  world- 
ly schemes,  will  pronounce  you  blessed,  who  are 
athirst  for  your  immortal  soul's  salvation,  Are  you 
conscious  of  its  worth '?  Are  you  striving  in  daily 
intercourse  with  God,  its  Creator,  Redeemer,  and 
Sanctifier,  to  secure  its  eternal  welfare  1  Then  you 
may  set  all  the  evils  that  terrify  the  human  race  at 
defiance.  Your  inferior  dying  part  they  may 
wound,  but  they  cannot  strike  deep  enough,  or  reach 
high  enough,  to  hurt  your  soul.  In  the  midst  of 
what  otherwise  would  prove  ruin  unsupportable, 
your  wise  choice  will  cover  you  like  armor,  and 
render  you  invulnerable. 

Are  you  poor,  and  treated  with  scorn  by  the  sons 
of  pride,  you  will  have  examples  and  prospects 
more  than  sufficient  to  support  you.  You  will  see 
your  own  case  in  the  instructive  history  of  the  saints 
of  God,  who  are  destitute  and  afflicted;  and  in  that 
wonderful  contrast  of  meanness  and  grandeur,  ex- 
treme poverty  and  immense  wealth,  the  dying  La- 
zarus. With  patience,  with  gladness  of  heart,  you 
will  see,  that  the  deepest  distress,  and  the  surest 
title  to  glory,  may  be  for  a  small  moment  united. — 
In  every  case  where  proper  care  for  the  soul  hath 
prevailed,  you  will  see  that  poverty,  however  ex- 
treme, sufferings,  however  long  and  grievous  add 
both  to  the  weight  and  brightness  of  future  glory. 

In  sickness,  also,  the  supreme  wisdom  of  having 
been  careful  above  all  things  for  your  soul,  will  dis- 
play itself  with  peculiar  lustre.  For  though  health 
is  absolutely  essential  to  a  sensitive  happiness; — 
though  the  least  ache,  or  bodily  disorder,  deprives 
the  proud  and  worldly-minded  of  their  enjoyments, 
yet  the  soul,  if  with  due  care  it  has  been  exercised 
in  the  ways  appointed  by  God,  finds  sources  from 
whence  to  derive  consolation  under  the  most  vio- 
lent pressures;  consolation  sufficient  to  banish  both 
outward  impatience  and  inward  dejection  from 
their  accustomed  throne,  the  chamber  of  sickness 
and  pain.  With  a  lovely  and  edifying  meekness, 
you  will  regard  such  discipline,  though  trying  to 
sense,  and  oppressive  to  the  flesh,  as  prepared  by 


the  allwise  and  merciful  Refiner,  to  purge  away 
every  base  mixture  that  still  cleaves  to  and  defiles 
your  soul.  The  welfare  of  your  soul,  dearer  to  yom 
than  all  external  comforts,  will  induce  yr u  to  wel- 
come the  visitations,  which  are  of  such  sovereign 
use  to  promote  its  health.  In  short,  in  sickness  the 
whole  man  is  a  miserable  sufferer,  where  the  soul 
has  been  forgotten  ;  where  earnestly  cared  for,  and 
instructed  in  divine  truth,  the  inferior  part  alone 
feels  the  pressure. 

To  advance  still  farther ;  death,  the  detector  of 
all  cheats — death,  the  touchstone  of  all  true  worth, 
and  therefore  the  king  of  terrors  to  those  whose 
care  every  thing  has  shared  but  their  souls,  even 
death  itself  will  confirm  the  supreme  wisdom  of 
your  conduct.  The  death-bed,  on  which  the  gay, 
the  prosperous,  and  the  noble,  lay  down  their  heads 
appalled  and  confounded,  is  the  theatre  for  display- 
ing the  fortitude  of  those  who  have  sought,  as  the 
one  thing  needful,  the  salvation  of  their  souls.  The 
former  are  confounded,  because  unprepared.  The 
loss  of  all  they  valued  is  coming  upon  them;  their 
approaching  change  can  promise  them  nothing;  it  is 
much  if  it  forebode  not  dreadful  consequences. — 
But  to  the  latter,  every  thing  wears  another  aspect. 
Must  the  world  be  left  by  them  1  It  has  been  al- 
ready renounced  and  vanquished.  Must  all  tem- 
poral good  be  forsaken  for  everl  How  placid,  how 
calm  the  surrender,  when  the  riches  of  eternity  are 
theirs;  no  striving,  no  querulous  repining  against 
the  irresistible  summons  to  depart,  when  that  very 
departure  has  heen  habitually  expected  as  a  trans- 
lation of  the  soul  to  its  proper  everlasting  happi- 
ness. 

In  fact,  dying  Christians,  that  is,  all  that  have 
duly  sought  in  a  right  method,  the  salvation  of  their 
souls,  have  given  proofs  of  the  supreme  wisdom  of 
their  conduct  in  the  hour  of  nature's  sorrow  and 
distress;  so  that  those  fine  lines  of  Dr.  Young,  are 
most  justly  descriptive  of  the  happy  few,  whose 
souls  have  been  more  precious  to  them  than  every 
temporal  concern  or  comfort. 

The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 
Is  privileg'd  beyond  the  common  walk 
Of  virtuous  life,  quite  in  the  verge  of  heaven ; 
Heav'n  waits  on  the  last  moment;  owns  her  friends 
On  this  side  death,  and  points  them  out  to  men, 
A  lecture  silent,  but  of  sovereign  power.  * 

All  these  advantages,  arising  from  supreme  care- 
fulness for  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  are  still  more 
worthy  of  regard,  because  not  at  all  uncertain. — 
You  may  be  braving  the  thickest  dangers  of  the 
field  of  war,  to  get  the  name  of  valor  and  the  place 
of  command ;  yet  fall  an  early  victim  in  the  bloody 
battle,  or  after  it  your  services  may  be  neglected.- 
You  may  burn  with  inextinguishable  ardor,  tt. 
stand  high  in  the  rank  of  scholars,  and  ruin  your 
health  by  intense  study,  yet  die  mortified  at  the  lit- 
tleness of  your  reputation.  Your  labor  to  succeed 
in  business  may  be  incessant,  yet  through  a  thou- 
sand circumstances  which  you  have  no  power  to 
prevent,  you  may  repeatedly  suffer  disappointment, 
and  poverty  still  remain  your  portion.  The  favor 
of  patrons,  friends,  relations,  may  be  assiduously 
courted,  and  appear  promising  to  your  earnest 
wishes;  and  yet  others  may  supplant  you,  and,  re- 
ceiving the  benefits  you  were  grasping  in  idea,, 
make  the  very  name  of  patron,  friend,  relation,  odi-1 
ous  to  you.  The  world  is  every  day  exhibiting  in- 
stances of  bitter  disappointment,  in  each  of  the  cases 
above  described. 

But  if  with  all  the  strength  of  desire  you  have 
sought  for  the  salvation  of  your  soul,  through,, Jesus. 


■  Night  Thoughts,  Book  IL 


10 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF   MAN. 


Christ,  you  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  changes 
ever  incident  to  the  things  of  time  and  sense.  You 
nave  to  do  with  the  blessed  God,  in  whom  is  no  va- 
riableness, neither  shadow  of  turning.  You  may 
be  therefore  rich,  or  you  may  be  poor:  raised,  or 
depressed  ;  beloved,  or  slighted  by  those  on  whom 
you  are  dependent ;  you  may  enjoy  health,  or  be  op- 
pressed with  mortal  disease,  whilst  in  each  state 
were  you  to  ask  yourself,  what  course  could  I  have 
best  taken  for  my  present  peace  and  felicity  1  Rea- 
son, conscience,  Scripture,  will  all  reply,"  the  very 
course  you  have  taken,  that  of  caring,  in  the  first 
place,  for  the  salvation  of  your  soul. 

To  say  no  more ;  the  quick  succession  of  years, 
which  exceedingly  impoverish,  as  they  pass  by, 
every  man  whose  soui  is  not  his  chief  care,  will,  on 
the  contrary,  be  accumulating  for  you  the  true 
riches.  Like  a  prudent  factor,  who,  instead  of  la- 
vishing his  gain  in  present  luxury,  yearly  remits  it 
home,  that  he  may  return  to  enjoy  life  in  his  native 
country,  after  all  his  toils,  with  ease  and  honor;  so 
will' you  be  growing  rich  towards  God;  sure  to  re- 
turn, by  death,  to  that  happy  country,  where,  amidst 
congratulating  saints  and  angels,  you  shall  enter 
upon  the  possession  of  an  inheritance  prepared  for 
your  soul,  incorruptible,  and  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away,  reserved  in  heaven  for  you. 


SUNDAY  III.— CHAP.  III. 

THE    SCRIPTURE    CHARACTER    OF    GOD. 

Tiie  first  duty  of  a  Christian  is  to  conceive  of  God 
only  according  to  the  revelation  which  he  has  given 
of  himself:  to  meditate  on  this  revelation  with  hu- 
mility, diligence,  and  prayer,  not  daring  to  indulge 
fallacious  reasonings,  lest  he  should  form  an  ima- 
ginary god,  and  then  worship  the  creature  of  his 
own  brain. 

Nor  will  such  an  absolute  submission  of  the  un- 
derstanding to  revelation,  in  this  matter,  be  thought 
in  the  least  grievous  or  dishonorable,  when  it  is 
considered,  that  of  ourselves  and  in  our  present 
state  of  darkness  and  corruption,  we  are  utterly  un- 
able to  form  any  just  conceptions  of  the  divine  na- 
ture and  perfections.  When  once  we  forsake  the 
guidance  of  Scripture,  we  are  left  to  uncertain 
guesses;  we  put  ourselves  in  the  condition  of  the 
unenlightened  heathen  ;  and  their  errors,  on  this 
most  important  subject,  as  universal  as  they  were 
lamentable,  are  a  sufficient  evidence  of  the  short- 
sightedness and  vanity  of  unassisted  reason,  and 
of  the  ignorance  of  man  in  the  things  of  God. 

I  shall  therefore  present  you  with  a  transcript  of 
what  the  sacred  oracles  have  delivered  to  us,  on 
this  important  point  of  belief.  In  absolute  submis- 
sion to  them,  I  shall  endeavor  to  delineate  the  cha- 
racter of  the  blessed  God,  as  drawn  by  himself,  and 
explain  his  nature  and  will,  his  ach  and  provi- 
dences, his  decrees  and  purposes,  as  exhibited  in 
the  Bible.  Thus,  knowing  the  God  with  whom  we 
hive  to  do,  we  may  be  faithful  to  the  light  he  hath 
given  us,  and  regulate  our  conduct  towards  him,  by 
the  infallible  standard  of  his  own  plain  and  positive 
declarations.  And  may  he  himself  render  them 
effectual  to  enlighten  the  understanding ;  so  that 
every  reader,  in  the  devout  fervor  of  his  soul,  may 
cry  out  before  him,  "Great  and  marvellous  are  thy 
works,  Lord  God  Almighty;  just  and  true  are  thy 
ways,  thou  king  of  saints ;  who  shall  not  fear  thee, 
O  Lord,  and  glorify  thy  name]" 

In  the  first  place,  the  Scripture  represents  God, 
as  possessed  of  the  incommunicable  perfection  of 
eternal  existence.  All  other  beings  once  were  not : 
there  was  a  period  when  the  most  excellent  of  them 
first  began  to  exist ;  and  the  same  power  which  gave 


them  life,  could  again  reduce  them  to  their  original 
nothing. 

On  the  contrary,  God  has  ever  existed ;  the  same 
in  essence,  felicity,  and  perfection :  from  all  eterni- 
ty he  has  been  what  he  now  is,  and  what  he  will 
eternally  remain.  The  existence  of  things  which 
are  seen,  compels  us  to  acknowledge  this  incompre- 
hensible truth ;  and  agreeable  to  it  is  his  own  ac- 
count of  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead:  "I  AM," 
saith  he,  "that  I  AM— The  high  and  lofty  One 
that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  is  his  title.  "Before  the 
mountains  were  brought  forth,  or  ever  the  earth  and 
the  world  were  formed,  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting he  was  God." 

Nearly  allied  to  this  perfection  of  eternal  exist- 
ence, is  the  unchangcableness  of  God.  His  love  and 
hatred  remain  immutably  the  same  towards  their 
respective  objects.  "  I  am  the  Lord,  I  change  not," 
is  one  of  those  sovereign  titles  by  which  he  mani- 
fests himself  to  us:  with  him  "is  no  variableness, 
neither  shadow  of  turning."  In  proof  of  this  ex- 
cellency, God  is  called  a  rock.  This  metaphor  in- 
timates, that  as  a  rock  continues  steadfast  and  im- 
moveable, whilst  the  surrounding  ocean  is  in  a  per- 
petual fluctuation:  so  though  all  the  creatures  of 
God,  from  the  lowest  to  the  very  highest  of  the  in- 
telligent kind,  are  subject  to  change;  capable  of 
new  additions  or  alterations  with  respect  to  their 
knowledge,  their  power,  or  their  blessedness;  God 
alone  is  absolutely  tb'j  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
for  ever. 

God  is  a  Spirit.  The  distinguishing  properties 
of  spirit,  are  understanding  and  will,  consciousness 
and  activity.  By  virtue  of  these  properties,  every 
spiritual  substance  differs  totally  from  dead  matter 
or  body,  and  is  infinitely  superior  to  it  in  its  nature 
and  essence.  But  though  this  difference  between 
spiritual  substances  and  those  of  matter,  is  sufficient 
to  help  our  weak  conceptions;  yet  we  are  taught  in 
Scripture,  that  the  ever-living  God  surpasses  in  ex- 
cellence all  created  spirits,  infinitely  more  than 
they  do,  in  their  nature  and  properties,  merely  ani- 
mal substances.  For  God  not  only  declares  of  him- 
self that  he  is  a  spirit,  but  that  he  is  "  the  Father  of 
spirits,  and  the  God  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh."  It 
follows,  therefore,  that  it  is  not  sufficient  merely  to 
conceive  that  God  is  a  spirit,  meaning,  by  that 
name,  a  living,  intelligent,  and  active  being,  essen- 
tially distinguished  from  the  material  frame  our 
eyes  behold  :  for  though  this  is  most  truly  affirmed 
of  him,  yet  must  you  add  to  him  perfections,  which 
no  other  spirits  possess;  as  well  as  separate  from 
him  every  kind  of  imperfection  which  adheres  to 
them.  They  exist  within  certain  limits,  they  are 
ignorant  of  many  things,  they  are  defective  in  pow- 
er; but  the  Father  of  spirits  himself,  is  omnipre- 
sent, and  infinite  alike  in  knowledge  and  in  power. 

God  is  omnipresent.  The  universe,  which  owes 
its  formation  and  existence  entirely  to  his  creating 
power,  is  not  only  governed,  but  is  continually  sus- 
tained by  him.  The  whole  immeasurable  frame  of 
nature  must  therefore  be  pervaded  by  his  all-enliv- 
ening influence.  Accordingly,  this  most  grand  and 
majestic  interrogation  is  put  by  himself  to  the  child- 
ren of  men  :  "  Do  not  I  fill  heaven  and  earth]  saith 
the  Lord."  Jer.  xxiii.  24.  And  in  the  cxxxixth 
Psalm,  this  perfection  of  God  is  described  with 
equal  sublimity  and  force.  The  enlightened  and 
inspired  prophet  begins  with  making  the  inquiry, 
whether  it  was  possible  for  him  to  hide  himseif 
from  the  Author  of  his  being  and  the  former  of  all 
things:  "  Whither,"  says  he,  "  shall  I  go  from  thy 
Spirit,  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence] — 
If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,"  into  the  regions  above 
the  firmament,  "thou  art  there;"  I  should  not  only 
find  myself  still  within  the  limits  of  thy  sovereign 
dominion,  but  under  thy  immediate  inspection. — 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


"If  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,"  that  is,  plunge  myself 
into  the  unknown  mansions  of  the  dead,  and  the 
worlds  invisible,  where  even  imagination  loses  it- 
self in  darkness,  "  behold,  thou  art  there.  If  I  take 
the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  sea  ;"  if,  with  the  swiftness  of  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun,  I  could  in  an  instant  convey 
myself  to  the  uttermost  part  of  the  western  world, 
the  wings  of  the  morning  are  not  swift  enough  to 
carry  me  from  thy  pursuing  hand;  "even  there 
shell  thy  hand  lead  me,  and  thy  right  hand  shall 
hold  me ;"  I  shall  exist  in  thee,  O  God !  thy  pre- 
sence will  be  diffused  around  me,  thy  enlivening 
power  will  support  my  frame.  "If  I  say,  Surely 
the  darkness  shall  cover  me;  even  the  night  shall 
be  light  about  me,  yea  the  darkness  hideth  not  from 
thee,  but  the  night  shineth  as  the  day:  the  darkness 
and  light  are  both  alike  to  thee."  I  myself,  my 
actions  and  circumstances,  are  equally  conspicuous 
in  the  thickest  shades  of  night,  as  in  the  brightest 
splendors  of  the  noon-day  sun.  The  universe  is 
the  temple  of  the  Lord,  and  every  part  of  it  is  filled 
with  his  presence.  And  as  the  Scripture  thus  forci- 
bly describes  the  presence  of  God  with  ail  things 
actually  existing,  so  it  expressly  teaches  us,  that 
vast  as  the  dimensions  of  the  creation  are,  they  do 
not  bound  or  circumscribe  his  being.  With  holy 
admiration,  we  are  commanded  to  say  unto  God, 
"Behold  the  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain 
thee  !"     1  Kings  via.  27. 

To  this  amazing  perfection  of  God,  his  omni- 
presence, is  joined  almighty  poicer.  A  human  artist, 
or  created  agent,  can  only  fashion  his  work  from 
materials  already  prepared  for  him,  and  which  he 
cannot  make :  but  the  glorious  God  commands 
things  into  being.  He  was  not  beholden  to  pre-ex- 
istent  matter  in  the  formation  of  the  world ;  for 
"  the  things  which  are  seen  were  not  made  of  things 
which  do  appear."  On  the  contrary,  all  things, 
whether  of  a  material  or  spiritual  nature,  stood  up 
before  the  mighty  God  at  his  call,  and  were  created 
at  his  pleasure.  The  heavens,  and  all  the  host  of 
them  ;  the  earth,  and  all  things  which  are  therein, 
are  not  only  the  work  of  his  hands,  but  by  the  word 
of  the  Lord  were  the  heavens  made,  and  all  the 
host  of  them  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth:  "I  the 
Lord,"  saith  he,  "  have  made  the  earth,  and  created 
man  upon  it ;  I,  even  my  hands,  have  stretchea"  out 
the  heavens,  and  all  their  host  have  I  comma.'ided." 

The  same  almighty  power  of  God,  to  which  the 
whole  creation  owes  its  birth,  is  manifested  also  in 
the  disposition  and  preservation  of  the  world  in 
order  and  harmony.  Thus  the  exertions  of  the  al- 
mighty power  of  God  are  continually  placed  before 
us.  "  He  watereth  the  earth,  and  blesseth  the  in- 
crease of  it.  He  covereth  the  heaven  with  clouds, 
and  prepareth  rain  for  the  earth .  he  giveth  snow 
like  wool,  and  scattereth  the  hoar  frost  like  ashes; 
he  divideih  the  sea  with  his  power,  and  layeth  up 
the  depths  in  store-houses :  fire  and  hail,  storm 
and  tempest,  fulfil  his  word." 

The  steady  course  of  nature,  which  thoughtless 
and  profane  men  are  wont  to  consider  as  the  effect 
of  necessity,  rather  than  of  all-wise  direction,  is 
wholly  owing,  we  are  taught,  to  the  almighty  power 
of  God.  "It  is  he  alone,"  saith  the  Scripture, 
"who  makes  the  day-spring  know  its  place,  and 
stretcheth  out  the  shadows  of  the  evening— that 
commands  the  sun  to  shine  by  day,  and  the  moon 
by  night :  that  prepares  a  place  for  the  rain,  and  a 
way  for  the  lightning  nnd  thunder — that  maketh  the 
herbs  to  grow  upon  the  earth.  The  hand  of  the 
Lord  doth  all  these  things." 

It  must  farther  be  observed,  that  the  Scripture 
gives  us  the  most  awful  idea  of  the  boundless  power 
which  belongeth  to  God,  by  declaring,  that  he  can 
ii>  a  moment  dissolve  the  whole  frame  of  nature. 


Human  force  is  at  much  pains  to  demolish,  what 
before  it  toiled  to  erect :  but  the  might  of  the  most 
high  God  can,  with  greater  ease  than  we  can  admit 
the  thought,  change  the  face  of  the  erea'ion,  and 
destroy  what  seems  to  be  built  on  the  most  stable 
foundation.  "  He  removeth  the  mountains,  and 
they  know  it  not ;  he  overturneth  them  in  his  anger. 
He  commandeth  the  sun,  and  it  riseth  not ;  and 
sealeth  up  the  stars.  He  shaketh  ?he  earth  out  of 
its  place,  and  the  pillars  thereof  tremble.  The  pil- 
lars of  heaven  tremble,  and  are  astonished  a*  '?  s 
reproof.  The  mountains  quake  at  him,  and  the 
hills  melt,  and  the  earth  is  burnt  at  his  presence.'' 

But  in  the  attributes  of  mere  power,  however 
boundless  and  irresistible,  there  is  no  loveliness. 
We  may  indeed  be  astonished,  and  tremble  before 
it,  but  to  contemplate  it  with  pleasure,  and  to  con- 
ceive of  it  as  the  object  of  delight  and  of  trust,  we 
must  behold  it  in  union  with  other  perfections.  In 
union  with  such  perfections  it  subsists  in  the  blessed 
God ;  for  he  is  as  infinite  in  knoicleJge  as  he  is  in 
power.  More  clearly  does  he  discern  his  own 
eternity,  than  we  our  temporary  duration:  more 
perfectly  his  own  immensity,  than  we  our  limited 
condition  of  being:  more  certainly  his  own  extent 
of  wisdom  and  power,  than  we  the  thoughts  which 
are  passing  through  our  own  minds. 

But  if  God  knows  himself,  he  must  know  also 
the  work  of  his  own  hands ;  for  even  the  meanest 
artificer,  though  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  the  materials  on  which  he  works,  knows 
the  effects  of  his  own  operations.  Since,  therefore, 
from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  from  the  utmost  cir- 
cuit of  heaven  to  the  centre  of  the  earth,  there  is 
nothing  which  the  hand  of  God  has  not  formed, 
and  which  his  providence  does  not  direct ;  every 
thing  must  be  thoroughly  known  to  him.  Wherever 
his  power  works,  there  his  understanding  must  dis- 
cern. The  vast  fabric  therefore  of  the  universe, 
with  ail  its  laws  and  furniture,  with  all  events  from 
first  1*0  last,  are  known  unto  him.  The  innumera- 
ble host  of  sinless  angels,  and  the  world  of  fallen 
apostate  ones;  the  long  progeny  of  mankind,  with 
all  the  thoughts,  desires,  and  designs  that  have 
been  in  the  mind  of  each  individual,  and  all  the 
words  which  have  ever  fled  from  their  lips,  fall 
under  his  continual  notice.  He,  with  the  most  ex- 
act and  infallible  comprehension,  knows  all  the  ac- 
tive principles  of  the  spirits  he  has  formed ;  how 
they  will  be  moved  upon  the  presence  of  every  ob- 
ject which  can  come  before  them  ;  in  what  manner 
they  will  act  upon  every  temptation  which  can  try 
them,  and  in  every  circumstance  in  which  they  can 
possibly  be  placed.  These  ideas  of  the  blessed 
God  his  own  oracles  teach  us  to  conceive.  "  The 
ways  of  man  are  before  the  Lord,  and  he  pondereth 
all  his  goings.  The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every 
place:  he  looketh  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and 
seeth  under  the  whole  heaven.  The  Lord  search- 
eth  all  hearts,  and  understandeth  all  the  imagina- 
tions of  the  thoughts ;  he  knoweth  the  things  that 
come  into  our  mind,  every  one  of  them.  There  is 
not  any  creature  that  is  not  manifest  in  his  sight ; 
but  all  things  are  naked  and  open  unto  the  eyes  of 
him,  with  whom  we  have  to  do." 

And  as  God  is  perfect  in  knowledge,  so  is  he  in 
the  attribute  of  ivisdom.,  which  is  the  best  exercise 
and  improvement  of  knowledge.  By  virtue  of  this 
quality  he  superintends  and  so  adjusts  all  the  parts 
of  the  universe,  that,  whatever  changes  any  of 
them  may  undergo,  their  usefulness  and  connection 
with  each  other  may  be  uniformly  maintained.  By 
the  exercise  of  the  same  attribute  he  often  accom- 
plishes his  designs,  through  means,  to  human  ap- 
prehension, the  most  unlikely.  He  founds  the  ma- 
nifestation of  his  glory  upon  what  a  depraved 
world  despises  and  derides:  and,  in  the  glaring 


12 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF    MAN. 


weakness  of  his  agents,  perfects,  that  is,  displays  his 
men  praise.  He  entangles  the  rulers  of  darkness 
in  their  own  nets,  and  ruins  their  designs  by  their 
own  stratagems  ;  the  greatest  cruelty  of  Satan  and 
his  instruments,  he  makes  subservient  to  the  designs 
of  his  mercy,  and  overrules  even  the  apostacy  of 
Adam,  to  display  his  own  manifold  wisdom  to  an- 
gels and  to  men.  "  He  has  established  the  world  in 
his  wisdom,  and  stretched  out  the  heaven  by  his 
discretion.  He  is  wonderful  in  counsel  and  excel- 
lent in  working.  The  foolishness  of  God  is  wiser 
than  men,  and  the  weakness  nf  God  is  stronger 
than  men.  He  disappointeth  the  devices  of  the 
crafty,  so  that  they  cannot  perform  their  enterprizes. 
His  counsels  stand  for  ever,  and  the  thoughts  of  his 
heart  from  generation  to  generation." 

These  perfections,  called,  by  way  of  distinction, 
the  'natural  perfections  of  God,  the  more  they  are 
considered,  the  higher  must  they  raise  our  wonder 
and  astonishment.  Who  can  meditate  on  eternity, 
omnipresence,  omniscience,  and  almighty  power, 
and  not  feel  that  they  are  subjects  too  big  for  any 
created  understanding  to  grasp  !  But  the  moral 
perfections  of  God,  we  can  comprehend  with  greater 
clearness.  And  it  is  possessed  of  these,  that  God 
claims  from  us  the  highest  reverence,  fear,  love, 
trust,  and  obedience. 

The  first  of  these  perfections  is  his  goodness.    By 
this  we  mean  that  principle  of  good-will,  by  virtue 
of  which  his  almighty  power  and  infinite  wisdom 
are  exercised  in  the  liberal  communication  of  hap- 
piness to  his  creatures.     His  bountiful  hand  sup- 
plies their  wants,  and  pours  out  his  benefits  upon 
them  all.     He  makes  no  other  distinction  than  what 
necessarily  arises  from  the  different  qualities  or  ca- 
pacities of  the  respective  objects :  no  other  differ- 
ence than  what  his  own  most  perfect  character  re- 
quires should  be  made.      "The  Lord,"  saith  the 
Scripture,  "  is  good  unto  all,  and  his  tender  mercies 
are  over  all  his  works.     He  openeth  his  hand,  and 
satisfieth  every  living  thing.     He  is  the  Father  of 
mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort.     The  earth  is 
full  of  the  goodness  of  the  Lord."     So  strong  is  hi* 
goodness  in  its  propensity,  and  so  wide  in  its  ex- 
tent, as  to  bless  not  simply  his  creatures,  but  even 
rebels  against  his  government,  and  enemies  to  his 
truth.     "  He  causeth  his  sun  to  shine,  and  his  rain 
to  fall  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good,  on  the  unjust  as 
well  as  on  the  just.     He  endures,  with  much  long- 
suffering,  the  vessels  of  wrath  fitted  for  destruction." 
He  allures,  and  encourages  their  return  to  him. 
"  Let  the   wicked  forsake  his  way,  and   the   un- 
righteous man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto 
the  Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him;  and 
to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon.     Come 
now,"  says  he,  "  and  let  us  reason  together;  though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as 
snow;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall 
be  as  wool."     And,  lest  these  asseverations  should 
not  be  sufficient  to  remove  suspicions  of  his  willing- 
ness to  forgive  the  most  enormous  offenders,  when 
they  turn  to  him;  he  swears  by  himself,  "As  I  live, 
saith  the  Lord,  [  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of 
J.im  that  dieth."    And  that  all  generations  of  men, 
who  should  ever  receive  his  word,  might  form  the 
highest  conceptions  of  his  glorious  goodness,  he 
passed  before  Moses,  and  proclaimed  this  to  be  his 
proper  title,  "  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful 
and  gracious,  long-suffering  and  abundant  in  good- 
ness and  truth  ;  keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  for- 
giving iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin." 

But  lest  his  goodness  should  be  so  misconstrued 
as  to  diminish  our  apprehensions  of  the  evil  of  sin; 
lest  it  should  lead  us  to  imagine,  that,  where  so 
much  favor  is  shown  to  the  workers  of  iniquity, 
there  can  be  no  abhorrence  of  it ;  the  Scripture  is 


strong,  full  and  frequent  in  its  representations  of 
the  holiness  of  God. 

By  this  holiness,  is  meant,  that  disposition  essen 
tial  to  his  perfect  nature,  which  regards  the  honor 
of  his  own  divine  perfections;  and  which  thereforr 
opposes  the  violation  of  his  pure  will,  or  the  resist- 
ance of  his  just  government.  As  the  power  of  God 
is  opposed  to  all  natural  weakness,  and  his  wisdom 
to  the  least  defect  of  understanding;  so  is  his  holi 
ness  opposed  to  all  moral  imperfection  or  sin.  It  if 
not  to  be  considered  as  a  single  perfection,  but 
rather  as  the  harmony  of  all  the  attributes  of  God: 
it  is  therefore  called  the  "beauty  of  the  Lord.'' 
Psal.  xxvii.  Separate  from  holiness  all  other  ex- 
cellences of  the  divine  nature  would  be  inglorious 
His  wisdom  might  be  styled  subtlety  ;  his  power  be 
only  considered  as  dreadful.  On  this  account 
those  exalted  spirits  who  are  best  acquainted  with 
the  glories  of  the  divine  nature,  dwell  on  this  per- 
fection. The  courts  of  heaven  resound  with  high 
adoration,  whilst  they  cry,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  thr 
Lord  of  Hosts."  And  such  a  particular  regard  dc 
we  find  paid  to  this  attribute  by  the  blessed  Goi 
himself,  that  he  swears  by  it,  in  confirmation  of  the 
promises  of  grace ;  "  Once  have  I  sworn  by  my 
holiness,  that  I  will  not  lie  unto  David."  Psal. 
lxxxix.  35. 

Connected  with  this  divine  perfection  of  holiness 
in  God,  is  the  continual  notice  he  takes  of  the  be- 
havior of  each  individual  towards  himself  and  his 
law.  On  this  part  of  his  character  the  necessity  of 
our  absolute  subjection  depends.  For  were  God 
either  ignorant  of  what  is  done  by  men  on  earth, 
or  did  he  judge  it  insignificant,  we  should  have  no 
more  cause  to  retain  any  awe  of  him  upon  our 
minds,  or  to  impose  any  restraint  upon  ourselves, 
than  if  there  were  no  God.  It  is  not  the  existence 
of  a  God,  but  his  moral  government  of  the  world, 
that  calls  for  our  fear,  and  should  excite  us  to  obe- 
dience. To  take  away,  therefore,  all  ground  of 
suspecting  any  inattention  in  our  Creator  to  our  be- 
,  havior,  arising  from  his  own  infinite  greatness,  and 
I  our  being  less  than  nothing  compared  to  him — to 
root  out  this  pernicious  opinion,  which  the  desire 
of  sinning  with  impunity  might  lead  us  to  cherish; 
the  glorious  God  teaches  us  to  conceive  of  him,  as 
taking  the  most  exact  cognizance  of  all  our  in- 
ward tempers,  no  less  than  our  outward  deport- 
ment, and  that  with  an  unchangeable  purpose  to 
deal  with  us  accordingly.  In  the  nervous  language 
of  his  own  inspired  penmen,  "  His  eyes  behold, 
and  his  eye-lids  try  the  children  of  men.  The 
Lord  is  a  God  of  knowledge,  by  him  actions  are 
weighed.  I,  the  Lord,  search  the  heart,  I  try  the 
reins,  even  to  give  to  every  man  according  to  his 
ways,  and  according  to  the  fruit  of  his  doings." 

And  lest,  from  the  present  outward  prosperity  of 
the  wicked,  any  should  be  unreasonable  and  base 
enough  to  conclude,  that  God  is  not  such  an  exact 
observer  of  our  behavior,  respecting  himself  and 
his  law;  the  Scriptures  are  full  of  this  alarming 
truth,  which  entirely  removes  the  objection ;  that 
"  God  will  bring  every  work  into  judgment,  with 
every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad — that 
he  hath  appointed  a  day,  in  which  he  will  judge 
the  world  in  righteousness — that  every  man  shall 
receive  the  things  done  in  his  body,  whether  they 
be  good  or  bad." 

But  it  is  not  only  at  the  conclusion  of  this  world's 
duration,  and  in  the  day  of  universal  judgment, 
that  God  makes  a  difference  between  those  that 
serve  him,  and  those  that  refuse  subjection  to  his 
laws.  God  represents  himself  as  continually  ex- 
ercising peculiar  and  "distinguishing  love  to  his 
faithful  and  obedient  people."  whilst  he  is  insup- 
portably  terrible  to  his  obstinate  opposers.  He  is 
not  content  with  giving  to  the  former,  assurances 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF    MAN. 


13 


of  his  good-will  towards  them,  and  of  their  future 
glory  in  the  eternal  world :  he  declares,  that  he 
will  maintain  with  them  even  here,  an  intercourse 
of  the  most  delightful  kind.  He  will  give  them 
such  views  of  the  glory  of  his  nature,  the  excel- 
lency of  his  truth,  and  the  tenderness  of  his  love,  as 
the  ungodly  and  careless  neither  know  nor  can 
conceive.  In  every  season  of  extraordinary  temp- 
tation, he  is  secretly  enduing  their  souls  with 
strength,  and  giving  them  power  to  return  from 
every  combat  triumphing  in  conquest,  and  from 
every  trial  enriched  with  more  grace.  A  consider- 
able part  of  Scripture  is  taken  up  with  representing 
the  peculiar  favor  and  loving-kindness  of  God  to 
his  faithful  servants.  A  few  passages  will  give  us 
just  conceptions  of  this  part  of  the  character  of  the 
most  high  God  :  "  The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  upon 
the  righteous,  and  his  ear  is  open  to  their  cry.  The 
steps  of  a  good  man  are  ordered  by  the  Lord,  and 
he  delighteth  in  his  way — though  he  fall,  he  shall 
Dot  utterly  be  cast  down  ;  for  the  Lord  upholdeth 
him  with  his  hand,  for  the  Lord  loveth  judgment, 
and  forsaketh  not  his  saints,  they  are  preserved  for 
ever.  The  Lord  is  a  light  and  defence,  he  will 
give  grace  and  glory,  and  no  good  thing  will  he 
withhold  from  them  that  lead  a  godly  life.  The 
secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him,  and 
he  will  show  them  his  covenant.  The  Lord  sitteth 
above  the  water-floods,  the  Lord  remaineth  a  king 
for  ever.  The  Lord  will  give  strength  unto  his 
people ;  the  Lord  will  give  his  people  the  blessing 
of  peace.  No  weapon  that  is  formed  against  thee 
shall  prosper;  and  every  tongue  that  shall  rise 
against  thee  in  judgment,  thou  shalt  condemn. 
This  is  the  heritage  of  the  servants  of  the  Lord, 
and  their  righteousness  is  of  me,  saith  the  Lord." 

The  substance  of  these  inestimable  mercies,  is 
most  emphatically  expressed  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, and  confirmed  afresh,  as  the  portion  of  all 
true  believers.  "If  any  man  love  me,"  saith  our 
Lord,  "  he  will  keep  my  commandments;  and  I  and 
the  Father  will  love  him,  and  will  come  unto  him, 
and  make  our  abode  with  him."  The  enjoyment 
of  such  a  peculiar  manifestation  of  God's  love  is 
used  by  the  inspired  St.  Paul  as  a  most  cogent  argu- 
ment, to  engage  men,  even  at  a  time  of  extreme 
peril  and  approaching  persecution,  to  forsake  the 
idolatrous  religion  of  their  parents:  "  Wherefore," 
saith  he,  "come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye 
separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing;  and  I 
will  receive  you,  and  be  a  father  unto  you,  and  ve 
shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Al- 
mighty." 

Weigh  well  the  import  of  these  declarations  of 
favor  to  the  children  of  faith,  and  you  will  see,  in 
the  clearest  light,  how  much  the  God  of  heaven  and 
earth  regards  the  conduct  of  every  individual  of 
mankind,  who  faithfully  receives  his  truth.  He  is 
not  ashamed  to  call  himself,  in  every  instance,  the 
friend  of  such,  their  portion,  their  father,  their  ex- 
ceeding great  reward.  He  is  not  ashamed  to  en- 
gage his  own  word  and  oath,  that  he  will  never 
leave  them  nor  forsake  them  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
that  he  will  crown  all  his  goodness  towards  them 
here,  by  calling  them  up  hereafter  to  his  immediate 
presence  and  glory. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  as  striking  a  demonstra- 
tion of  the  notice  which  God  takes  of  men's  prac- 
tice and  deportment,  that  he  will  punish  in  the  most 
awful  mariner  those  who  are  enemies  to  his  govern- 
ment, and  despise  his  authority.  Hear  in  what  terms 
he  proclaims  his  hatred  of  iniquity,  and  his  un- 
changeable purpose  to  execute  vengeance  upon  sin- 
ners ;  and  doubt,  if  you  can,  whether  God  is  con- 
cerned to  maintain  his  own  honor.  "  The  Lord 
your  God,  is  God  of  gods,  and  Lord  of  lords,  a  great 
God,  a  mighty  and  a  terrible,  which  regardeth  not 


persons,  nor  taketh  rewards.  If  I  whet  my  glitter- 
ing sword,  and  my  hand  lay  hold  on  judgment,  I 
will  render  vengeance  to  my  enemies,  and  will  re- 
ward them  that  hate  me.  I  will  make  my  arrows 
drunk  with  blood.  The  adversaries  of  the  Lord 
shall  be  broken  in  pieces,  out  of  heaven  shall  he 
thunder  upon  them.  God  is  angry  with  the  wicked 
every  day.  If  he  turn  not,  he  will  whet  his  sword ; 
he  hath  bent  his  bow,  and  made  it  ready.  Upon 
the  ungodly  he  shall  rain  snares,  fire,  and  brimstone, 
and  an  horrible  tempest ;  this  shall  be  their  portion 
to  drink  :  for  the  righteous  Lord  loveth  righteous- 
ness, his  countenance  will  behold  the  thing  that  is 
just.  The  Lord  will  come  with  fire,  and  with  his 
chariots  ;  like  a  whirlwind,  to  render  his  anger  with 
fury,  and  his  rebukes  with  flames  of  fire ;  for  by 
fire  and  by  his  sword  will  the  Lord  plead  with  all 
flesh,  and  the  slain  of  the  Lord  shall  be  many.  And 
they  shall  go  forth,  and  look  upon  the  men  that  have 
transgressed  against  me  ;  for  their  worm  shall  not 
die,  neither  shall  their  fire  be  quenched,  and  they 
shall  be  an  abhorring  unto  all  flesh." 

To  comment  on  these  nervous  expressions  would 
be  to  enfeeble  them.  To  suppose  them  figurative 
expressions,  in  such  a  sense  as  not  most  emphati- 
cally to  affirm  God's  utter  abhorrence  of  sin,  and 
his  determined  purpose  to  cast  into  hell  those  who 
die  in  their  sins,  is,  in  fact,  to  contradict  them.  In- 
stead of  cavilling  at  them,  or  vainly  endeavoring  to 
explain  them  away,  le-t  us  receive  them  with  awe 
and  fear.  This  is  the  end  which  they  are  intended 
to  produce.  "  Hear  ye,  and  give  ear,  for  the  Lord 
hath  spoken  :  behold,  I  will  execute  judgment ; 
vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay." 

If  any  additional  proof  were  wanting  to  confute 
the  false  and  dangerous  opinion  of  those  who  vain- 
ly suppose  the  Deity  to  be  all  mercy ;  and  who  pre- 
tend to  be  shocked  at  the  notion  of  a  God  who  will 
not  let  the  wicked  pass  unpunished  ;  it  may  be  de- 
rived from  the  attestations  of  our  Saviour — yes,  the 
only-begotten  of  the  Father,  who  cannot  deceive, 
who  has  shown  the  perfection  of  benevolence  to- 
wards sinners,  since  he  laid  down  his  life  for  them 
on  the  cross;  he  has  confirmed,  by  his  own  decla- 
ration, all  the  denunciations  of  wrath  above-men- 
tioned. He  declares,  that  in  the  last  day,  all  na- 
tions shall  be  gathered  before  him,  and  at  that  most 
solemn  time,  in  the  hearing  of  the  whole  rational 
creation,  he  will  say  to  all  them  on  the  left  hand, 
that  is,  to  the  vast  multitudes  of  obstinate  and  in- 
corrigible sinners,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into  ever- 
lasting fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 


SUNDAY  IV.— CHAP.  IV. 

THE   CHARACTER    OF   GOD   EXEMPLIFIED. 

In  our  last  chapter  we  have  the  character  of  God 
given  by  his  own  inspired  penmen.  We  have  seen 
that  they  represent  him  as  a  being  merciful,  and  yet 
just,  merciful,  even  abounding  in  grace  towards  his 
obedient  children  ;  but  just  to  those  who  despise 
him,  in  bringing  upon  them  all  the  curses  written 
in  his  book.  By  this  disposition  towards  both,  he 
appears  infinitely  holy  and  reverend,  and  his  cha- 
racter gives  the  greatest  encouragement  to  the  ex- 
ercise of  faith  in  his  name,  and  to  the  practice  of 
iighteousness  for  his  sake. 

But  if  the  character  of  God  were  only  marked  out 
to  us  by  his  own  declarations,  we  should  be  apt 
(such  is  our  nature)  to  be  only  faintly  impressed  by 
it.  To  give  it  weight  sufficient  to  regulate  our 
practice,  the  character  must  be  made  still  more  con- 
spicuous by  actions.  There  must  be  facts,  esta- 
blished upon  such  authority,  that  we  can  no  more 
question  their  truth,  that  if  with  our  own  eyes  we 
had  seen  them  performed  :   facts  expressive  of  th« 


14 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


very  same  perfections  in  God,  which  his  word  de- 
clares he  possesses.  Accordingly,  the  meLhod  of 
God's  procedure,  both  with  angels  and  men,  is  an 
additional,  and  the  strongest  confirmation  possible 
that  he  isgocd,  merciful,  and  holy  ;  that  he  abounds 
in  love  towaids  his  faithful  people,  but  is  the  dread- 
ful avenger  of  iniquity. 

With  respect  to  the  goodness  of  God,  it  shines 
forth  in  all  tie  excellences  which  angels  possess; 
and  all  the  bli-s  they  inherit,  who  have  never  fallen 
from  God,  noi  left  that  glorious  habitation  he  of  his 
bounty  provided  for  them. 

On  man,  a<  he  came  immediately  out  of  the  hands 
of  his  Creator,  rnd  whilst  he  stood  in  his  first  estate, 
the  signatures  j  "the  divine  goodness  were  so  strong- 
ly impressed,  as  to  excite  envy  in  one  who  had  him- 
self experience!  J  the  happiness  of  angels. — Adam 
was  created  full  of  light  and  knowledge,  of  purity 
and  peace,  of  celight  and  blessedness.  He  was 
formed  in  the  image  of  God  ;  he  was  invested  with 
dominion  over  the  animal  creation.  H";  was  not 
only  conscious  of  the  favor  of  his  infinitely  power- 
ful and  benefit  ent  Creator,  but  he  was  admitted  to 
hold  personal  <  o;nmunion  with  him.  Thus  was  he 
made  only  a  li'  tin  lower  than  the  angels  themselves, 
who  shouted  for  joy  at  the  display  of  the  goodness 
of  God,  manifested  in  the  happiness  of  man.  In 
this  state  of  perfection  Adam  stood  ;  he  was  put  in 
possession  of  i  fir  himself  and  all  his  progeny  ;  in- 
capable of  foi  feiting  or  diminishing  it  but  by  his 
own  wilful  ap  >st  icy. 

Now,  who  can  consider  this  account  of  man's 
original  happiness,  and  not  admire  the  benevolence 
of  him  who  Mas  the  author  of  it  ?  Who  can  sur- 
rey the  riches  jf  i  he  inheritance  provided  for  Adam, 
compared  to  wh'ch,  the  glory  of  Solomon  was  but 
as  the  wretchr  dn  ess  of  a  captive  exile,  and  not  adore 
the  infinite  good  less  of  the  Creator  1 

Again;  wben  Adam,  through  the  envy  and  ma- 
lice of  the  devil  operating  in  a  manner  too  myste- 
rious for  us  lo  comprehend,  revolted  against  his 
Maker,  and  leq  tited  his  bounty  with  the  execrable 
insult  of  beli  .-ving  Satan  to  be  a  better  friend  to  his 
welfare  than  G  >d  ;  though  the  hideous  deed  could 
not  but  draw  innumerable  miseries  after  it;  yet, 
even  then,  be  hod  the  goodness  of  Godshined  bright- 
er than  it  did  e/er  at  the  first  creation,  and  "  where 
sir.  abounded,  g  race  did  much  more  abound."  God 
instantly  re\  ivi  s  our  most  criminal  and  desponding 
parents  with  a  promise  of  salvation.  He  promises, 
O  astonishing  love  !  to  send  an  invincible  deliverer 
into  the  woi Id,  even  His  own  Son!  To  send  him 
into  the  woild  not  to  receive  the  worship  due  unto 
his  name  ;  nc£  to  be  adored  by  every  heart,  as  the 
only-begott-n  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth, 
but  to  be  defamed  as  a  confederate  with  Satan,  cru- 
cified as  a  b'asphemer,  and  to  die,  being  made  a 
curse  for  a  ;.  "  Herein  is  love  !  not  that  we  loved 
God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins."  Could  God  say  of  his 
most  corrupt  and  idolatrous  people,  "  How  shall  I 
give  thee  up,  Ephraim  ?  How  shall  I  deliver  thee, 
Israel  1  My  heart  is  turned  within  me,  my  repent- 
ings  are  kindled  together  1"  What  then  must  be 
the  workings  of  his  love  towards  his  own  Son,  the 
perfect  image  of  himself,  when  he  "  delivered  him 
up  for  oui  offences  V  when  he  seemed  as  it  were  to 
divest  himself  of  the  qualities  of  a  father  towards 
his  son,  an  I,  for  our  sakes,  to  carry  himself  towards 
him  only  as  a  judge.  "  Herein  God  commendeth 
his  love:"  he  places  it  in  the  most  advantageous 
point  of  light  in  which  it  can  possibly  be  seen  by 
angels  or  by  men,  "  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sin- 
ners Christ  died  for  us."  The  conclusion  arising 
from  this  amazing  demonstration  of  goodness  and 
mercy ,  the  sending  his  Son  "  to  suffer  for  the  unjust, 
and  to  beat  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree ;" 


the  conclusion  is  irresistible.  "  He  that  spared  not 
his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how 
shall  he  not  with  him  freely  give  us  all  things'?" 

And  as  the  great  God  has  thus  by  his  actions 
proved  himself  to  be  good  and  merciful,  so  has  he 
in  the  same  way  demonstrated  that  he  is  a  holy  God. 
For  once,  his  word  informs  us,  there  was  war  in 
heaven,  "  Satan  and  his  angels"  rising  up  in  en- 
mity against  their  Maker.  The  criminals,  from  the 
brightness  of  glory  which  they  possessed,  were  call- 
ed "  stars  of  heaven  ;"  (Rev.  xii.  4.)  yet,  no  sooner 
did  they  sin,  than  they  were  stripped  of  all  their 
honors,  and  clothed  with  shame  and  everlasting 
contempt :  from  the  height  of  happiness  they  were 
plunged  into  an  abyss  of  misery  ;  between  them  and 
God  an  impassable  gulf  was  fixed,  so  that  no  means 
of  reconciliation  will  be  ever  found,  no  terms  of 
peace  be  ever  offered  lo  them.  "  God,"  saith  St. 
Peter,  "  spared  not  the  angels  that  sinned,  but  cast 
them  down  to  hell,  and  delivered  them  into  chains 
of  darkness,  to  be  reserved  unto  judgment."  This 
single  fact  is  a  sufficient  demonstration  that  the 
Lord  our  God  is  holy.  For  should  a  king,  famed 
for  wisdom  and  for  mercy,  command  persons  of  the 
first  distinction  round  his  throne  to  be  cast  into  dun- 
geons, and  loaded  with  fetters,  refusing  ever  to  look 
on  them  again  with  favor,  or  hear  a  word  in  miti- 
gation of  their  punishment;  must  not  all  his  sub- 
jects conclude  their  offence  was  most  detestable  1 
and  can  we  draw  any  other  conclusion,  when  we 
read  that  the  God  who  delighteth  in  mercy  has,  in 
the  greatness  of  his  displeasure,  cast  down  from 
their  thrones,  where  his  own  hand  had  placed  them, 
so  many  shining  angels,  and  made  them  examples, 
suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire  1 

Another  display  of  the  holiness  of  God,  in  which 
all  the  children  of  men  have  been  deeply  interested, 
is  the  execution  of  the  punishment  threatened  to  Adam 
our  first  father.  The  threat  was,  that  upon  disobe- 
dience, he  should  immediately  suffer  death.  This 
death  consisted  in  the  loss  of  the  image  of  God,  in 
which  he  was  formed  ;  his  body,  after  some  years 
spent  in  toil  and  sorrow,  returning  to  the  dust  from 
whence  it  was  taken  ;  and  his  soul,  unless  renewed 
after  the  image  of  God,  enduring  the  pains  of  eter- 
nal death.  The  latter  part  of  the  penalty,  we  trust, 
he  escaped,  through  the  Mediator  so  graciously  re- 
vealed to  him  ;  but  of  the  accomplishment  of  the 
former  part,  we  alas!  are  witnesses  at  this  very 
hour.  For  what  have  we,  in  the  place  of  Adam's 
original  power,  but  weakness  and  helplessness? — 
What,  for  his  divine  light  and  knowledge,  but  bru- 
tish ignorance  1  What,  instead  of  his  peace  and 
communion  with  God,  but  natural  dislike  to  him, 
and  guilty  fears  about  his  intentions  concerning  us? 
What,  instead  of  his  perfect  purity,  but  a  heart  so 
deceitful,  and  so  desperately  wicked,  that  God  alone 
can  know  it  1  And,  in  the  place  of  an  Eden,  con- 
trived by  infinite  wisdom  for  delight  and  spiritual 
happiness,  what  but  a  world  of  confusion  and  sin, 
a  field  of  battle,  a  vale  of  misery  ! 

If  you  ask,  whence  comes  this  total  reverse  of 
circumstances  between  the  first  man  in  innocence, 
and  his  posterity  1  God,  who  in  justice  ordained  it, 
gives  you  this  awful  account  of  it ;  "  By  the  offence 
of  one,  judgment  came  upon  all  men  to  condemna- 
tion— bv  one  man's  disobedience,  many  were  made 
sinners."  Ponder  this  in  your  heart,  and  you  will 
not  be  able  to  refrain  from  crying  out,  "  Holy,  holy, 
holv  is  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

Further,  the  dreadful  execution  of  God's  wrath 
upon  all  the  world,  puts  the  holiness  of  his  nature 
out  of  dispute.  Before  the  death,  even  of  all  the 
children  of  those  who  saw  Adam  for  his  sin  an  out- 
cast from  Paradise,  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep 
are  broken  up,  the  windows  of  heaven  are  open  to 
destroy  the  whole  human  race  then  upon  earth,  ex- 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


15 


cept  eight  persons.  And  lest  this  destruction  should 
not  be  judged  the  act  and  deed  of  God  himself,  as 
the  holy  governor  of  the  world,  and  as  a  punishment 
for  its  sin.  hear  the  God  of  all  mercy,  the  giver  of 
e?ery  good  and  perfect  gift,  the  Father  of  the  spirits 
of  all  flesh,  hear  him  declaring  his  awful  purpose 
and  assigning  its  cause.  "  And  God  saw  that  the 
wickedness  of  man  was  great  in  the  earth.  And  it 
repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man,  and  it 
grieved  him  at  his  heart.  And  the  Lord  said,  I  will 
destroy  man  whom  I  have  created  from  the  face  of 
the  earth,  both  man  and  beast,  and  the  creeping 
thing,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  for  it  repenteth  me 
that  I  have  made  them." 

There  is  one  fact  more,  so  demonstrative  of  the 
holiness  of  God,  as  to  eclipse  the  destruction  of  the 
antediluvian  world,  the  fall  of  man,  the  ruin  of  the 
apostate  angels.  For,  in  all  these  cases,  the  suffer- 
ers were  first  actual  transgressors  and  rebels  against 
God.  But  if  you  look  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  there 
you  will  see  the  beloved  of  the  Father,  one  infinitely 
more  holy  lhan  the  holiest  of  the  angels  in  heaven, 
"set  forth  by  God,  to  be  a  propitiation  forsin,  through 
faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righteousness,  for 
the  remission  of  sins  that  are  past,  that  he  might  be 
just,"  might  appear  to  the  eyes  of  men  and  angels, 
glorious  in  holiness  or  justice,  "  and  yet  the  justifier 
of  ihem  that  believe  in  Jesus." 

We  have  appealed,  and  we  shall  again  and  again 
appeal  to  the  death  of  Jesus  upon  the  cross,  yet  we 
hope  without  tautology;  since  this  marvellous  fact, 
considered  in  different  views,  affords  the  strongest 
proof  of  various  perfections  in  God.  At  present  it 
is  urged  in  demonstration  of  God's  infinite  hatred 
of  sin.  And  in  this  light  it  may  be  well  illustrated 
by  a  passage  of  sacred  history.  In  the  book  of  Kings 
("2  Kings  iii.  26.)  we  read  that  the  Moabites  fled  be- 
fore the  kings  of  Israel  and  Judah,  and  afier  a  great 
slaughter  were  forced  with  their  king,  to  retire  into 
their  city.  Here  the  king,  finding  himself  besieged 
and  reduced  to  the  last  extremity,  had  recourse  to 
an  astonishing  act  to  show  his  distress  and  his  in- 
dignation against  Israel.  He  took  his  eldest  son, 
the  heir  of  his  kingdom,  and  in  the  sight  of  his  ene- 
mies, offered  him  up  for  a  burnt-offering  upon  the 
wall.  The  action  succeeded  to  his  wish  ;  the  kings 
of  Israel  and  Judah  were  amazed  and  confounded 
at  the  fury  which  urged  him  to  such  a  deed,  and 
returned  immediately  with  haste  to  their  own  coun- 
try, as  if  pursued  by  a  conqueror. 

Now  this  example,  taken  in  one  point  of  view, 
may  be  applied  to  illustrate  the  subject  before  us. — 
For  the  eternal  Father,  having  used  promises  and 
threatenings,  judgments  and  mercies,  and  still  see- 
ing our  sins  reach  up  to  heaven,  besieging  as  it  were 
his  almighty  throne,  expresses  infinite  indignation 
against  sin — He  takes  his  only-begotten  Son,  the 
heir  of  all  things,  the  express  image  of  his  person, 
and,  in  the  hearing  of  heaven  and  earth,  he  cries 
out,  "  Awake,  O  sword  !  and  smite  my  shepherd, 
the  man  that  is  my  fellow,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 
Should  not  we,  then,  always  remembering  the  death 
of  his  only-begotten  Son,  for  our  transgressions, 
smite  upon  our  breasts,  and  go  and  sin  no  more  1 — 
Should  not  we  serve  God  acceptably  with  reverence 
and  godly  fear,  feeling,  from  this  fact,  that,  to  im- 
penitent sinners,  our  God  will  be  a  consuming  fire, 
i  In  the  last  chapter,  we  produced  from  Scripture 
many  declarations  of  the  peculiar  love  exercised  by 
God  towards  each  individual  that  walks  before  him 
faithfully.  For  instances  to  illustrate  these  we  may 
appenl  to  the  history  of  his  providence,  from  the 
earliest  aires.  Enoch,  the  seventh  in  the  line  of  di- 
rect descent  from  Adam,  because  he  was  uncon- 
querably attached  to  the  truth  and  authority  of  God, 
in  the  midst  of  his  rebellious  kindred,  is  taken  from 
them  in  a  way  which   at  once  immortalizes  his 


name,  and  proclaims  the  love  which  God  bears  to 
his  saints.  Before  this  fac*.  could  grow  faint  or  ob- 
scure, Noah  is  lifted  up  to  cur  observation,  like  the 
ark  in  which  he  was  preserved,  for  an  everlasting 
memorial,  that  in  the  most  desolating  judgments, 
the  care  of  each  individual  saint  is  with  the  Most 
High.  In  the  case  of  righteous  Lot,  the  same  dis- 
tinguishing love  of  God  is  again  manifested  ;  and 
two  assertions  are  made  by  God  upon  this  occasion, 
which  are  most  expressive  of  his  character  towards 
his  faithful  people ;  the  one  is,  that  Sodom  itself 
should  have  been  spared  for  the  sake  of  only  ten 
righteous,  if  but  so  small  a  number  had  been  found 
within  its  walls.  The  other  is,  that  Lot  is  hurried 
away  from  thence  with  this  declaration,  "  Haste 
thee,  escape  ;  for  I  cannot  do  any  thing  till  thou  be 
come  thither." 

And  in  what  other  light  than  as  confirmations  of 
the  character  of  God,  that  he  approveth  the  way  of 
the  righteous,  and  hath  in  all  ages  the  most  tender 
and  affectionate  regard  for  their  welfare  ;  in  what 
other  light  are  we  to  consider  the  surprising  history 
of  the  faithful  Joseph  1  the  favor  showed  to  Joshua 
the  son  of  Nun,  and  Caleb  the  son  of  Jephunneh, 
and  to  them  only  of  all  Israel  who  came  out  of 
Egypt,  or  the  remarkable  and  numerous  deliver- 
ances of  David  from  the  snares  and  persecutions  of 
Saul "?  In  what  oth  jr  way  are  we  to  improve 
Elijah's  miraculous  assumption  into  heaven,  before 
the  eyes  of  his  successor  in  office  the  prophet  Eli- 
sha  1  What  other  conclusions  are  we  to  draw  from 
the  preservation  of  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions,  and 
of  Shadrach,  Meshech,  and  Abednego  in  the  fiery 
furnace  "?  What  are  these  but  witnesses  chosen  of 
God,  and  held  up  to  notice  by  miracles  wrought  in 
their  favor,  that  every  obedient  servant  of  God,  whe 
copies  the  pattern  they  set  before  him,  might  know 
he  is,  as  certainly  they  were,  the  object  of  God's 
singular  care  and  special  love  1  And  though  we 
see  not  now  the  course  of  nature  overruled  for  the 
deliverance  of  the  faithful,  still  the  comprehensive 
promise  of  the  unchangeable  God  abideth  sure; 
"  He  knoweth  them  that  are  his,"  and  will  "  make 
all  tilings  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
him." 

Nor  are  the  facts  which  attest  God's  utter  hatred 
of  the  sin  of  each  individual,  few  in  number  or  of 
doubtful  import.  On  the  contrary,  the  record  of 
his  actions  furnishes  us  with  many  awful  instances 
of  the  immediate  execution  of  justice  on  daring 
offenders.  There  is  scarcely  a  sin  which  has  not 
been  singled  out  as  the  object  of  his  wrathful  dis- 
pleasure. Thus  Ham,  that  could  mock  his  father, 
surprised  by  accident  into  intoxication,  is  accursed  ; 
Lot's  wife,  full  of  worldly  cares,  and  looking  back 
upon  the  loss  of  her  property  with  regret  and  re- 
pining, is  turned  in'o  a  pillar  of  salt.  Envy  and 
aspiring  pride  bring  down  immediate  destruction 
upon  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram.  In  Achan's 
fate,  and  in  Gehazi's  leprosy,  we  see  how  God  ab- 
horred the  covetous.  Behold,  thou  infamous  ad- 
vocate for  fornication,  the  javelin  of  Phinehas 
avenging  God's  quarrel  upon  Zimri  and  Cosbi ; 
renounce  thy  fond  conceit,  that  whoremongers  will 
not  be  judged  by  God :  for  see,  three-and-twenty 
thousand  persons  are  cut  off  by  him  for  this  sin  in 
one  day.  Be  astonished  at  the  patience  of  God  to- 
wards thee,  thou  false  and  lying  tongue,  when  thou 
readest  that  Ananias  and  Sapphira  perished  with 
the  breath  of  falsehood  in  their  lips!  Take  notice, 
thou  despiser  of  Jesus,  of  the  doom  of  thy  fellow- 
criminal  Elymas  the  sorcerer,  and  of  the  judicial 
blindness  with  which  he  was  smitten  while  he  per- 
verted the  way  of  truth.  Understand,  ye  vain  and 
haughty,  from  the  ignominious  death  of  Herod, 
that  a  proud  heart  is  an  abomiration  to  the  Lord, 
and  that  self-exaltation  on  account  of  gifts  or  pre- 


16 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF   MAN. 


eminence  of  any  kind,  is  what  he  cannot  endure ; 
for  behold,  the  royal  deified  orator,  after  the  shout 
of  blasphemous  applause  from  the  multitude,  is  im- 
mediately smitten  by  the  angel  of  the  Lord,  "  be- 
cause he  gave  not  God  the  glory ;  and  he  was  eaten 
of  worms,  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 

All  these  instances,  and  many  more  recited  in 
Scripture,  prove  with  irresistible  force,  that  where- 
ever  envy  or  malice,  covetousness  or  pride,  pro- 
faneness,  impurity,  or  any  temper  opposite  to  the 
Jaw  of  God  prevails,  there  the  wrath  of  God  abid- 
eth  ;  and  there,  unless  they  are  vanquished  before 
death,  must  it  abide  for  ever. 

Such  in  his  natural  and  moral  perfections,  such 
in  his  government  and  providence  towards  his 
whole  rational  creation,  is  the  true  God.  And  that 
there  is  only  one  God,  who  is  in  all,  and  through  all, 
and  over  all,  the  Scripture  is  most  express.  "  I, 
even  I,  am  he,  and  there  is  no  God  with  me.  Be- 
fore me  there  was  no  God  formed,  neither  shall 
there  be  after  me.  I  am  the  first,  and  I  am  the  last, 
and  beside  me  there  is  no  God."  But  then  the  same 
Scripture  teaches  us,  that  this  unity  of  God  is  not  a 
unity  of  person  but  of  essence,  in  which  the  Son 
and  the  Spirit  are  comprehended,  in  glory  equal,  in 
majesty  co-eternal,  with  the  Father.  Without  all 
controversy,  great  is  this  mys'ery  of  godliness.  It 
must,  however,  be  received  :  because  the  Scripture 
ascribes  those  very  perfections,  in  which  the  nature 
of  God  surpasses  that  of  created  beings,  to  the  Son 
and  the  Spirit.  Eternity,  omnipresence,  infinite 
knowledge,  and  uncontrollable  power,  are  repre- 
sented to  belong  to  them :  they,  therefore,  with  the 
Father,  are  to  be  worshipped  and  glorified.  This 
God,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Spirit,  is  the  God 
of  the  Christians.  Whilst  Jews  abhor  this  mystery, 
whilst  Mohammedans  persecute  it  as  an  abomina- 
tion, whilst  the  self-conceited  reject  it  with  disdain, 
the  Christian  church,  acquiescing  in  the  plain  word 
of  God,  and  satisfied  with  his  declarations,  dedi- 
cates herself  to  the  sacred  Three  in  one.  She  con- 
tinually concludes  her  public  worship  with  profess- 
ing her  desire  to  partake  of  the  distinct  and  differ- 
ent blessings,  which  are  imparted  to  the  church 
from  each  of  these  sacred  Three,  entreating  that 
the  "  love  of  God  the  Father,  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
mav  be  with  us  all." 

Having  thus  concluded  our  inquiries  into  the  na- 
ture and  perfections  of  the  most  high  God,  as  they 
are  delineated  in  Scripture,  it  remains,  that  we 
should  examine  and  prove  ourselves,  whether  our 
idea  of  God  is  a  faithful  copy  of  the  Scripture  pat- 
tern? Let  us  try  whether  we  do  not  remain  in 
gross  and  fatal  ignorance  of  his  real  character,  not- 
withstanding the  complete  manner  in  which  he  has 
revealed  himself  in  his  own  most  holy  word?  Take 
it  by  no  means  for  granted,  that  you  really  possess 
the  knowledge  of  God  :  for  thousands  who  are  ut- 
terly destitute  of  it,  who  entertain  notions  of  his 
character  which  are  abominable  in  his  sight,  thus 
flatter  themselves  to  their  own  ruin.  Search,  there- 
fore, and  see  whether  you  heartily  acknowledge 
God  to  be  what  he  has  declared  that  he  is,  in  those 
particulars  in  which  pride,  the  love  of  sin,  or  unbe- 
lief, are  most  apt  to  disfigure  his  real  character. 

For  instance;  do  you  look  upon  God  as  bearing 
that  perfect  abhorrence  to  all  iniquity,  which  the  Bi- 
ble affirms  he  does?  Is  it  a  truth  steadfastly  fixed 
in  your  mind,  that  God  is  not  cruel  to  the  work  of 
his  own  hands,  though  he  doom  every  soul  of  man 
dying  in  sin  to  feel  for  ever  the  weight  of  his  indig- 
nation? Do  you  confess  from  the  heart  that  the 
sanctions  of  his  government  are  full  of  righteous- 
ness and  glory,  though  they  assure  you^that  to 
every  hypocrite  and  unbeliever,  our  God  is  a  con- 
•raming  fire  1 


Again  :  try  yourself,  whether  you  are  firmly  per- 
suaded, that  the  God  whom  you  worship  is  a  sup- 
port and  defence  to  every  one  that  believeth  on  the 
name  of  his  Son  with  an  obedient  heart?  Are  you 
sure  that  the  high  and  lofty  One  who  inhabiteth 
eternity,  humbleth  himself  to  watch  every  moment 
over  each  individual  of  the  faithful  for  good,  and 
careth  for  every  one  of  that  character  at  all  times, 
as  a  wise  father  doth  for  the  son  that  serveth  him  ? 
Do  you  believe  it  as  a  most  certain  truth,  that  God 
doth  indeed  dwell  with  men ;  and  that  he  giveth  to 
all  who  are  living  according  to  his  will,  such  peace 
and  consolation  as  the  world  knoweth  not.  Final- 
ly, try  yourself,  whether  you  have  affecting  views 
of  the  love  of  God,  as  it  manifests  itself  in  the  per- 
son and  offices  of  the  Redeemer,  in  the  influences 
of  the  Spirit,  and  in  that  communion  which  God 
thus  holds  with  all  his  faithful  people  ? 

By  such  inquiries  as  these,  honestly  made,  your 
real  knowledge  or  your  ignorance  of  the  God  of 
whom  the  Bible  speaks,  will  be  discovered  to  your- 
self. It  is  in  these  important  points  that  God  has 
made  that  revelation  of  himself,  and  of  his  conduct 
towards  us,  which  the  world  by  wisdom  could  never 
have  discovered.  And  in  the  same  proportion  as 
God's  own  representation  of  himself  and  of  his  de- 
signs are  believed,  you  will  be  really  enriched  by 
the  knowledge  of  him.  Such  a  knowledge  is  ines- 
timable ;  it  possesses  virtue  to  heal  the  corrupted 
mind  of  man,  and  energy  to  support  it  amidst  nu- 
merous trials,  and  to  keep  it  firm  in  the  exercise  of 
duty :  it  is  this  knowledge,  in  a  word,  which  is  em- 
phatically pronounced  by  our  Saviour  to  be  eternal 
life. 


SUNDAY  V.— CHAP.  V. 

NATURAL   CONDITION   OF    MAN    WITH    RESPECT    TO    GOD. 

No  Science  can  be  thoroughly  known  till  its  first 
principles  are  well  understood.  This  observa- 
tion is  never  more  true  than  when  applied  to  reli- 
gion, the  science  in  which  every  man  is  most  deep- 
ly interested.  One  of  the  first  and  most  necessary 
principles  of  religion  is,  a  knowledge  of  our  own 
condition  and  character,  especially  as  we  stand  re- 
lated to  the  Author  of  our  being. 

Now,  experience  and  Scripture,  those  incontesti- 
ble  witnesses,  jointly  declare  "  the  deplorable  blind- 
ness of  man  in  spiritual  things,  while  in  a  state  of 
nature  ;  and  his  forgetfulness,  contempt,  nay,  even 
hatred  of  his  Creator." 

His  blindness  is  manifested  by  his  practical  denial 
of  his  absolute  dependence  upon  God  for  all  good. 
He  looks  upon  the  endowments  of  person,  mind,  or 
station,  as  if  they  were  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word  his  own ;  he  trusts  in  his  own  wisdom  and 
strength  to  procure  them,  and  when  procured,  he 
glories  in  them  as  his  own  acquirement.  In  words 
indeed  he  acknowledges  one  supreme  universal 
Creator;  but  he  considers  not  the  consequences  ne- 
cessarily flowing  from  this  truth,  to  the  glory  of 
God,  "  that  of  him,  and  through  him,  and  to  him 
are  all  things."  Hence  beauty  is  intoxicated  with 
the  admiration  of  its  own  pleasing  form ;  hence  the 
rich,  proud  of  their  wealth,  look  with  contempt  on 
the  poor;  and  those  who  have  acquired  knowledge 
by  intense  application,  or  who  shine  distinguished 
by  their  superior  genius, spurn  the  ignorant  vulgar; 
nay,  even  the  spiritual  man  is  much  too  ready  to 
exalt  himself  in  the  flattering  survey  of  his  own 
gifts  and  grace.  The  universal  prevalence  of  this 
spirit  of  self-sufficiency  loudly  proc'aims  the  blind- 
ness of  the  human  mind  to  that  fundamental  truth, 
that  "  no  man  can  receive. any  thing  except  it  be 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF   MAN 


11 


given  him  from  above."  With  respect  then  to 
every  advantage  on  which  we  place  a  value,  "  it  is 
God  only  that  maketh  men  to  differ."  But  so  gross 
is  this  blindness,  and  so  truly  is  it  a  property  of  our 
nature,  that  it  is  difficult,  even  with  all  the  aids  of 
supernatural  light  and  divine  grace,  to  obtain  deli- 
verance from  it.  Some  symptoms  of  it  may  be 
found  (where  you  least  suspected  them)  even  in  the 
most  enlightened  of  the  earth. 

The  natural  blindness  of  man  with  respect  to 
God,  may  be  proved  also  by  the  judgment  he  makes 
of  a  life  of  obedience,  and  a  life  of  self-indulgence. 
Compare  these  together,  and  you  would  not  even 
believe  it  possible  to  make  a  wrong  choice.  For 
what  is  a  life  of  obedience  to  God  1  It  is  paying 
our  allegiance  to  the  wisest,  the  best  of  Kings,  and 
duly  discharging  our  filial  duty  to  the  most  affec- 
tionate of  Fathers.  It  is  freedom  to  the  fettered 
soul,  and  deliverance  from  passions  as  base  as  they 
are  hurtful.  It  ensures  a  peaceful  enjoyment  of 
mind,  which  affords  no  ground  for  sharp  self- 
upbraidings.  It  makes  a  man  a  blessing  to  all  in 
close  connection  with  him,  effectually  restraining 
him  even  from  the  intention  to  do  evil.  In  pros- 
perity it  keeps  the  mind  humble  ;  in  adversity,  calm 
and  patient :  nor  can  the  prospect  of  death  disturb 
its  tranquillity,  for  its  hope  is  full  of  immortality. — 
Survey  now  its  contrast,  a  life  of  self-indulgence. 
II  iW  depraved,  how  monstrous  is  every  feature! 
The  whole  appears  no  other  than  a  hideous  com- 
pound of  ignorance,  obstinately  contradicting  infi- 
nite wisdom  ;  of  contempt  shown  by  a  sinful  worm 
to  eternal  majesty ;  of  ingratitude  to  bounty  the 
most  undeserved;  of  rebellion  aiming  its  blow 
against  supreme  mercy.  A  life  of  self-indulgence 
makes  a  man  afraid  to  look  inwards,  or  forwards 
to  approaching  eternity;  it  is  infectious  and  full  of 
mischief  to  others ;  it  is  wholly  without  excuse, 
and  in  every  view  altogether  odious. 

What  light  can  there  be  left  in  the  human  mind, 
if  a  life  of  obedience  is  not  always,  without  hesita- 
tion, preferred,  infinitely  preferred,  to  a  life  of  self- 
indulgence'?  For  beauty,  in  its  loveliest  bloom, 
doth  not  so  evidently  excel  pale  loathsome  disease, 
as  a  life  of  faithful  obedience  surpasses  one  of  self- 
gratification. 

Yet,  alas  !  to  the  shame  of  man,  experience  daily 
proves  his  choice  to  be  fixed  on  what  merits  abso- 
lute contempt,  and  his  preference  to  be  given  where 
detestation  alone  is  due.  Innumerable  are  the 
slanders  with  which  man  asperses  a  life  of  strict 
obedience,  and  loud  are  the  complaints  he  urges 
against  it ;  he  industriously  employs  all  his  powers 
of  wit  and  reason  to  make  a  uniform  subjection  to 
the  will  of  God  appear  irksome,  and  opposition  to 
it  guiltless. 

In  vain  do  all  the  children  of  obedience  lift  up 
their  voice  together,  and  cry,  "Great  is  the  peace 
tiiat  they  have  who  keep  thy  law,  and  nothing  shall 
offend  them."  In  vain  does  the  all-sufficient  Jeho- 
vah promise  his  in-dwelling  presence  and  Spirit; 
in  vain  does  he  promise  pardon,  power,  peace  and 
salvation  to  the  faithful  and  obedient;  all  is  too 
weak'  to  open  the  eyes  of  men  in  general,  and  to 
enable  them  to  perceive  such  pleasure  and  such 
charms  in  the  way  of  duty,  as  they  fondly  fancy 
they  discover  in  the  paths  of  self-will  and  transgres- 
sion. And  to  this  gross  mistake  it  is  owing,  that 
the  number  of  real  Christians  is  so  small,  the  mul- 
titude of  open  sinners  so  great. 

This  observation  leads  us  to  a  further  discovery 
of  the  blindness  natural  to  the  human  mind,  with 
respect  to  what  it  esteems  the  true  foundation  of 
happiness.  Were  it  a  fact,  that  great  possessions, 
titles,  or  appearances  could  satisfy  the  soul,  it  might 
then  be  no  proof  of  human  blindness  to  seek  for 
happiness  in  what  the  world  can  give,  to  the  neglect 
37* 


or  disparagement  of  God:  or  were  we,  like  the 
heathen,  left  in  gross  darkness  about  the  perfections 
of  God,  and  in  ignorance  of  the  notice  he  takes  of 
his  creatures;  on  either  of  these  suppositions  it 
wouid  be  no  evidence  of  blindness  in  man  to  reject, 
as  imaginary,  the  prospect  of  finding  happiness  in 
the  knowledge  of  God,  and  in  a  lively  conscious- 
ness of  his  favor,  lie  might  plead,  that  it  was  the 
height  of  arrogance  anil  presumption  to  imagine 
there  could  be  an  intimacy  and  friendship  between 
him  and  God. 

But  when,  on  the  contrary,  the  infallible  Scrip- 
tures fully  display  to  us  the  glorious  perfections  of 
our  God,  and  when  they  assure  us  also  of  the  high 
place  man  holds  in  his  thoughts  ;  when  they  declare 
that  his  heart  is  open  to  embrace  him,  as  soon  as  he 
earnestly  desires  deliverance  from  sin,  and  to  treat 
him  with  all  the  endearments  a  son  can  receive 
from  the  most  loving  father — in  such  a  case  must 
not  the  mind  be  deplorably  infatuated,  if  it  does  not 
listen  with  delight  to  these  declarations,  place  con- 
fidence in  them,  and  instantly  accep'  the  rich  offer 
made  by  them  as  a  treasure  of  peau.,  A  happiness, 
and  glory  1  Yet  alas  !  far  from  acting  in  this  most 
resonable  manner,  we  are  with  great  difficulty 
brought  to  believe  that  God  does  indeed  dwell  with 
man  ;  and  with  still  greater,  to  desire  any  share  in 
communion  with  him.  After  a  thousand  disap- 
pointments from  the  world,  still  with  boundless  ere 
dulity  we  depend  upon  delusion  for  happiness.  The 
meanest  trifle,  the  most  sordid  pursuit,  every  thing 
except  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God,  we  are  blind 
enough  to  fancy  worth  our  esteem  and  our  labor  to 
obtain. 

Thus  does  gross  ignorance  cover  the  mind  of 
fallen  man.  Every  inferior  creature,  even  the 
crawling  worm  or  buzzing  insect,  perceives  what  is 
most  beneficial  for  itself,  steadily  pursues  and  con- 
stantly adheres  to  it.  But  man  is  naturally  blind  to 
the  fountain  of  all  good,  and  to  the  enjoyment  he 
can  possess  through  the  knowledge  and  love  of  him. 
Even  men  of  the  finest  abilities,  whose  penetration, 
in  other  respects,  is  piercing  as  the  eagle's  sight,  are 
in  this  point  miserably  blind.  Gross  darkness 
covers  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  young  and  the  obi, 
the  priest  and  the  people,  till  God  commands  the 
light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  and  bestows  from  on 
high  a  sound  understanding  and  right  judgment. 

The  blindness  of  the  human  mind  is  most  strongly 
asserted  in  the  following  Scriptures,  to  which  more 
of  the  same  kind,  were  it  necessary,  might  be  ad- 
ded :  Job  xi.  12.  "  Man  is  born  like  the  wild  ass's 
colt,"  fhat  is,  not  only  destitute  of  heavenly  light 
and  wisdom,  but  stupid  to  apprehend  it,  and  averse 
to  receive  it.  Observe  how  keenly  this  is  pointed: 
like  the  ass — an  animal  remarkable  for  its  stupidity 
even  to  a  proverb;  like  the  ass's  colt,  which  OS 
course  must  be  more  egregiously  stupid  than  the- 
dam;  like  the  wild  ass's  colt,  which  is  not  only  dull', 
but  stubborn  and  refractory,  neither  by  nature  pos- 
sessing valuable  qualities,  nor  capable  of  receiving 
them  through  any  discipline.  The  same  blindness, 
natural  to  the  human  mind,  is  necessarily  implied 
in  those  assertions  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which 
ascribe  all  discernment  of  spiritual  things  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Ghost:  which  style  him  the 
Spirit  of  Truth,  whose  office  it  is  to  lead  us  all  into 
truth.  Nay,  sufficiently  decisive  on  this  point,  if 
there  were  no  other  testimony,  is  that  remarkable 
one  of  St.  Paul:  "  The  natural  man  recei/eth  not  the 
things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they  are  foolishness 
unto  him,  neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they 
are  spiritually  discerned."  1  Cor.  ii.  14. 

But  it  is  not  blindness  only  that  is  chargeable  on 
fallen  man  ;  his  entire  forgetfulness  of  God,  even 
though  the  vhole  creation  loudly  attests  his  excel- 
lency and  his  presence,  argues  extreme  depravity. 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF   MAIN. 


Man  can  be  a  witness  to  the  whole  host  of  heaven 
moving  in  continual  order  uround  him ;  he  can  en- 
joy the  grateful  vicissitude  of  the  seasons,  and  feast 
upon  the  various  bounties  of  the  earth  ;  he  can  stand 
encircled  with  conveniences  and  comforts,  and  yet 
not  advert  to  the  infinitely  wise  and  gracious  hand 
that  made  and  sustains  all  things.  He  excludes 
God  from  the  government  of  hi.s  own  world,  be- 
cause not  subject  to  the  observation  of  his  senses, 
and  ascribes  the  honor  due  to  him,  to  those  passive 
instruments  which  only  subserve  his  will.  When 
God,  therefore  would  impress  a  nation  with  any 
heartfelt  awe  of  his  agency  and  rule  over  the  af- 
fairs of  men,  he  is  compelled  to  send  forth  his  judg- 
ments on  the  earth,  which,  like  a  glaring  comet 
troubling  the  sky  with  its  irregular  motion  and  por- 
tentious  appearance,  may  arrest  the  attention, 
alarm  the  fears,  and  lead  the  thoughts  of  man  to  his 
Maker.  When  he  would  recover  an  individual 
from  that  deep  forgetfulness  of  him  in  which  he  lies 
by  nature,  he  must  change  his  prosperity  into 
trouble,  and  his  joy  into  heaviness;  he  must  confine 
him  to  a  chamber  of  sickness,  or  on  a  bed  of  lan- 
guishing must  teach  him  to  know  himself;  he  must 
scourge  him  with  pain,  or  by  fearful  apprehensions 
of  impending  punishment  must  awaken  the  sleeper 
into  sensibility.  Still,  however,  even  after  these  se- 
vere monitors  have  faithfully  performed  their  office, 
and  forcibly  set  before  man  his  adorable  Creator, 
the  remembrance  of  him,  alas !  is  apt  to  pass  away 
like  that  of  a  guest  which  tarries  but  a  day. 

It  passes  away,  though  all  nature  unites  to  exhibit 
him  to  the  senses.  "Whilst  the  sun,  clothed  in 
transcendant  brightness,  comes  forth  from  his  cham- 
ber every  morning  to  publish  his  Maker's  glory; 
whilst  the  moon  and  stars,  which  govern  the  night, 
add  their  united  evidence  to  magnify  their  Creator 
to  a  gazing  but  unaffected  world  ;  whilst  the  air 
whispers  his  clemency  in  the  balmy  refreshing  gale, 
his  majesty  sounds  aloud  in  roaring  winds  and  rend- 
ing storms:  yet  both  expedients  fail;  man  is  like 
the  deaf  adder  thatstoppeth  her  ears,  he  refuseth  to 
hear  the  voice  of  the  charmers,  charm  they  never  so 
sweetly,  never  so  forcibly.  Each  flower,  arrayed  in 
beauty  and  breathing  perfume,  courts  our  affections 
for  its  infinitely  amiable  Author;  not  a  bird  that 
warbles,  or  a  brook  that  murmurs,  but  invites  our 
praise  or  chides  our  ingratitude.  All  the  variety  of 
fruits  deposit  their  attestation  on  our  palates,  yet 
seldom  reach  our  hearts  :  they  give  us  a  proof  of  the 
divine  benignily,  as  undeniable  as  it  is  pleasing, 
and  too  often  as  ineffectual  also.  In  short,  the 
whole  creation  is  a  kind  of  magnificent  embassy 
from  its  almighty  Lord,  deputed  to  proclaim  his  ex- 
cellences, and  demand  our  homage:"  Yet  man, 
such  is  the  depravity  of  his  mind,  disregards  the 
former,  and  of  consequence  withholds  the  latter. 

It  may  be  said,  these  instances  of  the  power,  wis- 
dom, and  goodness  of  God  in  the  creation,  are  silent 
and  inarticulate  witnesses,  and  therefore  fail  to  en- 
gage the  attention  of  man.  Alas!  then  his  forget- 
fulness of  his  Maker  is  stubborn  enough  to  with- 
stand even  louder  calls.  Behold  !  "  the  messenger 
of  the  Lord,"  with  heaven-enkindled  zeal  in  his 
heart  and  fire  in  his  eyes,  addresses  him  ;  he  pleads 
before  him  the  cause  of  God  and  truth;  he  makes 
his  earnest  appeal  to  reason,  to  man's  own  experi- 
ence, whether  God  ought  to  be  forgotten  ?  He  sets 
the  Father  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh  before  him,  in 
the  supreme  glory  of  his  character  and  the  over- 
flowing riches  of  his  grace :  yet  the  force  of  the  im- 
pression abides  no  longer  than  till  the  next  earthly 
trifle  occurs,  or  the  favorite  object  of  pursuit  pre- 
sents itself  to  the  mind.  Either  can  scatter  every 
idea  of  God  from  his  faithless  memory,  as  the  wind 
disperses  the  chaff. 

Nay,  when  that  holy  word,  which  breathes  the  ma- 


jesty of  him  who  inspired  it,  is  read  by  his  minister, 
man,  till  renewed  by  grace,  betrays  in  his  whole 
deportment  a  flagrant  insensibility  and  a  reproach- 
ful irreverence  toward  God.  The  sons  of  business 
are  still  in  idea,  buying,  selling,  and  getting  gain, 
as  at  the  exchange  or  market :  the  eye  of  lewdness 
ceases  not,  even  in  the  holy  assembly,  to  gratify  evil 
concupiscence:  youthful  curiosity  roves  with  care- 
less indifference  from  object  to  object.  Amidst  a 
multitude  of  professed  worshippers  of  God,  only 
the  few  who  have  been  happily  recovered  from 
their  natural  insensibility  worship  him  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.  Weigh  this  fact,  too,  too  frequently  occur- 
ring, not  to  fall  under  your  notice  ;  and  it  will  ex- 
tori  a  confession  from  you,  that  the  God,  in  whose 
hands  is  all  our  life  and  happiness,  for  time  and  for 
eternity,  is  more  overlooked  than  the  smallest  ob- 
ject that  concerns  our  temporal  welfare,  and  more 
forgotten  than  the  meanest  person  on  whom  we 
may  have  dependence. 

We  have  seen,  then,  that  it  is  the  way  of  man  to 
live  in  forgetfulness  of  God.  But  let  not  this  for- 
getfulness be  considered  as  the  effect  of  mere  inat- 
tention, a  venial  failing  which,  though  it  ought  to 
be  corrected,  argues  no  corrupt  nature — No,  it  is 
highly  culpable :  it  arises  entirely  from  a  depravity 
of  disposition.  Are  we  wont  to  be  obstinately  inat- 
tentive to  our  friends,  whilst  any  degree  of  venera- 
tion remains  for  them  ?  When  the  lord  of  a  great 
household  is  absent,  and  therefore  invisible  to  his 
servants,  do  they  lose  the  remembrance  of  their  duty 
unless  they  are  wholly  base  and  profligate  ?  When 
children  are  separated  from  their  affectionate  pa- 
rents, though  even  at  the  distance  of  whole  king- 
doms, can  they  lose  a  lively  remembrance  of  their 
relation,  or  a  sense  of  their  obligations,  unless  they 
are  sunk  into  total  degeneracy  ?  If  we  trace,  there- 
fore, man's  forgetfulness  of  God  up  to  its  real 
source,  it  will  afford  us  still  more  afflicting  evidence 
of  his  natural  depravity,  and  prove  "he  is  a  des- 
piser  of  the  Lord  God  omnipotent." 

Neither  let  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  God,  and 
of  the  homage  he  requires  from  men,  be  pleaded  as 
an  excuse  for  our  forgetfulness.  For  has  not  rea- 
son remonstrated  against  our  sin  1  Has  not  the 
word  of  God  distinctly  pointed  out  its  malignity  1 — 
Have  not  undeniable  facts  proved,  that  God,  not- 
withstanding his  infinite  greatness,  is  pleased  to  in- 
spect our  conduct  with  the  most  minute  attention  1 
No  earthly  potentate  can  show  himself  so  observ- 
ant of  the  manners  of  his  subjects,  so  jealous  of  the 
honor  of  his  laws,  as  the  King  eternal,  immortal, 
and  invisible.  For,  ask  and  inquire  under  heaven, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  unto  this  day,  who 
is  he  among  the  princes  of  this  world,  that  has  so 
fully  prohibited  all  that  is  evil,  or  so  strictly  enjoin- 
ed the  practice  of  all  good,  as  the  Lord  of  the  whole 
earth?  who  has  added  penalties  to  deter  from  pre- 
sumptious  offences  against  his  laws,  worthy  to  be 
compared  to  everlasting  burnings  ?  In  what  state 
are  such  rich  preferments,  such  desirable  honors, 
insured  to  loyalty  and  obedience,  as  in  the  kingdom 
of  our  God?  or  to  say  no  more,  who  among  the 
kings  of  the  earth,  in  all  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath, 
has  been  found  so  terrible  to  avenge  his  quarrel,  as 
the  righteous  God,  in  his  judgments  that  have  been 
executed  upon  sinners? 

Our  forgetfulness,  therefore,  of  so  great  a  God, 
who  has  so  plainly  and  fully  manifested  his  au- 
thority, is  sinful,  and  is  an  instance  of  high  depra- 
vity. It  is  no  less  than  contempt  of  God,  and  as 
such  is  a  crime  infinitely  heinous.  To  show  con- 
tempt to  a  person  who  is  in  any  degree  our  superior,  is 
a  greater  offence,  all  will  allcw,  than  if  he  were  our 
equal.  To  offer  an  affront  to  a  crowned  head,  a 
much  greater  offence  than  to  a  private  man — as 
every  act  of  honor  derives  its  value  from  the  dignity 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN. 


19 


of  him  who  pays  it,  so  an  offence  is  dishonorable 
and  base,  in  proportion  to  the  character  of  him 
against  whom  it  is  committed.  The  consequence 
then  is  plain,  that  to  show  contempt  to  God,  is  an 
offence  truly  infinite  ;  for  almighty  power,  made 
lovely  by  an  essential  union  with  perfect  wisdom, 
justice,  and  mercy,  constitutes  the  name  of  God,  and 
demands  the  heartfelt  adoration  of  his  creatures. — 
To  question  whether  such  an  adoration  be  due  to 
him,  argues  a  profligate  stupidity  of  mind ;  but  to  act 
as  if  he  were  unworthy  of  fear  and  love,  is  still 
more  flagitious  wickedness. 

Yet  that  it  is  the  custom  of  man  thus  to  act,  you 
may  see  in  the  clearest  light, 'wherever  you  turn 
your  eyes.  Consider  the  multitudes  who  are  living 
in  the  open  breach  of  one  or  other  of  the  laws  of 
God.  Are  they  doing  so  because  they  are  ignorant 
thai  their  sin  is  forbidden  ?  No.  Profane  swearers 
know  what  the  third  Commandment  requires,  and 
by  what  Lawgiver  it  is  enacted ;  the  intemperate 
are  acquainted  with  the  Scripture  which  denounces 
woes  on  those  "  whose  god  is  their  belly,  and  who 
are  mighty  to  drink  wine  ;"  the  lewd  are  no  stran- 
gers to  that  awful  declaration,  "  whoremongers 
and  adulterers  God  will  judge,"  nor  fraudulent 
tradesmen  to  that  solemn  appeal,  "  Know  ye  not, 
that  the  unrighteous  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom 
of  God  V 

But  notwithstanding  these  plain  peremptory  de- 
clarations, fraud,  intemperance,  and  profaneness, 
have  ever  covered  almost  the  whole  fare  of  the 
earth — and  sinners  of  each  of  the  above-mentioned 
class,  though  entreated,  though  importuned,  though 
adjured  in  the  name  of  God,  who  made,  who  pre- 
serves, and  who  will  judge  them,  not  only  refuse  to 
nearken,  but  rage  in  confidence  of  their  own  safety. 
By  this  conduct  man  foams  out  his  own  shame,  and 
proves  that,  where  he  can  neither  plead  ignorance, 
nor  forgetfulness,  he  will  dare  to  treat  the  com- 
mands of  God  as  if  he  thought  them  the  wild  injunc- 
tions of  passion,  the  impositions  of  tyranny,  or  the 
dictates  of  folly.  He  will  dare  lo  treat  the  law  of 
his  Maker,  as  if,  in  some  instances,  at  least  respect- 
ing himself,  it  were  absurd  in  its  intention,  unrea- 
chable in  its  restraints,  unnecessary  to  be  observed, 
and  to  be  broken  with  impunity. 

It  is  in  vain  for  man  to  reply,  whilst  he  remains 
a  wilful  transgressor  of  the  law,  that  it  is  far  from 
his  intention  to  be  guilty  of  contempt  towards  God, 
he  only  means  to  please  himself  in  his  sin.  For 
where  the  law  of  God  is  openly  declared,  as  it  is  in 
every  Christian  country,  it  is  impossible  to  do  the 
one  without  being  guilty  of  the  other  also.  A  re- 
oellious  spirit  cannot  possibly  discover  a  more  fla- 
grant contempt  of  God's  government,  than  by  first 
concluding,  that  it  will  be  his  interest  to  walk 
contrary  to  his  commandment;  and  then,  whilst 
doing  so,  making  light  of  the  wrath  revealed  in  the 
most  solemn  manner  against  all  the  unrighteousness 
and  ungodliness  of  men. 

But  in  whatever  point  of  view  man  may  himself 
regard  his  practice  of  sin,  it  is  beyond  dispute  that 
the  eternal  God  looks  upon  it  in  a  most  serious 
light,  and  will  punish  it  as  a  contempt  of  his  autho- 
rity. He  represents  himself  as  so  touched  by  the 
unprovoked  and  inexcusable  rebellion  of  sinners, 
that  he  becomes  inexorable  to  their  cries,  and  re- 
gardless of  the  dreadful  miseries  into  the  abyss  of 
which  they  are  ready  to  fall:  "Because  I  have 
called,"  by  my  Spirit,  my  law,  and  my  ministers, 
"and  ye  refused;"  because,  like  one  vehemently 
desirous  to  be  obeyed,  "I  have  stretched  out  my 
hand,  and  no  man  regarded."  But  "  ye  have  set  at 
nought  all  mv  counsel,  and  would  have  none  of  my 
reproof:  I  will  also  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  I 
will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh.  When  your 
fear  cometh  as  desolation,  and  your  destruction 


cometh  as  a  whirlwind,  when  distress  and  anguish 
cometh  upon  you."  Prov.  i.  21 — 27.  In  this  passage 
you  observe  the  Almighty  expressing,  in  the  most 
alarming  manner,  the  contempt  and  scorn  he  will 
show  towartls  obstinate  sinners,  as  only  the  just  re- 
taliation upon  them  of  the  very  same  usage  and 
treatment  he  has  received  so  long  at  their  hands. 

What  has  been  offered  proves  but  too  fully  the 
natural  depravity  of  man.  There  is  no  way  of  re- 
futing it,  but  by  allirming  that  it  implies  no  base- 
ness to  behave  towards  the  Fountain  of  all  good 
with  forgetfulness,  and  to  treat  Excellency  itself 
with  contempt.  But  wherever  there  should  be  im- 
piety enough  to  maintain  such  a  shocking  assertion, 
there  would  also  be  a  living  demonstration  of  the 
truth  that  was  contradicted. 


SUNDAY  VI.— CHAP.  VI. 

NATURAL   ENMITY    OF    MAN   AGAINST  GOD. 

The  deplorable  blindness  of  man  in  his  natural 
condition,  his  neglect  and  contempt  of  God,  have 
been  already  stated;  but  there  is  still,  alas!  some- 
thing worse  chargeable  upon  us  all  till  created  again 
in  Christ  Jesus.  This  I  should  carefully  conceal, 
if  it  was  my  aim  merely  to  please  my  reader,  in- 
stead of  bringing  him  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
himself.  I  know  that  what  I  am  going  to  prove 
upon  fallen  man,  is  extremely  offensive  to  natural 
pride.  I  remember  well  the  time,  when  my  own 
self-complacency  would  have  been  provoker!  at  such 
a  charge  as  I  now  bring  against  the  human  race.— 
Let  me  then  entreat  the  candor  of  the  reader  to  be 
lieve  that  I  would  most  conscientiously  avoid  im- 
puting to  fallen  man,  more  sinfulness  than  Scrip- 
ture and  experience  fully  warrant :  let  me  also 
humbly  request  to  be  esteemed  no  less  benevolent 
than  if  I  maintained  that  man  was  born  with  per- 
fect rectitude  of  soul.  I  should  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  embrace  that  opinion,  if  fact  and  the  ex- 
press testimony  of  God  did  not  compel  me  to  re 
nounce  it  as  a  dangerous  delusion. 

Having  thus  endeavored  to  procure  an  unpreju- 
diced hearing  of  my  arguments,  I  am  bold  to  open 
to  the  bottom  the  deplorable  corruption  of  human 
nature,  and  to  maintain  that  there  dwells  in  the 
heart  of  every  man,  till  changed  by  grace,  an  aver- 
sion to  the  very  Author  of  his  being.  This  is  an  ac- 
cusation of  so  detestable"  a  kind,  that  even  those  who 
are  most  visibly  under  the  power  of  a  dreadful  de- 
pravity of  mind,  will  not  allow  its  truth.  But  the 
proofs  I  shall  bring  are  such  as  every  one  would  al- 
low sufficiently  to  demonstrate  aversion  in  any  other 
case.  And  after  these  proofs  are  laid  before  you, 
you  shall  then  hear  the  infallible  decisions  of  the 
word  of  God. 

You  will  allow,  then,  that  wherever  the  company 
of  persons  confessedly  wise,  excellent,  and  amiable, 
is  distasteful  and  irksome,  there  is  ground  to  con- 
clude, that  it  nrises  from  some  personal  dislike. — 
Now  secret  ptayer,  and  reading  ihe  Scriptures  with 
humility  and  attention,  are  the  nearest  approach  to 
God,  the  most  like  being  in  his  company  of  any 
thing  of  which  we  are  at  present  capable.  By  these, 
therefore,  we  are  said  in  Scripture,  "  to  seek  his  face 
and  come  into  his  presence."  If  therefore  an  aver- 
sion to  holding  such  intercourse  as  this  with  God, 
can  be  proved  natural  to  fallen  man,  it  evidently 
proves  his  aversion  to  him;  for  none  can  dispute  the 
wisdom  of  God  or  his  glorious  excellence. 

By  this  test  try  the  human  race  in  every  s'age  of 
life,  and  say,  where  are  the  young  people,  where  arc 
the  old,  who  before  they  are  divinely  renewed,  have 
any  delight  in  prayer  and  reading  the  Scripture?— 
I  do  not  say  they  totally  neglect  them;  but  do  nol 


a* 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


they  repeat  t'.ieir  prayers  in  haste,  without  serious 
attention  to  iheir  meaning'?  Is  not  the  Bible,  that 
•uihei.Ui;  account  of  God  and  his  wonderful  works, 
a  dull  tasteless  book,  and  therefore  neglected  1  If 
it  is  read,  are  not  a  few  minutes  thought  time 
enough  for  such  a  task,  whilst  hours  are  every  day 
consumed  with  delight  in  idle  sauntering,  in  frivo- 
lous visits,  or  in  frothy  entertainments'?  If  this 
conduct  doth  not,  what  can  demonstrate  the  aver- 
sion of  man  to  God  1  especially,  since  God,  amaz- 
ing condescension!  offers  to  hold  communion  with 
us,  invites  our  acquaintance,  and  would  have  us  re- 
gard him  as  our  exceeding  joy;  why  is  this  offer 
slighted  1  Surely,  because  we  naturally  like  not 
to  retain  him  in  our  knowledge,  nor  to  glorify  him 
as  God. 

Again:  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  a  great  degree 
of  hatred  against  a  person  prevails  when  it  extends 
even  to  those  that  are  connected  with  him,  and 
when  attachment  to  him  becomes  a  cause  for  break- 
ing the  closest  bonds  of  friendship. 

Tried  by  this  rule,  the  natural  aversion  of  man's 
heart  to  his  glorious  Creator,  Redeemer,  and  Sanc- 
tifier,  appears  as  flagrant  in  its  effects,  as  it  is  de- 
testable in  itself.  A  zealous  spirit  of  obedience  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  may  be  considered  as  the  ex- 
pression of  a  sincere  attachment  to  him;  but  this 
spirit  is,  in  all  ages  of  life,  offensive  to  the  generali- 
ty of  mankind.  Does  this  uncommon,  but  most  ex- 
cellent disposition  discover  itself  in  a  child  at 
school,  his  playmates,  as  from  an  instinctive  enmity 
against  him,  will  assault  and  persecute  him  with 
derision.  In  universities,  which  furnish  education 
for  the  world,  you  may  be  lewd  and  intemperate, 
profane  in  speech  and  principle,  without  offence  to 
your  fellow-students;  but  if,  with  a  becoming  forti- 
tude, you  refrain  from  all  fashionable  sins,  and  urge 
the  authority  of  God's  law  against  them,  the  most 
cutting  ridicule  and  abusive  insult  will  be  heaped 
upon  you. 

Now  as  this  is  the  case  before  the  corrupt  affec- 
tions of  the  human  heart  are  strengthened  by  age 
or  inflamed  by  indulgence,  it  must  necessarily  be 
much  more  so  afterward.  It  is  accordingly  a  fact, 
that  the  real  fear  and  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus, 
become  the  cause  of  variance  and  separation  where 
the  greatest  intimacy  and  the  closest  friendship  sub- 
sisted before.  Those  very  persons  who,  whilst  liv- 
ing in  a  fashionable  forgetfulness  of  God,  were  be- 
loved as  most  amiable,  and  even  proposed  as  pat- 
terns for  imitation — no  sooner  are  divinely  changed 
to  delight  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  his  gospel, 
than  they  perceive  their  careless  friends  treat  them 
at  first  with  a  civil  reserve,  then  proceed  to  cen- 
sures of  their  extravagant  piety,  and  at  length  dis- 
card them  entirely  from  their  friendship.  But  could 
this  be  the  case  if  there  were  no  aversion  in  the 
heart  to  God?  By  no  means;  for  though  you  may 
not  like  your  friend's  contracting  an  intimacy  with 
a  third  person,  yet  you  will  not  quarrel  with  him 
for  it,  unless  you  had  a  secret  dislike  of  that  per- 
son in  your  heart. 

It  is  a  sure  proof  of  aversion  against  a  person, 
when  "the  respectful  mention  of  his  name,  and  the 
just  praise  ascribed  to  him,  is  not  borne  without  im- 
patience and  displeasure."  The  party-bigot,  every 
man  will  allow,  overflows  with  the  gall  of  bitter- 
ness; and  therefore,  when  the  good  qualities  of  those 
who  are  in  opposition  to  his  sect  become  the  subject 
of  discourse,  he  either  sits  in  silent  chagrin,  or  is 
evidently  impatient  till  another  topic  of  discourse 
is  introduced. 

And  is  it  not  then  a  proof  of  aversion  to  God, 
when,  amidst  all  the  variety  of  subjects  of  discourse, 
objection  is  made  only  against  such  as  are  designed 
io  magnify  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ 
whom  he  hath  sent  1    What  but  aversion  to  God 


would  immediately  brand  such  conversations  with 
the  odious  names  of  cant  and  hypocrisy,  and  obsti- 
nately ascribe  it  to  some  hateful  motive  of  ostenta- 
tion or  sinister  design  1 

Men  are  pleased  with  incessant  prating  about 
every  the  meanest  trifle,  or  most  sordid  vanity  ;  but 
as  soon  as  any  attempt  is  made  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation on  the  great  Lord  of  the  world,  his  transac- 
tions, government,  perfections,  and  love,  the  very 
mention  of  the  subject  is  received  in  most  compa- 
nies with  visible  dislike,  a  disapproving  silence  en- 
sues, and  the  subject  drops  as  soon  as  introduced. — 
Ah!  what  can  demonstrate  that  the  unrenewed 
heart  of  man  is  at  enmity  with  God,  if  this  fact  does 
not,  which  proclaims  so  loudly  that  he  is  the  only 
person  of  whom  no  one  chooses  to  speak,  and  whose 
praises  no  one  desires  to  hear'?  Could  a  circle  of 
avowed  Atheists  desire  to  have  it  otherwise  1 

Again :  who  can  doubt  whether  enmity  reigns  in 
he  heart  against  an  earthly  king,  when  the  tongue 
is  busy  in  abusing  his  professed  friends,  and  in  cast- 
ing reproach  upon  his  government,  and  the  hand  is 
active  in  opposing  it  1  Can  it  be  doubled  then  what 
is  the  real  temper  of  man's  heart  towards  God  the 
King  of  the  whole  earth,  before  a  divine  change  is 
experienced,  when  it  is  common  to  hear  ridicule 
poured  upon  the  pious  and  devout,  as  creatures  ab- 
surdly demure,  pitiably  weak  in  their  judgment,  or 
enthusiastic  in  their  temper!  What  a  malicious 
insinuation  is  this  against  the  glory  of  God  1  Does 
it  not  imply  that  all  who  have  any  concern  for  this 
honor  are  actually  under  the  power  of  delusion,  and 
truly  despicable  in  their  choice  and  pursuits'! 

Add  to  this,  that  the  disobedience  of  men  to  the 
law  of  God  amounts  to  the  strongest  proofs  of  aver- 
sion to  him.  Every  wilful  transgression  is  an  act 
of  controversy  with  him  who  forbids  it,  and  of  di- 
rect opposition  to  his  will;  it  is  expressly  styled  in 
Scripture,  "  rebellion  against  God."  For  "though 
we  have  no  power  to  overcome  our  Maker,  or  to 
shake  the  everlasting  pillars  of  his  throne  ;  though 
we  cannot  bring  forth  the  weapons  of  our  indigna- 
tion against  the  invisible  God,  as  rebellious  subjects 
can  do  against  their  mortal  sovereign,  yet  the  bid- 
ding defiance  to  his  law  demonstrates  our  will  to  do 
this  execrable  deed.  It  is  an  evident  declaration 
that  our  spirit  is  in  a  state  of  hostility  against  hea- 
ven. Every  open  presumptuous  offender  against 
God,  calls  aloud  by  his  practice  upon  all  who  be- 
hold it,  Come  on,  rise  up  with  me,  against  the  Lord ; 
who  is  he  that  he  should  reign  over  US'? 

Now  from  these  instances,  notorious  in  even- 
place,  make  an  estimate  of  the  natural  disposition 
of  man's  heart  towards  God,  and  then  say  if  it  is 
not  evidently  that  of  aversion  ;  and  if  you  would 
allow  these  instances  a  sufficient  demonstration  of 
enmity  in  every  other  case,  be  ingenuous  and  honest 
enough  to  grant  it  to  be  such  in  the  present. 

To  prevail  with  you  to  do  this,  attend  further  to 
the  manner  in  which  our  natural  state  and  condi 
tion  is  represented  by  the  God  of  truth.  He  con- 
slantly  speaks  of  the  children  of  men,  in  their  unre- 
generate  state,  as  haters  of  him,  as  his  adversaries 
and  enemies.  Christ,  we  are  assured,  "died  for  the 
ungodly;"  that  is,  those  who  were  "enemies  tc 
God." 

The  same  truth  is  positively  affirmed,  Rom.  viii. 
7.  "  The  carnal  mind"  (which  the  context  explains 
to  be  the  mind  of  man  in  its  natural  state)  is  not  only 
disinclined  to  God,  but  enmity  against  him;  which 
enmity  expresses  itself  in  refusing  to  be  subject  to 
the  law  of  God. 

Indeed  the  gospel  itself,  even  in  one  of  its  most 
lovely  titles,  emphatically  implies  the  melancholy 
truth  we  are  proving.  For  it  is  called  the  ministry 
of  reconciliation,  that  is,  a  method  designed  by  con- 
summate wisdom,  and  executed  by  almighty  love 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


21 


to  reconcile  us  unto  God,  who  were  "  enemies  in 
our  minds"  to  him  "  by  wicked  works."  Col.  i.  21. 
And  let  the  man  who  would  deny  the  necessity  of 
reconciliation  in  his  own  case,  descend  into  his 
breast  and  take  a  full  survey  of  his  duty  by  the  light 
of  Scripture,  and  then  say  what  hope  he  can  have, 
but  from  an  act  of  grace  in  God,  receiving  him  to 
favor,  and  putting  him  in  a  way  of  complete  re- 
demption by  a  new  birth  of  the  Spirit  in  the  reno- 
vation of  his  heart. 

From  this  proof  of  the  total  depravity  of  man  in 
his  temper  towards  God,  his  natural  guilt  and  sin- 
fulness appear  in  a  glaring  light.  For  what  can  be 
more  criminal  than  such  disaffection  to  God  the 
Father  everlasting  ]  It  is  no  less  than  a  total  denial 
of  the  relation  that  subsists  between  the  Creator  and 
the  creature.  It  is  removing  the  best  and  noblest 
part  of  the  divine  workmanship,  visible  on  earth, 
from  its  proper  basis  and  centre.  If  you  were  to 
break  in  pieces  the  frame  of  nature,  and  resolve  the 
world  into  a  mere  chaos,  the  confusion  and  evil 
would  not  be  so  great,  as  that  of  breaking  the  bonds 
which  unite  the  Creator  to  his  noblest  work,  a  ra- 
tional immortal  soul.  All  the  relations  of  creatures 
towards  each  other  are  mean  and  insignificant,  in 
comparison  of  those  which  subsist  between  crea- 
tures and  the  Author  of  their  being.  Besides,  what 
monstrous  wickedness  is  it  to  be  disaffected  to  our 
most  bountiful  Benefactor  1  What  do  we  think  and 
say  of  those  who  have  an  aversion  to  their  parents] 
What,  when  they  dislike  and  shun  those  who  have 
been  ever  kind  and  full  of  paternal  love;  are  we 
not  wont  to  brand  such  ungrateful  children  with 
every  name  of  reproach,  and  to  judge  them  guilty 
in  the  highest  degree  1  But  in  how  small  a  mea- 
sure do  parents  contribute  to  the  being  and  welfare 
of  their  children,  in  comparison  of  what  the  great 
God  doth  to  oursl  and  how  little  superiority  in 
point  of  power  and  excellency  have  parents  over 
their  children  ]  Whereas  the  excellency  of  our 
Maker  surpasses  even  our  highest  conceptions. 

And  what  cause  can  man  pretend  for  his  disaffec- 
tion towards  God ;  many  good  works  has  he  done 
for  us  ;  for  which  of  these  is  he  haled  ]  What  in- 
juries have  we  received  from  him  to  offend  us; 
rather  may  I  say,  by  how  many  powerful  allure- 
ments hath  he  sought  to  gain  our  affections  ;  by 
benefits  visible  to  every  eye,  repeated  day  by  day  in 
all  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life;  by  in- 
viting us  to  the  highest  degrees  of  honor  and  happi- 
ness, by  giving  his  only  Son  to  be  a  sacrifice  for 
our  sins. 

Disaffection  to  our  Maker  comprehends  all  other 
wickedness ;  fur  as  the  law  of  love  is  the  sum  and 
substance  of  all  the  precepts,  so  disaffection  to  God 
is  comprehensive  of  all  iniquity,  since  every  branch 
of  it  may  be  resolved  into  this  depravity  of  mind. 

If  you  ask  what  is  the  use  of  so  strongly  repre- 
senting the  natural  vileness  of  man,  and  giving  his 
portrait  in  colors  so  opposite  to  those  in  which  he  is 
drawn  by  the  flattering  pencel  of  many  moral  paint- 
ers] The  answer  is,  that  it  is  only  upon  the  doc- 
trine of  the  entire  corruption  of  human  nature  that, 
the  propriety  of  the  capital  and  peculiar  doctrines 
of  the  Bible  rests.  By  the  capital  and  peculiar  doc- 
trines of  Scripture,  I  understand  redemption  from 
the  insupportable  punishment  of  sin,  acceptance  with 
God  only  through  faith  in  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,  the  illumination  of  the  mind,  and  a 
chart -e  of  disposition  by  the  inward  operation  of 
the  eternal  Spirit. 

Against  these  doctrines  you  must  be  strongly  pre- 
judiced, or  will  receive  them  only  as  speculative 
points,  till  you  are  sensible  that  your  natural  sta'e 
is  exceedingly  corrupt.  For  though  your  conscience 
will  not  suffer  you  to  sav  you  have  done  no  evil, 
jet,  if  possessing  some  civil  and  moral  virtues  which 


gain  you  esteem  amongst  men,  you  believe  your- 
self to  be  comparatively  innocent,  you  cannot  be  re- 
conciled to  those  declarations  of  Scripture  which, 
affirm  "  eternal  death  to  be  the  just  portion  of  fallen 
man." 

Equally  averse  must  you  be  to  embrace  the  gospel 
method  of  purification  unto  eternal  life.  The  flat- 
tering idea  of  your  own  merit,  and  the  plausible  ex- 
pectation of  greater  reformation,  will  render  you 
too  partial  to  your  own  righteousness  to  permit  you 
to  approve  of  the  doctrine  of  salvation  by  grace  ;  for 
this  is  a  doctrine  infinitely  mortifying  to  human 
pride ;  it  disannuls  every  plea  for  mercy  but  the 
sufferings  and  victory  of  the  high  and  holy  Re- 
deemer, who,  in  absolute  pity,  undertook  to  recover 
fallen  man  from  ruin,  by  bearing  his  sin  and  sub- 
duing his  enemies.  A  way  of  reconciliation  this, 
which  is  never  cordially  accepted,  nor  effectually 
used,  till  all  the  tempers  and  dispositions  natural  to 
the  human  mind  are  confessed  to  be  evil,  that  is, 
full  of  disaffection  and  enmity  against  the  law  of 
God.  Whereas  the  full  conviction  of  this  truth  dis- 
poses the  mind  to  perceive  that  it  became  him,  by 
whom  are  all  things,  and  for  whom  are  all  things, 
in  this,  and  no  other  way  of  justifying  sinners,  to 
bring  many  sons  to  glory. 

Moreover ;  whilst  it  is  supposed  that  men  are  not 
by  nature  deplorably  blind  to  the  truths  of  God,  and 
to  his  excellency,  and  in  their  earliest  dispositions 
set  against  him;  the  doctrine  of  regeneration,  and 
of  divine  grace,  as  the  principle  of  a  new  life,  must 
appear  unnecessary  and  absurd.  For  if  man's  un- 
derstanding is  not  darkened,  if  by  thought  and  re- 
flection hecan  attain  a  due  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
he  does  not  then  stand  in  need  of  foreign  help.  In 
this  case  it  is  reasonable  to  urge  him  to  exert  his 
own  powers;  but  to  press  him  to  make  request  for 
a  spirit  of  wisdom  and  revelation,  is  vain  and  fool- 
ish. In  the  same  manner,  divine  grace  can  never 
be  conceived  necessary  to  form  and  fashion  the  soul 
anew,  unless  it  is  naturally  prone  to  express  forget- 
fulness,  contempt,  and  hatred  towards  its  glorious 
Creator.  To  reform  the  outward  actions,  or  to  lead 
a  life  merely  sober  and  honest,  requires  no  such  su- 
pernatural aid  and  powerful  operation.  We  daily 
see  many  who  despise  prayer  and  the  word  of  God, 
and  are  altogether  sensual  and  earthly,  yet  living 
in  integrity  and  in  quietness  with  their  neighbors; 
so  that  it  is  not  with  respect  to  social  dispositions 
that  men  universally  discover  their  depravity,  and 
their  want  of  a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit.  But  it 
is  that  secret  impietv  which  opposes  our  giving  to 
God  the  honor,  obedience,  and  supreme  love  which 
are  due  unto  his  holy  name,  which  renders  the  agen- 
cy of  the  Holy  Ghost  absolutely  necessary.  It  is  the 
removal  and  cure  of  a  dreadful  disorder  which  runs 
in  the  blood  of  all  the  human  race,  which  is  inter- 
woven with  our  corrupted  frame,  and  demands  the 
skill  and  energy  of  Him  whose  power  first  formed 
the  soul,  to  restore  it  again  to  the  image  of  God. 

The  conclusion  therefore  is  plain,  that  as  igno- 
rance of  our  natural  condition  and  character  with 
respect  to  God  prevails,  the  whole  scheme  of  Chris- 
tian principles  must  be  rejected,  or  hypocritically 
received,  whilst  in  the  same  degree  that  we  know 
ourselves,  it  will  be  reverenced,  embraced,  and  prac- 
tically improved  by  us. 


SUNDAY  VII.-CHAP.  VII. 

ON  THE  PERFECTION  AND  USE  OP  THE  r.AW. 

We  In  ve  now  endeavored  to  delineate  the  character 
of  G  "I  and  the  natural  state  of  man,  as  thev  are  re- 
vealed  in  Scripture;  the  next  subject  with  which  all 
men  ought  to  be  fully  acquainted,  isthe  nature  of  the 
law.     The  law,  with  its  terms  of  perfect  righteous- 


22 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN 


ness  and  life  on  the  one  hand,  of  disobedience  and 
death  on  the  other,  is  the  first  thing  which  the  word 
of  God  presents  to  our  notice  ;  and  till  this  is  known, 
the  gospel  cannot  be  understood,  nor  the  grace  of 
God  be  duly  received  !  for  the  gospel  is  the  revela- 
tion of  God's  way  of  delivering  a  sinner  from  the 
curse  of  the  law.  The  intimate  connection  which 
subsists  between  the  law  and  the  gospel  is  frequent- 
ly taught  in  Scripture;  yet  from  a  natural  reluctance 
to  confess  ourselves  the  guilty  impotent  creatures  we 
are,  and  from  a  false  construction  of  what  is  spoken 
of  the  law  (as  if  it  related  only  or  chiefly  to  the 
Jewish  state,)  this  connection  is  fatally  overlooked 
by  multitudes  who  profess  themselves  Christians. 

To  remove  such  hurtful  ignorance  I  shall  lay  be- 
fore you  the  perfection  and  extent  of  the  moral  law ; 
the  excellent  ends  it  perpetually  answers  wherever 
it  is  duly  received,  and  the  pernicious  errors  which 
must  possess  and  govern  the  minds  of  men  whilst 
they  remain  ignorant  of  it. 

The  perfection  of  the  law  of  God  will  evidently 
appear  by  comparing  it  with  other  laws,  and  ob- 
serving its  greater  extent.  With  regard  to  human 
Jaws,  even  the.  best  of  them  must  ever  prove  defect- 
ive in  this,  that  they  cannot  reach  the  propensities  to 
evil,  nor  take  cognizance  of  the  intents  of  the  heart ; 
their  whole  force  can  extend  no  further  than  to  for- 
bid acts  which  would  disturb  the  public  peace.  The 
law  of  God,  on  the  contrary,  condemns,  tinder  pain 
of  insupportable  penalties,  the  latent  compliances  of 
the  heart  with  temptation,  and  commands  us  to  re- 
sist the  first  workings  of  evil  within. 

If  it  is  said  the  law  of  conscience  is  not  defective 
in  this  respect,  as  the  laws  of  the  state  must  be ;  that 
this  goes  deeper,  serving  as  a  supplement  to  them, 
and  restraining  where  the  power  of  a  penal  statute 
cannot.  It  may  be  replied,  that  the  law  of  conscience 
is  principally  formed  by  the  manners  and  sentiments 
of  those  with  whom  we  are  educated,  and  with 
whom  we  converse.  Of  course  it  is  depraved  by 
customs  and  prejudices  of  various  kinds;  it  must 
prove  therefore  an  uncertain,  and  sometimes  per- 
haps a  dangerous,  instead  of  a  sufficient  rule  of  ac- 
tion. But  the  law  of  Scripture  leaves  us  in  no  such 
difficulties  ;  whilst  we  are  directed  by  it,  we  are  fol- 
lowing no  other  guide  than  that  of  perfect  truth  and 
righteousness. 

The  law  which  is  established  for  the  peace  and 
good  government  of  nations,  is  often  severe  and  dis- 
tressing to  individuals,  nor  can  it  be  otherwise  ;  the 
best  therefore  is  that  which  is  accompanied  with  the 
fewest  evils.  But  the  law  of  God  is  equally,  at  all 
times,  and  in  all  places,  of  universal  benefit";  wher- 
ever it  is  most  conscientiously  regarded,  there  the 
greatest  measure  of  happiness  will  certainly  be  en- 
joyed. For  no  one  with  truth  can  say,  he  is  in  the 
least  degree  aggrieved  by  it ;  nor  can  any,  either  of 
the  rich  or  the  poor,  whilst  they  regard  their  tjrue 
comfort  or  interest,  have  cause  to  wish  the  least 
altera'ion  in  it. 

Again,  the  doctrine  or  law  which  the  moral  phi- 
losophers of  old  taught,  and  which  many  profess 
still  greatly  to  admire,  is  little  more  than  an  impos- 
ture, covered  over  with  swelling  words  of  vanity.— 
It  undertakes  to  annihilate  the  passions,  yet  neither 
promises  nor  intimates  that  any  supernatural  aid 
shall  be  afforded  to  accomplish  such  an  arduous 
work.  Nay,  it  encourages  instead  of  contemning 
some  of  the  worst  tempers  natural  to  man.  It  cures 
intemperance  and  the  thirst  for  revenge  by  pride, 
the  sins  of  the  body  by  giving  indulgence  to  those  j 
of  the  mind,  that  is,  in  other  words,  it  makes  a  man 
.ess  like  a  beast,  by  making  him  more  like  a  devil.    | 

Far  different  is  the  law  of  Scripture  ;  this  allows  j 
no  place  for  sinful  tempers  of  any  kind  ;   it  strikes 
at  the  root  of  every  disposition  contrary  to  the  per- 
fection of  the  soul. 


There  is  however  one  law  W'hich  calls  for  a  more 
respectful  consideration  :  for  it  claims  the  God  of 
heaven  and  earth  for  its  author;  I  mean  the  Jewish 
ceremonial  law.  But  even  this,  when  compared 
with  the  moral,  will  appear  far  less  excellent.  For 
though  of  divine  appointment,  it  was  appropriated 
only  to  one  people  and  nation  ;  whereas  the  moral 
law  extends  to  all,  for  it  immediately  results  from 
the  relation  of  mankind  to  God,  as  their  Creator  and 
Benefactor. 

In  the  ceremonial  law  there  was  only  a  relative 
use  and  worth  ;  it  was  to  serve  for  a  figure  for  the 
time  then  present;  it  was  designed  with  no  ether 
view  than  to  shadow  forth  Christ  the  substance,  and 
then  to  cease  for  ever  when  he  appeared.  But  the 
moral  law  possesses  an  excellence  which  endures 
for  ever  :  and  whilst  the  ordinances  of  the  one,  in  a 
figurative  symbolical  manner,  only  respected  inward 
purity,  the  precepts  of  the  other  are  directly  ordain- 
ed to  require  righteousness  in  the  tempers  and  ima- 
ginations of  the  heart. 

The  excellence  and  perfection  of  the  moral  law 
will  appear  still  more  manifest  from  a  brief  survey 
of  what  may  be  considered  as  an  epitome  of  it,  the 
iaw  of  the  ten  Commandments.  From  their  extent 
and  spirituality,  it  will  appear  indisputable,  that  its 
precepts  are  designed  to  secure  God  all  the  honor 
due  unto  his  name,  to  sanctify  all  the  powers  of 
man,  to  regulate  his  deportment  in  every  condition 
in  which  he  can  possibly  be  placed,  and  to  point  out 
the  most  exalted  degree  of  holiness.  For  though 
we  are  apt  injuriously  to  limit  their  sense,  and  to 
conclude  with  an  air  of  confidence  that  they  mean 
to  forbid  only  the  gross  outward  crimes  which  the 
first  sound  of  the  words  suggest :  yet,  from  the  more 
extensive  interpretation  (See  Matt.  xxv.  27.  1  John 
iii.  15.  Matt.  xxii.  36.)  given  to  some  of  them  in 
Scripture,  we  may  justly  conclude  that  each  of  them 
is  spiritual  in  its  injunctions,  and  reaches  to  the  in- 
most affections  of  the  soul. 

Thus,  the  First  Commandment  requires  that  the 
blessed  God  should  reign  unrivalled  in  our  hearts  : 
that  bodily  pleasure,  honor,  riches,  and  every  com- 
fort of  a  worldly  kind,  should,  in  comparison  of 
God,  be  vile  and  contemptible  in  our  eyes.  The 
Second  obliges  us  to  be  religiously  careful  that  we 
conceive  of  God  as  he  has  revealed  himself  to  us, 
neither  adding  to,  nor  diminishing  from,  his  cha- 
racter, as  drawn  in  his  word  ;  that  in  our  public  and 
secret  worship  we  come  before  him  only  in  the  way 
which  he  has  appointed:  offeiing  to  him  spiritual 
praise,  thanksgiving,  and  prayer,  and  abhorring  the 
very  appearance  of  idolatry.  The  Third  Com- 
mandment requires  us  to  be  mindful  at  all  times  of 
the  majesty  of  God,  so  as  conscientiously  to  avoid 
in  our  thoughts  and  speech  whatever  savors  of  con- 
tempt, irreverence,  or  forgetfulness  of  him.  The 
Fourth  enjoins  us,  upon  constant  solemn  seasons, 
returning  in  quick  succession,  to  lay  aside  every 
worldly  occupation,  to  be  as  it  were  insensible  to 
the  things  of  sense  and  time;  in  order  that  the  worth 
of  the  soul,  and  subjects  of  a  spiritual  nature  may 
occupy  our  thoughts,  and  more  strongly  affect  our 
minds.  The  Fifth  obliges  us,  as  soon  as  we  are 
capable  of  knowing  our  duty,  to  pay  a  sincere  and 
cheerful  obedience  to  our  parents;  such  as  may 
testify  the  sense  we  have  of  the  benefits,  that,  under 
God,  we  owe  to  them.  It  enjoins  also  a  respectful 
and  proper  behavior  to  superiors  of  every  kind,  to 
the  king,  to  magistrates,  to  ministers,  and  masters. 
The  Sixth  not  only  restrains  our  hands  from  mur- 
derous violence,  but  condemns  every  degree  of  ha- 
tred or  malice  in  the  heart.  The  Seventh  Com- 
mandment lequiies  mere  than  a  renunciation  of 
open  lewdness,  even  purity  of  desire;  it  arraigns 
and  condemns  as  a  trespass  everv  impure  look:  it 
condemns  even  such  spiritual  defilement  as  only  the 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


23 


eye  of  God  can  delect.  The  Eighth  is  a  barrier  J 
against  every  injurious  encroachment  which  our 
sell-love  and  worldly  spirit  would  lead  us  to  make 
upon  our  neighbor's  rights  :  it  forbids  every  species 
of  injustice  or  fraud,  however  prevalent,  however 
palliated  by  plausible  pretences.  The  Ninth  exacts 
from  us  aa  inviolable  regard  to  truth,  in  every  de- 
claration by  which  the  character  of  our  fellow-crea- 
tures may  be  affected  ;  and  enjoins  us  to  subdue  that 
world  of  iniquity,  the  tongue,  which  is  so  impatient 
of  yielding  to  the  law  of  brotherly  kindness  and 
charity.  The  last  commandment  condemns  every 
covetous  desire,  and  every  degree  of  discontent  at 
our  appointed  situation. 

From  this  brief  account  of  the  sense  of  the  Ten 
Commandments,  it  is  evident,  that  there  is  not  a 
moral  precept  enjoined  in  any  part  of  the  Bible 
which  was  not  virtually  contained  in  the  law  of  the 
Two  Tables  delivered  on  mount  Sinai.  Our  Lord 
justifies  this  conclusion,  by  explaining  in  this  man- 
ner the  comprehensive  import  of  the  command- 
ments. Those  of  the  first  table  he  considers  as  re- 
quiring us  to  love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our 
heart,  and  with  all  our  soul,  and  with  all  our 
strength.  Mark  xii.  30.  "  With  all  our  heart,  and 
with  all  our  soul,"  that  is,  with  a  love  so  fervent  and 
affectionate  as  to  desire  nothing  in  comparison  of 
his  favor,  and  the  promotion  of  his  glory ;  to  regard 
him  as  the  joy  of  our  prosperity,  the  light  of  our  life, 
and  our  portion  for  ever.  "  With  all  our  strength," 
that  is,  so  to  promote  the  fear  and  love  of  his  name 
by  all  our  services  and  labors.  "  With  all  our 
mind,"  that  is,  by  all  the  means  by  which  our  rea- 
son and  understanding  can  furnish  or  discover. — 
Thus  are  all  our  powers  and  faculties  to  be  en- 
gaged in  discharging  our  duty  towards  God,  accord- 
ing to  the  demands  of  this  spiritual  law. 

The  laws  of  the  second  table  also  our  Lord  inter- 
prets to  imply  an  obligation  to  love  our  neighbor 
"  as  we  love  ourselves,"  that  is,  to  pity  his  mistakes. 
to  compassionate  his  infirmities,  to  conceal  his 
faults,  iu  exercise  every  office  of  kindness  towards 
him,  in  the  same  manner  as  we  should  rejoice  to 
have  it  exercised  towards  ourselves. 

From  this  view  of  the  extent  of  the  law,  it  appears 
to  be  altogether  worthy  of  its  holy  author  the  God 
of  heaven  and  earth;  who  is  at  once  jealous  of  the 
honor  of  his  name  amongst  men,  and  full  of  tender 
regard  to  their  welfare. 

The  excellent  ends  which  this  law  answers, 
wherever  it  is  received  and  duly  regarded,  is  the 
next,  point  to  be  considered. 

Now  one  most  obvious  use  is,  that  of  a  complete 
standard  of  good  and  evil.  Whilst  man  possessed 
the  original  excellence  he  received  from  the  hands 
of  his  Creator,  a  law  written  and  engraved  on  ta- 
bles of  stone  was  needless.  Before  his  fall,  the 
graces  of  his  soul  were  a  living  representation  of 
the  spirit  of*  the  law;  and  as  face  answereih  to 
face  in  the  glass,  so  did  the  unsullied  mind  of 
Adam  to  the  will  of  God,  of  which  the  law  is  the 
perfect  transcript.  But  man  "shapen  in  iniquity 
and  conceived  in  sin,"  is  darkened  in  his  under- 
standing, and  nothing  of  that  law  of  righteousness 
remains  with  him,  which  Adam  in  innocence  pos- 
sessed. Instead  of  innate  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
man  must  now,  if  left  to  himself,  labor  by  slow  and 
multiplied  deductions  to  know  his  du'y.  So  defect- 
ive is  his  own  unassisted  reason  in  determining 
what  is  right  and  wrong,  that  things  utterly  detesta- 
ble in  our  judgement,  who  have  the  pure  light  of  the 
law,  have  been  practised  and  approved  in  polite  and 
civilized  nations.  A  palpable  proof  this,  that  man 
has  no  light  in  himself,  sufficient  to  exhibit  a  clear 
rule,  of  right. 

To  supply  his  want  in  this  most  important  matter 
is  one  obvious  design  of  the  law,  which  God  enacted 


from  mount  Sinai.  This  delivers  man  from  his  own 
fallacious  reasonings  about,  duty:  this  gives  him  to 
understand  what  are  the  peremptory  commands  of 
God,  without  leaving  him  in  the  perplexing  laby- 
rinth of  his  own  imaginations.  This  demands  his 
attention  to  a  short  but  most  comprehensive  rule  of 
action  ;  a  rule  which  claims  the  God  of  heaven  and 
earth  for  its  adorable  author,  and  of  course  equally 
excludes  all  doubt  and  all  debate. 

Another  standing  and  perpetual  use  of  the  law 
is,  by  its  penalty  to  deter  from  rebellion  against  God 
those  whom  more  generous  motives  will  not  re- 
strain. The  law  represents  the  thunderbolt  of  di- 
vine indignation  as  ready  to  fall  every  moment 
upon  the  offender  against  God;  it  brings  upon  him 
a  dread  of  God  as  the  judge  "  who  will  not  hold  him 
guiltless,"  but  on  the  contrary,  "  will  visit  the  sins 
of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  of  them  that  hate 
him,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation,"  whilst  he 
keeps  "  mercy  for  thousands  of  them  that  love  him, 
and  keep  his  commandments."  The  inclinations 
of  the  heart,  it  is  true,  when  only  confined  by  exter- 
nal restraint,  remain  evil  as  before;  yet  the  mis- 
chief that  would  follow,  if  they  were  indulged,  is 
thus  prevented.  As  men  who  do  not  abhor  what  is 
criminal,  yet,  through  fear  of  punishment,  dare  not 
disturb  the  peace  of  society  by  acts  of  violence,  so 
there  are  thousands  kept  from  excess  in  wicked- 
ness by  a  dread  of  the  threatening  annexed  to  the 
transgression  of  the  law  of  God. 

To  serve  as  a  standard  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
to  deter  from  offences,  are  uses  which  the  law  of 
God  has  in  common  with  human  laws.  But  besides 
these,  there  are  others  which  are  peculiar  to  it :  the 
Bible  assures  us  the  law  was  given  "that  every 
mouth  might  be  stopped,  and  the  whole  world  be- 
come guilty  before  God."  Rom.  iii.  19.  It  was  given 
also,  says  the  apostle,  to  serve  as  s  schoolmaster  to 
bring  us  to  Christ,  "  who  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  to  every  one  who  believeth."  Gal.  iii. 
24.  Rom.  x. 

Now  that  it  is  a  principal  design  of  the  law  to 
confound  all  who  trust  in  themselves  as  righteous, 
and  to  bring  on  a  conviction  of  guilt,  is  plain  from 
the  titles  given  to  it  in  Scripture,  and  the  reasonings 
of  the  apostle  concerning  it.  The  law  of  the  Ten 
Commandments  is  distinguished  by  the  apostle 
from  the  ceremonial  one,  by  styling  it  the  law  writ- 
ten and  engraven  in  tables  of  stone.  After  this  dis- 
tinction is  made,  which  clearly  identifies  the  law  of 
which  the  apostle  was  treating,  he  gives  it  the  title 
of  the  minis! ration  o/"coNni'.MMATioN.  2  Cor.  iii.  9. — 
This  title  implies  a' law  which,  though  it  may  per- 
fectly lay  before  man  the  extent  of  his  duty,  yet  it 
inexorably  condemns  him.  It  allows  no  plea  which 
he  can  offer  to  obtain  an  acquittal.  The  necessary 
result  of  its  operation,  when  the  natural  state  of 
man  is  considered,  must  be  that  of  universal  con- 
demnation rather  than  acquittal,  unless  a  Mediator 
is  found  to  interpose  and  save. 

But  lest  a  single  declaration  of  this  most  awful 
truth  should  be  evaded  or  forgotten;  or  lest  we 
should  think  slightly  of  that  condemnation  to  which 
the  law  subjects  every  transgressor,  it  is  therefore 
again  called  by  that  distressing  name  the  ministra- 
tion of  death.  This  teaches  US,  that  having  ar- 
raigned and  convicted  man,  it  pronounced  him  con- 
demned ;  exposed  without  any  power  in  himself  to 
overcome  or  evade  his  sentence  to  death.  And  lest 
it  should  be  doubted  whether  by  death  is  meant  spi- 
ritual destruction,  or  merely  the  dissolution  of  the 
body,  it  is  further  styled,  "the  strength  of  sin."  1 
Cor.  xv.  56.  This  intimates  that  the  formidable 
power  which  binds  over  every  unpardoned  offender, 
to  answer  for  his  sins,  and  transmits  him  after  judg- 
ment, to  suffer  the  pains  of  hell,  is  the  Law.  In  con- 
firmation of  this  its  grand  design  to  prove  our  ruin- 


21 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


ed  condition  without  a  Saviour,  believers  are  ex- 
horted to  abound  in  thankfulness  to  God  for  giving 
them  a  "victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ" 
over  this  Law,  which,  through  the  corruption  of 
human  nature,  is  become  their  dreadful  accuser. — 
Christ  is  therefore  celebrated  as  an  inestimable 
benefactor  to  his  church,  not  merely  because  he  gave 
us  an  example  ihat  we  should  follow  his  steps,  not 
merely  because  he  came  to  save  those  who  trust  in 
him  from  the  temptations  of  a  seducing  world,  or  from 
the  power  of  Satan ;  but  because  he  hath  "  redeemed 
us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse 
fur  us."  Gal.  iii.  13. 

Still  farther,  God  has  been  pleased  to  use  a  won- 
derful method  of  explaining  important  doctrines  of 
his  word,  by  exhibiting  them  in  the  history  and  ex- 
perience of  his  servants.  In  this  way  of  example 
he  has  taught  us  that  the  law  of  the  Ten  Command- 
ments was  given  to  convince  man  of  his  guilt  and 
sinfulness.  St.  Paul  is  chosen,  and  by  inspiration 
directed  to  relate  his  Pharisaical  ignorance  of  the 
grand  design  of  the  law,  and  then  to  describe  the 
change  produced  in  his  mind  by  a  just  and  clear 
knowledge  of  it.  "  I  was  alive,"  says  he,  "without 
the  law  once;"  secure  and  self-satisfied,  I  regarded 
the  moral  law  as  the  rule  by  which  man  was  to  be 
justified  before  God;  and  I  thought  that  I  had  paid 
such  an  obedience  to  it  as,  considering  human  infir- 
mity, must  render  me  acceptable  to  God.  "But 
when  the  commandment  came,"  that  is,  when  the 
design  of  it  was  duly  understood  by  me,  "  sin  reviv- 
ed," it  became  strong  and  irresistible  in  its  accusa- 
tions against  me  "and  I  died  ;"  my  self-confidence 
vanished,  and  I  saw  and  confessed  myself  to  be  a 
ruined  sinner  before  the  holy  law  of  God.  "  And 
the  commandment  which  was  ordained  to  life," 
which  was  originally  designed  to  be  to  the  first  man 
a  covenant  of  life,  "  I  found  to  be  unto  death  ;"  so 
tar  from  justifying  or  acquitting  me,  it  condemned 
and  bound  me  over  to  the  misery  of  hell.  Should 
i!  be  said  that  the  apostle,  in  his  passage,  speaks  not 
in  his  own  but  in  an  assumed  character,  we  may 
observe  that  he  expresses  himself  to  the  very  same 
purpose  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Galatians :  when  ar- 
dently speaking  in  his  own  proper  person,  "  I,"  says 
he, "  through  the  law,  am  dead  to  the  law  :"  through 
the  just  knowledge  I  now  have  of  the  extent  of  its 
precepts,  and  of  God's  grand  design  by  it,  not  to 
justify  but  to  condemn  every  living  soul,  I  have 
entirely  renounced  all  dependence  upon  the  law. 
as  able  to  acquit  me  from  guilt  on  account  of  any 
obedience  I  can  pay  to  it:  "I  am  dead  to  the  law, 
that  I  might  live  unto  God,"  by  faith  in  his  Son. 

And  lest  all  this  proof  should  not  be  sufficient  to 
convince  men,  whose  pride  and  self-conceit  would 
dispose  them  to  reject  this  humbling  doctrine,  and 
lead  them  to  confine  these  declaration-  to  the  Jewish 
and  ceremonial  law;  the  apostle  takes  particular 
care  to  assert  such  things  of  the  law  of  which  he 
was  treating,  as  in  no  sense  are,  nor  ever  were, 
true  of  the  ceremonial.  Thus  the  law  of  which  St. 
Paul  speaks,  is  one,  "by  which  every  mputh  shall 
be  stopped,  and  all  the  world  become  guilty  before 
God."  But  the  ceremonial  law  never  was,  nor  can 
be  urged  to  condemn  us  Gentiles,  or  to  show  our 
guilt  in  any  degree.  The  law  of  which  the  apostle 
speaks  is  a  law  established  bv  faith,  but  faith  abso- 
lutely abolished  the  Jewish 'law.  It  is  a  law  to 
which  the  believing  P>.omans  were  married;  but 
many  of  them  never  submitted  to  the  ceremo- 
nial one.  It  is  a  law  according  to  which  "the  man 
that  doeth  these  things  shall  live  by  them."  A  law 
which  "if  the  uncircumcision  keep,  his  uncircum- 
cision  shall  be  counted  for  circumcision."  It  is  a 
law  which  is  spiritual,  whereas  the  ceremonial  con- 
sisted of  carnal  ordinances.  These  properties  which 
cannot  be  applied  to  the  ceremonial  law,  evidently 


prove  the  law  in  the  apostle's  view  to  have  been 
the  moral  one,  of  which  the  Ten  Commandments 
are  a  summary. 

Now.  after  such  various  testimonies,  what  more 
can  reasonably  be  demanded  to  prove,  that  one 
principal  end  for  which  the  law  is  ordained,  is  to 
convince  every  man  living  of  his  guilt  and  sinful- 
ness in  the  sight  of  God.* 


SUNDAY  VIII.— CHAP.  VIII. 

OF   THE    LAW   AS    PREPARING    FOR    THE    RECEPTION    OF 
THE   GOSPEL. 

We  have  already  considered  the  perfection  and 
extent  of  the  law  :  we  have  taken  a  view  of  it  as  a 
rule  which  determines  our  duty  in  all  cases.  We 
have  also  produced  several  sacred  testimonies,  to 
prove,  that  it  was  designed  to  humble  the  pride  of 
man,  and  to  serve  to  him  as  a  ministration  of  con- 
demnation. But,  connected  with  this,  the  law  an- 
swers another  important  purpose — "It  was  given." 
saith  the  apostle,  "  to  serve  as  a  schoolmaster  to 
bring  us  to  Christ."  This  use  of  the  law  is  what  I 
now  propose  to  explain  ;  but  it  will  be  useful  pre- 
viously to  remove  the  objections  which  pride  and 
prejudice  are  ready  to  bring  against  the  law  on  ac- 
count of  what  they  term  inexorable  rigor. 

You  think  it  hard  then  that  we  should  be  under 
a  law  whose  demands  are  so  strict  and  rigid :  but 
what  less  than  perfect  love  and  sinless  obedience 
can  be  due  from  a  reasonable  intelligent  creature 
to  his  adorable  Maker  1  To  suppose  a  law  given 
of  God,  which  would  admit  of  imperfect  love  and 
obedience,  would  leave  it  impossible  to  determine 
what  is  sin,  and  what  is  not ;  "  for  sin  is  the  trans- 
gression of  the  law."  But  if  the  law  itself  would 
be  satisfied  with  sincerity  of  intention  only,  or  mere- 
ly with  the  best  kind  of  obedience  which  a  corrupt- 
ed creature  could  pay  to  it,  how  could  any  trans- 
gression of  it  be  defined  1  Upon  this  supposition, 
it  would  be  essential  to  the  law  to  admit  of  imper- 
fection and  sin.  Besides,  were  we  to  suppose  that 
God  could  overlook  one  transgression  of  his  law, 
we  should  naturally,  and  I  think  might  justly  con- 
clude, that  he  would  overlook  more ;  and  where 
then  shall  we  stop  1  Who  shall  say  how  far  we 
ma}',  or  may  not  go  with  impunity  1  And  what 
must  this  prove  in  the  end,  but  giving  man  liberty 
to  fix  the  bounds  according  to  his  own  will  ?  What 
but  putting  man  in  possession  of  a  right  to  dispense 
with  the  law  of  God  at  pleasure,  and  thus  in  effect 
to  abrogate  if?  It  is  therefore  a  design  every  wray 
worthy  infinite  wisdom,  to  publish  a  law  which  is 
a  perfect  representation  of  God's  glorious  holiness; 
and  to  annex  to  every  the  least  transgression  of  it 
condemnation  and  the  curse. 

If  you  sav,  that  such  representation  of  the  law 
shuts  up  all  men,  without  exception,  in  hopeless 
condemnation,  I  answer,  It  does  indeed  show  them 
that  they  have  destroyed  themselves,  and  it  proves 
that  they  can  find  salvation  only  in  the  way  the 
gospel  reveals  ;  for  there  is  no  other  way  by  which 
men  can  be  saved.     God  must  alike  require  obe- 

*  When  you  consider  the  law  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments in  this  light,  what  a  striking  propriety 
appears  in  that  ancient  custom  of  placing  the  Two 
Tables  over  the  communion-table  in  our  churches  ! 
By  this  means  every  intelligent  receiver  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  in  the  very  act  of  receiving,  is  aw- 
fully reminded  of  the  purity  of  that  law  which  he 
has  transgressed,  of  that  law  from  whose  insupport- 
able curse  no  less  a  sacrifice  than  that  of  God's  only 
begotten  Son  could  possibly  redeem  him. 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


25 


dience  at  all  times;  and  it  is  one  great  design  of  all 
Scripture,  and  especially  a  renewal  of  the  law  of 
Moses,  to  ground  us  in  this  truth,  that  every  act  of 
disobedience  is  a  forfeiture  of  all  claim  to  the  favor 
of  God,  and  subjects  us  to  punishment  Where 
then  else  will  you  in  this  extremity  look  for  safety? 
Will  you  say  to  God,  "  have  patience  with  me,  and 
I  will  pay  thee  all  ?"  Will  you  venture  your  soul 
upon  the  perfection  of  your  own  works  1  This  you 
dare  not.  This  you  see  is  at  once  to  give  yourself 
up  to  destruction.  Perhaps  you  will  flee  to  your 
sincerity,  taking  it  for  granted  that  God,  notwith- 
standing the  confessed  imperfections  of  your  obe- 
dience vill  accept  it  for  its  sincerity.  But  what 
Scripture  warrant  have  you  to  say,  that  though  God 
required  a  perfect  obedience  to  his  law  at  one  time, 
and  in  one  age  of  the  world,  he  has  now  discharged 
men  from  that  obligation,  and  will  accept  at  their 
hands  what  they  are  able  to  offer  him,  be  it  ever  so 
unworthy  his  acceptance,  or  short  of  the  demands 
of  his  law  ?  It  is  presumption  to  think  thus,  with- 
out especial  ground  from  the  word  of  God ;  and 
there  you  will  certainly  find  none  for  this  novel  and 
mischievous  opinion.  Besides,  what  would  you 
gain  by  this  opinion,  unless  you  could  answer  for 
your  sincerity  to  that  God,  "  whose  eyes  are  as  a 
flaming  fire  searching  the  heart?'  For  if  you 
make  sincerity  the  ground  of  your  acceptance  with 
God,  you  must  stand  or  fall  by  it,  and  are  obliged 
to  make  it  good,  without  any  failure  or  blemish,  on 
pain  of  eternal  condemnation.  So  that  still  you 
are  upon  no  foundation  for  life,  for  solid  peace  and 
comfort. 

It  was  therefore  merciful  in  God  to  constitute  his 
law  a  ministration  of  condemnation  ;  it  acts  like 
an  engine  of  irresistible  force,  to  sweep  away  from 
us  every  refuge  of  lies,  in  which  man  would  vainly 
seek  a  deceitful  security  ;  it  compels  us  to  renounce 
those  false  pleas  for  obtaining  mercy,  which,  so  soon 
as  the  light  of  truth  shines  into  our  hearts,  we  shall 
be  ashamed  we  could  even  so  much  as  think  of 
using. 

Having  thus  endeavored  to  remove  the  objections 
which  might  be  urged  against  the  law,  as  harsh  and 
severe,  I  proceed  to  explain  its  principal  design;  a 
design  replete  with  benevolence,  and  productive  of 
the  greatest  good  to  man.  "  For  the  law  is  intend- 
ed to  act  as  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  to  Christ." 
No  sooner  can  we  perceive  ourselves  aerially  cut 
off  from  every  hope  of  mercy,  which  we  were  wont 
to  entertain  on  account  of  our  own  performances 
and  worth,  than  we  shall  find  ourselves  prepared, 
and  as  it  were  compelled,  to  put  our  whole  trust  in 
the  grace  of  God  manifested  in  Christ  in  that 
scheme  of  marvellous  love  to  man,  which  is  called 
"  the  righteousness  of  God  without  the  law,  which 
is  by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ  unto  all,  and  upon  all 
them  that  believe."  Rom.  iii.  22.  A  true  knowledge 
of  the  nature  and  end  of  the  law  sounds  an  alarm 
to  the  conscience,  which  was  before  asleep,  dream- 
ing of  peace,  when  there  was  no  peace.  Thus 
alarmed,  the  ear  is  opened  to  listen  to  the  word  of 
reconciliation  declared  by  Christ,  and  the  heart  is 
disposed  earnestly  to  apply  to  the  Redeemer,  as  to 
one  who  alone  is  able  to  save  from  such  insupport- 
able misery  as  the  curse  of  the  law. 

It  is  the  law  also  which,  continually  showing  us 
by  the  exhibition  of  its  own  purity,  our  deficiency 
and  corruption,  and  approving  itself  to  our  con- 
sciences as  just  and  good,  stimulates  us  to  earnest; 
endeavors  to  resist  and  subdue  the  body  of  sin. — 
Hence  that  intestine  war  of  which  the  apostle 
speaks  so  feelingly,  Rom.  vii.  18.  "  I  know,"  says 
he,  "  that  in  me,  that  is,  in  my  flesh,  dwelleth  no 
good  thing;  for  to  will  is  present  with  me,  but  how 
to  perform  (as  the  law  requires)  that  which  is  good, 
I  find  not ;  for  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the 


inner  man,  but  I  see  another  law  in  my  members 
warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind."  In  other 
words,  I  perceive  two  comrary  principles  within 
me,  the  one  derived  from  God,  the  other  *he  pro- 
duce of  my  corrupt  nature ;  that  leading  me  for- 
ward to  heaven,  and  approving  the  spiritual  de- 
mands of  the  law  :  this  opposing  my  progress,  and 
struggling  against  me.  My  mind  is  a  field  of  bat- 
tle, »vheie  all  my  passions  exert  their  several  efforts 
to  gain  a  conquest  over  me.  In  this  case,  wha.. 
must  be  done?  St.  Paul  instructs  us  by  his  own 
example;  after  asking  the  question  with  much  em- 
phasis, "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am!  who  shall  de- 
liver me  from  the  body  of  this  death?"  he  relieves 
himself  from  every  despondent  thought,  by  saying, 
"  I  thank  God,"  that  is,  for  his  giace,  "  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  This,  this  alone  it  is, 
which  can  and  will  deliver  me. 

Into  this  pungent  sensibility  of  our  own  sinful- 
ness it  is  the  intention  of  God  by  his  law  to  bring 
us,  that  so  we  may  be  able,  which  otherwise  we 
never  should,  to  behold  the  necessity  and  glory  of 
the  redemption  there  is  in  Jesus.  He  has  merciful- 
ly ordained  the  law,  and  annexed  the  cune  to  the 
least  breach  of  it,  that  he  might  shut  up  every  door 
of  hope,  except  that  by  which  the  fullest  pardon  and 
the  richest  mercy  are  dispensed  to  sinners.  The 
thunders  and  lightnings  on  mount  Sinai  are  design- 
ed to  make  us  account  ourselves  unspeakably  hap- 
py in  being  allowed  access  to  mount  Sion,  the  joy 
of  the  whole  earth,  the  city  of  the  living  God,  where 
the  divine  goodness  snines  forth  in  the  perfection 
of  beauty. 

That  this  is  no  human  scheme  of  doctrine,  but 
the  truth  of  God's  holy  word,  is  manifest.  "  The 
Scripture,"  says  the  apostle,  "  has  concluded  all 
under  sin,  that  the  promise  which  is  by  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ,  might  be  given  to  them  that  believe." 
Gal.  iii.  22.  The  apostle  is  here  proving  that  the 
law,  in  the  possession  of  which  the  Jews  greatly 
boasted,  was  so  far  from  lessening  the  necessity  of 
salvation  by  Christ,  or  from  interfering  with  this 
adorable  scheme  of  grace,  that,  when  rightly  un- 
derstood, it  acted  strongly  in  subserviency  to  it. 

For  such  is  our  natural  pride  and  self-sufficiency, 
so  slight  our  thoughts  of  the  evil  of  sin,  sc  extrava- 
gant our  conceit  of  the  extent  of  God's  mercy,  that 
if  we  did  not  perceive  ourselves  condemned  by  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord,  and  doomed  as  criminals  to 
suffer  the  execution  of  eternal  justice,  there  is  not 
one  of  us  who  would  come  to  the  Son  of  God  for 
life.  God  has  therefore  by  his  law  actually  shut 
us  up  as  rebels  against  his  government,  under  a 
total  inability  of  making  reparation  for  our  trea- 
son. This  he  has  done,  that  our  haughty  spirit 
being  humbled  through  a  sense  of  our  miserable 
condition,  we  might  embrace  with  all  possible  thank- 
fulness the  grace  offered  to  us  in  Christ. 

Thus  "  the  law,"  or  rule  of  perfect  obedience, 
"  came  by  Moses,  but  grace  and  truth  by  Jesus 
Christ,  for  what  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was 
weak  through  the  flesh,"  that  is,  through  the  cor- 
ruption of  human  nature,  "  God  sending  his  Son  in 
the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin  condemned 
sin  in  the  flesh,  that  the  righteousness  of  the  law 
might  be  fulfilled  in  us,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh 
but  after  the  Spirit."  A  passage  this,  so  pertinent 
to  the  subject,  and  so  full  of  instruction,  requires  an 
explanation.  Consider  therefore  the  aim,  and  trace 
the  progress  of  the  apostle's  reasoning.  He  is 
clearing  up  and  confirming  that  great  privilege  of 
the  gospel,  that  "  there  is  now  no  condemnation  to 
them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  who,"  in  conse- 
quence of  their  faith  in  him,  "  walk  not  after  the 
flesh  but  after  the  Spirit."  To  this  St.  raid  knew 
some  would  be  ready  to  object  and  say,  How  can 
this  be,  since  every  believer  falls  short  of  perfect 


36 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OFMAN. 


obedience,  he  offends  against  the  law,  and  therefore 
must  be  liable  to  its  curse  1  The  answer  is, believ- 
ers are  delivered  from  condemnation,  because  of 
the  "  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus."  That  new  dis- 
pensation, introduced  in  the  room  of  the  old  law, 
promises  pardon,  and  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  in  which 
things  the  true  life  and  real  happiness  of  mankind 
subsist.  By  this  new  and  gracious  dispensation, 
"  God  hath'made  me,"  saith  the  apostle,  "free  from 
the  law  of  sin  and  death:"  from  that  law  which 
convinced  me  of  sin,  condemned  me  for  it,  and 
bound  me  over  to  suffer  death.  These  are  glad 
tidings  doubtless;  but  are  they  not  attended  with 
two  inconveniences  ?  Does  not  this  procedure  de- 
prive the  law  of  its  due  honors,  and  does  it  not 
screen  the  offender  from  his  deserved  punishment? 
By  no  means ;  for  that  whicn  was  an  absolute  im- 
possibility to  men,  on  account  of  the  strictness  of 
the  law  and  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  God, 
to  whom  nothing  is  impossible,  has  must  wonder- 
fully accomplished,  by  "sending  his  own  Son,  in 
the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,"  to  live  among  sinners, 
to  perform  the  perfect  obedience  due  from  them, 
and  also  to  be  a  sacrifice  for  sin  ;  he  having  charg- 
ed it  upon  him,  and  suffering  its  punishment.  By 
this  grand  expedient  God  has  provided  for  the  honor 
and  perfect  accomplishment  of  the  law.  He  has 
also  condemned  and  punished  sin  with  the  utmost 
severity,  and  both  in  the  flesh,  in  that  very  nature 
•which  was  guilty,  disabled,  and  ruined.  Should  it 
be  further  asked,  wherefore  is  all  this?  It  is  to  lay 
the  surest  foundation,  and  to  make  the  most  com- 
plete provision  for  our  justification.  It  is,  "that 
the  righteousness  of  the  law,"  both  its  righteous 
sentence  and  its  righteous  precept,  whatever  either 
of  suffering  or  obedience  it  required,  being  fulfilled 
in  Christ,  "might  be  fulfilled  in  us."  It  was  all 
done  in  our  name ;  and  as  he  and  we  are  one,  one 
in  civil  estimation,  for  he  is  our  representative ; 
and  one  in  legal  estimation,  for  he  is  our  surety, 
his  righteous  acts  in  their  beneficial  efficacy  are 
ours,  and  his  atoning  death  is  ours:  "ours,  who 
walk  not  after  the  flesh,"  who  have  our  conversa- 
tion towards  God  and  man,  not  according  to  the 
principles  of  corrupt  nature,  though  to  our  grief 
they  still  have  place  wilhin  us,  "but  after  the  Spi- 
rit," according  to  higher  and  divine  principles, 
which  are  implanted  in  our  hearts,  and  continually 
supported  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  Rom.  viii.  2 — 4. 
You  have  now  placed  before  you  in  one  view  the 
Scriptural  account  of  the  nature  and  design  of  the 
law.  And  unless  pride,  and  the  doctrines  of  men, 
calculated  to  sooth  that  worst  disease  of  our  minds, 
mislead  us.  we  shall  be  persuaded  that  this  repre- 
sentation of  strictness  equally  secures  the  honor  of 
God  and  our  own  comfort  in  serving  him.  It  is  the 
purity  of  the  law  which  enhances  and  endears 
above  all  expression,  the  perfect  obedience  of  Christ, 
both  active  and  passive,  and  the  imputation  of  his 
merits,  that  special  crowning  mercy  of  the  new 
covenant.  Against  this  view  of  the  nature  of  the 
law  there  is  however  a  common  and  plausible  ob- 
jection made,  which  it  may  be  necessary,  before  I 
proceed  further,  to  obviate.  It  is  urged  then,  that 
by  showing  the  impossibility  of  answering  the  de- 
mands of  the  law,  you  in  lact  weaken  our  obliga- 
tions to  the  law ;  and  by  extolling  the  obedience  of 
Christ  as  the  only  ground  of  hope  to  man,  you  di- 
minish the  value  of  our  obedience.  Hence  a  door 
is  opened  for  licentiousness.  Without  doubt  the 
doctrines  of  divine  grace  may  be  thus  abused,  and 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  many  weak  and  corrupt  men 
have  so  abused  them;  but  it  may  be  replied,  what 
doctrine  may  not  be  perverted  1  Is  not  the  display 
of  the  patience  and  mercy  of  God  equally  liable  to 
licentious  abuse  as  this  doctrine1?  But  will  you,  on 
account  of  the  general  abuse  of  these  perfections 


of  God,  be  jealous  of  them  as  prejudicial  to  the 
cause  of  practical  religion  ?  or  will  you  deny  their 
existence  because  the  avowal  of  them  may  have  a 
bad  tendency  ?  The  thought  is  dreadful,  and  the 
consequence  would  be  universal  destruction.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  doctrine  of  the  law,  when  you 
infer  from  the  impossibility  of  your  being  justified 
by  your  obedience  to  it,  the  necessity  of  being  saved 
by  faith  in  the  Redeemer.  Act  then  with  respect 
to  both  in  the  same  manner ;  maintain  the  doctrines, 
detest  and  expose  the  abuse  of  them. 

But  if  yon  were  to  give  up  this  Scripture  idea  of 
the  law,  siill  it  remains  to  be  considered  whether 
you  would  gain  any  thing  in  favor  of  the  interests 
of  practical  religion'?  No — you  would  only  grant 
men  the  liberty  of  explaining  the  law  accord- 
ing to  their  own  inclinations,  in  a  manner  subver- 
sive of  the  fear  and  love  of  God,  and  of  regard  to 
his  authority.  It  must  be  remembered,  also,  that 
when  the  apostles  assert  the  impossibility  of  justifi- 
cation by  the  law,  they  do  not  therefore  make  void 
the  law  ;  when  they  extol  the  grace  and  mercy  of 
Christ,  they  by  no  means  allow  of  continuance  in 
sin.  "  Shall  we  continue  in  sin  that  grace  may 
abound  1"  do  "  we  then  make  void  the  law  by  faith  1 
yea,  we  establish  the  law."  This  is  their  constant 
reply  to  all  who  arraign  the  doctrine  of  grace  as 
licentious.  Indeed  it  is  the  chosen,  and  by  experi- 
ence it  is  found  to  be  the  only  successful  mean  of 
turning  the  heart  to  God  in  love.  Its  genuine  ope- 
ration is  to  bind  us  to  him  in  everlasting  bonds  of 
gratitude  and  willing  obedience.  Know  your  guilt 
and  weakness,  your  desert  and  danger  ;  think  what 
you  are  bound  to  by  the  law,  and  what  you  have  to 
trust  to  if  left  under  its  power;  view  then  the  lov- 
ing kindness  of  God  in  giving  his  Son  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness,  and  then  say,  is  it  possible  to  sin 
against  so  much  goodness?  Granting  there  may 
be  found  such  depravity  in  the  heart  of  man,  still 
you  must  allow  that  such  a  representation  both  of 
the  justice  and  the  mercy  of  God,  if  any  thing  can, 
will  awaken  a  thought  in  you  of  returning  to  God, 
will  bend  your  stubborn  will,  and  make  you  hate 
iniquity. 

It  is  highly  unreasonable  therefore  to  charge  that 
doctrine  with  encouraging  sin,  which  not  only  does 
not  allow  it,  but  which  affords  the  strongest  motives 
to  cause  us  to  abstain  from  it,  and  gives  the  highest 
ideas  of  its  evil,  and  of  the  purity  of  the  law  which 
forbids  it. 


SUNDAY  IX.— CHAP.  IX. 

THE   EVILS   ARISING   FROM   IGNORANCE    OF   THE   LAW. 

In  the  two  former  chapters  we  have  explained  the 
perfection  and  design  of  the  law;  its  perfection,  as 
requiring  unsullied  obedience  under  the  penalty  of 
condemnation  to  eternal  punishment;  its  design,  as 
leading  men  to  flee  for  safety  to  Christ,  and  to  re- 
pose their  hope  upon  his  merits.  Wherever  this 
perfection  and  design  are  misunderstood,  wherever 
a  lower  opinion  of  its  purity  is  indulged,  or  a  differ- 
ent view  of  its  design  is  entertained,  there,  errors  of 
the  most  dangerous  kind  prevail,  which  it  will  now 
be  my  business  to  explain. 

1.  Ignorance  of  the  law  of  God  must  leave  you  in 
a  fatal  mistake  respecting  your  real  character  be- 
fore him.  You  will  imagine  that  you  stand  upon 
honorable  terms  with  your  Maker,  and  have  conti- 
nued from  yovjr  birth  a  fit  object  for  his  favor,  pro- 
vided you  have  fallen  into  no  infamous  transgres- 
sions. You  will  not  confess  yourself  a  criminal, 
justly  exposed  to  the  wrath  of  God,  merely  because 
you  come  short  in  duty,  or  offend  in  many  points  of 
less  moment.     The  knowledge  that  judgment  v 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF  MAN. 


27 


;ome  upon  all  men  to  condemnation,  is  only  deriv- 
ed from  a  just  view  of  the  law;  therefore  till  you 
perceive  that  it  requires  sinless  perfection,  and  on 
failure  of  this  justly  pronounces  its  curse  upon  you, 
you  cannot  acknowledge  yourself  to  be  a  guilty 
ruined  sinner  in  the  sight  of  God. 

More  especially  if  you  have  had  some  early  sense 
of  your  duty  towards  God,  and  have  for  conscience 
sake  refrained  from  the  sins  common  to  your  age 
and  condition  of  life;  in  this  case,  ignorance  of  the 
law  will  leave  you  under  a  strong  conceit  of  your 
own  safe  and  happy  state.  Calls  to  repentance  you 
will  think  belong  to  those  only  who  have  been  en- 
slaved by  open  vices,  from  which  you  have  been 
always  free ;  to  those  who  have  never  led  that  in- 
nocent life  from  their  youth  up,  which  you  have 
done.  Self-flattery  will  stir  up  in  your  heart  resent- 
ment against  all  attempts  to  make  you  know  your- 
self, and  to  bring  you  before  God  with  true  humilia- 
tion and  faith  in  his  Son.  Every  thing  of  this 
kind  will  kindle  your  indignation,  as  a  cruel  de- 
sign to  wound  your  peace,  and  to  make  you  appear 
far  more  wicked  in  your  own  eyes  than  in  truth 
you  are. 

So  capital  an  error  will  tend  also  to  frustrate  the 
advantages  of  a  good  education,  and  to  pervert  even 
the  blessings  of  God's  restraining  grace.  It  will 
lead  you  to  lay  a  stress  upon  them  they  will  not 
bear,  and  prevent  you  feeling  the  humility  they 
were  designed  to  convey.  It  will  even  make  that 
virtuous  character  which  has  gained  you  so  much 
esteem  amongst  men,  prove  a  greater  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  your  salvation  than  gross  wickedness 
proves  to  others.  Great  sins  carry  with  them  their 
jwn  condemnation ;  they  have  a  tendency  to  excite, 
on  the  first  lucid  interval  of  consideration,  strong 
confessions  of  guilt  and  fervent  cries  for  mercy; 
whereas  a  behavior  externally  regulated  by  the 
law  of  God,  imperfectly  understood,  does  but  minis- 
ter fuel  to  self-sufficiency  and  self-applause.  Hence 
it  is  that  we  read  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  justi- 
fying themselves:  they  were  regular,  they  were  de- 
cent, they  were  religious,  but  ignorant  of  the  spirit- 
uality of  the  law.  They  could  see  no  need  either 
of  their  repentance,  or  of  the  grace  of  a  Saviour. — 
In  the  same  false  conceit  of  your  own  character 
you  will  continue  whilst  ignorant  of  the  law;  and 
either  audaciously  contradict  what  God  has  declar 
ed  of  the  guilt  of  the  human  race,  or  equivocate 
about  it  till  you  have  reduced  it  to  an  empty  name. 

On  the  contrary,  when,  to  use  the  apostle's  em- 
phaiical  term,  "  the  commandment  has  slain  you;" 
when  you  have  considered  and  allowed  the  de- 
mands of  the  law,  and  its  penalty  upon  the  least 
defect,  then,  without  disgust  or  hesitation,  you  will 
confess  your  guilt  and  sinfulness;  you  will  own  that 
you  are  condemned  by  a  law  which  claims  him  for 
its  author  who  only  is  able  to  save  or  to  destroy. — 
Whatever  sins  therefore  you  may  have  escaped, 
either  by  the  influence  of  education  or  the  restraints 
of  grace,  and  whatever  degree  of  just  reputation 
you  have  gained  amongst  men,  though  you  will  be 
humbly  thankful  for  them,  yet  still  you  will  remem- 
ber the  these  advantages  alter  not  your  state  re- 
specting God,  though  they  have  happilv  prevented 
the  multiplication  of  your  crimes.  Though  inno- 
cent of  those  flagrant  iniquities  which  abound  in 
the  world,  you  will  confess  yourself  a  transgressor 
justly  liable  to  eternal  punishment,  if  dealt  with  ac- 
tording  to  your  deserts. 

Happy  conviction  of  guilt!  which  performs  the 
oeneficent  office,  the  Baptist  discharged  of  old,  pre- 
paring the  way  of  the  Lord,  and  rendering  his  sal- 
tation jri°s?imablv  precious  to  the  soul. 

2.  Im.'orance  of  the  law  produces  corrupt  princi- 
ples of  obedience.  The  blessed  God  has,  by  right 
A'  creation,  an  indefeasable  claim  toour  submission. 


This  claim  he  has  enforced  by  his  own  express 
command ;  He  has  added  also  the  highest  com- 
mendations of  an  obedient  sprit,  and  promised  to  it 
an  everlasting  reward.  But  perverse  construction 
is  too  generally  put  upon  the  encouragement  he  has 
thus  given  to  holiness,  where  the  law  is  not  under- 
stood :  and  in  consequence  the  very  obedience  paid 
to  his  commandments  is  paid  upon  false  principles, 
such  as  render  it  odious  in  God's  sight.  Thus  some 
regard  the  precepts  which  enjoin  liberality  to  the 
needy,  and  are  very  large  in  their  donations,  hop- 
ing by  this  to  atone  for  their  lewdness  and  sensuali- 
ty; for  they  say,  "Blessed  is  he  that  considereth 
the  poor  and  needy."  Others  are  conscientiously 
true  to  their  word,  and  faithful  to  all  their  engage- 
ments, flattering  themselves  that  such  integrity  will 
counterbalance  their  pride  and  profaneness,  by  say- 
ing, "  The  righteous  Lord  lovelh  righteousness,  and 
a  just  weight  is  his  delight."  Others,  and  if  possi- 
ble a  worse  sort,  multiply  exercises  of  devotion  as 
a  commutation  for  their  injustice  and  insincerity, 
their  malicious  or  covetous  temper,  confiding  in  the 
promises  made  to  prayer  and  diligent  attendance 
on  the  means  of  grace. 

From  such  hateful  motives  does  that  morality 
and  devotion,  of  which  many  are  so  conceited,  often 
take  its  rise.  Motives  springing  from  an  opinion 
which  reduces  the  sinfulness  of  sin  to  a  venial  in- 
firmity, which  soothes  our  pride  by  exalting  to  an 
extravagant  rate  the  value  of  our  polluted  services, 
and  which  even  encourages  disobedience,  by  sup- 
posing an  offender  against  the  law  of  God  able  to 
make  compensation  for  his  sin.  Yet  most  offensive 
to  God  as  this  opinion  is,  nothing  but  the  true  know- 
ledge of  the  law  can  effectually  subvert  it.  The 
law,  by  pronouncing  a  curse  on  everything  short 
of  sinless  perfection,  leaves  no  ground  for  any  com- 
position with  sin.  By  rejecting  with  dreadful  me- 
naces all  human  attempts  as  far  too  poor  to  make 
satisfaction  to  its  authority,  whenever  violated,  it 
leaves  no  possibility  of  supposing  that  obediem  e  in 
some  instances  can  be  cf  force  to  atone  for  the  want 
of  it  in  others,  li  compels  the  less  atrocious  sinner, 
as  well  as  the  great  one,  to  confess  himself  insol- 
vent, and  to  own  that  nothing  ran  administer  relief 
in  his  case  which  is  not  equal  to  the  demands  of  the 
law. 

3.  Though  you  may  be  possibly  free  from  the 
gross,  but  common  error  of  fancying  that  sonic  sins 
may  be  overlooked,  lost  as  it  were  in  the  blaze  of 
superior  goodness,  still,  if  you  are  ignorant  id'  the 
nature  of  the  law,  you  will  be  apt  to  entertain  an 
impious  conceit  of  the  merit  of  your  good  works. 
Instead  of  maintaining  the  absolute  necessity  of 
practising  and  of  abounding  in  them  as  the  only  vi- 
sible vouchers  that  yon  believe  in  Jesus;  as  the  in- 
fallible evidence  of  the  truth  of  your  repentance  and 
conversion,  in  which  light  it  is  impossible  too  high- 
ly to  extol  their  use,  or  enforce  their  practice: 
through  ignorance  of  the  law,  you  will  suppose  your 
own  personal  righteousness  and  that  of  the  Redeem- 
er to  have  the  sam^sort  of  weight  with  God,  to  act 
in  the  same  capacity,  and  have  at  least  a  joint  in- 
fluence in  procuring  your  pardon  and  salvation. — 
Many  in  fact  who  possess  a  sense  of  religion,  do 
thus  dangerously  deceive  themselves.  They  en- 
deavor to  do  their  duty,  mortifying  their  lusts,  and 
leading  a  devout  life.  On  this  account  though  they 
are  confessedly  guilty  in  many  points,  yet  their  own 
goodness  they  are  confident  will  considerablv  contri- 
bute to  recommend  them  to  God,  and  the  met  its  of 
Christ,  they  trust,  will  make  up  what  is  wanting. — ■ 
Of  consequence,  so  long  as  they  fall  into  no  gross 
sin,  but  continue  regular,  honest,  and  attentive  to 
religious  duties,  they  ate  satisfied  that  they  have 
done  their  part,  and  that  there  is  such  a  worth 
in  their  sincere,  though   imperfect  obedience,  as 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


will  procure  them  acceptance  with  God  and  eter- 
nal life. 

This  refined  error  necessarily  results  from  igno- 
rance of  the  law;  and  unsuspected  of  evil,  keeps 
firm  possession  of  the  mind  till  the  law  is  under- 
stood. Yet  no  error  can  abound  more  with  self- 
contradiction  or  with  affront  to  God.  "With  palpa- 
ble self-contradiction ;  since  this  is  supposing  that 
at  the  very  time  you  confess  yourself  under  the 
guilt  of  sin  for  omissions  and  defects;  at  the  very 
time  you  need  a  pardon  as  offending  in  many 
things,  there  can  .still  be  sufficient  excel.'ency  about 
you  to  obtain  favor  with  God.  It  is  to  suppose,  that 
even  whilst  conscience  accuses  you,  and  the  law 
condemns  you  as  a  sinner  for  disobedience,  you 
still  possess  such  a  fund  of  righteousness  as  will 
have  a  considerable  influence  in  making  reconcilia- 
tion for  you.  Strange  contradiction !  To  confess 
yourself  guilty  and  implore  pardon,  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  to  cherish  a  hope  of  being  favorably  re- 
garded on  your  own  account  1  Surely  to  implore 
pardon  implies  that  you  lie  at  the  feet  of  mercy 
without  any  plea,  but  the  compassion  of  God. — 
Whereas  to  trust,  as  a  coadjutor  with  Christ,  in 
your  own  obedience,  supposes  a  high  degree  of 
worth  in  yourself. 

Besides,  by  holding  this  error,  your  affront  to 
God  is  as  notorious  as  the  contradiction  in  which  it 
involves  you.  You  make  the  glorious  Redeemer 
undertake  your  ransom  merely  to  render  our  defi- 
cient duties  meritorious,  and  our  sins  inoffensive. — 
You  make  his  sinless  life,  his  precious  death,  and 
mediatorial  undertakings  serve  no  other  purpose 
than  that  of  erecting  a  pedestal  on  which  human 
worth  may  stand  exalted,  and  be  displayed  in  false 
colors.  According  to  this  scheme,  the  pardon  of 
rebels  against  the  Most  High,  and  the  reception  of 
leprous  sinners  into  the  bosom  of  heaven,  (effects, 
than  which  nothing  can  be  greater,  benefits,  than 
which  nothing  can  be  richer,)  are  owing  to  the 
work  of  our  own  hands,  and  the  virtues  of  our  own 
character,  in  conjunction  with  Christ. 

Now  what  greater  affront  can  be  offered  to  that 
divine  goodness  which  interposed  to  save  us  when 
we  were  lost,  than  thus  to  divide  the  honor  of  our 
acceptance  between  Christ  and  ourselves  1  What 
more  daring  opposition  to  God  the  Father,  who  has 
given  Christ  for  salvation  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
than  to  trust  in  our  own  obedience,  as  having  partly 
at  least,  merit  to  procure  it  for  ourselves  1  What 
more  plain  denial  of  the  Scripture,  which  so  ex- 
pressly ascribes,  and  so  entirely  appropriates  the 
salvation  of  sinners,  from  first  to  last,  to  the  praise 
of  the  glory  of  God's  grace  in  Christ  Jesus  1  Com- 
pare, for  instance,  this  self-exalting  doctrine  with 
Isaiah's  most  sublime  account  of  the  combat  and 
the  conquest  of  the  Redeemer,  and  then  conclude 
how  injurious  it  must  be  to  his  honor  to  regard 
your  own  works  as  coadjutors  with  him.  The 
prophet,  in  surprise  at  the  appearance  of  a  most 
majestic  personage,  asks,  "Who  is  this  that  cometh 
from  Edom,  with  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah  V 
that  is,  from  the  country  and  from  the  capital  of 
the  implacable  enemies  of  the  people  of  God.  To 
which  the  Redeemer  replies,  "  I  that  speak  in  right- 
eousness, mighty  to  save."  Upon  this  the  prophet 
renews  his  inquiry,  "  Wherefore"  (if  thou  art  come 
not  to  destroy  but  to  save)  "art  thou  red  in  thine 
apparel,  and  thy  garments  like  him  that  treadeth  in 
the  wine-fat  1"  To  this  the  Redeemer  answers, 
"  I  have  trodden  the  wine-press ;"  my  foes-  I  have 
crushed,  I  have  trampled  them  under  my  feet :  but 
they  were  thy  enemies,  sin,  death,  and  Satan  "  I 
have  trodden  the  wine-press"  by  myself  "  alone ;" 
too  great  in  my  power  to  want  an  associate,  and 
too  jealous  of  my  honor  to  accept  of  an  assistant ; 
"  of  the  people  there  was  none  with  me ;"  the  sal- 


vation of  sinners  in  all  its  parts  is  my  act,  even 
mine  only  :  yours  be  all  the  benefit,  mine  aii  the 
glory.    Isa.  lxiii.  1 — 3. 

The  same  doctrine  is  uniformly  taught  by  ail  the 
inspired  penmen.  Yet  so  pleasing  to  the  human 
heart  is  the  thought  of  assuming  something  to  our- 
selves in  the  grand  affair  of  our  salvation,  that  no- 
thing but  the  right  knowledge  of  the  law  can  make 
the  attempt  appear  in  its  proper  degree  of  guilt. 
This  indeed  will,  because  it  fixes  with  the  greatest 
precision  the  value  of  good  works,  and  the  place 
of  human  obedience.  The  law  will  not  suffer  you 
to  consider  the  most  conscientious  mode  of  obe- 
dience in  any  other  light,  than  as  a  testimony  that 
you  believe  with  godly  sincerity  the  delightful  truth ; 
that  Jesus  purged  away  your  sins  by  the  sacrifice 
of  himself;  for  which  unspeakable  benefit  you  love 
him,  you  keep  his  commandments,  and  you  abhor 
those  iniquities  which  made  him  suffer  and  die. 

To  think  and  live  thus  is  Christian  obedience ; 
of  quite  another  color  and  complexion  from  that 
which  springs  from  every  other  motive.  This  is 
"  to  use  the  law  lawfully,"  not  as  interfering  with 
the  Redeemer,  or  shading  his  glory  by  encouraging 
the  expectations  of  life  from  obedience  to  its  com- 
mands, but  as  a  clear  revelation  of  the  infinite  de- 
merit of  sin,  and  of  the  absolute  need  of  Christ's 
interposition,  "  who  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  right- 
eousness to  every  one  that  believeth." 

4.  Self-preference,  and  a  conceit  of  personal  per- 
fection in  the  saints,  together  with  all  their  train  of 
mischievous  consequences,  are  owing  to  the  igno- 
rance of  God's  law. 

The  slightest  observer  of  mankind  may  easily 
observe  that  pride  is  naturally  the  ruling  passion  in 
every  heart,  and  that  we  covet  in  all  things  to  have 
the  pre-eminence.  Hence  not  only  beauty  of  per- 
son, possession  of  wealth,  reputation  of  learning, 
or  the  distinction  of  noble  birth,  but  even  our  spi- 
ritual attainments,  become  strong  temptations  to 
the  indulgence  of  pride.  Thus  of  old  we  find  a 
numerous  party  amongst  the  Jews  rendered  conspi- 
cuous by  their  religious  zeal,  who,  elated  by  their 
fancied  superior  grace,  cried  out,  "Stand  by  thyself, 
come  not  near  me,  for  I  am  holier  than  thou."' 
Isa.  lxv.  5.  The  same  persons  who  thought  sc 
highly  of  themselves,  judged  it  impossible  for  noto- 
rious sinners  to  be  pardoned,  and  treated  them  with 
insufferable  disdain.  The  like  self-preferring  spirit 
governs  many  at  this  day,  who  stand  distinguished 
for  theii  strictness  and  punctuality  in  religious 
offices.  Now  to  purge  out  this  pharisaical  leaven 
is  the  peculiar  work  and  office  of  the  law  of  God. 
It  is  not  enough  to  tell  those  who  highly  esteem 
themselves  for  their  religious  excellences,  that  they 
owe  them  to  the  free  gift  of  God ;  this,  with  the 
Pharisee,  they  will  allow,  and  yet  value  themselves 
on  account  of  the  gift.  Neither  is  it  sufficient  to 
remind  them  of  the  blemishes  which  cleave  to 
them,  sully  their  best  performances,  and  take  all 
pretence  to  self-esteem.  For  these  they  will  place 
to  the  score  of  human  infirmity  and  the  imper- 
fection of  human  obedience,  still  proudly  dwelling 
in  their  own  thoughts,  on  the  manifest  difference 
between  themselves  and  others.  But  then  you  lay 
the  axe  to  the  root  of  the  tree,  when  you  make  such 
self-conceited  professors  of  religion  understand,  that 
after  all  they  have  done  or  received,  and  notwith- 
standing the  high  thoughts  they  have  of  themselves, 
the  curse  of  the  law  is  upon  all  them  "  that  continue 
not  in  all  things  written  therein  to  do  them;"  that 
they  are  therefore  not  only  imperfect,  but  lost,  if 
dealt  with  as  they  deserve;  that  notwithstanding 
all  their  aspiring  pretensions  and  glittering  attain- 
ments, they  can  no  more  than  the  wicked  answer 
the  demands  made  upon  them  by  the  law,  but  stand 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


fO 


as  bable  as  they  to  its  condemnation,  and  remain 
equally  destitute  of  any  plea  for  their  justification, 
but  the  mercy  and  righteousness  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Thus  no  room  is  left  for  self-admiration: 
for  whatever  difference  there  may  be  between  one 
sinner  and  another,  respecting  outward  obedience 
or  degrees  of  sanctification,  the  law  will  sutler  no 
man  living,  to  imagine  he  stands  accepted  with  his 
Creator  on  account  of  his  own  obedience.  But  if 
every  man  who  is  in  a  state  of  salvation  is  thus 
compelled  by  the  law  to  acknowledge  the  blessing 
is  wholly  of  grace,  then  boasting  and  self-exaltation 
are  utterly  excluded. 

The  conceit  of  personal  perfection  likewise  in 
the  saints,  is  maintained  only  by  ignorance  of  the 
law  of  God.  For  it  is  impossible  that  such  pol- 
luted creatures  as  we  are,  should  ever  dream  that 
after  our  highest  attainments,  there  remains  upon 
us  no  charge  of  sin,  if  we  knew  the  full  extent  of 
the  law,  which  condemns  the  least  failure,  and  al- 
lows not  the  very  least  imperfection.  In  every  in- 
stance, on  every  occasion,  it  charges  us. 

With  act  intense,  and  unremitted  nerve, 
To  hold  a  course  unfaltering. 

It  commands  us  not  only  to  serve  the  Lord,  but 
tu  serve  him  with  all  our  strength;  not  only  to  love 
our  neighbot,  but  to  love  him  as  ourselves;  and  to 
demonstrate  we  do  both  by  every  temper,  by  every 
word,  by  every  desire,  and  by  every  thought.  When 
you  have  your  eye  fixed  upon  the  law,  so  spiritual 
in  its  demands,  and  enjoining  such  perfection  of  obe- 
dience, you  will  most  readily  acquiesce  in  that  hum- 
bling confession  of  the  inspired  Solomon,  "  There 
is  nut  a  just  man  upon  earth,  that  liveth  and  sinneth 
not."  You  will  use,  from  a  deep  conviction  of 
your  own  sinfulness,  that  confession  so  expressive 
of  true  humility,  and  of  the  perfection  of  the  law 
of  God:  "  If  thou,  Lord,  shouldst  mark  iniquities, 
who  shall  stand  1  but  there  is  forgiveness  with  thee, 
that  thou  mayest  be  feared." 

To  conclude ;  you  may  learn  from  what  has  been 
now  laid  before  you,  that  if  you  desire  to  be  a  be- 
liever in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  upon  principle  and 
souad  conviction,  you  must  thoroughly  acquaint 
yourself  with  the  nature  and  design  of  the  law  of 
God.  Like  a  faithful  mirror,  it  will  discover  your 
poverty  and  sinfulness:  it  will  make  the  mercy  of 
God  in  Christ  Jesus  appear  as  great  and  glorious  in 
your  eyes,  as  it  is  declared  to  be  in  the  Bible.  Then 
you  will  live  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  pleading 
his  costly  sacrifice  and  perfect  righteousness  with 
all  humility  at  the  throne  of  grace,  as  the  only 
foundation  of  your  hope  towards  God. 

And  as  a  prodigal  son,  who,  through  folly  and 
sin,  has  brought  himself  into  a  state  of  disease  and 
ruin,  will,  when  duly  affected  by  a  sense  of  his  con- 
dition, most  thankfully  acknowledge  the  kindness 
of  a  tender  parent,  who,  notwithstanding  all  his 
vileness,  receives  him  with  forgiveness  and  em- 
braces him  with  love,  so  will  you,  deeply  impressed 
by  the  sight  of  your  sinfulness  manifested  by  the 
law.  intensely  desire  to  serve  that  God,  who  took 
pity  upon  you  when  utterly  ruined,  loved  you  when 
you  possessed  not  one  single  feature  of  comeliness, 
and  who  loves  you  still  in  the  midst  of  much  pre- 
vailing unworthiness.  Thus  those  two  universal 
and  mighty  principles  of  disobedience,  self-con- 
fidence and  self-conceit,  will  be  expelled,  and  a  ra- 
tional humility  productive  of  universal  holiness 
will  be  established.  Daily  convinced  that  if  God 
were  to  enter  into  judgment  with  you,  you  mu^t  be 
found  guilty  and  worthy  of  death ;  you  will  adore, 
love,  and  obey  him  who  hath  redeemed  you  from 
the  curse  of  the  law,  purchased  for  you  a  crown 
of  life,  and  called  vou  to  a  throne  of  glory. 


SUNDAY  X.— CHAP.  X. 


OF   THE    NATURE   AND   EXTENT    OF    FAITH   IN    TIIF    '.fiin 
JESUS    CHRIST. 

In  almost  every  page  of  Scripture  excellent  things 
are  spoken  of  the  power  of  faith;  and  whatever 
some  may  boast  of  their  good  works  and  meritorious 
virtues,  the  good  effects  of  which  in  society  may 
justly  be  extolled;  still,  so  long  as  the  authority  of 
the  Bible  remains,  it  is  a  decided  point,  that  to  be 
without  faith  in  Christ,  is  to  be  actually  exposed  to 
the  wrath  of  God. 

Every  one  therefore  ought  most  carefully  to 
search  the  Scripture,  in  order  to  inform  himself  of 
the  essential  properties  of  this  fundamental  grace. 
Thus  will  he  be  secured  on  the  one  hand  from  an 
enthusiastic  idea  of  its  nature,  and  on  the  other 
from  a  degradation  of  it  into  a  barren  and  worthless 
notion. 

The  shortest  and  plainest  method  to  determine 
its  nature  will  be,  I  apprehend,  to  ascertain  what 
peculiar  excellency  was  in  those  who  were  highly 
commended  by  the  Lord  Jesus  for  the  greatness  of 
their  faith  in  him,  and  what  was  their  fault  whom 
he  rebuked  for  unbelief.  When  these  two  points 
are  once  determined,  it  is  hoped  the  nature  of  faith 
will  be  so  clearly  laid  open  as  to  prevent  erroneous 
opinions  concerning  it.  and  to  deliver  all  serious 
readers  from  that  perplexity  which,  amidst  the  va- 
rious disputes  about  it,  they  find  it  difficult  to  avoid. 

The  first  instructive  example  which  I  select  in 
order  to  explain  and  determine  the  precise  nature 
of  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  that  of  the 
Centurion,  mentioned  Matt.  vii.  Warmed  with  an 
active  benevolence,  and  sympathizing  with  an  af- 
flicted member  of  his  family,  he  earnestly  applied 
to  the  Redeemer,  begging  that  he  would  have  pity 
upon  his  servant,  whom  he  had  left  grievously  tor- 
mented with  the  palsy.  The  faith  which  inspired 
the  Centurion's  heart,  and  prevailed  with  him  to 
make  this  request,  though  perfectly  known  to  Jesus, 
was  not  to  the  surrounding  multitude.  They  could 
not  tell,  whether  he  might  not  come  glad,  as  one  in 
a  desperate  case,  to  catch  at  any  thing,  which  had 
the  least  appearance  of  a  remedy.  Our  Lord  there- 
fore replies  to  him  in  such  a  manner,  as  he  knew 
would  bring  forth  the  most  undeniable  proof  of  his 
faith;  he  saith,  "  I  will  come  and  heal  him."  But 
the  amiable  modesty  of  this  great  believer  would 
not  suffer  him  to  think  of  the  honor  of  receiving 
such  a  guest  under  his  roof.  He  answers,  there- 
fore, that,  it  was  wholly  unnecessary  for  Jesus  to 
trouble  himself  to  come;  "Speak  the  word  only,'- 
says  he,  "  and  my  servant  shall  be  healed  ;"  adding, 
that  he  was  no  less  assured  of  the  power  of  Christ 
overall  bodily  diseases,  both  to  remove  and  inflict 
them  at  his  pleasure,  than  he  was  of  his  own 
authority  to  command  his  soldiers. 

"  When  Jesus  heard  it,  he  marvelled :"  he  was 
struck  with  admiration  at  the  infinitely  grand  and 
just  idea  which  this  Roman  officer  had  conceived 
of  his  power,  though  he  was  in  outward  appear- 
ance the  meanest  of  men. 

To  make  therefore  his  faith  eternally  conspi- 
cuous, and  at  the  same  time  most  clearly  to  ascer- 
tain the  essential  nature  of  that  grace  which  was  to 
be  the  instrument  of  salvation  to  every  member  of 
his  church,  "  Jesus  said  unto  them  that  followed, 
Verily  I  say  unto  you,  I  have  not  found  so  great 
faith,  no  not  in  Israel.  And  I  say  unto  you,  Many 
shall  come  from  the  east  and  the  west,"  that  is,  pos- 
sessed and  governed  by  the  same  precious  faith 
you  now  see  exercised  towards  me ;  "  and  shall  sit 
down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  :'n  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

Examine  now  what  was  the  faith  of  this  Oen- 


30 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF    MAN. 


turion.  It  was  evidently  a  firm  persuasion  of  the 
almighty  power  and  goodness  of  Christ,  producing 
a  dependence  upon  him,  and  an  application  to  him 
for  help  and  deliverance  in  favor  of  his  afflicted 
servant.  By  consequence,  true  faith  in  Jesus  is  that 
knowledge  of  his  character  and  office  which  in- 
clines the  heart  to  depend  upon  him  for  continual 
help  in  our  spiritual  need. 

This  is  confirmed  by  another  very  remarkable  in- 
stance, that  of  the  Canaanitish  woman.  Hearing 
of  the  arrival  of  Jesus  in  the  country  near  which 
she  dwelt,  she  came  unto  him,  saying,  "  Have  mercy 
on  ine,  O  Loi;d,  thou  son  of  David  :  my  daughter  is 
grievously  vexed  with  a  devil ;  but  he  answered  her 
not  a  wok'."  Nay,  he  seems  absolutely  to  refuse 
her  request,  giving  for  a  reason,  that  his  ministry 
must  be  confined  by  him  to  the  Jews.  And  when 
entreated  yet  again,  he  adds  a  still  more  mortifying 
and  discouraging  reply,  that  it  was  not  meet  for  him 
to  display  his  mercy  amongst  the  heathen,  who, 
through  their  idolatry  and  other  pollutions,  were 
become,  like  dogs,  impure  before  God ;  that  this 
was  to  be  confined  by  him  to  the  church  of  God,  his 
children  by  covenant  and  profession. 

The  woman  acknowledges  the  justness  of  what 
our  Lord  urged  :  and  she  said,  "  Truth,  Lord  ;  yet 
the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  which  fall  from  their 
master's  table."  Let  me  only  have  such  kindness 
as  the  dogs  which  belong  to  a  family  enjoy  :  amidst 
that  plenty  of  miraculous  cures  which  thou  art  be- 
stowing on  the  Jews,  bestow  the  fragments  of  this 
one  upon  me,  who  am  a  poor  distressed  heathen :  for 
by  these  they  will  suffer  no  greater  loss  than  the 
children  of  a  family  do  by  the  crumbs  which  are 
cast  to  the  dogs. 

Then  Jesus  answered,  "  O  woman,  great  is  thy 
faith,  be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  Matt.  xv.  2i. 

Here  also  every  eye  must  perceive  what  was  so 
illustrious  in  this  woman  :  it  was  her  persevering 
adherence  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  help  and 
deliverance.  In  the  midst  of  the  greatest  discou- 
ragements, she  remained  patient,  yet  importunate, 
and  resolutely  depended  for  relief  upon  the  grace 
which  she  was  persuaded  dwelt  so  richly  in  him. 

From  this  instance  then,  no  less  clearly  than  from 
the  former,  faith  in  Jesus  is  determined  precisely 
to  mean  the  reliance  of  the  heart  on  him  for  help 
and  deliverance. 

The  same  truth  is  as  strongly  proved  from  the 
fault  plainly  charged  on  those  whom  Jesus  rebuked 
for  their  unbelief. 

In  the  eighth  chapter  of  St.  Luke  we  are  inform- 
ed that  our  Lord,  fatigued  with  his  abundant  labors 
of  love,  fell  asleep  as  he  was  sailing  with  his  disci- 
ples. In  the  mean  time  the  weather  suddenly  chang- 
ed, and  a  storm  came  on.  The  disciples  exerted 
their  utmost  skill  in  the  management  of  the  vessel ; 
but  in  vain.  The  waves  breaking  in,  filled  her,  so 
that  she  began  to  sink ;  and  they  giving  themselves 
up  for  lost,  ran  to  Jesus,  shrieking  out,  "  Master, 
Master,  we  perish." 

Their  cries  awoke  him  :  he  instantly  rebuked  the 
winds  and  the  sea,  and  there  was  a  calm.  Upon 
which  he  immediately  turns  with  this  reproof  upon 
his  disciples.  "  Why  are  ye  so  fearful  1  how  is  it 
that  ye  have  no  faiih  1"     Mark  iv.  38. 

In  this  instance  also,  you  see  it  was  want  of  as- 
surance in  the  power  of  their  divine  Master,  even 
when  destruction  in  all  appearance  was  overwhelm- 
ing them:  it  was  doubting  his  ability  to  gather  the 
stormy  winds  in  his  hand,  and  to  prevent  the  raging 
floods  from  overflowing  them :  it  was  yielding  to  the 
fear  of  death  when  it  seemed  opening  its  jaws  to  de- 
vour them,  which  our  Lord  rebukes,  as  a  demon- 
stration of  their  unbelief.  And  justly  too,  since  after 
the  nrny  miracles  they  had  seen  him  perform,  they 
had  abundant  cause  to  rely  on  his  power  and  good- 


ness, even  in  a  greater  danger  than  this ;  for  though 
their  vessel  had  sunk,  he  who  gave  sight  to  the  blind, 
could  have  saved  them  all  by  making  them  walk 
firmly  on  the  water,  as  he  afterwards  enabled  one 
of  their  number  to  do. 

To  avoid  being  tedious,  only  one  instance  more 
shall  be  produced. 

In  the  ninth  of  St.  Mark,  we  have  a  remarkable 
relation  of  "  a  father,  greatly  distressed  on  account 
of  the  disorder  of  his  son,"  bringing  him  to  the  dis- 
ciples. Finding  them  unable  to  heal  him,  and  dis- 
pirited at  the  sight  of  his  son's  misery,  together  with 
the  remembrance  of  its  long  continuance,  he  was 
afraid  this  possession  might  surpass  even  the  power 
of  Jesus  himself.  Expressing  therefore  his  doubts 
and  fears,  he  saith  unto  him.  "  If  thou  canst  do  any 
thing,  have  compassion  on  us,  and  help  us.  Jesus 
said  unto  him,  If  thou  canst  believe,  all  things  are 
possible  to  him  that  believeth  ;"  that  is,  to  him  who 
is  immoveably  persuaded  of  my  all-sufficient  power. 
"  And  straightway  the  father  of  he  child  cried  out, 
and  said  with  tears,  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  mine 
unbelief:"  in  other  words,  "  I  do  now  sincerely  trust 
in  thee  as  able  to  help  me  :  I  am  touched  with  grief 
and  shame  to  think  there  should  be  so  much  unbe- 
lief in  my  heart ;  O  forgive  and  remove  it,  that  I 
and  my  son  may  be  thoroughly  cured  ;  I  of  my 
spiritual,  and  he  of  his  corporeal  disease  " 

Instances,  without  number,  might  be  brought ;  but 
these  alleged  are  fully  sufficient  to  determine,  what 
is  the  precise  meaning  of  that  divine  grace,  faith  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ: — they  prove  that  it  means 
the  affiance  of  the  soul  in  Jesus  Christ  for  help  and 
deliverance. 

If  it  should  be  said,  that  the  Centurion  and  the 
Canaanitish  woman  showed  their  faith,  the  disciples 
and  the  distressed  father  their  unbelief,  with  respect 
only  to  temporal  evils;  therefore,  that  these  are  not 
proper  examples  to  determine  the  nature  of  that 
faith  to  which  the  salvation  of  the  soul  is  promised, 
the  answer  is  obvious :  That  the  difference  in  the 
nature  of  the  benefits  which  are  the  objects  of  desire 
by  no  means  infers  a  difference  in  the  principle  of 
faith.  It  was  by  one  and  the  same  kind  of  faith, 
we  are  assured,  that  Noah  built  the  ark,  that  Abra- 
ham offered  his  son,  that  Moses  esteemed  the  re- 
proach of  Christ  greater  riches  than  all  the  trea- 
sures of  Egypt.  These  acts,  though  different  from 
each  other  in  their  respective  ends,  proceeded  from 
one  and  the  self-same  principle.  In  like  manner, 
whether  trust  in  the  power  and  all-sufficiency  of 
Jesus  be  exercised  in  seeking  deliverance  from  tem- 
poral or  spiritual  evil,  from  wants,  more  in  number 
or  less,  it  is  still  the  same  divine  grace  relying  upon 
the  same  glorious  power. 

Indeed,  the  extent  of  true  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  does  and  must  reach  as  far  as  our  necessities; 
therefore  a  particular  knowledge  of  our  wants,  and 
of  the  exercise  of  faith  with  respect  to  the  supply 
of  them,  will  afford  the  most  ample  view  of  the  ex- 
tent of  his  grace. 

First,  then,  as  soon  as  we  compare  our  lives  with 
the  rule  of  our  duty,  the  law  of  God,  accusations  of 
guilt  cannot  but  pour  on  us  from  every  side.     Each 
of  the  commandments,  spiritually  understood,  ac- 
cording to  the  explanation  given  in  the  sermon  on 
the  mount,  has  sins  of  commission  or  omission  ' 
Jay  to  our  charge.     God  and  our  own  conscience 
tell  us,  that  our  offences  have  been  not  merely  er 
rors  of  ignorance,  but  sins  against  light  and  know 
ledge  ;  the  effects  of  a  proud  rebellious  spirit  against 
the  most  high  God. 

Now  to  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  i^,  under 
the  heart-felt  conviction  of  such  guilt,  and  in  abhor- 
rence of  it,  "  to  depend  on  his  blood  as  the  propi;ia- 
tion  which  God  himself  hath  set  forth  for  our  sin." 
It  is  to  make  use  of  this  plea  alone,  that  the  hand 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


31 


of  provoked  Justice  may  not  seize,  nor  the  arm  of 
Omnipotence  destroy  our  soul,  "  Jesus  was  wounded 
for  those  very  transgressions  whereof  my  conscience 
is  afraid  :  and  bruised  for  those  very  iniquities  I  am 
now  bewailing  with  a  godly  sorrow."  In  despair  of 
ever  receiving  pardon  through  the  merit  of  any  thing 
we  can  do  to  help  ourselves,  or  through  the  unco- 
ven anted  mercy  of  God,  it  is  lo  place  our  whole 
confidence  in  Jesus,  "  as  made  a  sin-offering  for  us, 
though  he  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the 
righteousness  of  God  in  him."  It  is  under  a  con- 
sciousness of  daily  sin,  and  of  the  infinite  holiness 
of  God  ;  to  esteem  Christ  as  our  passover;  to  be 
persuaded  that  the  merit  and  virtue  of  his  blood  is 
our  whole  safeguard  from  deserved  wrath  :  just  as 
the  Israelites  of  old  looked  on  the  blood  sprinkled 
on  their  doors  as  their  whole  safeguard  from  the 
destroying  angel. 

Further — Another  great  evil  to  which  all  men 
feel  themselves  subject,  so  soon  as  they  come  to  any 
knowledge  of  their  condition  with  respect  to  God,  is 
that  of  a  depraved  understanding.  They  perceive 
that  their  apprehensions  of  the  ever-blessed  God  and 
his  law,  of  sin  and  their  own  demerit,  are  deplorably 
wrong;  they  confess  themselves  children  of  dark- 
ness, in  need  of  divine  illumination  to  conquer  their 
stubborn  ignorance,  and  to  remove  their  numberless 
prejudices  against  the  truth  of  God ;  to  take  from 
them  those  mists  which  arise  from  inordinate  affec- 
tion, and  that  blindness  to  spiritual  objects  which 
prevents  their  effectual  impression  upon  the  mind. 

Now  to  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is,  in  the 
midst  of  these  circumstances,  tc  make  application  to 
him  as  one  able  to  enlighten  the  understanding,  and 
to  secure  it  from  all  the  delusions  of  false  reason- 
ings and  imaginary  schemes  of  serving  God.  It  is, 
to  make  request  to  him  for  instruction,  who  through 
the  tender  mercy  of  God  came  to  visit  a  world  "  sit- 
ting in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of  death,"  to  the 
intent.  "  that  all  who  believe  in  him  should  not  walk 
in  darkness,  but  have  the  light  of  life  abiding  in 
them."  It  is,  with  the  meekness  of  a  child,  simply 
to  believe  what  we  are  told  by  him,  without  mur- 
muring or  disputing.  It  is,  as  absolutely  to  depend 
day  by  day  on  the  teaching  of  Christ,  through  his 
word  and  Spirit,  for  the  knowledge  of  all  things 
needful  to  salvation  ;  as  a  submissive  pupil  depends 
upon  the  instructions  of  a  master  whose  abilities  in 
learning  are  universally  celebrated. 

Again  —  When  you  desire  and  earnestly  endeavor 
to  live  in  obedience  to  the  spiritual  commandments 
of  God,  without  which  a  course  of  sobriety  and  ex- 
ternal religion  is  vain  ;  you  will  immediately  feel 
your  own  weakness,  just  as  Sampson  did  the  loss  of 
his  strength,  when  he  was  rising,  after  his  locks 
were  shorn,  to  combat  the  Philistines — you  will  find 
your  nature  violently  inclined  to  evil,  and  the  de- 
sires of  your  heart  to  be  fixed  upon  vanity  and  sin — 
you  will  see  yourself  surrounded  with  a  thousand 
temptations  to  draw  you  from  God,  and  to  discou- 
rage you  from  living  in  conscientious  obedience  to 
him. 

In  these  circumstances,  you  will  soon  feel  it  is  a 
work  far  surpassing  human  power  to  alter  the  course 
of  nature;  to  bring  back  those  affections  to  God, 
which  have  been  always  alienated  from  him;  or  to 
reduce  a  will  that  has  long  been  lawless  to  subjec- 
tion, to  the  control  of  God  in  all  things.  You  will 
feel  little  ability,  after  having  walked  in  the  path  of 
self-will  as  the  only  path  of  happiness,  to  forsake  it, 
and  to  tread  the  rough  and  thorny  one  of  self-denial. 
Yet  such  an  inward  change  true  holiness  requires ; 
every  thing  short  of  it  is  superficial,  leaving  the  soul 
unprepared  for  the  temper  and  happiness  of  heaven. 
In  these  circumstances  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ 
fc  to  depend  upon  him,  as  sriven  by  God  to  purify 
men  for  himself,  and  to  purge  them  as  a  refiner's 


fire  does  the  silver  from  its  dross.  It  is  to  be  look- 
ing to  him  with  confidence  for  the.  gradual  perform- 
ance of  a  work  in  your  soul,  no  less  necessary  I'm 
your  salvation  than  that  already  completed  for  you 
on  the  cross,  h  is,  daily  to  make  application  to  him, 
as  one  on  whom  God  hath  laid  all  your  help,  and 
whom  he  hath  given  to  save  his  people  from  their 
sins.  It  is  to  bring  before  him  those  vile  affections 
which  are  natural  to  your  heart  ;  assured,  that 
though  your  own  resolutions  .and  efforts  have  been 
frustrated  from  time  to  time,  and  wrought  in  you 
no  cure,  yet  the  power  of  the  Lord  will  work  might- 
ily with  you,  and  at  length  give  you  strength  and 
victory. 

Thus  far  the  extent  of  true  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  been  considered  as  reaching  to  a  de- 
pendence .n  his  grace  and  power  for  present  deli- 
verance from  that  darkness,  guilt,  and  reigning  sin, 
in  which  the  whole  posterity  of  Adam  is  involved. 

But  as  our  continuance  on  earth  is  exceeding 
short;  as  this  life  must  soon  be  lost  in  one  which 
knows  no  end,  where  either  the  dismal  effects  of 
unpardoned  sin  must  be  eternally  endured,  or  the 
exquisite  joy  of  God's  love  delight  the  heart ;  so  the 
"  extent  of  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  must  be 
enlarged  to  have  relation  to  that  eternity  which  is 
so  near  and  important."  To  believe  in  Christ, 
therefore,  comprehends  a  firm  confidence  that,  yon 
shall  abundantly  experience  both  his  power  and 
love,  when  every  human  help  and  comfort  fail,  and 
present  objects  are  no  more.  Faith  rests  assured  on 
his  word,  that  the  soul  shall  not  wander  desolate  anil 
forsaken  in  the  unknown  world,  nor  the  dead  body 
remain  a  prisoner  for  ever  in  the  loathsome  grave  ; 
but  that  the  one  shall  be  raised  by  him,  and  fashion- 
ed according  to  his  own  glorious  body,  and  the  other 
be  admitted  into  that  blessed  kingdom  where  he 
employs  his  infinite  wisdom  and  almighty  power 
for  the  happiness  of  his  people,  in  habitual  expect- 
ation of  mortality,  it  commends  the  spirit  into  his 
hands,  knowing  he  is  able  to  keep  what  is  commit- 
ted lo  him  unto  that  day;  persuaded  that  he  is  the 
life  and  the  forerunner  of  his  people  gone  before  to 
prepare  a  place  for  them,  from  whence  he  will  come 
and  receive  them  unto  himself,  that  where  he  is 
there  they  may  be  also. 

This  definition  of  faith  in  Christ,  that  it  is  an 
abiding  heart-felt  trust  upon  him  for  help  and  de- 
liverance ;  a  trust  that  he  will  save  you  from  igno- 
rance by  revealing  his  light;  and  from  guilt  by  im- 
parting the  merit  of  his  blood  and  righteousness: 
that  out  of  weakness  he  will  make  you  strong  by  his 
power,  and  enrich  you  through  all  eternity  with  his 
love:  this  definition,  I  say,  has  this  advantage,  that 
it  is  plain  and  intelligible  to  every  capacity.  Men 
of  learning  frequently  condemn  the  laying  great 
stress  on  the  doctrine  of  salvation  by  faith  alone  as 
perplexing,  and  liable  to  be  misunderstood  by  com- 
mon understandings.  After  all  that  we  can  say- 
about  it,  they  tell  us,  the  common  people  will  be 
still  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  faith  in  Christ 
means.  Could  this  objection  be  made  good,  it 
would  overturn  the  whole  credit  of  the  gospel,  for 
that  perpetually  inculcates  faith  as  the  root  of  all 
the  fruits  of  righteousness.  And  indeed  it  is  cer- 
tain, that  whatever  is  of  great  moment  to  salvation, 
must  be  plain  and  easy  to  the  comprehension  of  all, 
who  will  be  at  the  pains  of  seeking  for  the  know- 
ledge of  it.  But  in  fact,  there  is  no  place  for  this 
objection,  when  faith  is  represented  to  be  a  depend- 
ence on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  for  wisdom,  righte- 
ousness, sanctification,  and  redemption.  Are  not 
the  poorest  among  the  people  to  the  full  as  well  ac- 
quainted as  the  rich  and  learned,  with  the  nature  of 
promises  and  the  confidence  due  to  them,  when 
made  by  persons  of  power  and  integrity  1  Is  any 
one  of  a  common  capacity,  at  a  loss  to  conceive, 


82 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


that  the  ignorant  who  would  learn,  must  depend 
upon  their  teacher"?  Or  that  those  whose  debts  are 
increased  above  what  they  are  able  to  pay,  must  be 
cast  into  prison,  or  stand  beholden  to  some  surety, 
or  some  act  of  grace,  or  both  1  What  difficulty  can 
there  be  in  understanding  that  those  whose  enemies 
are  mighty  and  tyrannical,  and  not  to  be  resisted  by 
their  own  strength,  must  look  for  defence  and  refuge 
to  one  mightier  than  they  1  Now  only  transfer  these 
most  plain  and  familiar  ideas  to  the  divine  Re- 
deemer, and  you  have  at  once  a  full  and  distinct 
notion  of  what  it  is  to  believe  in  his  name;  it  is 
what  the  lowest  are  not  only  capable  of  understand- 
ing, but  what  they  can  all  feel.  For  when  we  ex- 
plain the  nature  of  faith,  we  make  our  appeal  to 
those  very  feelings  which  are  the  most  forcible  of 
any  implanted  in  the  human  breast — to  tL  fear  of 
danger,  to  the  hope  of  deliverance,  to  confidence  of 
help,  to  gratitude  for  benefits  unspeakably  great. 


SUNDAY    XI.— CHAP.   XI. 

THE  ADVANTAGES    OF    A   JDST    CONCEPTION    OP    THE   NA- 
TURE   OF    FAITH. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  endeavored  to  give  a 
distinct  and  clear  idea  of  the  nature  of  faith,  as  it  is 
determined  by  examples  in  Scripture,  in  which  the 
want  of  it  was  censured,  or  its  excellence  com- 
mended. We  stated  it  to  be  a  steadfast  and  active 
trust  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  wisdom,  righte- 
<  ness,  sanctification,  and  redemption.  Now,  as 
many  and  great  advantages  flow  from  a  just  con- 
(  r>tion  of  the  nature  of  so  important  a  grace  as 
1  th,  while  on  the  other  hand  the  most  serious  evils 
may  arise  from  an  imperfect  or  false  idea  of  it,  I 
propose  in  this  chapter  to  point  out  the  advantages 
which  evidently  result  from  receiving  the  definition 
of  it  already  given. 

I.  It  evidently  excludes  those  abuses  which  a 
false  idea  of  the  nature  of  faith  has  in  many  cases 
produced. 

That  many  and  grievous  abuses  of  faith  should 
abound,  is  not  strange;  since  the  incomparable 
blessings  promised  to  it,  work  like  so  many  bribes 
upon  our  natural  self-love,  to  make  us  deal  dishon- 
estly, and  in  the  want  of  reality  to  embrace  a  coun- 
terfeit. 

Thus,  for  instance,  it  is  most  common  for  specu- 
lative faith  to  pass  for  genuine  faith.  When  a 
learned  reasoner  has  compared  the  glorious  pro- 
phecies concerning  Jesus  with  their  events,  and  seen 
the  amazingly  exact  accomplishment ;  when  he  has 
canvassed  his  doctrine  and  miracles,  till  his  under- 
standing is  furnished  with  arguments  enough  to 
silence  all  who  doubt  or  disbelieve  the  truth  of  the 
gospel,  he  is  apt  to  become  confident  he  is  a  true 
believer,  and  that  his  faith  as  a  Christian  is  perfect 
and  entire,  lacking  nothing;  he  is  confident  of  this 
very  thing;  whilst  his  ruling  tempers  utterly  dis- 
grace his  faith,  and  give  the  witnesses  of  his  exam- 
ple abundant  cause  to  think  most  contemptuously 
of  it. 

To  convince  a  man  of  this  character,  that  he 
most  shamefully  imposes  upon  himself  in  calling 
his  knowledge  by  the  name  of  faith,  will,  I  grant, 
be  very  difficult.  But  if  any  mean  can  do  it,  it  must 
be  the  proof  that  his  acquaintance  with  the  doc- 
trines of  Jesus,  his  ready  assent  to  their  truth,  his 
alacrity  in  their  defence,  still  leave  him  only  upon 
a  level  with  those  who  openly  reject  the  gospel ;  that 
is,  they  leave  him  equally  a  stranger  to  any  active 
dependence  on  Jesus  Christ  for  help  and  deliver- 
ance; that  he,  no  more  than  an  absolute  infidel, 
looks  up  day  by  day  as  a  poor,  ignorant,  sinful, 
helpless  creature,  for  the  relief  of  his  necessities,  to 
the  aL-sufficient  Saviour.    Consequently,  this  spe- 


culative, self-satisfied  believer  may  perceive,  that  the 
faith  in  the  Son  of  God  which  the  Scripture  re- 
quires, and  which  only  will  be  of  benefit  to  his  soul, 
is  a  thing  entirely  of  another  kind  from  that  assent 
he  has  given  to  the  truths  of  the  gospel. 

In  the  very  same  way  of  trial,  another  detestable 
abuse  of  the  doctrine  of  faith,  to  which  the  love  of 
sin  inclines  us,  will  be  fully  discovered.  No  sooner 
was  the  gospel  way  of  salvation  preached  to  the 
Gentile  world,  and  the  name  of  Jesus  glorified,  than 
Satan,  jealous  of  his  own  empire,  prevailed  over  a 
large  body  of  professing  Christians  to  boast  they 
had  faith  in  Christ,  and  were  complete  in  him. 
whilst  they  were  living  in  sin,  in  hatred  of  renova- 
tion of  mind,  in  contempt  of  personal  obedience  and 
of  the  means  of  grace.  They  confidently  said  they 
knew  him  ;  they  gloried  in  the  imagination  that 
Christ's  righteousness  was  their  holiness,  whilst 
they  refused  to  follow  his  example,  and  trampled 
upon  his  commandments.  In  every  revival  of  the 
power  of  the  gospel,  the  same  error  has  revived 
also  ;  and  what  is  said  of  envy  with  respect  to  merit, 

Envy,  the  shadow,  proves  the  substance  true, 

holds  good  in  this  case.  Wherever  the  true  gospel 
is  enforced,  this  dreadful  abuse  of  it  will  more  or 
less  make  its  appearance.* 

But  this  delusion,  which  has  justly  obtained  the 
name  of  Antinomian  faith,  from  its  enmity  to  the 
control  of  God's  most  holy  law,  can  find  no  re- 
ception where  faith  is  understood  to  be  a  constant 
lively  dependence  on  the  Redeemer  for  present  help 
and  deliverance  :  because  nothing  can  be  more  op- 
posite to  this  dependence  than  the  blasphemous 
opinion  that  you  are  not  to  receive  from  him  the 
graces  of  the  Holy  Spirit  Nothing  can  be  more 
contrary  to  the  exercise  of  faith  in  him,  than  the 
corrupt  imagination,  that  you  need  not  rely  upon 
his  power  to  conquer  your  corruptions,  and  to  bless 
you  by  turning  you  from  your  iniquities.  Nothing 
can  more  effectually  destroy  all  communication  be- 
twixt the  Redeemer  and  our  souls,  than  so  to  inter- 
pret, the  efficacy  of  his  divine  obedience,  and  most 
precious  blood,  as  if  no  purification  of  the  soul  was 
wanted.  This  licentious  notion,  in  its  very  nature, 
absolutely  excludes  any  present  application  to  the 
Redeemer,  and  consequently  any  present  dependence 
to  receive  from  him  wisdom,  righteousness,  and 
sanctification.  However  vehemently  it  may  be 
maintained  by  many  to  be  the  purest  faith,  it  cer- 
tainly has  not  one  single  property  of  Scripture  faith 
in  Christ. 

Again — by  adhering  to  this  definition  of  faith  de- 
duced from  Scripture  examples,  that  is,  the  lively 
and  active  trust  of  the  soul  on  Jes-us  Christ,  to  re- 
ceive from  him  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctifica- 
tion, and  redemption,  you  will  be  secure  from  con- 
founding with  true  faith  opinions  imbibed  only 
from  education.  Most  men,  engrossed  by  earthly 
pursuits,  and  feeling  nothing  of  the  importance  of 
the  objects  of  faith,  take  for  granted  the  truth  of 
the  national   religion,  be  what  it  may,  and  regu- 


*  St.  Paul,  St.  Peter,  St.  James,  and  St.  John,  saw 
with  their  own  eyes  this  abominable  perversion  of 
the  truth  ;  and  take  much  pains  in  all  their  Epistles 
to  guard  against  its  poison.  In  Germany,  and  in  Eng- 
land, as  soon  as  ever  the  glorious  Reformation  took 
place,  this  strong  delusion  of  an  Antinomian  faith 
begun  to  prevail.  It  is  therefore  so  far  from  being  any 
just  objection  against  the  preaching  of  faith,  to  urge 
that  it  is  abused  to  licentiousness,  that  it  proves  on 
the  contrary,  that  the  doctrines  of  salvation  are 
apostolically  set  forth  ;  and  therefore  Satan  has  re- 
course to  his  ancient  device  of  supporting  his  own 
kingdom  by  endeavoring  to  bring  this  doctrine  into 
reproach. 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF   MAN, 


33 


larly  conform  to  its  institutions.  After  having 
done  so  for  a  course  of  years,  they  still  more  rashly 
also  take  it  for  granted,  that  nothing  less  than  true 
faith  could  have  kept  them  so  long  constant  and  re- 
gular in  public  worship  without  ever  doubting  the 
truth :  whilst  in  fact,  gross  carelessness,  love  of 
money,  or  immoderate  application  to  business,  have 
prevented  their  thinking  upon  religion  as  a  subject 
worth  their  attention. 

Now  if  you  interrogate  such  deluded  but  confi- 
dent formalists.  Whether  they  were  ever  painfully 
convinced  of  their  own  natural  ignorance  and 
blindness,  or  of  the  depravity  of  their  hearts'? — 
Whether  they  ever  with  grief  of  soul  confessed  the 
provocation  of  their  sins,  and  the  power  of  inbred 
lusts,  and  in  the  affecting  view  of  both,  have  made 
application  to  Jesus  for  relief  and  remain  in  de- 
pendence on  him  for  the  same'?  These  searching 
questions  will  at  once  discover  the  refuge  of  lies, 
and  prove  that  what  they  imagine  to  be  faith  in 
Jesus,  is  nothing  better  than  vain  and  contemptible 
credulity. 

Nay,  further,  if  you  ask  these  formalists,  who  as- 
sume the  name  of  believers  in  Christ,  Upon  what 
do  you  ground  your  hope  of  salvation  "?  Their  an- 
swer is,  That  they  have  used  their  best  endeavors 
to  lead  a  good  life ;  that  God  is  merciful,  and  knows 
their  frailty.  A  foundation  of  hope  this,  very 
different  from  what  the  prophets  and  apostles  have 
laid — for  they,  instead  of  teaching  men  to  expect 
forgiveness  merely  because  God  is  merciful,  and 
because  we  endeavor  to  lead  a  good  life,  proclaim 
the  death  and  sacrifice  of  the  only  Son  of  God  to  be 
the  only  means  of  reconciliation.  So  far  from  flat- 
tering us  that  our  unassisted  endeavors  will  succeed 
in  the  great  work  of  Jiving  a  Christian  life,  they 
command  us  to  be  continually  "  seeking  the  Lord 
and  his  strength,"  for  this  very  purpose.  Jud^e, 
therefore,  how  entirely  the  faith  of  the  formalist 
differs  from  true  faith:  since  it  leaves  a  man  in 
gross  darkness  concerning  the  way  in  which  sin  is 
to  be  pardoned,  and  power  over  it  obtained. 

There  is  still  another  mistake  concerning  the  na- 
ture of  faith,  which  this  plain  and  easy  definition 
effectually  discovers.  Many  men  of  the  best  inten- 
tions, and  inflamed  with  earnest  desires  for  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  souls,  have  represent- 
ed faith  in  Christ  to  be  a  particular  revelation,  sepa- 
rately and  supernaturally  imparted  to  every  indi- 
vidual believer  the  moment  he  truly  believes: 
whereby  his  soul  is  enlightened  and  the  forgiveness 
of  his  sins  made  self-evident  by  the  force  of  inward 
feeling  alone. 

Now  that  the  blessed  God  can  impress  on  the 
mind  so  strong  a  sense  of  pardon  as  to  leave  a  re- 
penting sinner,  beyond  all  doubt,  satisfied  of  its 
coming  from  him,- none  can  question.  And  that  in 
many  instances,  God  is  most  graciously  pleased  in 
this  manner  to  manifest  himself  and  his  love,  none 
can  dispute,  who  have  been  happily  acquainted 
either  with  the  lives  or  deaths  of  the  excellent  of  the 
earth.  By  this  manifestation,  have  martyrs  been 
enabled  to  sing  in  the  midst  of  the  flames;  and  not 
only  to  endure  all  that  is  most  dismaying  to  nature, 
but  to  triumph  over  it.  By  this  manifestation  of 
divine  love,  thousands  are  emboldened  to  continue 
faithful  to  God  and  their  duty,  amidst  the  scoffs  and 
insults  of  the  careless  and  profane. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  one  thing  to  feel  joy  and  exul- 
tation, another  to  be  conscious  you  are  depending 
upon  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord  for  the  supply  of  all 
your  wants ; — one  thing  to  build  your  evidence  of 
pardon  on  a  transporting  sensation,  quite  another  to 
infer  it  from  your  dependence  on  him,  who  is  exalt- 
ed to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,  to  give  repentance 
and  remission  of  sins  to  all  that  believe  in  his  name. 
And  to  suppose  the  reality  of  faith  in  him  can  be 
Number  38 


evidenced  no  other  way  than  by  feeling  an  inward 
testimony  of  the  pardoning  love  of  God,  is  just  as 
gross  a  mistake  as  it  would  be  to  suppose  that  credit 
is  to  be  given  to  the  written  promise  of  an  affection- 
ate friend,  no  longer  than  he  himself  enforced  it  by 
repeated  declarations  of  his  particular  love.  To  act 
thus,  in  every  other  case  would  argue  violent  sus- 
picion of  the  veracity  of  him  who  gives  the  promise ; 
how  then  with  reason  can  it  be  made  the  only  test 
of  faith  in  Christ,  that  you  should  have  irresistible 
evidence  of  his  love  in  your  own  heart  superadded 
to  the  declarations  of  his  gospel. 

It  is  needful  in  treating  on  the  subject  of  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ,  to  guard  against  this  mistake  of  its 
nature,  because,  wherever  the  power  of  religion 
prevails,  many  are  apt  to  place  ther  dependence  on 
the  knowledge  of  the  forgiveness  of  their  sins,  by 
an  inward  feeling.  They  make  it  their  whole  busi- 
ness to  seek  for  the  evidence  of  their  pardon  from 
doubtful  sensations,  rather  than  from  the  written 
word.  They  speak  as  if  nothing  was  worth  ac- 
knowledging as  a  blessing  from  God,  whilst  they 
possess  not  such  an  evidence  of  pardon  in  their  own 
hearts.  Others  also,  with  grief  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, have  so  imposed  upon  themselves,  as  to  mis- 
take a  transient  emotion  of  joy  for  real  faith,  while 
they  are  strangers  to  any  true  humiliation  for  sin, 
or  abhorrence  of  it  in  the  heart.  In  the  mean  time, 
a  third  class,  through  the  same  mistake,  have  been 
overwhelmed  with  terrors,  and  led  to  pass  sentence 
on  themselves  as  destitute  of  faith  and  without 
Christ  in  the  world,  at  the  very  time  when  they 
were  seeking  his  help  and  grace  as  all  their  salva- 
tion ;  and  consequently  were  true  and  sincere  be- 
lievers. 

Another  great  advantage  arising  from  the  defini- 
tion of  saving  faith  here  delivered,  as  implying  a 
lively  dependence  on  Christ  for  wisdom,  righteous- 
ness, sanctification,  and  redemption,  is,  that  it  esta- 
blishes the  true  believer  in  solid  peace  and  comfort ; 
and  this  is  a  strong  evidence  that  it  is  Scripturally 
defined.  For  the  gospel,  like  a  remedy,  adapted 
with  astonishing  exactness  to  our  frame  and  condi- 
tion, is  intended  to  counterbalance  all  the  allure- 
ments of  temptation.  It  bestows,  even  in  this  world, 
more  than  equivalent  for  what  any  man  can  suffer 
or  lose  through  obedjenee  to  God,  as  well  as  eternal 
life  in  the  world  to  come.  It  assures  every  faithful 
disciple,  that  reconciliation  is  made  for  his  iniquity  : 
that  he  is  an  object  of  God's  daily  care,  and  an  heir 
of  his  infinitely  glorious  kingdom.  But  the  assur- 
ance which  any  particular  person  possesses  that 
these  blessings  must  appertain  to  him,  must  depend 
upon  his  certainty  that  he  has  true  faith.  If  this 
point  is  brought  into  doubt,  his  peace  departs,  his 
comfort  dies  away  ;  for  all  the  promises  of  God's 
acceptance  and  special  love  belong  to  them,  and  to 
them  only,  who  are  united  to  Christ  Jesus  by  a  liv- 
ing faith.  It  is  no  doubt  with  any  one,  whether  a 
true  believer  is  accepted  of  God  ;  but  the  doubt  so 
cruelly  perplexing  to  serious  minds,  and  so  chilling 
to  their  hopes,  is,  whether  they  are  believers  or  no. 

In  order  therefore  to  secure  to  every  believer  that 
peace  and  comfort,  which  he  has  a  sure  hope  from 
the  word  of  God  to  enjoy,  the  evidence  which  proves 
the  reality  and  truth  of  his  faith  must  be  both  clear 
and  permanent.  Of  this  perfect  kind  is  the  evi- 
dence which  accompanies  a  lively  dependence  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  supply  all  our  spiritual 
wants  and  necessities.  This  dependence  is  so  easy 
to  be  known,  thai  no  one  can  possess  it  without  be- 
ing conscious  of  it.  For  it  necessarily  implies  an 
intimate  and  most  interesting  connection  between 
Christ  and  the  soul,  a  knowledge  of  him  affecting 
the  heart,  and  an  application  to  him,  daily  and  per- 
severing. A  man  therefore  who  is  living  in  such 
dependence  upon  the  Son  of  God,  might  as  reason  • 


,,t 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN. 


ably  call  in  question  the  reality  of  transactions 
passing  between  himself  and  his  friends  on  earth, 
as  of  his  faith  in  Jesus.  This  evidence  is  also  per- 
manent. The  sensible  comforts  of  a  Christian,  it 
is  true,  are  in  their  nature  fluctuating,  but  his  de- 
pendence does  not  vary  as  his  consolations  do.  He 
,ices  not  return  to  the  love  and  practice  of  sin,  after 
fleeing  in  deep  humility  to  Jesus  as  a  Redeemer 
from  its  curse  and  power ;  nor  revolt  to  a  self- 
righteous  trust  on  his  own  duties  and  merits,  after 
having  made  a  cordial  submission  to  Christ  as  the 
Lord  his  righteousness.  Hence  he  that  is  oppress- 
ed with  gloom,  and  tormented  with  fear,  lest  he 
-hould  have  no  part  in  Christ,  merely  because  he 
feels  no  transporting  hope  in  his  heart,  maybe  able, 
when  his  judgment  is  better  instructed  in  the  nature 
of  faith,  to  prove  himself  a  believer,  by  proving 
his  whole  dependence  to  be  upon  Christ.  And  in 
consequence  of  this  proof,  the  joy,  whose  absence 
he  was  mourning,  will  spring  up  and  flourish,  and, 
like  a  fragrant  flower  in  its  proper  soil,  yield  a  re- 
viving influence  to  his  heart.  He  will  be  able  thus 
to  express  the  highest  and  the  purest  satisfaction, 
saying,  "  In  the  Lord's  word  will  I  rejoice,  in  the 
Lord's  word  will  I  comfort  me." 

Besides  :  dependence  upon  Jesus  for  present  help 
and  deliverance  will  prove,  from  its  success,  an 
abiding  source  of  comfort  and  assurance  to  the 
mind.  Every  sinner  exercises  trust  in  the  Redeemer 
from  a  sense  of  misery  and  necessity.  He  would 
not  cast  himself  a  poor  supplicant  at  his  feet,  could 
he  be  safe  without  his  protection,  or  satisfied  with- 
out his  peace.  But,  upon  application,  the  promise 
of  God  engages,  that  the  things  asked  for  shall  be 
received.  Accordingly,  do  you  depend  upon  Jesus 
as  your  prophet  1  Behold  wisdom  from  above  will 
begin  to  enlighten  your  mind,  and  an  understanding 
in  the  way  of  life  will  soon  be  in  some  measure 
conferred  upon  you.  Soon  the  world,  sin,  and  your 
own  heart  are  discovered  to  you  in  a  light  which 
you  never  saw  them  before.  Already  God  in  his 
perfections,  his  works,  and  gospel,  is  apprehended 
by  you  in  a  different  manner  from  what  he  was 
wont  to  be.  The  gross  ignorance  that  was  in  you, 
is  now  no  more:  hence  you  have  the  witness  in 
yourself,  that  your  dependence  on  Christ  is  no  fruit- 
less misplaced  dependence.  In  like  manner,  when 
you  were  first  awakened  to  a  sense  of  your  sin, 
your  conscience  was  full  of  fears  and  alarms,  and 
you  had  no  comfortable  communion  with  God :  but, 
now,  through  a  dependence  upon  the  efficacy  and 
merit  of  his  blood,  you  are  set  free  from  condemna- 
tion, and  have  access  to  God  with  boldness.  In  the 
same  way,  the  strength  and  power  you  receive  to 
deny  yourself  for  Jesus'  sake,  and  the  change  of  a 
headstrong  lawless  will  into  meek  subjection,  which 
is  another  effect  of  dependence  on  Jesus  Christ; 
proves  with  the  force  of  demonstration,  that  your 
faith  is  neither  formal  nor  delusive  ;  and,  by  con- 
sequence, that  you  have  an  interest  in  all  that  be- 
longs to  the  faithful. 

Lastly,  it  must  be  added,  that  an  active  trust  and 
dependence  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  help  and 
deliverance,  such  as  our  definition  of  faith  supposes, 
ascribes  to  him  such  importance  and  glory  in  our 
salvation,  as  the  Scriptures  expressly  declare  shall 
be  ascribed  to  him.  This  will  appear  evident, 
from  the  consideration  of  a  few  remarkable  pas- 
sages, both  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  con- 
cerning Christ. 

In  the  seventy-second  Psalm,  it  is  foretold  of  the 
Redeemer,  that  "  Prayer  shall  be  made  to  him  con- 
tinually, and  daily  shall  he  be  praised."  This  glo- 
rious prediction  receives  a  full  and  complete  accom- 
plishment by  the  continual  dependence  of  all  the 
faithful  on  Jesns  Christ,  for  the  supplies  of  wisdom, 
righteousness,  and  strength,  and  by  their  continued 


thanks  to  him  for  the  gift  of  such  inestimable  bene- 
fits. 

The  evangelical  prophet,  Isaiah,  abounds  with 
emphatical  declarations  of  the  perpetual  affiance 
of  believers  in  Christ  Jesus.  The  conversion  of 
the  Gentile  world  to  him  is  expressed  in  this  man- 
ner, "  The  isles  shall  wait  upon  me,  and  upon  mine 
arm  shall  they  trust."  By  the  same  inspired  pen- 
man, the  Redeemer,  with  a  grandeur  and  richness 
of  mercy  becoming  his  infinite  majesty,  thus  ad- 
dresses a  sinful  world: 

"  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of 
the  earth  :  for  I  am  God  ;  and  there  is  none  else. 
I  have  sworn  by  myself,  the  word  is  gone  out  of  my 
mouth  in  righteousness,  and  shall  not  return,  That 
unto  me  every  knee  shall  bow,  every  tongue  shall 
swear.  Surely,  shall  one  say,  In  the  Lord  have  I 
righteousness  and  strength:  even  to  him  shall  men 
come;  and  all  that  are  incensed  against  him  shall 
be  ashamed.  In  the  Lord  shall  all  the  seed  of  Israel 
be  justified,  and  in  him  shall  they  glory."  Isa.  xlv. 
22—25. 

"  Here  the  Son  of  God  represents  himself  in  all 
the  glory  of  his  divine  person,  and  all  the  efficacy 
of  his  grace,  as  the  object  of  faith,  and  the  author 
of  salvation.  Look  unto  me,  says  he,  wretched, 
ruined  transgressors,  as  the  wounded  Israelites  look- 
ed unto  the  brazen  serpent ;  look  unto  me,  dying 
on  the  cross  as  your  victim,  and  obeying  the  law  as 
your  surety.  Not  by  your  own  strength  or  virtue, 
but  by  dependence  on  me  be  ye  saved,  cleansed  from 
guilt,  rescued  from  the  power  of  sinful  tempers,  and 
reconciled  to  God. 

"  Do  you  ask,  Who  are  invited  to  partake  of  this 
inestimable  benefit  1  'All  the  ends  of  the  earth.' 
People  of  every  nation  under  heaven,  of  every  sta- 
tion in  life,  of  every  condition,  and  of  every  cha- 
racter, not  excepting  the  chief  of  sinners. 

"  Do  you  say,  Is  it  possible  that  in  this  way,  so 
short,  so  simple,  merely  by  dependence  on  Christ 
Jesus,  innumerable  millions  should  be  saved  1  It  is 
not  only  possible,  but  certain:  for  '  I  am  God;'  infi- 
nite in  dignity  and  power,  therefore  all-sufficient, 
yea,  omnipotent  to  save,  to  save  all  that  come  unto 
me,  be  their  multitude  ever  so  great,  or  their  cases 
ever  so  desperate.  '  And  besides  me  there  is  none 
other ;'  no  person  can  take  any  share  in  this  great 
transaction.  Such  is  my  compassionate  invitation. 
And  this  my  inviolable  decree  ;  '  I  have  not  only 
spoken,  but  I  have  sworn  by  myself,'  and  all  my 
incomprehensible  excellences ;  'the  word  is  gone 
out  of  my  mouth  in  righteousness ;'  that  word  which 
relates  to  the  grandest  of  all  subjects,  and  the  most 
important  of  all  interests,  is  planned,  adjusted,  and 
unalterably  determined:  'it  shall  not  return,' 
neither  be  repealed  by  me,  nor  frustrated  by  anv 
other.  'To  me  every  knee  shall  bow;'  every  soui 
of  man  that  desires  to  inherit  eternal  life,  shall  sub- 
mit to,  and  depend  upon  me  ;  as  an  unworthy  crea- 
ture, as  an  obnoxious  criminal ;  he  shall  obtain  the 
blessing  wholly  through  my  atonement.  '  To  me 
every  tongue  shall  swear;'  renouncing  every  other 
trust,  they  shall  repose  the  confidence  of  their  souls 
on  me  alone,  and  make  public  confession  of  this 
their  faith  before  the  whole  world  :  and  this  shall 
be  the  form  of  their  oath,  and  the  tenor  of  their 
heart-felt  confession  ;  each  member  of  my  church 
shall  say,  '  Surely,'  it  is  a  most  wonderful,  yet  a 
most  faithful  saying,  extremely  comfortable  and 
equally  certain  ;  '  Surelv  in  the  Lord,'  the  incarnata 
Jehovah  alone,  '  have  I  righteousness,'  to  expiate 
all  my  iniquities,  and  satisfy  the  law ;  '  and  strength,' 
for  an  increasing  improvement  of  heart,  and  sanc- 
tification  of  soul. 

"  To  this  sovereign  decree  the  prophet  set  to,  as  it 

were,  his  seal ;  or  else  in  a  transport  of  joy  he  fore- 

|  tels  the  accomplishment  of  it :  Yes,  to  him,  even  to 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF  MAN. 


35 


this  great  and  gracious  Redeemer,  shall  men  come. 
I  see  them  flying  as  clouds  for  multitude,  and  as 
doves  for  speed.  They  believe  the  report  of  his 
gospel,  and  receive  of  his  fulness.  Whilst  all  they 
that  are  incensed  at  him,  who  cannot  away  with 
such  absolute  dependence  upon  him,  nor  bear  his 
pure  and  holy  government,  shall  be  ashamed.  The 
fig-leaves  of  their  own  virtues  and  their  own  en- 
dowments shall  neither  adorn  them  for  glory,  nor 
screen  them  from  wrath;  but  shall  abandon  them 
to  vengeance,  and  cover  them  with  double  confu- 
sion. Whilst  on  the  other  hand  all  the  seed  of 
Israel,  every  true  believer,  shall  be  justified  in  the 
Lord;  against  these  persons  no  accusation  shall  be 
valid,  no  condemnation  take  place.  Far  from  it ; 
for  so  magnificent  is  the  majesty,  so  surprisingly 
efficacious  are  the  merits  of  the  Saviour,  that  in 
him  they  shall  not  only  confide,  but  glory :  not  only 
be  safe,  but  triumphant;  able  to  challenge  every 
adversary,  and  to  defy  every  danger."* 

Whether  this  text  be  considered  with  or  without 
this  comment,  it  plainly  proves  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
to  be  acknowledged  as  the  only  author  of  our  salva- 
tion; it  clearly  marks  the  nature  of  true  faith  to 
be  a  lively  dependence  on  Christ  to  receive  out  of 
his  fulness  grace  for  grace.  It  shows,  that  to  con- 
ceive any  thing  to  be  faith  less  than  such  absolute 
and  constant  dependence  on  Jesus,  is  to  degrade  the 
importance  of  the  Son  of  God  to  his  church,  and  to 
obscure,  if  not  abolish,  his  glory.  To  suppose  that 
you  have  faith  merely  because  you  allow  Jesus  to 
have  been  no  impostor  in  what  he  taught,  or  even 
because  you  grant  his  death  to  have  been  an  atone- 
ment for  sin,  is  to  glorify  him  very  little,  in  com- 
parison of  maintaining  an  uninterrupted  depend- 
ence upon  him.  In  the  one  case  he  appears  as  a 
common  benefactor,  to  whose  past  generous  deeds 
we  have  been  much  indebted;  in  the  other,  as  our 
continual  support,  of  whom  we  may  triumphantly 
say,  "  The  Lord  is  my  light  and  my  life,  whom  then 
shall  I  fear  %  The  Lord  is  the  strength  of  my  life, 
of  whom  then  shall  I  be  afraid  1" 

To  place  him  in  this  glorious  point  of  view  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  our  mind,  the  New  Testament  per- 
fectly concurs  with  the  Old.  Thus  St.  Paul  and 
St.  Peter  represent  the  faith  of  the  Christian  church 
»o  be  such  a  personal  dependence  upon  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  as  subsists  between  the  foundation  of 
a  lofty  temple  and  its  several  parts,  which  contin- 
ually bear  the  whole  weight  upon  it.  Ephes.  ii.  21. 
1  Pet.  ii.  4,  5. — They  again  explain  this  dependence 
by  the  union  of  the  members  of  the  body  to  the 
head,  Ephes.  iv.  15,  16.  whilst  Jesus  himself  com- 
pares it  to  the  union  of  the  branches  to  the  vine. — 
But  none  of  these  Scriptural  representations  can 
be  supposed  to  be  used  even  with  the  justness  and 
accuracy  common  to  human  writers,  unless  by  faith 
in  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God,  is  meant  an  abid- 
ing heart-felt  dependence  on  him  for  daily  salva- 
tion, influences,  and  blessings. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  add  more  Scripture 
evidence  on  this  head ;  but  it  is  of  the  highest  im- 
portance that  you  examine  yourself,  where  the  stress 
of  your  dependence  for  the  good  of  your  soul  is 
placed.  To  what  source  are  you  looking  for  pardon 
and  strength,  comfort  and  sanctifieation !  To  your 
own  good  purposes  and  endeavors,  to  your  own 
prayers,  meditations,  and  good  qualities;  or  through 
them  all,  to  that  inexhaustible  treasury,  which  God 
has  provided  for  poor  helpless,  guilty  men,  in  the 

*  For  this  explanation  of  the  sacred  text  the 
reaier  is  indebted  to  a  manuscript  of  the  late  pious 
and  exemplary  Mr.  Hervey.  Since  the  first  edition 
of  this  work,  it  has  been  inserted  by  Mr.  Hervey, 
in  one  of  his  printed  Letters  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wes- 
ley. 


person  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  1  Blessed  is  your 
condition  if  you  have  this  testimony  in  your  con- 
science ;  that  acknowledging  your  own  natural 
ignorance  and  blindness,  you  call  upon  the  name 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  to  enlighten  your  mind,  to  make 
his  way  plain  before  you,  and  to  give  you  a  strong 
and  distinct  perception  of  the  great  things  concern- 
ing your  eternal  peace.  Blessed  is  your  condition, 
if,  feeling  your  utter  incapacity  to  procure  the  favor 
of  God  by  the  best  of  your  duties,  reformations,  or 
performances,  and  confounded  in  your  own  sight 
for  your  great  defects,  you  build  all  your  hope  of 
acceptance  with  God  upon  what  Christ  has  done 
and  suffered  for  you.  Blessed  is  your  condition,  if 
afflicted  by  the  exceeding  vileness  of  your  corrupt 
affections,  and  longing  for  victory  over  them,  for  a 
more  spiritual  mind,  and  for  a  farther  progress  in 
love,  both  to  God  and  man,  you  depend  upon  the 
renewing,  sanctifying  grace  of  Christ,  to  work  this 
divine  change  within  you.  T.'as  is  to  beLeve  in 
the  only  begotten  Son  of  God  without  pa'tiality 
and  without  hypocrisy.  This  the  word  ct  God 
pronounces  to  be  that  dependence  on  Christ  which 
shall  never  be  confounded !  May  the  Giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift  create  in  your  soul  this  un- 
feigned faith,  if  you  have  it  not  already :  and  if 
you  have,  may  he  confirm  and  increase  it  still  more 
abundantly. 


SUNDAY  XII.— CHAP.  XII. 

ON   THE   FOUNDATION    OP    DEPENDENCE    ON  CHRIST  FOR 
PARDON. 

The  same  gracious  and  holy  God,  who  planned  the 
method  of  recovering  lost  sinners  through  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  has  not  only  required,  by  his  express 
command,  faith  in  him,  but,  from  the  first  entrance 
of  sin  into  the  world,  he  has  been  manifesting  to  the 
world,  in  various  ways  and  in  the  fullest  manner, 
the  character  and  glory  of  the  Redeemer,  and  the 
safety  of  all  who  depend  upon  him  in  sincerity  and 
truth. 

This  testimony,  which  God  has  given  of  his  only- 
begotten  Son,  is  the  solid,  rational,  and  immovea- 
ble foundation  of  Christian  faith;  and  so  amply 
does  it  display  the  completeness  of  his  salvation, 
that,  as  I  purpose  to  prove,  there  is  no  part  of  our 
dreadful  disease  and  misery,  as  sinners,  for  which 
there  is  not  a  sufficient  remedy  in  the  perfections 
he  possesses,  and  in  the  offices  he  sustains  for  the 
salvation  of  his  church. 

To  illustrate  this  :  every  man,  it  has  been  shown 
above,  is  chargeable  with  the  guilt  of  sin  against 
his  Creator,  and  of  course  stands  exposed  to  the 
curse  of  God's  violated  law,  and  to  the  pains  of 
eternal  punishment.  Let  us  see,  then,  what  pro- 
perties there  are  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  sufficient 
to  render  him,  in  this  case,  the  object  of  our  affi- 
ance:  what  sufficient  warrant  to  justify  our  firm 
dependence  on  him,  as  the  propitiation  for  our  sins, 
in  the  sight  of  a  holy  sin-avenging  God? 

The  answer  which  the  divine  record  returns  to 
this  momentous  inquiry,  is  sufficient  to  dispel  every 
doubt,  and  to  impart  strong  consolation  to  the  most 
guilty  soul  that  earnestly  seeks  for  acceptance  with 
its  Maker.  For  it  expressly  declares  that  this  Je- 
sus, on  whom  you  are  to  depend,  is  one  in  nature 
and  essence  with  God;  that  his  "  goings  forth" (that 
is,  his  existence)  "  havo  been  from  of  old,  from 
everlasting."  Micah  v.  2.  That  to  his  almighty 
power,  the  earth  owes  all  its  prolific  virtue,  and  the 
variety  of  fruits  which  it  produces  for  the  service 
of  men;  that  from  the  worm  which  crawls  unno- 
ticed by  us  on  the  surface  of  the  ground,  up  to  the 
brightest  angel  before  the  throne  of  glory,  the  Re- 


3G 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF    MAN. 


deemer  formed  them  what  they  are,  and  still  pre- 
serves them  in  their  being;  for  "  In  the  beginning 
the  Word  was  with  God  and  the  Word  was  God. — 
All  things  were  made  by  him;  and  without  him 
was  not  any  thing  made  that  was  made."  John  i.  1, 
3. — "  For  by  him  were  all  things  created  that  are  in 
heaven,  and  that  are  in  earth,  visible  and  invisible, 
whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions,  or  princi- 
palities, or  powers;  all  things  were  created  by  him, 
and  for  him ;  and  he  is  before  all  things,  and  by  him 
all  tilings  consist."  Col.  i.  16, 17. — On  account  of 
this  original  and  eternal  glory,  when  the  Redeemer 
is  brought  into  the  world,  to  be  a  sacrifice  for  sin, 
though  he  was  no  more  in  appearance  than  a  weep- 
ing babe,  though  born  like  the  child  of  some  vaga- 
bond, in  a  stable,  and  laid  in  a  manger;  even  at 
this  moment  the  Father  saith,  Heb.  i.  6.  "  Let  all 
the  angels  of  God  worship  him."  For  though  abas- 
ed in  this  mysterious  manner,  still  he  is  the  Creator 
and  God  of  angeis;  he  is  "God  manifest  in  the 
flesh."  1  Timothy  ni.  16.  "  Immanuel,  that  is, 
God  with  us,"  is  his  name  whereby  he  shall  be 
called. 

Here  then,  in  this  character,  drawn  not  by  the 
erring  pencil  of  man,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  truth  in 
the  oracles  of  God ;  here  behold  the  proper  object 
of  every  repenting  sinner's  dependence.  See  with 
what  just  reason  you  may  confide  in  him,  who  pos- 
sesses all  the  attributes  and  perfections  of  the  God- 
head; in  him,  who  at  the  very  time  his  appear- 
ance in  our  flesh  was  foretold,  had  his  dignity  pro- 
claimed by  the  prophetic  herald  in  this  magnificent 
manner: 

"  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given  ; 
and  the  government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulders ; 
and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsel- 
lor, The  mighty  God,  The  everlasting  Father,  the 
Prince  of  Peace !"  Isa.  ix.  6. 

Had  it  been  only  declared  by  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts,  that  one  of  such  infinite  dignity 
would  be  favorable  to  all  humbled  and  repenting 
sinners,  and  would  plead  in  their  behalf  before  his 
Father,  even  this  simple  declaration  ought  to  en- 
gage the  confidence  of  the  guilty;  it  would  be  a  suf- 
ficient warrant  to  justify  their  dependence  on  him. 
For  if  the  Redeemer  is  really  possessed  of  infinite 
perfections,  he  must  be  a  fit  object  of  confidence  to 
the  soul,  supposing  he  were  pleased  to  declare  his 
merciful  disposition  toward  it.  But  he  has  done  far 
more  than  simply  declare  his  good-will  to  perish- 
ing sinners;  the  depth  of  his  humiliation,  and  the 
sacrifice  of  his  life,  present  to  us  indisputable  and 
most  affecting  proofs  that  the  Redeemer  is  worthy 
of  our  highest  confidence.  For  the  same  infallible 
record  which  assures  us  that  he  was  in  the  form  of 
God,  worshipped  and  acknowledged  as  such  in 
.heaven — thinking  it  no  robbery,  no  usurpation  of 
glory,  to  be  equal  with  God;  assures  us,  likewise, 
that  in  pity  to  a  ruined  world,  he  was  content  to  live 
and  die  a  substitute  and  surety  for  sinful  man. 

In  the  fulness  of  time,  according  to  that  counsel 
of  peace  between  the  Father  and  the  Son  recorded 
in  the  fortieth  Psalm,  the  Saviour,  who  is  Christ 
the  Lord,  was  born  into  the  world,  with  a  body  pre- 
pared for  him  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He 
took  not  on  him"  the  nature  of  angels,"  but  he  took 
on  him  the  seed  of  Abraham,  and  was  made  in  the 
likeness  of  sinful  flesh.  Instead  of  appearing  in  that 
royal  form  the  carnal  Jews  expected,  as  a  visible 
conqueror  of  their  political  foes,  he  was  made  lower 
than  men,  and  counted  as  no  man !  and  though  men 
of  the  lowest  stations  have  generally  the  fewest 
troubles,  his  case  was  the  reverse;  the'reverse  both 
of  the  grandeur  of  princes,  and  of  the  tranquillity 
of  the  vulgar.  Pre-eminence  in  the  multitude  and 
weight  of  sorrows  was  his  only  distinction.  Yet  a 
man  of  low  condition,  though  overwhelmed  with 


troubles,  may  possess  a  high  reputation,  at  least  one 
untainted;  but  Jesus  descended  below  this,  and  sub- 
mitted to  bear  the  imputation  of  even  being  an  im- 
postor and  a  blasphemer.  Nay,  he  stooped  still 
lower,  and  not  only  stood  as  a  criminal  at  the  bar 
of  Pilate,  but  appeared  such  by  imputation  before 
the  Judge  of  the  universe.  "And  the  Lord  hath 
laid  upon  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all ;"  whilst  other 
condemned  malefactors  are  charged  only  with  the 
crimes  belonging  to  themselves,  and  with  but  a  few 
of  those ;  the  Scripture  represents  this  unparalleled 
Sufferer  as  oppressed  with  the  crimes  of  multi- 
tudes, in  number  like  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore;  a 
weight  more  heavy  and  terrible  to  sustain  than  we 
are  able  to  conceive !  But  this  we  know,  that  the 
curse  of  the  law  was  a  weight  sufficient  to  crush  a 
world.  We  know,  that  they  who  first  experienced 
it  found  it  to  be  intolerable;  for  when  legions  of 
angels,  which  excel  in  strength,  abused  that  strength 
against  the  law,  it  sunk  them  from  the  highest  hea- 
ven to  the  lowest  misery  of  hell. 

This  weight  Jesus  undertook  to  bear  for  us;  "  he 
was  made  sin,"  that  is,  a  sin-offering,  "  and  a  curse 
for  us."  He  interposed  his  sacred  body  between  the 
load  of  wrath  from  above,  and  us  the  heirs  of  wrath 
below.  Instead  of  that  high  ineffable  communion, 
of  love  in  which  he  dwelt  with  his  Father,  he  was 
content  to  feel  the  exquisite  sorrow  of  being  forsak- 
en of  him.  Till  that  distress  never  had  Jesus  made 
a  request  for  pity:  he  sought  none  from  Pilate; 
when  the  sympathizing  daughters  of  Jerusalem 
wept  over  him,  he  meekly  advised  them  to  reserve 
their  compassions  for  themselves  and  their  children. 
But  now  at  this  hour,  when  it  pleased  the  Lord  to 
bruise  him,  he  who  was  "  like  a  sheep  dumb  before 
its  shearers,"  is  dumb  no  longer;  the  Lamb  of  God, 
when  brought  to  this  dreadful  slaughter,  must  open 
his  mouth,  and  pity  itself  must  cry  for  pity.  It  was 
the  blasphemous  language  of  his  murderers, — 
"Where  is  now  thy  God"?"  And,  behold,  so  exqui- 
site are  the  pangs  of  his  distressed  soul,  that  some- 
thing like  the  same  language  escapes  from  his  own 
mouth  ! — he  cries  out,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me  V 

So  particular  is  the  Scripture  testimony  in  de- 
scribing the  humiliation  and  death  of  the  Redeemer, 
and  not  less  explicit  in  ascertaining  both  the  end 
for  which  he  humbled  himself  to  the  death  of  the 
cross,  and  the  everlasting  benefits  he  thus  secured 
to  all  his  faithful  dependants.  Notwithstanding  all 
the  opposition  he  met  with,  both  from  the  enemy  of 
sinners  and  sinners  themselves,  he  obtained  a  per- 
fect conquest,  and  died  with  this  transporting  shout 
of  victory  in  his  mouth,  "  It  is  finished."  The  debt 
of  penal  suffering,  the  debt  of  perfect  obedience  is 
paid  to  the  law;  the  powers  of  hell  are  vanquished, 
and  God  is  well  pleased. 

Ponder  then  upon  this  marvellous  transaction — 
upon  this  horrible  torment  and  death,  sustained,  not 
by  an  angelic  or  created  being,  but  by  "  him  in 
whom  dwelt  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily." 
Consider  the  depth  of  his  abasement,  and  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  anguish;  all  submitted  to  with  no 
other  view  than  to  make  an  atonement  for  sin,  and 
to  purchase  redemption,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sin, 
for  all  who  should  ever  trust  in  his  name !  Consider 
this  fact,  and  then  say,  Can  even  invention  itself 
devise,  or  the  most  afflicted  conscience  desire  a  more 
sure  foundation  to  trust  on  for  pardon  and  accept- 
ance with  God  1  What  can  the  law  demand  of  you 
either  as  an  exemption  from  suffering  its  penalty, 
or  as  a  title  to  eternal  life,  which  this  vicarious 
obedience  and  sacrifice  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh 
has  not  abundantly  provided  in  behalf  of  all  true 
believers  1 

I  will  suppose  your  sins  in  their  malignity  and 
number  to  be  enormous,  and  to  cry  with  the  loudest 


COMPLETE    DUTY  OF    MAN. 


37 


cry  for  vengeance,  still,  if  in  anguish  of  spirit  for 
them,  you  humbly  trust  to  Jesus  for  remission,  can 
they  have  such  weight,  do  you  think,  to  condemn 
you,  as  the  blood  of  an  incarnate  God  to  take  them 
away.  Have  your  offences  dishonored  God's  law 
more  than  the  obedience  and  death  of  the  Redeemer 
have  magnified  it  1  Or  have  not  those  transgres- 
sions been  fully  expiated,  for  which  the  lawgiver 
himself  was  put  to  death  1  Though  you  dare  not  risk 
your  pardon  on  the  vague  notion  of  mere  mercy, 
now  that  your  understanding  is  enlightened,  and 
your  conscience  faithful  in  its  rebukes;  though  you 
dare  not  embrace  the  fashionable  religion,  which 
leaves  such  awful  things  as  the  justice  of  the  Most 
High  and  the  law  of  the  Most  Holy,  destitute  of 
their  due  honor;  though  you  can  never  trust  to 
obedience  and  future  amendment  as  any  atonement 
for  past  transgressions:  yet  steadfastly  fix  your  eyes 
on  the  matchless  ransom  paid  down  by  Jesus  on  the 
cross.  See  there  the  glory  of  the  holy  God  recon- 
ciled with  the  good  of  the  humbled  criminal  !  See 
there,  the  justice  of  God  more  awful  than  if  mercy 
had  been  excluded,  and  mercy  more  amiable  than 
if  justice  had  been  dispensed  with.  See,  how  ven- 
geance and  forbearance  there  meet  together:  ven- 
geance on  the  person  of  the  crucified  Redeemer,  and 
forbearance  for  his  sake  to  every  believing  penitent. 
See  there,  wrath  and  love  kiss  each  other ;  wrath 
towards  the  divine  substitute,  love  to  the  insolvent 
and  ruined  sinner.  By  this  mysterious  sacrifice 
every  honor  done  to  the  criminal  is  an  honor  done 
io  the  law,  because  he  receives  it  only  through  the 
obedience  and  satisfaction  paid  to  it  by  his  surety; 
and  all  the  respect  put  upon  the  law  adds 'respect 
also  to  the  criminal,  because  of  the  divinity  of  him 
who  undertook  to  bear  his  curse  and  pay  his  debt. 
Is  not  this  ransom  then  a  solemn  ground  for 
peace  to  the  broken  in  heart!  A  transaction  in 
•which  God  holds  forth  his  only-begotten  Son,  nailed 
to  a.  cross,  "to  be  a  propitiation  for  sin  through 
faith  in  his  blood,  that  he  might  be  just,  and  yet  the 
justifier  of  all  them  that  believe  in  Jesus !"  Is  it  pos- 
sible for  the  powers  of  darkness  to  form  a  cloud 
through  the  gloom  of  which  this  most  glorious  truth 
will  not  be  able  to  dart  light  and  comfort?  May 
our  souls  open  to  receive  it !  it  is  a  beam  from  the 
face  of  the  Redeemer  to  them  that  sit  in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death. 

Further;  still  stronger  will  the  grounds  for  con- 
fidence in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  appear,  when  you 
take  into  your  view  "  the  free  and  gracious  manner 
in  which  you  are  invited  tobecome  a  partaker  of  the 
blessings  of  redemption."  The  great  generally  sell 
even  what  they  call  their  favors :  long  services  or 
powerful  recommendations  are  their  inducements 
to  confer  dignity,  or  bestow  wealth.  But  far  other- 
wise, as  our  most  impotent  condition  requires,  is  the 
case  with  respect  to  forgiveness  purchased  by  the 
blood  of  Christ.  No  impossible  or  hard  condition 
is  previously  required  on  the  sinner's  part;  no 
works  of  righteousness  are  required  to  be  first  per- 
formed in  your  own  strength,  and  then  pleaded  as 
your  recommendation  :  no  set  of  holy  tempers,  or 
stock  of  moral  virtue,  to  be  first  acquired.  All  this 
righteous  practice  is  to  follow  upon  believing,  and 
to  be  produced  from  strength  and  grace  received, 
through  constant  application  to  the  Redeemer. — 
The  invitation  runs  in  these  most  encouraging 
terms,  "  Ho!  everyone  that  thirsteth,come  ye  to  the 
waters,  and  he  that  hath  no  money  (not  one  single 
valuable  qualification);  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and 
milk  without  money  and  without  price."  Isa.  lv.  1. 
"  The  Son  of  man  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  was  lost,"  to  purchase  pardon  for  rebels  and 
enemies  to  God;  of  consequence,  the  oulv  requisite 
to  partake  of  his  grace,  is,  that  you  behold  yourself 
that  perishing  sinner  that  God  saw  vou  would  be, 


when  he  delivered  up  his  Son  for  your  offences;  and 
that  you  are  glad  to  lay  hold  on  this  hope  set  before 
you.  And  surely  the  most  fearful  doubting  mind 
cannot  desire  more  encouragement  to  believe:  the 
most  dejected  conscience  cannot  conceive  a  place  of 
refuge  more  adapted  to  its  distressed  condition :  nor 
can  even  the  worst  of  sinners  desire  more  gracious 
advances  towards  peace  and  reconciliation. 


SUNDAY  XIII.— CHAP.  XIII. 

THE    FOUNDATION    OP      DEPENDENCE     ON    CHRIST     FOB 
PARDON    AND    INSTRUCTION. 

So  important  is  it  that  man  should  place  a  full  de- 
pendence upon  Christ  for  the  pardon  of  his  sin,  that 
God  has  been  pleased  to  confirm  the  declaration  of  his 
ability  to  save,  by  an  usual  degree  of  evidence.  He 
has  displayed,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  divinity 
of  his  person,  the  merit  of  his  death  as  an  atone- 
ment, and  the  unbounded  freeness  of  his  invitation, 
in  order  to  encourage  man  to  put  his  trust  in  him. 
But  besides  these  there  are  still  further  evidences  of 
his  power  and  willingness  to  save  ;  let  me  refer  you 
to  the  intercession  of  Jesus,  who  is  become  our 
great  high-priest;  and  to  the  declarations  of  Scrip- 
ture, that  every  one  who  depends  on  him  shall 
abundantly  receive  the  blessings  which  he  needs. — 
What  a  sure  foundation  for  confidence  to  the  hum- 
ble repenting  sinner  does  the  office  of  Jesus,  as  high- 
priest,  afford !  "  Every  high-priest,"  says  the  Scrip- 
ture, "  taken  from  among  men,  is  ordained  for  men:" 
for  their  spiritual  interest  and  advantage;  all  his 
influence  and  power  are  to  be  employed  in  their  be- 
half. With  a  view  to  the  benefit  of  man  was  the 
office  originally  and  entirely  ordained  of  God.  And 
the  things  appointed  for  him  to  do,  prove  this;  he 
was  to  offer  gifts  and  sacrifices  for  sin;  sacrifices  to 
make  an  atonement,  and  gifts,  on  account  of  which 
God  might  vouchsafe  to  continue  his  forfeited  favor. 
With  the  same  view  the  grand  qualification  indis- 
pensably necessary  for  the  execution  of  this  office 
was  a  heart  that  knew  how  to  have  compassion  on 
them  that  are  ignorant  and  out  of  the  way  of  duty 
and  of  safety. 

Now  this  office  of  high-priest,  and  all  the  func- 
tions belonging  to  it,  we  are  taught,  "  were  only  de- 
signed to  serve  unto  the  example  and  shadow  of 
heavenly  things ;"  in  other  words,  to  be  an  outward 
and  visible  way  of  instructing  us  in  the  nature  of 
the  office  which  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  sustains  in 
the  highest  heaven  for  sinners,  and  of  the  benefits 
they  may  expect  from  him.  He  is  made  a  high- 
priest  of  good  things  to  come  ;  "  he  is  entered  not 
with  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  into  the  holy 
place,  which  was  the  figure  of  the  true,  but  into 
heaven  itself,  there  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God 
for  us."  He  is  therefore  under  the  strongest  en- 
gagements of  office  to  mediate  for  all  that  shall 
come  to  God  by  him.  And  lest  we  should  imagine 
ourselves  too  mean  to  engage  his  pity,  particular 
mention  is  made,  that  he  is  touched  with  the  feeling 
of  our  infirmities,  having  been  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  we  arc  ;  vet  without  sin.  Therefore,  from 
an  experimental  knowledge  of  the  same  difficulties 
and  (lisiresscs  as  we  are  now  enduring,  he  hath 
t hat  exquisite  tendernessof  sympathy  with  us,  which 
would  not  otherwise  have  been  possible.  What 
then  can  warrant  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  pardon,  if  the  knowledge  of 
linn  as  our  great  high-priest  fail  to  do  hi  Is  your 
heart  broken  for  sin,  your  spirit  wounded  within 
you  1  Parley  not  with  your  fears,  listen  not  to  the 
accuser:  look  unto  Jesus,  your  propitiation,  your 
intercessor;  as  the  wounded,  tormented,  dying  Is- 
raelites looked  unto  the  bra/en  serpent.    Look  unto 


38 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN 


him  for  healing  and  for  life  :  look  unto  him  who 
appears  as  your  advocate,  ever  living  to  make  inter- 
cession for  sinners  in  your  distressed  condition.  He 
must  fail  in  the  engagements  of  his  office,  and  do 
violence  to  the  bowels  of  his  mercy,  which  consti- 
tute his  fitness  for  that  office,  before  the  humble  de- 
pendence of  a  penitent  sinner  on  his  blood  aud  in- 
tercession shall  be  disappointed. 

If  any  thing  can  be  added  more  to  engage  your 
confidence  in  the  Redeemer  for  the  remission  of 
your  sins  when  you  are  sorrowing  for  them,  and 
convince  you  on  what  a  strong  foundation  it  is 
built,  it  must  be  the  solemn  repeated  declarations  of 
the  word  of  God,  that  the  sacrifice  of  his  only-be- 
gotten Son  is  accepted  in  his  sight,  as  a  complete 
atonement  for  the  sins  of  those  who  believe  on  his 
name  ;  and  that  it  shall  be  imputed  to  them  in  its  in- 
comparable efficacy,  to  save  them  from  deserved 
wrath.  And  declarations  of  this  purport  are  (bless- 
ed be  God  for  his  abounding  grace")  many  in  num- 
ber :  to  select  a  few  of  the  most  striking  ones,  relat- 
ing to  the  vicarious  death  and  sacrifice  of  Jesus, 
will  be  sufficient. 

Isaiah,  in  his  most  affecting  detail  of  this  great 
event,  after  having  expressly  affirmed  that  Jesus 
suffered  as  a  surety  and  substitute  for  us,  "  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  and  bruised  for  our  iniquity ; 
that  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  him,  and  put  him  to 
grief,"  in  order  that  by  bearing  the  tremenduous 
curse  in  his  own  body,  it  might  pass  over  the  heads 
of  the  faithful,  thus  magnificently  declares  the  effi- 
cacy of  his  sacrifice :  "  He  shall  see  of  the  travail 
of  his  soul,  and  shall  be  satisfied  ;  by  his  knowledge 
shall  my  righteous  servant  justify  many ;  for  he 
shall  bear  their  iniquities,"  that  is,  bear  them  as  the 
scape-goat  did,  carrying  them  away  into  the  pathless 
inaccessible  wilderness,  so  that  they  shall  not  be 
found  when  sought  for  by  the  malicious  tempter. 

In  another  place  we  are  informed  by  the  angel 
Gabriel,  commissioned  to  revive  the  heart  of  the 
greatly  beloved  Daniel;  that  when  "Messiah  the 
prince  was  cut  off,"  in  that  oblation  of  himself 
on  the  crois,  he  accomplished  a  work  suitable  to 
his  own  infinite  glory  ;  "  He  finished  the  transgres- 
sion," by  an  expiation  of  it,  and  by  redeeming  all 
who  should  believe  in  him  from  ifs  curse.  "  He 
made  an  end  of  sin,"  by  delivering  from  its  detesta- 
ble dominion  all  who  should  flee  to  him  for  succor. 
"  He  made  reconciliation  for  iniquity,"  by  bring- 
ing the  faithful  to  possess  peace  with  God,  and  by 
replacing  them  in  his  forfeited  favor.  "He  brought 
in  everlasting  righteousness,"  a  righteousness  whose 
virtue  will  continue  to  justify  all  that  believe 
throughout  all  ages;  and  with  which  eternal  life 
stands  connected  by  the  promise  of  God. 

These  glorious  effects  of  the  Redeemer's  sacrifice 
were  perfectly  known  to  the  innumerable  millions 
of  the  heavenly  host;  therefore,  so  soon  as  Jesus 
appeared  in  our  flesh,  they  filled  the  air  with  their 
presence,  breaking  forth  into  this  congratulatory 
song  of  praise  (the  same  in  import  with  Gabriel's 
message  to  the  beloved  Daniel,)  "Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest ;  on  earth,  peace,  good-will  towards 
men." 

To  the  testimony  of  prophets  and  angels,  the  im- 
mediate voice  of  God  from  heaven  must  be  joined: 
"  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleas- 
ed." It  is  he,  who  by  his  life  and  death  magnifies 
my  law,  restores  my  ruined  creatures  to  life  and 
happiness,  and  accomplishes  a  work  of  all  others 
most  pleasing  in  my  sight. 

The  same  strong  attestations  does  the  Redeemer 
himself  give  to  the  efficacy  of  his  atoning  death. — 
"God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only-be- 
gotten Son  (gave  him  up,  to  suffer  on  the  cross.)  to 
the  end  that  all  who  believe  in  him  should  not  pe- 
rish but  have  everlasting  life."  In  another  discourse 


he  declares,  "  He  gave  his  flesh  for  the  life  of  the 
world :"  and  just  before  his  departure,  that  "  he  shed 
his  blood  for  the  remission  of  the  sins  of  many." 

Consider  and  weigh  well  the  force  of  all  thes.- 
testimonies,  and  you  will  be  constrained  to  say,  that 
nothing  more  could  have  been  done  to  engage  those 
who  feel  the  guilt  and  misery  of  their  sins,  to  place 
their  whole  dependence  on  Jesus  Christ  for  pardon. 
It  is  not  now  possible  for  a  penitent  sinner  to  maka 
a  single  objection  which  is  not  evidently  answered. 
With  equal  propriety  and  mercy  therefore  is  this 
call  addressed  to  sinners  of  every  denomination, 
who  feel  their  misery  and  are  athirsl  for  pardon. — 
"Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  refresh  you."  It  was  my  body 
which  bore  your  sins  on  the  tree,  when  I  suffered 
"  the  just  for  the  unjust."  It  was  my  blood  which 
was  shed  by  the  sword  of  Justice,  when  I  stood  in 
your  stead.  It  was  I,  who  being  "  the  brightness  of 
my  Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person,"  and  "upholding  all  things  by  the  word  of 
my  power,  purged  away  your  sins  by  the  sacrifice 
of  myself,"  and  "then  sat  down"  your  Mediator 
"  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high ;"  be- 
lieve therefore  on  me,  and  you  shall  receive  remis- 
sion of  sins. 

Remission  of  sins,  however,  though  a  b:essiiig 
most  necessary  to  man,  extends  but  to  a  part  of  his 
wants.  As  Adam's  first  disobedience  sprung  from 
his  impious  desire  to  be  like  God  in  knowledge,  so 
the  just  punishment  of  his  sin  was  the  extinction  of 
all  divine  light  in  his  soul.  Hence  we,  his  fallen 
offspring,  are  born  blind  to  God,  and  the  things 
of  God  ;  though  the  knowledge  of  them  is  far  pre- 
ferable than  life.  Hence  we  are  liable  to  perpetual 
delusion  and  prejudice  against  the  truth. 

For  our  relief,  therefore,  in  this  case,  wo.  are 
commanded  by  God  to  depend  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
for  instruction  and  spiritual  knowledge.  If  you 
ask  on  what  ground  you  may  build  such  depend- 
ence, and  what  there  is  in  Christ  Jesus  to  assure 
you  of  success'?  the  answer  which  the  divine  record 
returns,  is  fully  satisfactory.  God  proclaims  in  the 
Old  Testament,  that  he  has  given  his  Son  "  for  a 
light  to  the  Gentiles ;  to  open  the  blind  eyes,  to 
bring  out  the  prisoners  from  the  prison-house."  Isa. 
xlii.  6,  7.  By  the  prophet  Malachi  he  gives  him  a 
name  most  emphatically  significant  of  his  power 
to  communicate  knowledge.  He.  calls  him  the 
"  3un  of  righteousness,"  to  assure  us,  that  as  the  sun 
in  the  firmament  dispenses  its  invigorating  influence 
through  all  parts  of  the  earth,  unveils  the  face  of 
every  object  in  the  visible  creation,  and  discovers  it 
in  its  true  aspect;  so  the  Redeemer,  by  his  word 
and  Spirit,  disperses  the  gross  darkness  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  makes  divine  truth  visible  and  intelligi- 
ble, and  strengthens  our  dim  faculties  to  behold  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  and  the  excellency  of  our  God. — 
The  same  representation  of  the  office  of  Jesus  as  a 
teacher,  is  again  repeated  by  Zacharias,  when,  full 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  he  celebrates  Christ's  coming  into 
the  world  in  the  gracious  character  of  an  instructer 
of  those  who  were  lying  in  gross  darkness.  He  ex- 
alts our  opinions  of  Jesus  as  "  the  day-spring  from 
on  high,  who,  through  the  tender  mercy  of  our 
God,"  came  "  to  give  light  to  them  that  sit  in  dark- 
ness and  in  the  shadow  of  death,  and  to  guide  our 
feet  in  the  way  of  peace,"  Luke  i.  79.  Attestations 
of  the  same  truth  are  frequent  in  the  Scriptures. — 
The  beloved  disciple,  who  lay  in  Jesus'  bosom,  ex- 
presses his  ability  to  inform  and  teach  us,  by  calling 
him  the  "  Word ;"  by  pointing  him  out  as  "  the  true 
light,  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the 
world ;"  in  other  words,  as  that  matchless  person, 
from  whose  word  and  Spirit  proceeds  all  the  di 
vine  knowledge  which  ever  was,  or  shall  be  fcur.d 
amongst  the  children  of  men.   To  add  confirmatiua 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


SS 


to  these  testimonies,  the  Redeemer  bears  record  of 
himself  in  expressions  of  the  same  kind,  and  of 
the  strongest  import :  "  I  Jesus,"  says  he,  "  am  the 
bright  and  morning  star ;"  chasing  the  darkness  of 
?in  and  error  from  the  mind,  as  that  star  ushers  in 
the  brightness  of  the  day.  Rev.  xxii.  16.  In  a  dis- 
course with  the  Jews,  who  were  endeavoring  to  en- 
snare him  by  subtlety,  Jesus  said;  "  I  am  the  light 
of  the  world  ;  he  that  followeth  me  shall  not  walk 
in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the  light  of  life."  John 
viii.  12.  Is  not  this  to  assure  us  in  the  fullest  man- 
ner, that  he  came  to  direct  sinners  in  the  way  of 
salvation  by  his  word  and  Spirit,  and  that  in  conse- 
quence of  this  his  office,  whoever  depends  for  leaching 
and  guidance  upon  him,  shall  not  continue  in  igno- 
rance and  error,  but  shall  have  the  saving  light  of 
trutli  surrounding  his  path,  and  making  the  way 
plain  before  him,  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  peace 
to  glory. 

To  these  testimonies  I  shall  only  add  what  St. 
Paul  was  inspired  to  teach  us  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject. He  declares  that  "  Christ  Jesus  is  made  of 
God  unto  us,"  not  only  "  righteousness  and  sancti- 
fication,"  but  "  wisdom  ;"  because,  through  him,  as 
a  teacher  sent  from  God,  we  may  know  all  things 
necessary  for  our  pardon,  comfort,  and  salvation. 
1  Cor.  i.  30.  In  another  place,  thai  divine  illumina- 
tion which  the  church  receives  from  Christ  Jesus 
the  Lord,  and  the  clear  discoveries  of  God's  glorious 
being  and  perfections,  is  thus  emphatically  express- 
ed :  "  God  who  caused  the  light  to  shine  out  of  dark- 
ness, hath  shined  into  our  hearts,  to  give  us  the 
knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ."  "  In  Christ,"  he  saith  again,  as  proposed 
and  manifested  to  us  in  the  gospel,  "  are  hid  all  the 
treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  ;"  in  him  they 
are  covered  under  the  veil  of  his  humanity  and  deep 
humiliation.  Observe  the  fulness  of  the  expression; 
the  apostle  does  not  say  treasure  in  the  singular 
number,  though  this  must  have  implied  both  the 
excellency  and  abundance  of  that  knowledge,  but 
treasures.  He  doth  not  say  many  treaswes,  though 
this  would  have  greatly  enlarged  our  conceptions  ; 
but  he  saith,  "  in  whom  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge."  Nothing  pertaining  to 
spiritual  life  and  godliness  can  be  imagined,  no- 
thing in  the  least  degree  profitable  for  a  poor,  weak, 
helpless,  sinful  creature  to  know,  which  is  not  to  be 
found  in  Christ  Jesus,  as  an  inexhaustible  maga- 
zine, which  the  bounty  of  the  God  of  glory  has  pro- 
vided for  the  supply  of  our  necessities. 

Nor  can  it  be  thought  that  any  or  all  of  these 
Scriptures  ascribe  too  much  to  the  teaching  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  when  it  is  considered  that  the 
very  end  of  his  appearance  was  to  manifest  the 
name  of  God,  and  to  give  a  complete  revelation  of 
his  will  and  designs  concerning  us.  Jesus  not  only 
spake  the  words  of  pure  truth  and  righteousness,  as 
the  prophets  before  him,  but  with  an  infinite  supe- 
riority over  them  all,  exhibited  a  perfect  model  in 
his  own  example,  both  of  faith  and  practice.  And 
whilst  other  deceased  prophets  retain  no  influence 
to  impress  their  words,  this  Prophet  of  the  world 
declares,  "  I  will  send  unto  you  another  Comforter, 
even  the  Spirit  of  truth,  he  shall  lead  you  into  all 
truth  :  for  it  is  written,  all  his  children  shall  be 
taught  of  God." 

Do  you  therefore  painfully  feel  your  ignorance 
in  the  things  of  God  1  Do  you  bewail  the  dulness 
of  your  intellectual  faculties  to  apprehend  spiritual 
objects  1  Are  you  concerned  to  find  so  much  wea- 
riness in  fixing  your  attention  upon  the  Bible,  when 
you  behold  that  invaluable  book'?  Behold  your 
relief  and  remedy1  Behold  with  joy  what  a  foun- 
dation there  is  for  your  dependence  on  Jesus  Christ 
lo  be  taught  all  you  need  to  understand  !  "When 
yon  hear  this  representation  of  bis  character,  that 


"  he  left  the  bosom  of  his  Father  to  declare  him  unto 
us;"  when  you  hear,  that  for  this  purpose  he  has 
not  only  given  to  his  church  his  written  word,  to 
point  out  the  way  of  life  ;  but  has  also  promised  to 
give  it  efficacy  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  can 
you  wish  for  more  1     Are  you  grieved  that  you 
know  God  no  better,  are  you  athirst  for  instruction 
in  righteousness]     What  can  induce  you  to  make 
application  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  if  this  encou- 
ragement from  St.  John  fails  ?     "  We  know,"  says 
he,   "  that  the  Son  of  God  is  come,  and  hath  given 
us  an  understanding  that  we  may  know  him  that  is 
true."  1  John  v.  20.    He  has  given  us  not  only  that 
intellectual  faculty  which  distinguishes  us  from  the 
animal  world,  for  this  was  ever  common  to  all  men ; 
he  has  given  us  not  only  the  external  revelation 
which  false  pretenders  to  the  faith  have  as  well  as 
ourselves  ;  but  he  has  given  to  us  the  Spirit  of  wis- 
dom and  revelation,  in  the  knowledge  of  God :  a 
gift  confined  to  those  alone  who  depend  upon  Jesus 
as  the  truth  and  the  life.     Are  you  then  crying  out 
in  that  humble  manner  which  your  necessitous  con- 
dition   requires,    "  O  !    that  God    would  show  me 
the  secrets  of  wisdom : — what  I  know  not,   teach 
thou  me."     You  see  on  whom  your  help  is  laid : 
you  cee  in  this  case  your  application  to  Christ  must 
be  daily  and  persevering.     It  is  he  only  who  can  say, 
"  Council  is  mine,  and  sound  wisdom  ;  I  am  under- 
standing, I  have  strength."     When  blind  Bartimeus 
cried,    "  Jesus,  thou  Son  of  David,  have  mercy  on 
me,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight,"   they  that  stood 
by  said,  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  rise  ;  he  calleth  thee." 
Mark  x.  49.     The  same  compassionate  call  is  ad- 
dressed to  you  from  Jesus  enthroned  in  glory.     "  I 
counsel  thee,"  says  he  to  every  one  in  whose  mind 
darkness  and  ignorance  prevail,    1:  to  anoint  thee 
with  eye-salve,"   that  is,  to  apply  to  my  word  and 
Spirit, '"  that  thou  mayesl  see  ;"  that  thy  understand- 
ing may  be  enlightened,  that  thou  mayest  be  filled 
with  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  have  a  right  judg- 
ment in  all  things. 

Further;  as  you  stand  in  need  of  wisdom  and 
teaching,  that  you  may  know  the  truth  of  God,  so 
you  in  the  same  degree  want  light  to  discover  and 
baffle  the  devices  of  the  devil.  To  whom  then  shall 
you  go  to  obtain  such  light  but  unto  Jesus,  before 
whom  we  are  assured  all  things  are  open  and  naked, 
even  the  deepest  counsels  of  the  destroyer,  and  all 
his  snares  of  cruelty  ?  Jesus  knows  how,  with  equal 
ease  and  certainty,  to  confound  his  numberless  con- 
trivances, and  infatuate  even  the  spirit  of  all  sub- 
tlety and  malice.  For  this  reason  the  very  first 
name  given  to  the  Redeemer  was  that  of  the  bruiser 
of  the  serpent's  head.  He  is  the  glorious  deliverer, 
who  came  to  ruin  Satan's  schemes,  and  disappoint 
his  contrivances  to  hurt  and  destroy  the  faithful. — 
Hence  it  must  follow,  that  Jesus  knows  how  to  de- 
liver the  godly  out  of  every  temptation,  and  to  pre- 
serve them  unto  his  own  kingdom.  Who  then,  if 
not  this  all  sufficient  Person,  is  worthy  to  be  relied 
on  with  unshaken  confidence,  by  the  children  of 
ignorance  and  blindness  1 


SUNDAY  XIV.— CHAP.  XIV. 

THE    FOUNDATION     OP     DEPENDENCE     ON     CHRIST,    FOH 
VICTORY    OVER   SIN. 

We  have  considered  the  fulness  of  help  which  is 
laid  up  in  Chrisl  for  man,  as  subject  to  the  curse  of 
the  law  and  blindness  of  understanding;  but  a  fur- 
ther exertion  of  divine  power  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  make  him  partaker  of  complete  salvation.  Man 
is  naturally  a  slave  to  earihlv,  sensual,  and  devilish 
tempers.  Covetonsness  or  lewdness,  envy  or  pride, 
command  on  his  heart  as  on  their  throne.  When 
their  dominion  is  manifested  by  shame,  loss,  or  out* 


40 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN. 


ward  vexation  of  mind,  their  natural  and  necessary 
effects,  he  wishes  himself  free ;  he  determines,  con- 
fident of  his  own  strength,  no  more  to  be  overcome. 
But,  behold  !  the  very  next  temptation  adapted  to 
Ftir  up  the  evil  which  is  in  him,  as  easily  prevails 
as  the  former  did  ;  so  that  scon  disheartened  by  such 
repeated  foils,  and  ashamed  to  confess  his  own  vile- 
ness,  he  gives  up  the  important  contest,  and  begins 
to  palliate  that  ignominious  slavery,  from  which  he 
knows  not  how  to  be.  delivered. 

Now  observation  concurs  with  Scripture  to  prove, 
that  superiority  of  wit,  or  an  extraordinary  share  of 
natural  abilities,  though  even  improved  by  the  ad- 
vantages of  polite  education,  do  not  enable  men  to 
stand  before  the  power  of  their  corrupted  nature  any 
more  than  savage  ignorance :  they  can  only  gild 
those  shackles  which  they  cannot  burst  asunder,  and 
slightly  conceal  from  the  stranger's  superficial  eye 
what  still  defiles  and  galls  the  inner  man. 

This  spiritual  bondage  must  always  become  ex- 
ceeding grievous  to  endure,  wherever  there  is  a 
right  judgment  of  God  and  the  nature  of  sin.  Then 
will  there  be  an  earnest  desire  to  obtain  deliverance 
at  the  hands  of  one  mighty  to  save  from  such  tyran- 
nical oppression.  For  this  deliverance  God  com- 
mands us  to  depend  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  And 
to  engage  our  utmost  confidence,  such  a  full  display 
of  his  power  is  laid  before  us,  as  makes  the  suspi- 
cion of  miscarriage  to  the  last  degree  unreasonable. 
The  ancient  prophets,  declaring  the  extent  and  irre- 
sistible force  of  his  government,  call  him,  "  The 
Lord  of  Hosts,  the  Lord  mighty  in  battle ;  whose 
throne  is  heaven,  and  whose  foot-stool  is  earth ;  who 
has  the  light  for  his  garment,  the  clouds  for  his 
chariot,  the  thunder  for  his  voice,  and  all  the  legions 
of  angels  for  his  servants." 

And  lest  the  humiliation  of  the  Redeemer  should 
diminish  our  conceptions  of  his  power  to  save,  the 
glory  he  manifested  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  is  that 
which  is  most  particularly  related.  Innumerable 
multitudes  of  the  wretched  and  diseased  crowded 
round  his  divine  Person,  and  instantly  by  him  they 
were  made  whole.  The  dumb,  the  deaf,  the  lame, 
the  blind,  the  derd,  were  all  restored  by  his  energy 
upon  them,  to  the  blessing  of  life,  or  the  enjoyment 
of  their  faculties.  His  command  over  the  whole 
creation  is  marked  in  the  strongest  colors.  For 
though  the  winds  and  storms  are  mighty,  yet  Jesus 
in  his  low  estate  only  rebuked  them,  and  they  were 
hushed  in  silence.  The  waves  of  the  sea  raged  hor- 
ribly, yet  at  his  word  they  sunk  into  a  perfect  calm. 
Death  and  the  grave,  though  inexorable  to  and  in- 
vincible by  mortals,  were  not  able  for  a  moment  to 
detain  their  prey  when  Jesus  only  spake  ;  ;<  Laza- 
rus, I  say  unto  thee,  arise."  The  powers  of  dark- 
ness and  the  strength  of  hell,  though  mightier  far 
than  diseases,  storms,  or  death,  submit  to  him,  and 
entreat  his  favor,  as  their  irresistible,  though  offend- 
ed Lord  and  Sovereign. 

Further;  for  the  greater  encouragement  of  our 
faith  and  hope  in  Jesus,  as  a  complete  deliverer 
through  his  Spirit,  from  the  tyranny  of  our  sinful 
tempers,  let  it  be  duly  pondered,  that  Jesus  carried 
about  with  him,  when  on  earth,  examples  of  his 
saving  power.  Publicans,  accounted  the  worst  of 
men,  and  harlots,  the  worst  of  women ;  these  he 
delivered  from  the  captivity  of  their  lusts,  and  by 
them  proclaimed  that  none  can  be  so  enslaved  by 
sin,  but  he  can  make  them  free  indeed.  And  to 
demonstrate  this  most  transporting  truth,  which  he 
preached  with  his  own  mouth,  and  confirmed  by 
numerous  instances  during  his  ministry,  at  the  very 
hour  of  hi3  death  he  still  more  gloriously  displayed 
the  same  almighty  power  to  destroy  the  dominion 
of  sin  in  the  utmost  height  of  its  strength.  Behold 
Jesus  hanging  on  the  cross :  his  visage  lacerated 
and  mangled,  his  body  covered  with  marks  of  scorn, 


swelled  with  strokes  of  violence,  bedewed  from  head 
to  foot  with  bloody  gore ;  behold  him  even  in  this 
condition  exert  the  most  astonishing  act  of  power 
we  or  angels  can  conceive ;  hear  him  say  to  the 
thief,  who  made  his  prayer  to  him,  and  placed  his 
whole  dependence  upon  him  :  hear  him  say:  "This 
day  shalt  thou  be.  with  me  in  paradise ;"  "  I  will 
carry  thee  up  with  me  into  heaven,  as  a  trophy  of 
my  victory  over  Satan,  and  will  show  thee  there, 
as  part  of  the  spoils  that  shall  adorn  my  triumphs 
over  hell."  He  snatches  this  abandoned  sinner  from 
the  brink  of  destruction,  as  an  earnest  of  the  full  re- 
covery of  all  who  should  ever  trust  in  him  ;  saves 
one  that  seemed  not  only  void  of  grace,  but  beyond 
his  power;  and  sanctifies  that  heart  in  an  instant, 
which  had  probably  been  for  a  long  course,  wallow- 
ing in  sin  ! 

In  all  these  victories  we  may  conceive  the  Re- 
deemer to  have  acted  with  this  double  view  ;  that 
he  might  fully  ascertain  his  title  to  the  character 
of  the  Messiah,  as  described  in  the  Old  Testament; 
and  that  he  might  lay  at  the  same  time  a  sure  found- 
ation for  his  church  to  trust  on  the  might  of  his  holy 
arm,  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

If  it  is  said,  the  Redeemer's  death  and  burial  in 
the  grave  indicate  his  weakness ;  it  is  answered, 
that  Jesus  entered  the  grave,  not  merely  as  a  sub- 
ject, but  as  an  invader  and  conqueror.  He  stripped 
the  king  of  terrors  of  his  dominion,  and,  rising  on 
the  third  day,  triumphed  openly  as  the  "  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life,  in  whom  whosoever  believeth  shall 
never  die."  The  language  of  his  resurrection  was 
full  of  power;  it  confirmed  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"  Thy  dead  men  shall  live,  together  with  my  dead 
body  shall  they  arise.  Awake,  and  sing,  ye  that 
dwell  in  dust:  for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of  herbs, 
and  the  earth  shall  cast  out  the  dead."    Isa.  xxvi.  19. 

But  if  these  acts  demonstrate  the  power  of  Jesus, 
and  present  him  before  our  eyes  as  an  object  every 
way  able  to  answer  the  dependence  which  we  place 
on  him  for  deliverance  from  the  power  of  sin,  how 
much  more  is  the  ground  of  this  dependence  strength- 
ened by  the  declarations  both  in  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  of  his  sufficiency  for  this  work !  Hear, 
how  every  doubt  is  obviated,  and  all  despondency 
graciously  reproved  :  1;  Say  to  them  that  are  of  a 
fearful  heart,  Be  strong,  fear  not ;  behold,  your 
God  will  come  with  vengeance,  even  God  with  a 
recompense ;  he  will  come  and  save  you."  Isa.  xxxv. 
4.  "  Behold,  the  Lord  God  will  come  with  a  strong 
hand,  and  his  arm  shall  rule  for  him  :  behold,  his 
reward  is  with  him,  and  his  work  is  before  him. — 
He  shall  feed  his  flock  like  a  shepherd ;  he  shall 
gather  the  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in 
his  bosom,  and  shall  gently  lead  those  that  are  with 
young."  Isa.  xl.  10,  11.  "  He  shall  bring.forth  judg- 
ment unto  truth,"  that  is,  shall  make  all  his  de- 
pendants finally  to  triumph  over  sin  and  Satan.  "  I 
have  given  thee,"  saith  God  the  Father,  "  for  a 
leader  and  commander  of  the  people,  to  preach  de- 
liverance to  the  captives."  By  the  prophet  Malachi 
we  are  assured,  "  He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  and  pu- 
rifier of  silver,  and  purge  them,"  that  is,  his  faithful 
people,  "  as  gold  and  silver,  that  they  may  offer  unto 
the  Lord  an  offering  in  righteousness."  St.  Peter 
confirms  these  glorious  declarations  by  proclaiming 
to  all  the  Jews,  enslaved  and  abandoned  to  the  prac- 
tice of  wickedness  as  they  were,  that  God  having 
raised  up  his  Son  Jesus,  had  sent  him  to  bless  them, 
by  turning  every  one  of  them  from  their  iniquities. 

St.  Paul  teaches  us,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
in  his  character  and  capacity  of  Mediator,  is  invest- 
ed with  absolute  dominion  :  that  he  reigns  as  a  right- 
ful conqueror  over  all  his  enemies;  that  he  is  a 
horn  of  salvation  to  those  that  trust  in  his  name: 
that  he  sits  on  a  throne  of  glory  till  all  opposition 
to  his  people  and  himself  cease,  and  is  utterly  d$ 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


41 


stroyed.  For  in  this  most  encouraging  light  the 
exceeding  greatness  of  his  power  to  save  is  repre- 
sented, when  it  is  said,  God  hath  "  raised  him  from 
the  dead,  and  set  him  af  his  own  right  hand  in  hea- 
venly places,  far  above  all  principality,  and  power, 
and  might,  and  dominion,  and  every  name  that  is 
named,  not  only  in  this  world,  but  in  that  which  is 
to  come;  and  hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet,  and 
given  him  to  be  the  head  over  all  things  to  the 
church,  which  is  his  body,  the  fulness  of  him  that 
fillet h  all  in  all."  Eph.  i.  20—23. 

Magnify  then  as  you  please,  the  number,  and 
strength  of  temptations,  the  weakness  of  human  na- 
ture, the  power  of  confirmed  ill  habits,  and  the  ef- 
forts of  Satan ;  still,  what  are  all  these,  even  though 
united,  before  him  "who  gave  himself  to  redeem 
us  from  all  iniquity,  and  to  purify  to  himself  a  pe- 
culiar people  zealous  of  good  works'?"  What,  be- 
fore him  whose  kingly  office  is  to  turn  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto 
God,  and  whose  infinite  bounty  enriches  the  fallen 
soul  with  that  holiness  which  makes  it  meet  for 
heaven  1  Who,  or  what,  are  these  spiritual  tyrants, 
avarice,  or  uncleanness,  envy  or  malice,  deceit  or 
unbelief — by  whom  strengihened,  and  by  whom 
abetted — that  they  should  defy  him  who  hath  all 
power  in  heaven  and  in  earth  to  save  from  sin  1 — 
Him  from  whose  overflowing  fulness  all  the  angels 
in  heaven,  and  all  the  saints  whilst  on  earth,  re- 
ceive their  sanctification,  and  the  spotless  purity 
they  will  share  with  him  through  all  eternity]  If 
one  person,  relying  with  humility  and  perseverance 
on  the  power  of  Jesus,  should  perish,  unsuccored, 
and  in  his  sins;  how  would  the  promises  of  God 
concerning  the  kingly  offices  of  his  Son  be  truel — 
How  could  Jesus  answer  the  character  given  of  him 
in  the  record  of  God  1  One  of  these  alternatives 
must  therefore  be  maintained  ;  either,  that  the  cha- 
racter and  office  of  Jesus  are  misrepresented  in  the 
Scriptures;  or  else,  that  whoever  puts  his  trust  in 
his  power  to  save,  shall  have  the  victory  over  sin. 
The  stubbornness  of  his  will  shall  be  brought  to 
yield,  his  evil  tempers  shall  be  subdued,  and  he 
shall  be  preserved  blameless  in  spirit,  soul,  and 
body. 

What  has  been  afforded  is  sufficient  to  prove, 
that  we  have  all  possible  encouragement  to  trust  in 
Jesus  the  Redeemer  for  wisdom,  righteousness,  and 
strength.  The  only  knowledge  concerning  his  cha- 
racter which  is  further  necessary,  is  of  his  temper 
and  disposition  towards  sinners:  now,  as  is  his  ma- 
jesty, so  is  his  mercy:  and  he  is  as  ready  as  he  is 
able,  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  come  to  God 
by  him.  On  this  head  what  stronger  testimonies 
can  the  most  jealous  suspicion  desire,  than  he  has 
given  to  us. 

What  means  his  deep  humiliation?  his  plead- 
ings with  careless  and  obstinate  sinners  by  day,  and 
his  midnijht  importunities  with  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, for  them!  what  mean  his  kind  invitations  1 — 
"Ho!  every  one  that  thirsteth,  let  him  come  unto 
me  and  drink;  whoever  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out!"  What  can  be  the  design  of  these 
tender  expressions,  but  to  assure  us  of  his  willing- 
ness to  receive  with  mercy  those  sinners,  whatever 
they  might  have  been  in  time  past,  who  commit 
their  souls  unto  him'?  What  was  it,  tell  me,  if  it 
was  not  fervent  love,  that  made  him  so  long  endure 
a  condition  in  all  respects  so  amazingly  opposite  to 
his  original  glory;  instead  of  hallelujahs  from  the 
sweet  ton?ues  of  angels,  to  hear  the  blasphemous 
insults  of  men  cast  on  himself  and  all  his  actions; 
instead  of  the  perfection  of  joy,  to  endure  such  suf- 
ferings that  his  heart  in  the  midst  of  his  body  was 
even  like  mehing  wax,  through  the  intenseness  of 
the  anguish  that  was  upon  him  ;  instead  of  adora- 
tion from  myriads  of  ministering  spirits,  to  bear 


mockery  and  buffeting,  the  bloody  scourge  on  his 
back,  and  on  his  face  the  nauseous  spittle;  instead 
of  sitting  on  his  throne,  high  and  lifted  up,  with  the 
whole  host  of  heaven  worshipping  him,  saying — 
"  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  t lie  Lord  of  hosts,  heaven  and 
earth  are  full  of  thy  glory ;"  to  hang  upon  a  cross 
between  two  thieves,  in  the  midst  of  insulting  shouts 
and  the  frowns  of  eternal  justice  1 

O  !  come  hither,  behold,  and  see  if  ever  there  was 
love  like  this  !  Come  and  hear  the  voice  which  he 
uttered  in  the  height  of  all  his  sufferings,  for  his 
murderers:  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do."  Hear,  and  if  you  can,  doubt; 
if  it  be  possible,  question  his  willingness  to  save 
those  who  depend  upon  him;  his  willingness,  I  say, 
who  prayed  even  for  his  bitterest  enemies. 

In  the  last  place :  we  may  as  firmly  confide  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  eternal  salvation  as  for 
present  pardon,  wisdom,  righteousness,  and  strength. 
His  dominion  equally  extends  both  over  the  world 
in  which  we  dwell,  and  over  that  into  which  we  en- 
ter after  death :  "  Fear  not,"  he  says,  "  I  am  the 
first  and  the  last,  I  am  he  that  liveih,  and  was  dead ; 
and  behold,  I  am  alive  for  evermore,  and  have  the 
keys  of  hades  and  of  the  grave."  It  is  he  who  hath 
overcome  him  who  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is 
the  devil;  and  has  made  his  triumphant  entry  be- 
fore all,  and  for  all  who  depend  upon  him  !  it  is  he 
who  bids  us  trust  in  him,  and  not  be  afraid.  Hear 
with  what  affection  and  endearment  he  comforts 
his  apostles,  and  all  who  should  ever  possess  like 
precious  faith  with  them  in  his  name:  "I  go  and 
prepare  a  place  for  you ;  and  if  I  go  and  prepare  a 
place  for  you,  I  will  come  again  and  receive  you 
unto  myself,  that  where  I  am.  there  you  may  be 
also."  And  in  his  prayer  for  the  salvation  of  all 
who  should  believe  in  him,  he  saith,  "Father,  I  will 
that  they  also,  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with 
me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory 
which  thou  hast  given  me." 

With  what  well-grounded  comfort  then,  and  with 
what  abounding  hope  are  you  warranted  to  trust  in 
the  Redeemer,  both  in  life  and  in  death.  And  after 
having  exercised  continual  faith  in  him,  as  a  Sa- 
viour from  the  guilt,  defilement,  and  strength  of  sin, 
from  ignorance,  and  from  all  the  enemies  of  your 
soul,  how  reasonably  at  the  end  of  life  may  you 
copy  the  pattern  of  the  first  martyr  to  the  Christian 
truth,  and  beholding  by  faith  the  object  that  was  ma- 
nifested to  him,  without  a  vail,  say,  with  your  ex- 
piring breath,  "  Lord  Jesus,  into  thy  hands  I  com- 
mend my  spirit." 


SUNDAY  XV.— CHAP.  XV. 

THE    DIVINITY    OF    THE    HOLY   GHOST. 

The  work  of  man's  salvation  is  represented  in 
Scripture  as  engaging  the  joint  agency  of  the  Fa- 
ther, the  Son,  and  the  Spirit.  God  the  Father  in 
infinite  wisdom  planned  this  amazing  scheme,  and 
provided  himself  a  Lamb  for  a  burnt-offering,  a  sa- 
crifice to  purge  away  sin.  God  the  Son  executed 
in  his  own  person  this  plan,  by  submitting  to  be  de- 
livered for  our  offences,  by  rising  again  for  our  justi- 
fication, and  by  interceding  for  us  in  heaven.  God 
the  Holy  Ghost  procures  an  effectual  reception  of 
this  scheme  of  salvation,  and  sanctifies  the  soul  for 
the  everlasting  happiness  which  he  prepares  it  to 
enjoy. 

Each  of  these  persons,  who  thus  co-onerate  m 
man's  salvation,  must  of  necessity  be  really  God, 
because  no  one  could  execute  any  part  of  this  grand 
scheme  pertaining  to  the  soul.  Who,  for  instance, 
besides  the  supreme  Lawgiver  himself,  could  admit 
an  innocent  substitute  to  become  surety  for  a  crimi- 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN. 


nal,  and  bear  his  curse?  or  who,  beneath  the  digni- 
ty of  God,  could  have  merit  sufficient,  by  suffering, 
to  atone  for  offences  against  the  majesty  of  heaven 
and  earth  1  or  to  whom,  besides  God,  doth  the  power 
greater  than  that  of  creation  belong,  of  triumphing 
over  our  rebellious  wills,  and  bringing  them  into 
captivity  to  the  obedience  ol  Christ  1 

Now,"  if  the  holy  Scripture  is  full  and  clear  in 
certifying  the  influence  and  interposition  of  each 
person  in  the  blessed  Trinity  in  the  work  of  man's 
salvation ;  it  must  of  necessity  be  the  duty  of  a 
Christian  to  pay  due  attention  to  it,  and  to  endeavor 
by  devout  meditation  to  impress  upon  his  mind 
what  God  has  revealed  on  this  subject;  revealed 
not  at  all  to  teach  us  how  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spi- 
rit are  three  persons  in  one  eternal  Godhead,  (for 
this  it  never  attempts,)  but  to  inform  us  of  our  obli- 
gations to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  to  teach  us  to  live  in  such  entire  confidence  in 
the  mercy  of  God,  and  such  devotedness  to  his  ser- 
vice, as  the  knowledge  of  this  most  sublime  and 
mysterious  truth  is  designed  to  produce. 

The  Scripture  character  of  God  the  Father  has 
been  already  considered  at  large;  and  also  that  of 
God  the  Son,  as  he  is  proposed  to  us  in  his  media- 
torial office  :  it  shall  be  our  business  therefore  now 
to  lay  before  you  in  one  view,  what  the  Scripture 
teaches  of  the  nature,  person,  and  office  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  And  may  He  himself,  who  is  the  Spirit  of 
truth,  give  us  to  understand  the  things  which  be- 
long to  his  glory. 

First,  With  "respect  to  the  nature  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  that  he  is  God,  the  same  in  essence  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  is  proved  from  Scripture  in 
this  plain  and  convincing  manner. — All  the  proper- 
ties of  the  Godhead  are  ascribed  to  him.  Now  by 
what  is  the  distinct  essence  of  any  being  determin- 
ed, but  by  its  properties'?  Thus  he  who  possesses 
the  properties  peculiar  to  a  man,  is  on  that  very  ac- 
count esteemed  one;  by  consequence,  he  who  pos- 
sesses the  perfections  peculiar  to  God,  must  on  that 
account  be  worshipped  as  God. 

The  Scripture  then  declares  the  Holy  Ghost  to  be 
a  holy,  eternal,  infinite,  almighty  Boing.  Holy,  for 
in  reference  to  his  peculiar  office  of  imparting  holi- 
ness, and  in  the  exclusion  of  all  creatures,  he  is 
called  "  the  Holy  Spirit."  Eph.  iv.  30.  Eternal, 
that  is,  existing  before  all  ages  no  less  than  in  them 
all;  thus  the  blood  of  Jesus,  we  are  told,  was  offered 
under  his  influence  by  the  name  of  the  "  Eternal 
Spirit."  A  title  this,  which  is  never  ascribed  to  any 
but  God  himself;  for  though  angels  have  existed  so 
many  ages  before  our  world,  and  will  never  cease 
to  be,  yet  we  no  where  read  of  an  eternal  angel. — 
Infinite,  for  he  "searcheth  all  things,  yea,  the  deep 
things  of  God."  1  Cor.  ii.  15.  Almighty,  because  at 
the  creation  of  the  world  "the  Spirit,"  we  are  as- 
sured, "  moved  upon  the  waters;"  by  his  operation 
and  influence  on  the  chaos  he  formed  it  into  order 
and  beauty  ;  and  from  his  energy  the  world  is  as  it 
were  created  anew  day  by  day:  "Thou  sendest 
forth  thy  Spirit,  they  are  created;  and  thou  renew- 
csf  the  face  of  the  earth."  Psalm  civ.  30. 

In  the  dispensations  of  grace  also  the  almighty 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  no  less  conspicuous  than 
in  the  sphere  of  nature.  The  humanity  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  was  formed  by  his  overshadowing  with  his 
influence  the  blessed  Virgin.  By  him  Jesus  was 
sent  to  preach  the  gospel  and  discharge  his  minis- 
try: by  him  carried  into  the  wilderness,  and  anoint- 
ed with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  all  kings  and 
priests  that  had  been  or  ever  should  be.  In  a  word, 
in  ail  that  Jesus  did  on  earth  as  our  Mediator,  he 
was  Lcth  appointed  and  supported,  we  are  expressly 
taught,  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  can  you  require 
a  more  complete  proof  than  this  of  the  Godhead  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  1  Jesus,  as  Mediator,  "  had  a  name 


given  him  which  is  above  every  name;"  to  such  a 
high  degree  above  every  other  name,  that  all  in 
earth  and  heaven  must  bow  their  knee  before  him ; 
and  yet,  considered  as  Mediator,  he  is  still  inferior 
to  the  Holy  Spirit,  because  he  was  consecrated  and 
enabled  by  him  to  discharge  that  very  office.  But 
since  nothing  in  earth  or  in  heaven  is  in  dignity 
above  the  Mediator,  but  God  only,  it  plainly  fol- 
lows that  the  Holy  Spirit  must  be  God,  of  one  and 
the  same  essence  with  the  Father,  as  the  Scripture 
teaches,  and  as  the  Christian  church  has  ever  be- 
lieved. 

The  Holy  Ghost  does  works  proper  to  God ;  of 
this  nature  is  the  renovation  and  sanctification  of 
the  soul.  Even  the  conversion  of  those  most  aban- 
doned sinners  at  Corinth,  in  the  time  of  St.  Paul,  is 
ascribed  to  this  divine  agent:  "Such  were  some 
of  you:  but  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  cleansed, but 
ye  are  sanctified,  but  ye  are  justified  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God." 
1  Cor.  vi.  8. 

It  was  the  Holy  Ghost  who  endued  the  apostles 
with  their  miraculous  powers,  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  Christian  church,  and  published  its  laws. — 
He  separated  Paul  and  Barnabas,  and  "  appointed 
their  mission,"  which  is  the  prerogative  of  the  su- 
preme Director.  A  dispensation  of  such  infinite 
moment  belongs  properly  to  God,  and  of  all  others, 
is  apparently  the  least  communicable  to  a  creature. 
And  in  the  consummation  of  all  things  the  Spirit  will 
work  a  work  altogether  divine,  the  master-piece  of 
all  he  has  done.  It  will  be  a  full  demonstration  of 
his  power,  to  a  degree  which  can  belong  to  none 
but  God.  He  will  bring  back  the  bodies  of  the 
faithful  from  the  dust,  and  clothe  them  with  glory 
and  immortality:  for  "if  the  Spirit  of  him  that 
raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  in  you,  he  that 
raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead  shall  also  quicken 
your  mortal  bodies  by  his  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in 
you."  Rom.  viii.  11. 

Secondly,  The  Holy  Spirit  must  be  the  same  in 
essence  with  the  Father  and  the  Son,  "  because  the 
honor  and  worship  due  only  to  the  true  God  are 
given  to  him."  This  worship  and  glory,  of  which 
God  declares  himself  to  be  jealous,  and  which  he 
will  not  give  to  another,  consists  in  swearing  by 
him,  and  in  making  appeals  to  him,  touching  the 
sincerity  of  what  we  affirm :  according  to  that  com- 
mand which  God  has  himself  given  in  this  matter, 
"  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  swear 
by  his  name."  It  consists  also  in  making  him  the 
only  object  of  our  faith,  hope,  and  obedience:  for, 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord ;  Cursed  be  the  man  that 
trusteth  in  man,  and  maketh  flesh  his  arm."  Jer. 
xvii.  5.  God  only  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  fountain 
of  benediction  and  grace ;  he  alone  is  to  be  im- 
plored for  the  continuance  of  both;  he  is  to  be  su- 
premely obeved  as  the  only  one  whom  we  must  fear 
to  offend.  The  principal  end  of  divine  worship  is 
thus  to  ascribe  unto  God  the  honor  due  unto  his 
name.  But  we  meet  with  instances  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture where  all  these  particular  acts  of  adoration 
are  paid  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  Thus  St.  Paul  swears 
by  him,  and  appeals  to  him  as  a  witness  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  good  will  towards  his  brethren  the 
Jews ;  "  I  say  the  truth  in  Christ,  I  lie  not,  my  con- 
science also  bearing  me  witness  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 
Thus  the  Spirit  is  proposed  as  the  object  of  our 
faith,  hope,  and  obedience,  equally  with  the  Father 
and  the  Son.  For  when  we  are  baptized  into  each 
of  their  names,  what  is  the  import  of  this  devout 
dedication,  but  thai  we  entirely  surrender  ourselves 
in  faith  and  obedience  to  this  sacred  Trinity.  He  is 
implored  also,  together  with  the  Father  and  th% 
Son,  as  the  fountain  and  author  of  all  the  blessings 
and  graces  of  the  gospel.  The  church  of  Christ, 
from  the  beginning,  has  ever  concluded  her  public 


COMPLETE   DUTY    OF    MAN, 


43 


and  solemn  worship  of  God  with  this  prayer,  "The 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  love  of  God, 
and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  with  you 
all."  We  are  commanded  to  dread  offending  him ; 
we  are  assured,  that  whoever  blasphemes  his  honor 
is  accounted  guilty  of  a  crime  of  the  deepest  dye: 
"  All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven 
unto  men;  but  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  shall  not  be  forgiven  unto  men.  And  who- 
soever speaketh  a  word  against  the  Son  of  man,  it 
shall  be  forgiven  him ;  but  whosoever  speaketh 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  forgiven  him 
neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  the  world  to  come." 
Matt.  xii.  31,  32. 

Thirdly,  The  same  infinite  glory  which  is  ascrib- 
ed to  God,  and  the  same  self-abasement  of  men  and 
angels  which  is  exercised  under  a  sense  of  his  imme- 
diate presence,  are  ascribed  also  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  exercised  before  his  adorable  presence ;  and 
therefore  he  must  be  God.  Can  you  find  any  descrip- 
tion of  the  glory  of  God  more  grand  and  striking 
than  the  vision  of  Isaiah,  related  in  the  sixth  chapterl 
The  prophet  "saw  the  Lord,"  we  are  told,  "sitting 
upon  a  throne,  high  and  lifted  up,  and  his  train  filled 
the  temple.  Above  it  stood  the  seraphims  ;  en.ch  one 
had  six  wings;  with  twain  he  covered  his  face,  with 
twain  he  covered  his  feet,  and  with  twain  he  did 
fly.  And  one  cried  unto  another,  and  said,  Holy, 
holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts;  the  whole  earth 
is  full  of  his  glory.  Then  said  I,  Woe  is  me!  for 
I  am  undone ;  because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips." 
I  shall  not  here  insist  upon  the  repetition  of  the 
epithet  holy  three  t;mes,  to  prove  that  the  angels 
were  paying  adoration  to  the  Trinity  in  Unity;  it 
sufficiently  appears  from  the  inspired  declarations 
of  the  apostles.  As  to  God  the  Father,  none  dis- 
pute that  the  worship  might  be  justly  addressed  to 
him ;  with  respect  to  the  Son,  our  Lord  directly 
avows  that  Isaiah  spake  these  things  when  he  saw 
his  glory  :  that  the  Spirit  was  comprehended  in  this 
object  of  the  adoration  of  heaven,  is  evident  from 
hence  ;  that  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  which  at  this  very 
time  spake  to  him,  is  expressly  declared  by  St. 
Paul,  Acts  xxviii.  25.  to  have  been  the  Holy  Spirit 
himself;  "  Well  spake  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  Esaias 
the  prophet  unto  our  fathers,  Go  unto  this  people 
and  say,  Hearing  ye  shall  hear,  and  shall  not  un- 
derstand," &c. 

Fourthly,  The  Spirit  is  exalted  above  the  rank 
of  creatures;  he  must  therefore  be  God,  since  there 
is  no  middle  state  betwixt  the  Creator  and  the  crea- 
ture. And  that  he  is  exalted  above  the  rank  of 
creatures  is  evident;  because  he  is  never  spoken  of 
or  represented  as  a  worshipper  of  God.  The  rela- 
tion of  all  creatures  to  God,  and  their  dependence 
upon  him,  are  necessary  obligations,  binding  them 
to  do  him  homage.  And  the  more  excellent  their 
endowments  are,  and  the  higher  their  obligations 
rise,  the  more  prompt  and  active  will  they  be  in 
ascribing  to  God  the  honor  due  unto  him.  Accord- 
ingly the  Scripture  frequently  represents  the  whole 
creation  by  a  figure,  and  angels  and  men,  in  a  pro- 
per sense,  as  employed  in  ceaseless  praises  and  ado- 
rations of  God.  But  whence  comes  it,  if  the  Spirit 
also  is  a  creature,  that  no  mention  is  made  of  him 
"by  the  sacred  writers  as  a  worshipper  of  God?  Is 
H  not  strange,  indeed,  that  these  inspired  men  should 
have  forgot  that  Spirit,  which,  if  he  is  a  creature, 
should  have  led  this  concert  of  praise,  and  been  the 
principal  person  in  it  1  Was  it  not.  highly  needful 
to  make  mention  of  Him,  in  order  to  prevent  error 
and  idolatrous  worship  1  The  total  silence  there- 
fore of  the  oracles  of  God  on  this  important  matter, 
is  a  strong  evidence,  that  the  prophets,  the  apostles, 
and  Jesus  Christ,  considered  not  the  Holy  Ghost  as 
a  creature,  but  as  God  with  the  Father  and  the  Son. 

Fifthly,  Lest  it  should  be  said,  the  Spirit  "  is  no 


more  than  a  quality  in  God,"  which  cannot  subsist, 
or  be  distinguished  as  a  person  in  the  Godhead,  he 
has  a  name  given  to  him,  significant  at  once  both 
of  his  essence  and  energy.  The  term  H  !y  Spirit 
implies  both  that  his  essence  is  spiritual,  and  also 
that  in  the  dispensation  of  grace  it  is  his  energy 
which  produces  holiness  in  the  soul.  Now  as  the 
spirit  within  a  man,  by  which  he  observes  his  own 
thoughts,  is  not  a  quality,  but  something  really  dis- 
tinct from  his  body  and  from  his  thoughts ;  so  this 
Spirit  which  knows  the  thoughts  of  God,  which 
even  "searches  the  deep  things  of  God,"  must  be  a 
person  distinct  from  the  Father,  who  is  thus  known 
by  him. 

He  has  all  personal  actions  also  ascribed  to  him; 
"  He  shall  not  speak  of  himself,  but  what  he  has 
heard  that  shall  he  speak ;"  He  rejoices  and  is 
grieved ;  He  approves  and  condemns  ;  He  convinces 
the  world  of  sin,  righteousness  and  judgment.  And 
when  Peter  was  still  doubtful  of  the  import  of  the 
heavenly  vision  which  he  had  seen,  "  The  Spirit  said 
unto  him,  Behold,  three  men  seek  thee."  Acts  x.  19. 
But  all  these  must  pass  for  expressions  without  any 
signification,  unless  they  are  allowed  to  mark  out 
the  distinct  personality  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Thus  it  appears  from  this  summary  view  of  the 
Scripture  evidence,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  possess 
ed  of  the  essential  attributes  of  God,  that  he  doe:; 
the  works  proper  to  God  ;  that  he  receives  the  honor 
due  unto  God  alone  :  that  he  stands  exalted  above 
the  rank  of  creatures.  Shall  it  then  be  said,  after 
all  this  proof,  that  he  is  not  by  nature  God  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son  ]  By  no  means.  These  Scripture 
evidences,  considered  each  apart,  conclude  forcibly 
for  the  glory  and  Godhead  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and, 
united  together,  admit  of  no  reply,  but  such  cavils  as 
pride  and  infidelity  are  never  at  a  loss  to  make  againsi 
ihe  plainest  truths.  They  are  fully  sufficient  to 
confirm  our  faith  in  the  article  of  the  glory  and 
Godhead  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  as  to  those  who 
will  contradict  and  blaspheme,  on  account  of  the 
difficulties  which  occur  in  explaining  this  subject, 
it  must  be  observed  that  all  the  peculiar  doctunes 
of  revelation,  as  well  as  this,  become  to  such,  mat- 
ter of  dispute  first,  and  then  are  rejected  because 
incomprehensible  ;  till  at  length  Gcct's  blessed  sys- 
tem of  truth,  which  none  of  the  wise  men  of  this 
world  knew,  is  reduced  to  nothing  more  than  those 
maxims  of  morality  which  the  philosophers  of  old 
delivered  without  the  help  of  revelation  ;  and  which 
the  Deists  now  oppose  to  it,  as  a  sufficient  guide  to 
duty  and  happiness.  But  whether  this  be  rationally 
to  interpret  Scripture,  or  covertly  to  renounce  *ti 
subjection  to  the  book  of  God,  judge  ye! 


SUNDAY  XVI.— CHAP.  XVI. 

THE    OFFICE    OF   THE   HOLY   SPIRIT. 

It  is  not  enough  that  our  judgment  should  be  fully 
informed  concerning  the  personal  glory  and  divini- 
ty of  the  Holy  Ghost :  a  Christian  must  also  know 
to  what  great  purposes  that  infinite,  almighty,  eter- 
nal Spirit,  exercises  his  office  in  the  church  of 
Christ;  and  in  what  way  his  influences  are  exerted. 
For  unless  we  have  a  clear  and  distinct  knowledge 
of  this,  we  can  never  ascribe  to  the  Holy  Ghost  the 
glory  of  his  own  work  in  our  souls  on  the  one 
hand  ;  nor,  on  the  other,  be  secured  from  dangerous 
delusion,  and  from  mistaking  some  crer*ure  of  a 
brain-sick  imagination  for  the  work  of  the  Spirit 
of  God.  Both  these  evils  will  be  happily  prevented 
by  firmlv  %dhering  to  our  infallible  e'uide  the  Scrip- 
ture; which  is  not  more  full  in  declaring  the  divi- 
nity of  the  Holy  Ghost,  than  in  determining  pre- 


41 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


cisely,  the  nature  and  the  effects  of  his  inestimable 
influence. 

To  him,  we  are  taught,  is  intrusted  the  arduous 
work  of  managing  the  cause  of  God  and  Christ 
against  a  sinful  wtrld,  and  of  making  it  triumph- 
ant over  all  opposition,  in  that  measure  which  seems 
best  to  unerring  wisdom.  By  the  secret  yet  mighty 
energy  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  foundation  of  Chris- 
tian religion  is  laid  in  the  soul  of  the  believer  ;  by 
him  maintained,  and  at  length  completed.  The 
foundation  of  Christian  religion,  as  the  term  im- 
ports, is  a  knowledge  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
a  sincere  love  to  his  person.  Till  this  knowledge 
and  this  love  possess  your  soul,  though  you  may  do 
many  things  which  are  commanded  by  God,  and 
seem  by  profession  a  Christian,  you  still  want  the 
root  of  all  acceptable  obedience  in  your  heart ;  ac- 
cording to  that  express  declaration  from  Christ,  "  If 
any  man  serve  me,  him  will  my  father  honor." 
John  xii.  26.  which  intimates  that  he  will  honor  no 
one  beside.  But  if  you  consider  the  account  given 
in  Scripture  of  the  condition  the  world  was  in  v/hen 
the  name  of  Jesus  was  first  preached  in  it,  or  of 
the  natural  blindness  of  man  in  all  ages  to  the  truths 
of  God,  you  will  acknowledge  that  wherever  the 
elory  of  Jesus  is  worthily  apprehended  and  effect- 
ually imprinted,  it  must  be  owing  to  the  interposi- 
tion of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  his  influence  on  the 
mind. 

That  true  and  worthy  acceptations  of  the  Re- 
deemer, that  lively  and  lasting  impressions  of  his 
excellency,  were  owing  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  when 
men  were  first  called  Christians,  no  one  can  doubt. 
At  that  time  to  entertain  becoming  thoughts  and  to 
feel  suitable  impressions  of  the  Redeemer's  glory, 
was  directly  contrary  to  the  united  force  of  invete- 
rate prejudice,  corrupt  education,  and  every  view 
of  worldly  interest.  For  the  illustration  of  this 
point,  suppose  yourself  an  inhabitant  either  of  Je- 
rusalem or  of  Rome,  at  the  time  when  Christ  was 
first  preached ;  when  Pharisaism  or  Sadducism 
reigned  throughout  the  one  ;  and  the  most  impure 
idolatry,  propagated  from  age  to  age,  triumphed  in 
the  other :  suppose,  that  in  this  situation  ycu  had 
heard  an  apostle  of  the  Lord  call  aloud  upon  yon. 
commanding  you  in  the  name  of  God  to  confess  the 
sinfulness  of  your  sin,  and  to  flee  for  refuge  from 
deserved  wrath  to  Jesus  Christ;  that  this  apostle, 
instead  of  concealing  the  meanness  and  weakness 
in  which  Jesus  Christ  lived,  the  shame  and  pain  in 
which  he  died,  told  you  that  on  his  cross  he  made 
atonement  for  sin,  bought  you  with  the  price  of  his 
blood,  that  you  might  live  in  subjection  to  him  as 
your  sovereign  Lord ;  that  he  possessed  irresistible 
power  to  save  or  to  destroy,  and  unsearchable  rich- 
es to  reward  and  bless  his  faithful  people  ;  suppose 
that  he  concluded  with  a  most  solemn  asseveration, 
that  if  you  refused  the  call  you  heard,  and  was  not 
united  to  this  man  Christ  Jesus,  as  your  only  Sa- 
viour, you  must  feel  indignation  and  wrath  from 
God  for  evermore.  Instantly  upon  such  a  declara- 
tion your  hearts  tell  you,  that  in  the  circumstances 
above  described,  bitter  and  disdainful  prejudice 
would  have  shown  itself  against  the  messenger. — 
The  life  of  Jesus,  infamous  through  innumerable 
slanders,  his  death  ignominious,  in  your  apprehen- 
sion, to  the  last  degree,  would  have  made  you  treat 
the  report  as  the  most  palpable  lie  ever  forged  to 
deceive.  Accustomed  from  childhood  to  worship 
either  false  gods,  or  to  trust  the  true  God  without  a 
Mediator,  a  sacred  horror  must  have  chilled  your 
blood  upon  hearing  your  idols  blasphemed,  or  Jesus 
glorifiri  as  one  with  God;  whilst  every  desire  re- 
maining in  your  soul,  of  esteem  with  men,  of  sin- 
ful pleasure,  or  of  happiness  from  the  world,  must 
have  inflamed  your  rage  against  a  doctrine,  which, 
if  received,  was  sure,  like  a  pestilential  wind,  to 


blast  them  altogether. — To  penetrate  through  such 
a  cloud  of  darkness,  what  is  the  light  of  reason  1 
to  balance  against  such  bitter  prejudice,  what  the 
force  of  moral  persuasion  1  To  make  tuch  a  sa- 
crifice of  wealth,  of  ease,  of  character,  and  become 
as  it  were  the  offscounng  of  all  things,  even  to  be 
deemed  a  curse  upon  the  earth  that  bears  you,  what 
the  power  of  human  resolution  1*  Yet  all  this 
sacrifice  was  understood  and  considered ;  it  was  a 
certain  consequence  evident  before  the  eyes  of  all 
that  joined  themselves  unto  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ; 
who,  on  account  of  the  odium  cast  upon  his  name 
in  every  place  where  the  gospel  first  came,  is  styled, 
"  He  whom  the  nation  abhorreth." 

Not  only  to  counteract,  but  entirely  to  vanquish 
this  deep  rooted  enmity  against  the  Redeemer,  the 
gospel  is  to  be  preached  with  the  Holy  Ghost  sent 
down  from  heaven.  The  apostles  first  were  to  re- 
ceive power,  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost  was  come 
upon  them.  Thus  armed,  they  were  to  be  witnesses 
unto  Jesus,  that  is,  of  the  redemption  that  is  in  him, 
both  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria, 
and  unto  the  uttermost  part  of  the  earth.  This 
eternal  and  almighty  Spirit,  by  imparting  to  them 
miraculous  gifts,  bore  down  the  opposition  of  pre- 
judice, of  education,  and  of  worldly  interest;  and 
exerting  his  gracious  influence  on  the  mind  at  the 
time  he  was  appealing  by  miracles  to  the  evidence 
of  sense,  he  made  the  glory  of  the  Lord  appear 
with  such  transcendant  brightness,  that  thousands 
were  added  to  his  church,  and  ready  to  suffer  death 
for  his  name's  sake. 

Thus  in  an  outward  and  visible  manner  the 
Holy  Ghost  fulfilled  the  Redeemer's  promise,  whilst 
he  laid  the  foundation  of  true  faith  in  the  soul  of 
every  one  that  believed.  In  this  manner  he  testified 
of  Jesus:  he  glorified  him.  In  this  manner  he  re- 
proved the  world  of  sin,  in  their  contemptuous  re- 
fusal to  believe  in  Jesus  as  the  only  Saviour;  of 
righteousness  in  the  person  and  cause  of  Christ, 
since  God  had  borne  such  testimony  to  him ;  of  the 
excellency  of  that  righteousness  he  accomplished, 
living  and  dying  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  God ; 
and  of  the  necessity  of  it,  as  imputed  to  believers 
for  their  complete  justification.  He  convinced  the 
wcrld  of  judgment,  in  giving  them  to  behold  with 
their  own  eyes,  the  throne  of  Satan  cast  down;  his 
collusive  ora:,os  silenced,  his  temples  deserted,  ab- 
horred, and  thousand  upon  thousands  of  his  mi- 
serable captives  set  at  liberty. 

This  great  effect  must  not  be  supposed  to  have 
been  produced  by  the  mere  display  of  miracles  to 
the  senses:  it  evidently  discovered  a  positive  in- 
fluence exercised  upon  the  mind.  This  is  exem- 
plified in  the  prayer  of  the  great  apostle  for  (he 
church  at  Ephesus.  By  the  miracles  wrought  be- 
fore them,  they  were  so  far  impressed  with  a  know- 
ledge of  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  as  highly  to  esteem 
the  much  despised,  much  persecuted  name  of  its 
ever-blessed  Author.  Nevertheless,  the  apostle 
makes  a  clear  distinction  between  this  effect,  flow- 
ing from  the  evidence  of  the  miracles  which  were 
wrought  in  attestation  of  the  gospel,  and  the  inter- 
nal gracious  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the 
mind.  He  prays  therefore  that  God  would  grant 
unto  them  the  grace  of  his  Spirit,  that  "the  eyes 
of  their  understanding  being  enlightened,  they 
might  know  what  was  the  hope  of  their  calling, 
and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his  inheritance 


•The  unlearned  reader  is  to  be  informed,  that 
all  the  primitive  apologists  for  our  most  holy  faith, 
take  notice  of  the  charge  brought  against  the  Chris- 
tians, as  the  procuring  cause  of  all  the  public  ca- 
lamities inflicted  on  the  Pagans;  and  that  these,  in 
their  blind  and  cruel  superstition,  thought  they  did 
their  gods  service  by  putting  them  to  death. 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


45 


in  the  saints,  and  the  exceeding  greatness  of  his 
power  towards  us  that  believe.''     This  goes  much 
deeper  than  the  force  of  miracles  alone  could  reach. 
It  implies  a  transforming  knowledge  of  those  su- 
blime truths  which  miracles  alone  can  never  pro- 
duce, and  a  happy  experience  of  the  certainty  of 
the  words  of  truth  from  their  vital  operation  within. 
It  is  evident,  then,  that  it  was  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  which  produced  conviction  and  faith  in 
the  minds  of  those  who  heard  the  gospel  preached 
by  the  apostles,  and  which  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  primitive  church.     But  it  may  be  said,  "  There 
does  not  exist  in  the  present  day  the  same  necessity 
for  his  agency.     The  circumstances  of  the  Chris- 
tian world  ate  quite  different.    Now,  instead  of 
blasphemous  insults  offered  to  the  name  of  Jesus, 
he  is  adored  as  God  in  the  daily  service  of  our  es- 
tablished church.     Instead  of  bitter  prejudices  of 
education  being  generally  entertained  against  his 
death  as  a  sacrifice  for  our  sins,  we  are  pledged  by 
baptism  in  our  earliest  infancy  to  receive  it  as  our 
dearest  hope.     Instead  of  suffering  persecution  from 
our  relations,  because  we  profess  ourselves  the  dis- 
ciples of  Christ,  we  should  give  offence  to  them 
were  we  not  to  do  so.     This  alteration  in  the  state 
of  the  world  has  therefore  removed  the  necessity 
which  before  existed  for  the  agency  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.     We  accordingly  no  longer  see  a  single 
miracle  wrought  in  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel,  now  that  its  own  establishment,  the  most 
convincing  of  all  miracles,  has  taken  place."  Thus, 
because  the  extraordinary  operations  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  have  ceased,  the  necessity  and  efficacy  of  his 
influence  at  present  is  absolutely  denied  by  some, 
and  received  with  doubt  and  suspicion  by  many; 
and  all  that  has  been  so  plainly  inculcated  in  Scrip- 
ture of  his  teaching,  his  strength,  and  his  comforts, 
has  been  injuriously  restrained  to  former  ages.     A 
mistake  this,  destructive  of  all  real  religion:  a  mis- 
take proceeding  from  an  utter  ignorance  or  impious 
disbelief  of  the   natural  blindness  of  man  to  the 
truths  of  God,  and  of  his  aversion  to  receive  them 
with  an  obedient  heart.     For  if  the  Scripture  ac- 
count of  the  blindness  of  the  human  understanding 
and  the  depravity  of  the  heart  is  received,  it  must 
follow  that  man   of  himself   cannot  receive   and 
come  into  subjection  to  the  truth  of  God,  though 
the  rage  of  Jews  and  Gentiles  were  supposed  to  be 
entirely  removed,  and  the  truth  of  the  gospel  reve- 
lation were  allowed.     The  natural  man,  the  man 
who  acts  only  upon  the  principles  of  natural  reason, 
and  seeks  no  illumination  in  his  understanding  from 
the  Holy  Ghost,  "  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  :  for  they  are  foolishness  unto  him  ; 
neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they  are  spi- 
ritually discerned,"  1  Cor.  ii.   14,  in  their  divine 
truth,  excellence,  and  glory,  they  can  be  discovered 
by  none  who  are  not  enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of 
God.     It  follows  from  this  declaration,  that  a  true 
knowledge  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  salva- 
tion by  him,  must  be  the  production  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  much  at  this  very  hour,  as  when  the  apos- 
tles first  planted  churches  in  the  name  of  Jesus. 
The  Holy  Ghost  must  "  take  of  the  things  which 
are  Christ's,"  and,  by  his  powerful  effectual  teach- 
ing,  "  show  them   unto  us."     Otherwise  the   Re- 
deemer will  never  be  exalted  and  extolled,  nor  re- 
ceive any  heartfelt  adoration  for  all  his  kindness 
towards  us.     What   was  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  immediately  after  our  Lord's  ascension,  is 
still  his  work  with  every  one  that  believes  to  the 
saving  of  his  soul ;  the  exhibition  of  the  external 
miracles  which  accompanied  it  in  old  time,  only 
excepted. 

The  proof  of  this  assertion,  so  much  questioned 
now,  and  so  often  vilified  as  enthusiasm,  I  shall  en- 
deavor to  evince  from  that  most  instructive  text  on 


this  subject,  which  has  been  already  considered  in 
its  primary  sense,  and  as  it  related  to  the  apostolic 
age. 

"  When  the  Comforter  is  come,  he  will  reprove 
the  world  of  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on  me." 
The  sin  of  overlooking  the  Son  of  God,  so  as  to 
exercise  no  dependence  on  him  for  righteousness 
and  strength,  is  not  perceived  by  man  till  renewed 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  though  he  may  acknowledge 
the  truth  of  the  Christian  creed.  Deceit  and  fraud, 
envy  and  malice,  with  the  crimes  destructive  to  so- 
ciety, are  generally  reprobated,  and  their  evil  is 
manifest.  But  the  great  sin  of  entertaining  such 
thoughts  of  ourselves  and  of  our  own  virtues,  as  do 
in  fact  render  all  the  names  of  honor  we  give  unto 
Christ  merely  titular :  this  sin,  most  injurious  to  the 
perfections  of  God,  you  never  see  in  the  catalogue 
which  unenlightened  man  draws  up  against  him- 
self. He  can  approach  the  holy,  the  jealous  God 
in  prayer,  without  fear  or  suspicion  of  his  displea- 
sure, though  he  never  committed  his  cause  to  the 
appointed  Mediator,  nor  laid  his  sacrifice  upon 
that  altar,  which  alone  can  sanctify  it  in  the  sight 
of  God. 

To  reprove  for  this  sin  in  particular,  is  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  it  is  who  must  open  your 
eyes,  if  they  are  ever  opened,  to  see  your  own  sin- 
fulness, and  to  loathe  yourself  before  your  Maker, 
for  the  mean  thoughts,  the  grovelling  rpprehen- 
sions,  which  notwithstanding  the  declarations  of  the 
Bible,  and  your  pretended  belief  of  it,  you  have  had 
concerning  the  Lord's  Christ,  the  Rock  of  ages,  the 
Beloved  of  the  Father.  It  is  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
you  must  be  enabled  to  say,  with  a  firm  reliance  on 
him,  that  "  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord  to  the  glory  of  God 
the  Father."  By  his  influence  it  is,  that  you  will 
ever  so  behold  the  Saviour  as  to  believe  in  your 
heart,  and  to  confess  with  your  mouth,  "  that  if  any 
man  love  him  not,  that  man  is  anathema,  ma- 
ranatha,"  accursed  of  God  ;  and  unless  he  repents 
of  this  great  wickedness,  sure  to  be  condemned  by 
the  Lord  when  he  cometh  to  judge  the  world.  And 
when  the  sin  of  not  depending  on  Jesus,  and  not 
honoring  him  as  the  Father  is  honored,  is  thus 
clearly  perceived  and  heartily  detested ;  it  is  not 
flesh  and  blood  which  have  made  this  revelation, 
no;  nor  barely  the  written  word  of  God;  (for  long 
after  that  was  allowed  by  you  to  be  the  truth,  no 
such  effect  followed,)  but  it  is  owing  to  the  Spirit 
of  truth,  who  has  communicated  to  you  this  most 
precious  knowledge. 

Again,  "  When  the  Comforter  is  come,"  saith 
our  Lord,  "  he  shall  reprove  the  world  of  righteous- 
ness, because  I  go  to  my  Father."  To  be  received 
into  favor  with  God,  by  virtue  of  what  another  has 
done;  and  to  confess  that  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus 
are  of  such  efficacy  as  to  bring  down  blessing  and 
salvation  on  every  sincere  dependent  upon  him  for 
righteousness,  is  a  mystery  offensive  to  the  haughty 
spirit  of  man  in  its  natural  state.  Still,  if  left  to 
ourselves,  though  the  Bible  is  in  our  hands,  though 
we  profess  a  sacred  regard  for  its  dictates,  we  shall 
go  about  to  establish  our  own  righteousness;  we 
shall  stand  upon  our  own  personal  worth  before 
God,  as  the  foundation  of  our  eternal  hopes.  Under 
the  accusations  of  conscience,  we  shall  have  re- 
course to  our  own  frailty  and  the  strength  of  temp- 
tation, as  our  advocates;  to  our  repentance  and 
amendment,  as  our  propitiation.  For  so  invete- 
rately,  through  the  corruption  of  our  natures,  are 
we  prepossessed  in  favor  of  our  own  virtues,  and 
even  of  our  feeblest  attempts  to  be  virtuous,  that 
we  can  be  as  confident,  as  if  we  were  as  holy  as 
the  law  of  God  requires  us  to  be. 

It  is  the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  reprove  tne 
world  for  this  self-exalting  lie:  for  this  hateful 
overrating  our  poor  tainted  performances,  our  much 


ffi 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


blemished  obedience.  The  elernal  Spirit  only  can 
overthrow  such  vain  confidence,  and  can  establish 
a  persuasion  in  the  mind  directly  opposite  to  it; 
namely,  that  "Jesus  was  delivered  for  our  offences, 
and  raised  again  for  our  justification  ;"  that  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  we  are  always  accepted,  even 
after  our  highest  possible  advancement  in  holiness 
on  earth,  not  for  our  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
Christ ;  and  that  his  access  to  the  Father,  in  the 
character  of  Mediator,  is  all  our  hope;  that  though 
unfeigned  repentance,  sincere  love  to  God,  and  uni- 
versal obedience  to  his  commandments,  are  and 
must  be  our  vouchers  that  we  belong  to  Christ ;  yet, 
neither  singly  nor  altogether  do  they  make  recon- 
ciliation for  the  least  of  our  sins;  that  Jesus  alone 
accomplished  a  work,  impossible  to  any  creature, 
too  mighty  even  for  angels  to  attempt,  when  he 
bled  on  the  cross,  and  cried  out,  "  It  is  finished." 

But  till  the  Holy  Ghost  convinces  us  of  the  ne- 
cessity and  glory  of  this  righteousness,  it  is  an  of- 
fensive subject.  Such  exaltation  of  the  Saviour's 
obedience  and  death  will  be  construed  int-o  a  dis- 
paragement of  personal  virtue.  The  search  after 
the  gift  of  justification  unto  eternal  life,  freely 
through  the  redemption  that,  is  in  Jesus,  will  be 
deemed  a  contempt  of  good  works.  The  Spirit  of 
truth  must  exert  his  gracious  influence  to  remove 
this  natural  blindness,  and  master  this  stubborn  pre- 
judice; and  then,  that  merit  which  Jesus  ever  lives 
to  plead  before  the  Father  for  the  church,  purchased 
by  his  own  blood,  will  be  all  your  salvation  and  all 
your  desire. 

In  one  instance  more,  the  text  under  considera- 
tion declares  the  work  and  influence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost :  "  He  shall  reprove  the  world  of  judgment, 
because  the  prince  of  this  world  is  judged  ;"  that  is, 
he  shall  convince  men  of  thecomplete  victory  which 
Jesus  has  obtained  over  sin,  the  world,  and  Satan, 
in  order  to  make  all  who  believe  in  him  happy  par- 
takers of  the  same. 

Subjection  to  sin,  although  the  vilest  servitude 
and  basest  vassalage,  is  too  often  earnestly  contend- 
ed for.  Every  man  in  the  world,  it  is  said,  has  his 
foible ;  that  is,  in  the  language  of  politeness,  some  sin, 
or  evil  temper,  that  enslaves  its  unresisting  victim. 
Like  the  dastardly  unbelieving  spies  sent  into  the 
land  of  Canaan,  men  magnify  to  an  enormous  size 
the  force  of  temptation,  and  the  weakness  of  the 
flesh,  forgetting  the  power  of  God,  and  then  say, 
Who  can  stand  before  these  1 

The  Holy  Ghost,  who  is  the  grand  agent  for  the 
glory  of  Christ,  convinces  us  that  we  err  in  this  mat- 
ter, not  considering  the  power  of  the  Redeemer. — 
It  is  his  office  to  assure  the  heart  that  "  the  prince 
of  this  world  is  judged,"  already  dethroned,  and 
vanquished  by  Jesus:  to  persuade  us  that  the  work- 
ing of  his  Spirit,  "  which  worketh  mightily  in  them 
that  believe,"  is  infinitely  stronger  than  the  com- 
bined force  of  all  outward  opposition,  and  of  all  in- 
ward corruption  :  to  demonstrate  to  us,  that  if  we 
are  doing  what  is  forbidden,  if  we  are  enslaved  by 
pride  or  discontent,  intemperance  or  uncleanness, 
covetousness  or  envy,  it  is,  because  we  will  not  in 
earnest  seek  deliverance  from  such  hateful  tyrants. 

In  this  manner,  as  in  the  apostle's  days,  the  Holy 
Ghost  continually  operates  on  the  mind  of  every 
one  that  believes  in  Jesus  now,  as  then  ;  "  A  man 
cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  grace  except  he 
be  first  born  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit." 

And  whilst  the  Holy  Ghost  testifies  of  Christ,  and 
glorifies  him  in  his  person  and  undertakings,  his 
influence,  we  must  observe,  is  a  thing  quite  distinct 
from  those  means  by  which  it  is  conveyed  ;  so  that 
whatever  proper  convictions  of  the  Redeemer's  per- 
son and  salvation  are  cordially  received,  it  is  not  to 
the  means,  but  to  the  Spirit  working  by  them,  that 
we  must  attribute  the  enlightening  and  renewing  of 


the  mind.  This  important  doctrine  is  repeated 
again  and  again  in  Scripture,  and  must  therefore 
never  be  overlooked  by  us.  Thus  it  is  written  of 
the  degenerate  idolatrous  Israelites,  "Hear  ye  in- 
deed, but  perceive  not.  Make  the  heart  of  this 
people  fat,  and  their  ears  heavy,  and  shut  their 
eyes;  lest  they  see  with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with 
their  ears,  and  understand  with  their  heart,  and  con- 
vert, and  be  healed."  Isa.  vi.  9,  10.  Here  is  the 
outward  call  of  the  word,  on  the  one  hand,  but  on 
the  other  a  refusal  of  the  inward  and  spiritual 
grace,  on  account  of  their  insupportable  provoca- 
tions. The  alarming  expressions,  "  Make  the  heart 
of  this  people  fat,  and  their  ears  heavy,  and  shut 
their  eyes,"  cannot  possibly  mean  that  God  actually 
inspired  Israel  with  contempt  for  his  holy  word,  or 
disaffection  towards  it :  but  they  mean  that  such 
hardness  of  heart  and  disaffection  must  always  fol- 
low, where  the  Spirit  of  grace  is  withdrawn ;  be- 
cause he  alone  opens  the  eyes  of  the  understanding, 
and  unstops  the  ears  which  are  deaf  to  the  words 
of  God's  book.  In  confirmation  of  the  same  truth, 
it  is  recorded,  that  God  "  opened  the  heart  of  Lydia, 
to  attend  to  the  things  spoken  by  St.  Paul."  In  this 
instance  you  very  distinctly  mark  the  inspired 
preacher  on  the  one  hand,  declaring  the  whole  coun- 
sel of  God,  and  offering  the  knowledge  of  all  that 
is  externally  needful  to  the  conversion  of  the  soul : 
and  on  the  other  you  observe  the  God  of  all  grace 
exercising  his  blessed  and  powerful  influence,  by 
which  the  apostle's  discourse  was  successful,  and 
attained  the  end  for  which  it  was  delivered.  And 
lest  these  declarations  should  be  considered  as  ex- 
traordinary, St.  Paul  teaches  us  generally  to  distin- 
guish between  the  means  and  instruments,  and  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  from  whom  all  their  bene- 
ficial effects  proceed.  He  puts  this  interrogation; 
"  Who  then  is  Paul,  and  who  is  Apollos,  but  mi- 
nisters, by  whom  ye  believed  as  the  Lord  gave  to 
every  manl  I  have  planted,  Apollos  watered,  but 
God  gave  the  increase."  1  Cor.  iii.  5,  6.  Mark 
here  how  totally  distinct  from  each  other  are  the 
means  of  grace,  and  the  eternal  Spirit  to  which 
they  owe  their  efficacy.  Of  course  we  must  allow 
that  the  foundation  of  the  Christian  religion  is  laid 
by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  every  believer, 
and  that  his  work  and  influence  are  at  this  hour  as 
real  and  successful  with  the  faithful,  as  they  were 
when  signs  and  wonders  were  done  by  him  through 
the  hands  of  the  apostles. 

From  what  has  been  offered,  we  may  understand 
clearly  the  permanent  work  and  internal  operation 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  know  whether  we  are  the 
happy  subjects  of  his  influence  ourselves,  by  consi- 
dering what  impressions  the  word  of  truth  has  made 
upon  our  minds. 

But  besides  this,  the  Scripture  teaches  us  to  look 
upon  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  the  author  of  the  sanctiti- 
cation,  which  is  wrought  in  the  hearts,  and  appears 
in  the  lives  of  believers;  and  that  by  this  sanctifica- 
tion,  his  indwelling  presence  and  effectual  working 
may  be  known  with  the  greatest  certaintv  and  pre- 
ciseness.  If  you  feel  a  sincere  love  to  God  for  send- 
ing his  Son  into  the  world  as  the  propitiation  for 
sin,  this  love  is  no  more  the  natural  growth  of  your 
heart,  or  acquired  simply  by  your  own  reflections 
and  contemplations,  than  the  beneficial  grain  which 
enriches  our  fields  is  spontaneously  produced  with- 
out seed  or  culture.  "It  is  shed  abroad  in  your 
;  heart  by  the  Holy  Ghost  given  unto  yon."  If  the 
effect  of  this  love  is  joy,  or  that  delightful  sensation, 
which  results  from  the  consideration  of  great  good 
obtained  or  expected  from  the  God  of  your  salva- 
tion; this  sensation,  in  honor  of  its  divine  gracious 
Author,  is  called  "joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost."  If  you 
possess  an  internal  settled  tranquillity,  whilst  God 
and  eternal  judgments  are  in  your  thoughts,  through 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF  MAN, 


47 


Jesus  Christ,  "by  whom  you  have  received  the 
atonement/'  in  the  place  of  that  guilty  uneasiness 
or  stupid  insensibility  which  you  showed  before,  at 
the  mention  of  such  awful  subjects  ;  the  marvellous 
change  claims  a  divine  parent,  and  is  expressly  de- 
clared to  be  the  "  fruit  of  the  Spirit."  If  possessing 
in  your  heart  the  heavenly  treasure  of  love,  peace, 
and  joy,  you  are  patient  under  repeated  injuries, 
gentle  under  exasperating  provocations,  kind  ac- 
cording io  your  ability,  meek  so  as  to  evidence  the 
humble  opinion  you  entertain  of  yourself,  the  good 
will  you  feel  towards  all  men  ;  this  union  of  amia- 
ble tempers  cometli  from  above.  It  is  the  image  and 
superscription  of  one  sanctified  by  the  Spirit  and  ex- 
pressly said  to  be  "  his  fruit."  There  is  not  a  duty 
we  are  called  to  perform,  not  an  evil  temper  we  are 
required  to  vanquish,  but  we  are  directed  in  Scrip- 
ture to  seek  for  the  aid  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  that 
our  endeavors  may  be  crowned  with  success. — 
We  are  taught  that  he  "  helps  our  infirmities  in 
prayer ;"  that  on  this  account  he  is  called  the  "  Spi- 
rit of  grace  and  supplication."  We  are  command- 
ed to  ,:  pray  in  the  Holy  Ghost :"  which  plainly  im- 
plies, that  as  in  prayer  we  must  seek  his  sanctify- 
ing grace,  in  order  to  do  all  other  duties,  so  must 
we  acknowledge  and  depend  upon  his  assistance 
for  the  right  discharge  of  the  duty  of  prayer  itself. 
This  is  plainly  marked  in  the  Scripture  account  of 
the  acceptance  of  our  holy  duties.  It  teaches  us, 
that  all  true  Christians  "  have  access  to  the  Father 
through  the  Mediator  by  one  Spirit."  Eph.  iii.  18. 
So  in  discharging  the  duties  of  praise,  when  Chris- 
tians are  exhorted  to  be  much  employed  in  the 
praises  of  God,  they  are  exhorted  to  be  "  filled  with 
the  Holy  Ghost."  And  this  operative  influence  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  not  spoken  of  merely  as  a  privi- 
lege which  God  promises,  but  a  duty  which  he  re- 
quires. From  whence  it  is  evident,  that  without 
him  all  our  services  will  want  the  very  soul  which 
should  animate  them,  and  be  as  a  maimed  sacrifice. 
In  a  word,  it  is  to  denote  the  never-ceasing  influ- 
ence and  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  hearts 
of  all  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus,  that  their  life  is 
expressed  in  these  terms,  a  being,  a  walking,  and 
living  in  the  Spirit. 


SUNDAY  XV1I.-CHAP.   XVII. 

THE    PROPERTIES    OF   THE    SPIRIT'S   INFLUENCE. 

We  have  already  discoursed  upon  the  personality 
and  nature  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  we  have  also  en- 
deavored to  learn  from  Scripture  what  purposes 
his  influence  is  designed  to  effect.  It  remains  now 
that  we  should  explain,  in  order  to  prevent  enthu- 
siasm, the  properties  of  his  operation,  and  that  we 
should  also  expose  the  impious,  though  too  preva- 
lent error,  of  denying  the  reality  of  his  agency 
upon  the  hearts  of  them  that  believe. 

First,  then,  This  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is 
secret,  discernible  only  by  its  fruits.  The  Spirit  is 
not  to  be  understood  as  using  violence  or  constraint 
on  man,  but  as  acting  in  a  way  similar  to  what  we 
observe  in  the  established  course  of  nature.  Accord- 
ingly, the  prophets,  the  apostles,  and  the  Son  of 
God,  refer  us  to  the  growth  of  the  vegetable  world 
for  the  illustration  of  the  Spirit's  influence.  As  the 
juices  of  the  earth  are  first  received  into  the  root, 
from  whence  they  gradually  ascend  the  trunk,  and 
thence  are  diffused  to  the  branches,  producing 
blossoms  and  fruits  to  the  admiration  of  every  spec- 
tator, though  the  most  penetrating  eye  cannot  dis- 
cern how — so  it  is  with  the  agency  of  the  Spirit. — 
The  life  of  holiness  in  the  soul  of  one  born  of  the 
Spirit  appears  in  his  actions,  discourse,  desires,  af- 
fections, and  most  secret  thoughts.  Every  one  that 
diligently  ohserves  him  can  perceive  the  excellent 


fruits  of  this  life;  but  the  Author  of  it  is  invisible, 
and  the  method  bv  which  it  has  been  produced  and 
maintained  is  incomprehensible. 

Secondly,  Though  the  Spirit's  influence  is  secret, 
silent,  ami  not  to  be  observed  Lut  by  its  fruits,  it  is 
not  on  that  account  less  powerful  in  the  effects  pro- 
duced. The  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus  is  born 
to  conflict,  toil,  and  labor.  Born  for  fight  and  in- 
tended for  victory ;  but  not  at  present  formed  to  en- 
joy so  much  as  io  act.  A  power,  therefore,  propor- 
tioned to  the  difficulties  with  which  a  Christian  has 
to  struggle,  and  to  the  enemies  with  whom  he  has 
to  contend,  must  be  continually  supplied.  Ami  this 
is  granted ;  "  Whosoever  is  born  of  God  overcometh 
the  world;"  the  love  of  its  pleasures  cannot  corrupt 
him,  nor  the  fear  of  its  frowns  dismay  him  ;  he 
marches  on  in  the  strength  of  God,  and  will  not  be 
turned  out  of  the  path  of  his  duty.  But  the  influ- 
ence by  which  such  a  victory  is  maintained,  must 
be  full  of  energy  ;  and  those  who  stand  in  this  con- 
dition, must  be  "  kept  by  the  power  of  God  through 
faith  unto  salvation." 

Iliirdli/,  The  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  al- 
ways exactly  correspondent  to  the  written  word, 
and  preserved  and  increased  in  the  use  of  the  means 
of  grace.  He  makes  no  new  revelations  ;  but  gives 
success  and  efficacy  to  what  is  already  revealed. — 
He  accomplishes  no  other  change  in  the  habits, 
sentiments,  and  feelings  of  the  soul,  than  what  the 
sacred  oracles  point  out,  and  such  as  to  unprejudiced 
reason  must  appear  excellent  and  desirable.  He 
works  by  means  apt  and  suitable  in  themselves  for 
the  maintenance  and  increase  of  holiness,  though 
his  influence  is  entirely  distinct  in  itself  from  those 
means.  As  the  life  of  the  body,  though  upheld  by 
a  divine  power  from  moment  to  moment,  is  not 
maintained  miraculously,  but  in  the  use  of  food, 
rest,  and  sleep:  so  the  soul  of  the  regenerate,  thai 
walks  in  the  Spirit,  and  lives  in  the  Spirit,  "  desires 
the  sincere  milk  of  the  word,  that  he  may  grow 
thereby;"  he  prays  and  watches ;  and  by  the  use  of 
his  enlightened  sanctified  reason,  he  avoids  what 
would  endanger  his  soul,  and  chooses  that  by  which 
it  can  be  profited. 

Fourthly,  The  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  "  is 
various  in  the  degrees  of  its  communication  and 
operation."  All  who  are  the  blessed  partakers  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  not  only  differ  from  others  who 
share  the  same  privilege,  but  from  themselves  at 
different  seasons,  in  the  degree  of  benefit  they  re- 
ceive. Some  have  much  more  light  and  joy, 
strength  and  vigor,  than  others  ;  and  there  is  often 
a  quick  succession  of  peace  and  trouble,  of  tranquil- 
lity and  conflict.  But  this  variety  respecting  those 
who  are  under  the  government  of  the  same  Spirit, 
is  generallv  owing  to  the  different  degrees  of  watch- 
fulness, diligence,  and  fidelity  in  the  use  of  the  ta- 
lents already  committed  to  their  care.  The  Spirit, 
we  are  taught,  is  often  grieved,  and  in  a  degree 
quenched  by  carelessness,  neglect,  and  much  more 
by  a  fall  into  some  known  sin.  In  such  cases  the 
paternal  justice  of  God  requires  that  proper  rebukes 
should  be  given;  that  his  children,  feeling  their 
own  deadness  and  cheerless  thoughts,  may  be  more 
vigilant  for  the  time  to  come,  and  avoid  all  undu- 
tiful  deportment.  For  the  same  reason,  in  order  to 
encourage  and  reward  the  zealous  obedience  of 
those  who  more  carefully  and  faithfully  adhere  Io 
God,  studying  to  serve  him  with  their  whole  hearts: 
the  Father  and  Son  will  abundantly  manifest  their 
favor  to  them  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  come  and 
make  their  abode  with  them. 

We  have  now  explained  with  sufficient  copious- 
ness the  nature  of  the  Holy  Spirit's  influence;  it 
remains  only  that  we  should  conclude  this  subject 
with  a  remark  upon  the  impiety  of  the  opinions  but 
too  fashionable  in  the  preseDt  day,  which  vilify  his 


43 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


gracious  operation  as  the  chimera  of  a  heated  brain, 
and  the  reverie  of  enthusiasts.  To  cover  the  im- 
piety of  such  opinions,  it  is  common  to  urge  the  bold 
and  shameless  pretences  of  enthusiasts  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  to  appeal  to  our  ig- 
norance of  any  such  influence  on  our  own  minds. 
Arguments  these  as  frivolous  and  vain,  as  the  opi 
nion  they  are  urged  to  justify  is  impious  in  the  sight 
of  God.  For  what  can  possibly  be  conceived  more 
weak  than  to 'ridicule  and  explode  a  doctrine  mere- 
ly because  it  has  been  abused  to  purposes  totally  op- 
posite to  its  real  tendency's  If  there  is  any  force  in 
this  argument,  we  must  renounce  the  use  of  reason, 
no  less  than  the  belief  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  For  what  can  be  more  hurtful  to  so- 
ciety, what  more  injurious  to  the  honor  of  God  and 
the  well-being  of  man,  than  that  licentiousness  which 
many  of  the  loudest  declaimers  upon  the  excellence 
of  reason  have  recommended  in  her  name  1  If  the 
foolish  jargon  used  by  wild  visionaries,  who  falsely 
lay  claim  to  the  Spirit's  influence,  to  sanction  their 
nonsense,  cover  their  pride,  or  screen  their  villany 
or  lewdness,  will  justify  the  total  denial  of  any  ope- 
ration of  the  Spirit  on  the  hearts  of  the  faithful ; 
then  surely  we  must  also  allow  that  the  execrable 
blasphemies  uttered  against  God's  most  holy  word, 
by  those  who  pique  themselves  on  being  eminently 
rational,  would  vindicate  the  suppression  of  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  rational  faculty ;  or  at  least  would 
afford  ground  to  represent  it  as  mischievous  in  it- 
self, and  ever  to  be  suspected.  But  does  not  every 
intelligent  person  in  this  case  distinguish  the  use 
from  the  abuse  of  reason  ?  Surely,  then,  reason, 
candor,  and  the  authority  of  the  Almighty,  require 
you  to  judge  in  the  same  way  concerning  the  work 
of  the  Spirit ;  and  not  to  condemn  the  genuine  off- 
spring of  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  confounding  it  with 
the  base  counterfeit  that  may  in  some  points  slightly 
resemble  it.  And  whoever  refuses  diligently  to  ex- 
amine by  Scripture-marks  and  evidences,  before  he 
determines  what  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  it  is  plain 
that  the  corruption  of  his  heart  has  filled  him  with 
enmity  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Spirit's  influence  ;  and 
therefore,  with  criminal  rashness,  he  confounds 
things  which  are  essentially  different ;  the  spirit  of 
delusion  with  the  Spirit  of  truth. 

The  other  argument  urged  by  many  with  an  air 
of  confidence  against  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  on  the  heart,  is  as  frivolous  ;  namely,  "their 
ignorance  of  any  such  operation  upon  their  own 
minds."  "  We  experience,"  exclaim  the  careless 
and  the  proud,  the  gay  and  the.  voluptuous,  "no- 
thing of  this  kind ;  therefore  argue  as  you  please 
concerning  it,  we  cannot  believe  it  to  be  any  thing 
more  than  the  creature  of  imagination."  But  what 
palpable  absurdity  is  this  1  In  every  other  instance 
you  would  condemn  it  as  weak  reasoning.  Were 
a  man  to  tell  you  that  he  would  never  believe  that 
there  is  in  another  any  excellency  superior  to  what 
he  himself  possesses,  because  he  does  not  experience 
it,  would  you  not  think  his  stupidity  too  great  to  de- 
serve an  answer  1 — We  do  not  esteem  brutes  capa- 
ble cf  judging  of  the  properties  of  man  ;  nor  one 
man,  in  some  instances,  more  capable  of  judging  of 
the  perfections  of  another.  Such  as  have  exercised 
themselves  with  success  in  philosophical  studies  are 
conscious  of  pleasures  in  them,  to  which  others  are 
abso  ute  strangers.  Now,  should  a  clown,  in  the 
grossness  of  nis  ignorance  and  the  narrowness  of 
his  understanding,  scoff  at  the  mention  of  such 
pleasures,  and  be  confident  there  was  no  reality  in 
them,  surely  it  would  be  accounted  a  piece  of  folly 
too  gross  to  need  a  formal  confutation.  But  the 
difference  between  the  spiritual  man,  and  the  man 
who  apprehends  no  more  than  what  his  own  reason 
can  teach  him,  is  much  greater  than  what  subsists 
between  the  most  illiterate  peasant,  and  the  most 


renowned  philosopher.  The  difference  between 
those  that  are  born  after  the  Spirit,  and  those  that 
are  born  only  after  the  flesh,  is  described  in  Scrip- 
ture by  these  strong  terms  ;  "  a  passing  from  a  state 
of  death  to  life ;  out  of  darkness  into  marvellous 
light;"  it  implies  the  exercise  of  the  faculties  and 
affections  of  the  mind  with  esteem,  frequency,  and 
delight,  on  what  before  was  neglected,  despised, 
abhorred.  For  men  therefore  to  say,  We  will  not 
admit  there  is  now  any  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
on  the  soul,  because  we  feel  not  his  influence  on  our 
own,  is  to  make  their  knowledge  the  measure  of  ali 
reality,  the  folly  and  fallacy  of  which  is  obvious.— 
They  may  know  indeed  how  the  case  is  with  them- 
selves ;  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  the  work  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  on  their  hearts ;  no  enlightening  of 
their  understanding  ;  no  change  in  their  own  affec- 
tions, no  desire  of  nearer  and  still  nearer  approach 
to  God,  no  thirsting  after  his  presence,  no  heavenly 
joy  and  consolation  in  Christ  Jesus.  This  all  men, 
who  are  destitute  of  repentance  and  faith  in  Jesus, 
may  with  the  greatest  truth  affirm  of  themselves, 
for  the  Scripture  declares  it  of  them.  But  positively 
and  confidently  to  assert  that  this  must  be  the  case 
with  all  others  likewise,  is  to  reject  the  essential 
difference  on  earth  between  the  heirs  of  salvation 
and  the  children  of  the  wicked  one.  It  is  impu- 
dently to  deny  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  life 
maintained  by  him  ;  though  in  Scripture  there  is  a 
clear,  full,  and  distinct  account  of  this  work,  and  of 
the  life  produced  in  the  soul  by  him,  of  its  nature 
and  operations,  its  pains  and  enjoyments,  its  de- 
clensions and  improvements.  To  deny  therefore 
the  reality  of  these  things,  is  to  lie  against  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  to  prove  manifestly  you  have  no  share 
in  him.  It  is  to  lie  against  him  ;  because  if  there 
is  no  work  and  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  then 
the  Scriptures  which  holy  men  of  old  wrote  through 
his  inspiration,  and  which  gave  a  particular  account 
of  his  continual  presence  and  influence  with  the 
church,  are  no  better  than  a  fabulous  tale.  And  it 
proves  that  you  have  no  share  in  him,  since  you 
could  not  speak  with  malicious  words  against  that 
divine  Agent  who  impresses  the  truth  of  God  on  the 
heart,  unless  you  were  yourself,  alas !  "  earthly, 
sensual,  having  not  the  Spirit." 

SUNDAY  XVIII.— CHAP.  XVIII. 

ON  THE  NATURE  OF  TRUE  REPENTANCE. 

It  is  a  truth  fully  revealed  in  Scripture,  that  with- 
out repentance  no  one  can  enter  into  life.  But  too 
often  it  happens  that  those  who  are  convinced  of 
this,  deceive  themselves  by  calling  something  by 
the  name  of  repentance,  which  bears  only  a  super- 
ficial, worthless  resemblance  of  it ;  and  then  flatter 
themselves  with  the  vain  imagination  that  this  base 
counterfeit  shall  be  entitled  to  the  blessings  promised 
to  the  divine  original. 

To  compare  therefore,  and  distinguish  the  true 
repentance  from  the  false  ;  to  show  why  every  one, 
ere  he  can  be  saved,  must  experience  the  change  it 
implies,  and  to  discover  the  way  to  attain  it,  is  a 
point  of  great  importance.  It  will  tend,  through  the 
blessing  of  God,  to  discover  prevailing  errors  which 
lie  at  the  root  of  all  careless  and  profane  living,  and 
to  awaken  every  reader  to  self-examination  on  this 
important  point. 

First,  then,  let  it  be  observed,  that  false  repent- 
ance flows  only  from  a  sense  of  danger,  and  a  fear 
of  impending  wrath. 

When  the  conscience  of  a  sinner  is  alarmed  with 
a  sense  of  his  dreadful  guilt  and  danger,  it  must  of 
necessity  loudly  remonstrate  against  those  sins  which 
threaten  him  with  eternal  destruction  :  hence  those 
frights  and   terrors  which  are   frequently  found 


COMPLETE    DUTY  OF    MAN. 


49 


amongst  men  under  apprehensions  of  death.  At 
such  times  their  sins,  some  grosser  enormities  espe- 
cially, convince  them  to  their  face,  and  all  their 
aggravations  are  remembered  with  bitterness ;  con- 
science draws  up  the  indictment,  and  importunately 
urges  the  charge  against  them:  the  law  passes  Ihe 
sentence,  and  cotidemns  them  without  mercy.  And 
what  have  they  now  in  prospect  but  a  fearful  look- 
ing for  of  fiery  indignation  to  consume  them "?  Now 
with  distress  they  cry  out  and  howl  upon  their  beds 
for  the  greatness  of  their  sin  !  With  amazement 
they  expect  the  dreadful  issue  of  their  sinful  prac- 
tice. How  ready  are  they  now  to  make  resolutions 
of  beginning  a  humble,  watchful,  holy  life  !  In  this 
their  terror,  conscience,  like  a  flaming  sword,  re- 
strains them  from  their  former  course  of  impiety 
and  sensuality. 

But  what  is  this  repentance  more  than  the  fear 
of  the  worm  that  never  dielh,  and  of  the  fire  that 
never  shall  be  quenched  1  Let  but  conscience  be 
pacified,  and  the  tempest  of  the  troubled  mind  allay- 
ed, and  this  false  penitent  will  return  with  the  dog 
to  his  vomit  again,  till  some  new  alarm  revive  his 
convictions  of  sin  and  danger,  and  with  them  the 
same  process  of  repentance.  Thus  too  many  will 
sin  and  repent,  and  repent  and  sin  all  their  lives. 

In  some  instances,  indeed,  distress  of  conscience 
makes  a  deeper  impression,  and  fixes  such  an  abid- 
ing dread  of  particular  gross  sins,  that  there  ap- 
pears a  visible  reformation.  Yet  in  this  case  the 
sinner's  lust  may  only  be  dammed  up  by  his  fears  ; 
and,  were  the  dam  broken  down,  they  would  imme- 
diately run  again  in  their  former  channel  with  re- 
newed force.  It  is  irue,  this  terror  is  often  a  pre- 
parative to  true  repentance;  but  if  it  proceeds  no 
further,  it  is  still  a  fallacious  sign  of  safety. 

Here  however  it  is  necessary  to  observe,  that 
though  there  may  be  much  terror  and  external  re- 
formation without  true  repentance,  yet  it  is  some- 
what to  be  thus  far  affected.  The  greater  part  of 
true  penitents  have  been  at  first  under  similar  dis- 
tress, and  perhaps  begun  out  of  mere  selfishness  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  Instead  therefore  of 
construing  what  is  said  against  false  repentance,  as 
if  all  was  lost  because  your  repentance  is  not  yet  of 
the  right  kind ;  let  it  work  more  reasonably,  and 
excite  you  to  prayer,  that  those  terrors  and  checks 
which  are  in  themselves  no  certain  proofs  of  the 
sincerity  of  your  repentance,  may  be  perfected  and 
issue  in  what  undoubtedly  are  such  proofs. 

False  repentance  then  flows  merely  from  a  sense 
of  danger,  and  a  fear  of  impending  wrath.  The 
character  of  true  repentance  is  quite  opposite.  Here 
sin  itself  becomes  the  greatest  burden  and  object  of 
aversion  ;  sorrow  springs  from  an  affecting  hum- 
bling sense  of  the  dishonor  and  injury  the  penitent 
feels  he  has  done  unto  God  ;  not  only  from  a  selfish 
concern  for  his  own  safety,  but  from  a  regard  to 
God,  to  which  he  was  before  a  stranger;  from  a 
conviction  that  his  whole  deportment  and  the  ruling 
tempers  of  his  heart  have  been  evil  and  desperately 
wicked.  The  language  of  a  true  Scripture  penitent 
is  such  as  this  :  "  I  acknowledge  my  transgression, 
and  my  sin  is  ever  before  me  ;  mine  iniquities  are 
gone  over  my  head  as  an  heavy  burden;  they  are 
too  heavy  for  me.  Deliver  me  from  all  my  trans- 
gressions, let  not  my  sins  have  dominion  over  me. 
Innumerable  evils  have  compassed  me  about,  mine 
iniquities  have  taken  hold  upon  me,  so  that  I  am 
not  able  to  look  up :  they  are  more  than  the  hairs 
of  mine  head,  therefore  my  heart  faileth  me.  Be 
pleased,  O  Lord,  to  deliver  me.  O  Lord,  make 
haste  to  help  me."  The  true  penitent  mourns  on 
account  of  all  his  lusts,  and  hates  them  all ;  he  is 
not  willing  that  any  should  be  spared,  though  they 
were  dear  as  a  right  hand,  or  a  right  eye. 

How  great  and  apparent  the  difference  between 
38* 


being  struck  with  fear,  restrained  by  terrors,  or 
driven  from  a  course  of  sinning  by  the  lashes  of  an 
awakened  conscience. — Between  this,  I  say,  and 
loathing  ourselves  in  our  own  sight  for  all  our  ini- 
quities, vehemently  desiring  grace  and  strength  to 
conquer  and  mortify  corruption,  and  to  be  delivered 
from  the  tyrannous  rule  of  sin  !  The  former  is 
merely  the  sordid  fruir  of  self-love,  which  compels 
the  soul  to  flee  from  danger  ;  the  latter,  the  exercise 
of  a  vital  principle,  which  separates  the  soul  from 
sin,  and  engages  the  whole  man  in  a  persevering 
opposition  against  it. 

Secondly,  False  repentance  dishonors  God,  by  re- 
fusing, under  all  its  distracting  fears,  to  trust  to  his 
mercy.  It  is  full  of  unbelief,  though  the  gospel  has 
provided  a  glorious  relief  for  every  guilty,  ruined 
sinner,  and  opened  a  blessed  door  of  hope  even  for 
those  whose  sins  are  red  as  scarlet ;  though  pardon 
and  salvation  are  freely  offered  to  every  one  that  is 
weary  and  heavy  laden  with  the  guilt  and  defile- 
ment of  sin  ;  though  the  blood  of  Christ  is  sufficient 
to  cleanse  from  all  sins,  however  circumstanced, 
however  aggravated  they  may  be:  the  false  peni- 
tent, alas  !  sees  no  safety  in  this  refuge.  The  law 
of  God  challenges  his  obedience,  and  condemns  his 
disobedience  ;  conscience  concurs  both  with  the  pre- 
cept and  sentence  of  the  law.  To  pacify  conscience, 
to  satisfy  God's  justice,  and  to  lay  a  foundation  of 
future  hope,  he  has  recourse  to  resolutions,  to  pro- 
mises, to  attempts  of  new  and  better  obedience,  to 
penances,  and  to  variety  of  self-righteous  schemes. 
The  defect  of  his  endeavors  and  attainments  creates 
new  terrors  ;  these  terrors  excite  new  endeavors ; 
and  thus  the  false  penitent  goes  on,  notwithstanding 
the  greatness  of  his  sorrow  and  the  pain  of  his  con- 
viction, seeking  righteousness  by  his  own  works, 
and  afraid  to  trust  in  the  mercy  of  God  through  the 
blood  of  his  Son.  He  may,  it  is  true,  have  some 
sort  of  feeble  regard  to  Christ,  so  as  to  use  his  name 
in  his  prayers  for  pardon,  though  he  dare  not  de- 
pend upon  the  merits  of  his  blood,  and  upon  the  love 
of  God  manifested  in  him,  for  the  remission  of  his 
sins.  Yet  even  this  regard  itself  is  built  upon  the 
secret  hope  that  his  reformation  and  performances 
will  come  in  aid  to  purchase  the  favor  of  God,  which 
he  cannot  confide  in  as  freely  promised,  for  Christ's 
sake,  to  every  humbled  sinner.  It  is  in  effect  a  dis- 
paragement of  the  Redeemer,  as  if  he  knew  not 
how  to  have  compassion  on  him  till  he  has  recom- 
mended by  some  attainments  in  holiness. 

Now  take  a  view  of  true  repentance,  and  you  will 
find  the  character  of  it  to  be  directly  opposite  to  that 
mentioned  above.  The  true  penitent  approaches 
God  with  a  deep  impression  of  his  guilt,  and  of  his 
just  desert  of  eternal  rejection:  but  then  he  comes 
before  a  mercy-seat,  though  he  acknowledges  that 
if  God  should  mark  iniquity,  he  could  not  stand  be- 
fore him;  he  remembers,  "  that  with  God  therein 
forgiveness  that  he  may  be  feared  ;"  and  that, "  with 
him  there  is  plenteous  redemption." — He  looks  to 
the  blood  of  Christ  as  alone  efficacious  to  cleanse 
his  soul,  and  take  away  the  curse  due  to  his  nume- 
rous and  aggravated  sins ;  and  from  this,  he  takes 
encouragement  to  mourn  before  God,  expressing 
himself  in  the  Psalmist's  language:  "Wash  me 
thoroughly  from  my  wickedness,  and  cleanse  me 
from  my  sin  ;  purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be 
clean,  wash  me.  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow." 
This  is  the  prayer  which  both  encourages  his  cries 
for  mercy,  and  embitters  to  him  all  his  sins;  that  it 
is  which  makes  him  loathe  them  all,  and  long  for 
deliverance  from  them. 

"  Is  God  infinitely  merciful  and  ready  to  forgive," 
saith  the  true  penitent,  "and  have  I  been  so  basely 
ungrateful  as  to  sin  against  such  astonishing  good- 
ness, to  affront  and  abuse  such  mercy  and  love  1 — 
Is  sin  so  hateful  to  God  that  he  punished  it  in  the 


50 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


person  of  his  dear  Son,  when  he  made  him  an 
atonement  for  sin  1  How  vile  and  abominable  then 
must  I  appear  in  the  eyes  of  his  holiness  and  justice, 
who  am  nothing  but  defilement  and  guilt?  Has  the 
blessed  Saviour  suffered  the  Father's  wrath  for  my 
sins'?  Have  they  nailed  Mm  to  the  cross,  and  doom- 
ed him  to  the  agonies  of  an  accursed  death  ;  and 
shall  I  yet  be  reconciled  to  my  lusts  1  Have  I  dis- 
honored God  so  much  already,  loaded  his  dear  Son 
with  so  many  horrible  indignities,  and  brought  such 
a  weight  of  guilt  upon  myself!  and  is  it  not  now 
nigh  time  to  divorce  my  most  beloved  lusts,  those 
great  enemies  to  God  and  my  own  soull" 

Here  you  must  perceive  the  great  difference  and 
even  contrariety,  between  a  guilty  fleeing  from 
God,  like  that  of  Adam  after  his  fall;  and  an  hum- 
bling, self-condemning  approach  to  God's  pardon- 
ing  mercy,  like  the  prodigal's,  when  returned  to  his 
much  injured  father; — between  slavish  and  proud 
endeavors  to  atone  for  your  sins,  and  make  your 
peace  with  God  by  your  own  righteousness:  and 
repairing  only  to  the  blood  of  Christ  to  cleanse  you 
from  all  sin  ; — between  mourning  for  your  guilt  and 
danger,  and  mourning  for  your  sins  as  the  basest 
injury  to  God  and  Christ,  to  mercy  and  love  mani- 
.'estedin  the  most  endearing  manner;  in  a  word, 
oetween  attempting  a  new  life  by  the  strength  of 
V'our  own  resolutions  and  endeavors,  and  looking 
jnly  to  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for 
grace  and  strength,  as  well  as  for  pardon  and  free- 
dom from  condemnation. 

Thirdly,  In  false  repentance  there  still  remains 
an  aversion  to  God  and  his  holy  law;  but  in  true 
repentance  there  is  a  love  for  both.  The  distress 
and  terror  which  awakened  sinners  feel,  arise  from 
dreadful  apprehensions  of  God  and  his  justice;  they 
know  that  they  have  greatly  provoked  him — they 
are  afraid  of  his  wrath,  and  therefore  want  some 
covert:  they  might  before,  perhaps,  have  had  some 
pleasing  apprehensions  of  God,  while  they  consi- 
dered him  as  altogether  mercy,  and  so  long  as  they 
could  hope  for  pardon,  and  yet  live  in  their  sins; 
but  now  they  have  some  idea  of  his  holiness  and 
iustice,  he  appears  an  infinite  enemy.  They  are 
consulting  therefore  some  way  to  be  at  peace  with 
him,  because  they  are  afraid  the  controversy  will 
issue  in  their  destruction.  Upon  this  account  they 
resolve  on  new  obedience,  from  the  same  motives 
that  influence  slaves  to  obey  their  severe  tyrannical 
masters,  though  the  rule  of  their  obedience  is  di- 
rectly contrary  to  the  inclinations  of  their  minds. 
"Were  the  penalty  of  the  law  taken  away,  their 
aversion  to  it  would  quickly  appear.  They  would 
soon  again  embrace  their  beloved  lusts  with  the 
same  pleasure  and  delight  as  formerly.  Is  not  the 
truth  of  this  assertion  frequently,  alas!  exemplified 
in  those  who  wear  offtheir  convictions  and  reform- 
ations together,  and,  notwithstanding  their  appear- 
ances of  religion,  discover  the  alienation  of  their 
hearts  from  God  and  his  law,  and  show  themselves 
(as  the  apostle  expresses  it )  "  enemies  in  their 
minds  by  their  wicked  works." 

The  true  penitent,  on  the  contrary,  sees  an  ad- 
mirable beauty  and  excellency  in  a  life  of  holiness, 
and  therefore  strives  for  higher  attainments  in  it. — 
He  is  sensible  how  much  he  has  transgressed  the 
law  of  God,  and  how  very  far  he  is  departed  from 
the  purity  and  holiness  of  the  divine  nature:  this  is 
the  burden  of  his  soul ;  hence  it  is  that  he  walks  in 
heaviness :  he  mourns,  not  because  the  law  is  so 
strict,  or  the  penalty  so  severe,  for  he  esteems  the 
law  to  be  holy,  and  "  the  commandment  holy,  just, 
and  good;"  but  he  mourns,  that  though  the  "law 
is  spiritual,  he  is  carnal,  sold  under  sin  ;"  he  mourns 
that  his  nature  is  so  contrary  to  God,  that  his  prac- 
tice has  been  so  opposite  to  his  will,  and  that  he 
makes  no  better  progress  in  mortifying  the  deeds  of 


the  flesh,  and  in  regulating  his  affections  by  the 
word  of  God.  The  true  penitent  is  breathing  with 
the  same  earnestness  after  sanctification,  as  after 
deliverance  from  the  wrath  revealed  from  heaven 
against  all  unrighteousness;  he  does  not  want  to 
have  the  law  bend  to  his  corruptions,  but  to  have  his 
heart  and  life  fully  subjected  to  the  law  of  God: 
there  is  nothing  he  so  much  desires,  besides  an  in- 
terest in  Christ  and  the  favor  of  God,  as  a  freedom 
from  sin,  a  proficiency  in  faith  and  holiness,  a  life 
of  communion  and  fellowship  with  God.  "  What 
a  corrupted  evil  heart  (he  says)  have  I — so  estrang- 
ed from  the  holy  nature  of  God  and  his  righteous 
law!  what  a  most  guilty  wretch  have  I  been,  who 
have  walked  so  contrary  to  the  glorious  God,  who 
have  trampled  upon  his  excellent  perfections,  and 
have  made  sc  near  an  approach  to  the  practice  and. 
spirit  of  a  devil!  Create  a  clean  heart,  O  God, 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me ;  purify  this 
sink  of  pollution,  and  sanctify  these  depraved  affec- 
tions of  my  soul.  O  that  my  ways  were  made  so 
direct,  that  I  might  keep  thy  statutes !  O  let  me  not 
wander  from  thy  commandments,  but  deal  bounti- 
fully with  thy  servant,  that  I  may  live  and  keep  thy 
word." 

Such  as  these  are  the  desires  of  every  true  peni- 
tent :  and  from  hence  you  may  plainly  discover  the 
great  difference  between  him  and  a  false  one.  The 
one  looks  upon  God  wnh  dread,  terror,  and  aver- 
sion; the  other  mourns  hfc  distance  from  him,  and 
earnestly  desires  to  be  transformed  into  his  like- 
ness; the  one  still  loves  his  sins  in  his  heart,  though 
he  mourns  there  is  a  law  to  punish  them;  the  other 
hates  all  his  sins  without  reserve,  and  is  weary  un- 
der the  burden  of  them,  because  they  are  contrary 
to  God  and  his  holy  law :  the  obedience  of  the  one 
is  by  mere  constraint ;  the  imperfections  of  the  other 
are  matter  of  continual  humiliation,  that  makes 
him  aspire  after  great,  degrees  of  grace  snd  holi- 
ness; the  one  can  find  no  inward  and  abiding  com- 
placency in  the  service  of  God  ;  the  other  accounts 
it  his  hpppiness,  and  thinks  no  joy  equal  to  that  of 
pure  obedience. 


SUNDAY  XIX.— CHAP.  XIX. 

THE  NATURE  OF  TRUE  REPENTANCE  FURTHER 
EXPLAINED. 

True  repentance  being  the  foundation  of  all  Chris- 
tian piety,  it  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  that 
we  should  be  thoroughly  instructed  in  its  nature. — 
We  have  endeavored  therefore  to  make  you  fully 
acquainted  with  it  by  contrasting  it  to  that  false  re- 
pentance which  is  principally  liable  to  be  confound- 
ed with  it.  False  repentance,  we  have  observed, 
is  excited  only  by  terror:  true,  is  the  effect  of  a  just 
sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  and  a  love  to  the  blessed 
God.  False  repentance  is  full  of  unbelief:  true,  is 
animated  with  confidence  by  a  Saviour's  promises, 
and  inspired  with  gratitude  to  him.  False  repent- 
ance is  consistent  with  an  aversion  to  God  and  his 
law,  while  the  true  sees  an  infinite  beauty  in  holi- 
ness, and  loves  the  commandments  of  God.  Thus 
in  their  origin  and  nature  they  differ  essentially 
from  each  other,  nor  shall  we  perceive  a  difference 
less  striking  if  we  attend  to  the  progress  and  effects 
of  each. 

1.  False  repentance  wears  off  with  the  alarming 
convictions  which  gave  occasion  to  it ;  but  true  re- 
pentance is  permanent.  We  have  many  sad  in- 
stances of  persons  who  appear  for  a  season  under 
the  greatest  remorse  for  their  sins;  yet  all  these  im- 
pressions are  soon  effaced,  and  they  return  to  the 
same  course  of  impiety  or  sensuality,  which,  they 
confess,  produced  so  much  distress  and  terror. — 
They  declare  to  the  world  that  their  good  resolu- 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN 


51 


tions  were  bat  as  a  morning  cloud,  or  us  an  early 
dew.  Besides  these,  there  are  many  of  another 
character,  who  quiet  their  consciences  and  speak 
peace  to  their  souls,  from  their  having  been  in  dis- 
tress and  terror  for  their  sins,  from  their  reforma- 
tion of  some  grosser  immoralities,  and  from  a  form- 
al course  of  duty.  They  have  repented,  they  think, 
and  therefore  conclude  themselves  at  peace  with 
God,  and  seem  to  have  no  great  care  and  concern 
cither  about  their  former  impieties,  or  their  daily 
transgressions.  They  conclude  themselves  in  a 
converted  state,  and  are  therefore  lukewarm  anil 
secure.  Many  of  these  may  think,  and  perhaps 
speak  loudly  of  a  spiritual  life,  and  be  even  elated 
with  joyful  apprehensions  of  their  safe  state;  whilst, 
alas!  they  have  no  apprehensions  of  their  sins,  no 
mourning  after  pardon,  no  humiliation  under  re- 
maining and  manifold  corruptions,  imperfect  du- 
ties, and  renewed  provocations  against  God.  There 
are  many  also,  it  might  still  further  be  added,  who, 
while  under  the  stings  of  an  awakened  conscience, 
will  be  driven  to  maintain  a  diligent  watch  over 
their  hearts  and  lives,  to  be  afraid  of  every  sin,  to 
be  careful  to  attend  to  every  known  duty,  and  even 
to  be  serious  and  earnest  in  the  performance  of  it. 
Now  by  this  their  supposed  progress  in  religion,  they 
gradually  escape  from  the  terrors  of  the  law,  and 
then  their  watchfulness  and  tenderness  of  con- 
science are  forgotten.  They  attend  their  duties  in 
a  careless  manner,  with  a  trifling  remiss  frame  of 
soul,  whilst  the  all-important  realities  of  an  eternal 
world  are  but  little  in  their  minds,  and  all  their  re- 
ligion is  reduced  to  a  mere  cold  formality.  They 
still  maintain  the  form,  but  are  unconcerned  about 
the  power  of  godliness.  In  some  such  manner  false 
repentance  leaves  the  soul  destitute  of  that  entire 
change  and  renovation,  without  which  no  man  shall 
see  the  Lord. 

On  the  other  hand,  true  repentance  is  a  lasting 
principle  of  humble  self-abasing  mourning  for  sin, 
»nd  abhorrence  of  all  remaining  corruption.  A 
irue  penitent  does  not  forget  his  past  sins,  and  grow 
nnconcerned  about  them  as  soon  as  he  obtains  peace 
in  his  conscience  and  a  comfortable  hope  that  he  is 
reconciled  to  God;  on  the  contrary,  the  clearer  the 
evidence  he  obtains  of  the  divine  favor,  the  more 
ioes  he  loathe,  abhor,  and  condemn  himself  for  his 
sins;  the  more  aggravated  and  enormous  do  they 
\ppear  to  him.  He  not  only  continues  to  abhor  him- 
self on  account  of  his  past  guilt  and  defilement,  but 
he  finds  daily  cause  to  renew  his  repentance  before 
God:  he  observes  so  much  deadness,  formality, and 
hypocrisy  mixing  themselves  with  his  holy  duties; 
Mich  frequent  revolts  of  a  carnal,  worldly,  unbeliev- 
ing spirit;  so  much  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  perfect 
mastery  over  the  sin  which  easily  besets  him,  that 
he  cannot  "  but  groan,  being  burdened."  Repent- 
ance, therefore,  is  his  daily  continued  exercise,  till 
mortality  is  swallowed  up  of  life;  he  will  not  cease 
Jo  repent  till  he  ceases  to  carry  about  with  him  so 
many  imperfections  and  failings:  and  that  will  not 
be  till  he  departs  from  this  fallen  world.  "  Have  I 
hope  (says  he)  that  God  has  pardoned  my  sins? — 
What  an  instance  of  mercy  is  this !  How  adorable 
is  that  marvellous  grace  which  has  plucked  such  a 
brand  out  of  the  fire  !  And  am  I  still  so  cold,  so 
formal,  and  lifeless,  doing:  so  little  for  him  who  has 
done  so  much  for  me!  Ah,  vile  sinful  heart!  Ah, 
base  ingratitude,  to  such  amazing  goodness !  O  that 
I  could  obtain  more  victory  over  my  corruptions; 
that  I  could  render  more  thankfulness  for  such  mer- 
cies as  I  have  received;  and  possess  a  frame  of 
mind  more  spiritual  and  heavenly!  How  long 
have  I  been  mourning  over  my  infirmities,  and 
must  I  yet  have  cause  to  mourn  over  the  same  de- 
fects? How  often  designing,  and  pursuing  a  closer 
ronimunion  with  God  :  but  what  a  poor  progress  do 


I  yet  make,  save  in  desires  and  endeavors!  How 
would  the  iniquities  of  my  best  duties  separate  be- 
twixt God  ami  my  soul  for  ever,  had  I  not  the  Re- 
deemer's merits  to  plead  !  What,  need  have  I  every 
day  to  have  this  polluted  soul  washed  in  the  blood 
of  Christ,  and  to  repair  to  the  glorious  Advocate 
with  the  Father,  for  the  benefit  of  his  intercession? 
Not  a  step  can  1  take  in  my  spiritual  progress,  with- 
out fresh  supplies  from  the  fountain  of  grace  and 
strength  !  and  yet  how  often  am  I  provoking  him  to 
withdraw  his  influences,  in  whom  is  all  my  hope 
and  confidence  !  O  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who 
shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death!" 

Thus,  the  true  penitent,  in  his  highest  attainments 
of  holiness,  comfort,  and  joy,  wil'l  find  cause  to  be 
deeply  humbled  before  God,  and  to  make  earnest 
application  for  fres.h  pardon  and  new  supplies  of 
strengthening  and  quickening  grace.  The  differ- 
ence therefore  betwixt  these  two  sorts  of  penitents 
is  very  apparent ;  it  is  as  great  as  that  between  the 
running  of  water  in  the  paths  after  a  violent  show- 
er, and  the  streams  which  flow  from  a  living  foun- 
tain. A  false  repentance  has  grief  of  mind  and 
humiliation  only  for  great  and  glaring  offences;  or, 
till  it  supposes  pardon  for  them  obtained.  True 
repentance  is  a  continued  war  against  all  the  defile- 
ments of  sin,  till  death  sounds  the  retreat. 

Again ;  False  repentance  does  at  most  produce 
only  a  partial  reformation,  but  true  repentance  i*  a 
total  change  of  heart,  and  universal  turning  from 
sin  to  God.  As  some  particular  or  more  gross  ini- 
quity generally  excites  that  distress  and  terror  which 
is  the  life  of  false  repentance,  so  a  reformation  with 
respect  to  those  sins,  too  frequently  wears  off  the 
impression,  and  gives  rest  to  the  troubled  conscience 
without  any  further  change.  Or  at  best,  there  will 
be  some  darling  lust  retained,  some  right  hand  or 
right  eye  spared.  If  the  false  penitentis  afraid  of 
sins  of  commission,  he  will  still  live  in  the  omis- 
sion or  careless  performance  of  known  duty,  and 
feel  no  guilt.  Or  if  he  is  very  zealous  for  the  duties 
respecting  the  immediate  worship  of  God,  he  will 
live  in  strife,  injustice,  and  uncharitableness  towards 
men.  If  he  shows  some  activity  in  contending 
earnestly  for  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  he  will  still 
have  his  heart  and  affections  glued  to  the  world, 
and  pursue  it  as  the  object  of  his  chief  desire  and 
delight.  If  he  should  make  conscience  of  opposing 
all  open  actual  sins,  yet  he  little  regards  the  sins  of 
his  heart ;  silent  envy,  secret  pride,  self-preference, 
unbelief,  or  some  such  heart-defiling  sins.  To  finish 
his  character;  whatever  progress  he  may  seem  to 
make  in  religion,  his  heart  is  still  estranged  from 
the  power  of  godliness,  and,  like  the  Laodiceans, 
he  is  neither  hot  nor  cold. 

If  we  proceed  to  take  a  view  oC  the  character  of 
a  true  penitent,  it  is  directly  contrary  to  this.  He 
finds  indeed  (as  has  been  observed)  continual  occa- 
sion to  lament  the  great  imperfections  of  his  heart 
and  life,  and  accordingly  seeks  renewed  pardon  in 
the  blood  of  Christ.  But  though  he  has  not  already 
attained,  neither  is  already  perfect,  yet  he  is  press- 
ing towards  perfection.  He  is  watching  and  striv- 
ing against  all  his  corruptions,  and  laboring  after 
further  conformity  to  God  in  all  holy  conversation 
and  godliness.  He  does  not  renounce  one  lust  and 
retain  another;  or  satisfy  himself  with  devotional 
duties,  whilst  he  undervalues  scrupulous  honesty 
and  unfeigned  benevolence;  he  cannot  rest  till  t his 
is  his  rejoicing,  even  the  "testimony  of  his  con- 
science, that  in  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity,  not 
with  fleshly  wisdom  but'  by  the  grace  of  God,  he 
has  his  conversation  in  the  world."  All  the  work- 
ings of  his  mind,  as  well  as  his  external  conduct, 
fall  under  his  cognizance  and  inspection,  and  his 
daily  exercise  and  desire  are  to  approve  himself 
unto  him  who  knows  his  thoughts  afar  oil.     His 


52 


COMPLETE   DUTY  OF    MAN. 


reformation  extends  not  only  to  the  devotion  of  the 
church,  but  to  that  of  his  family  and  closet ;  not 
only  to  his  conversation,  but  to  his  tempers  and  af- 
fections, and  to  the  duties  of  every  relation  he  sus- 
tains among  men.  His  repentance  brings  forth  its 
meet  fruits,  heavenly-mindedness,  humility,  meek- 
ness, chariiy,  patience,  forgiveness  of  injuries,  self- 
denial:  and  is  accompanied  with  all  other  graces 
of  the  blessed  Spirit. 

"  It  is  the  desire  of  my  soul  (saith  the  true  peni- 
tent) to  refrain  my  feet  from  every  evil  way,  and 
walk  within  my  house  with  a  perfect  heart.  I 
know  I  have  to  do  with  a  God  that  trieth  the  heart, 
and  hath  pleasure  in  uprightness,  I  would  therefore 
set  the  Lord  always  before  me.  I  know  that  my 
heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately 
wicked,  for  which  I  am  humbled  in  mine  own  eyes; 
but  yet  my  desire  is  before  the  Lord,  and  my  groan- 
ing is  not  hid  from  him.  I  can  truly  say,  that  I 
hate  vain  thoughts,  but  God's  law  do  I  love.  O  that 
God  would  give  me  understanding,  that  I  may  keep 
his  law,  and  observe  it  with  my  whole  heart.  I 
would  serve  God  without  any  reserve,  for  I  esteem 
his  precepts  concerning  all  things  to  be  right,  and  I 
have  inclined  my  heart  to  keep  his  statutes  always 
even  unto  the  end." 

Once  more,  False  repentance  basely  yields  to  the 
fear  of  man  ;  whilst  true  repentance  is  full  of  bold- 
ness and  coinage  for  God.  Thousands,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  calls  and  warnings  they  have  received, 
begin  seemingly  to  repent;  but,  loving  the  praise  of 
men,  and  not  being  able  to  endure  the  contempt  and 
ridicule  of  the  hypocritical  and  profane  for  their 
attachment  to  God,  turn  aside  from  the  holy  com- 
mandment. Their  own  family,  the  persons  with 
whom  they  are  connected  or  on  whom  thev  depend, 
must  at  all  hazards  be  respected  and  pleased.  No 
sinful  ways  therefore  must  be  condemned  with  ab- 
horrence, that  may  risk  the  favor  of  those  who  can 
do  them  so  much  service  or  injury  in  the  world. 

The  true  penitent,  on  the  contrary,  will  carefully 
avoid  every  temptation  to  past  offences,  and  every 
occasion  that  might  endanger  a  relapse.  He  will 
not  dissemble ;  he  will  not  conform  so  far  to  the 
world  as  to  be  found  where  temptation  appears  in 
its  most  inviting  forms;  and  where  the  studied 
end  of  the  assembly  or  amusement  is  such  as  di- 
verts the  thoughts  from  God  and  eternity.  In  like 
manner,  for  conscience  sake,  he  will  forego  tem- 
poral advantages,  and  break  through  the  ties  even 
of  sweetest  friendship  and  of  nearest  kindred,  rather 
Uian  be  drawn  back  by  either,  into  his  former 
neglect  and  contempt  of  duty.  He  will  walk  cir- 
cumspectly with  a  godly  jealousy  over  all  things 
and  persons  connected  with  him, "lest  any  of  them 
should  prove  a  snare  or  a  hinderance  to  him  in  the 
way  to  eternal  life,  now  opened  before  his  eyes.  It 
is  his  steadfast  purpose,  lose  or  suffer  what  he  may, 
to  wage  eternal  war  with  the  prevailing  errors  and 
favorite  sins  that  abound  in  the  world,  and  to  say  to 
all  the  insinuating  advocates  for  them,  "  Depart 
from  me,  ye  wicked,  I  will  keep  the  commandments 
of  my  God." 

In  short,  in  these  important  particulars  lie  the 
difference  between  false  and  true  repentance.  The 
former  is  only  an  external  reformation,  destitute  of 
all  the  graces  of  the  blessed  Spirit:  the  latter,  a 
change  of  the  heart,  will,  and  affections,  as  well 'as 
of  the  outward  conversation  ;  a  change  which  is 
attended  \«'itl,  all  the  fruits  and  graces  of  the  Spirit 
of  God.  False  repentance  aims  at  just  so  much  of 
religion,  as  will  keep  the  mind  easy,  and  calm  the 
awakened  conscience;  true  repentance  aims  ever 
to  walk  before  God  in  an  humble,  watchful,  believ- 
ing frame  of  soul.  The  former  will  obey  the  law 
and  command  of  God  just  as  far  as  the  world  will 
permit  without  persecution  or  reproach;   the  latter 


with  an  invincible  regard  to  the  glory  of  God,  is 
content  to  go  through  evil  report,  and  good  report, 
content  with  the  approbation  of  God,  let  men  think 
or  say  what  they  please. 


SUNDAY  XX.-CHAP.  XX. 

THE     UNIVERSAL     OBLIGATIONS     OF    REPENTANCE,    AND 
DIRECTIONS   TO    ATTAIN    IT. 

If  the  word  of  God  were  received  with  that  degree 
of  deference  which  is  so  justly  due  to  it,  there  would 
be  no  necessity  for  stating  more  than  the  simple 
declaration  of  Scripture  which  requires  all  men  to 
repent,  in  order  to  show  the  universal  obligation  of 
true  repentance.  But  alas !  it  is  too  common  to 
form  our  judgment  of  duty  from  the  general  prac- 
tice of  a  careless  world,  or  from  hasty  and  erro- 
neous conceptions  of  the  nature  of  virtue,  rather 
than  from  the  oracles  of  truth.  In  direct  contra- 
diction to  the  Scripture  declarations,  it  has  been  a 
prevailing  opinion,  that  those  alone  need  repentance 
whose  abominations  every  eye  can  see ;  whose 
lewdness  or  drunkenness,  dishonesty  or  profane- 
ness,  are  open  and  excessive.  Ignorant  of  the  na- 
tural depravity  and  apostacy  of  the  whole  human 
race  from  God,  or  proudly  prejudiced  against  this 
doctrine,  they  of  course  suppose  much  evil  must 
actually  be  practised,  before  a  total  change  of  heart 
and  life  can  become  absolutely  necessary. 

To  speak  more  particularly :  a  young  gentle- 
man, who  has  been  sober  and  dutiful  to  his  parents, 
well  esteemed  abroad,  and  commended  at  home, 
kept  by  the  influence  of  his  station  from  the  tempta- 
tion of  doing  what  is  accounted  base  before  men,  is 
apt  so  to  over-rate  his  own  sober  conduct,  as  to  sup- 
pose he  has  no  occasion  for  any  godly  sorrow  or 
trouble  of  mind  in  the  view  of  his  own  transgres- 
sions. He  is  apt  to  conclude  that  you  degrade  his 
character  by  calling  him  to  the  exercise  of  serious 
repentance. 

In  the  same  manner,  a  young  lady,  born  to  inherit 
wealth,  educated  to  be  affable  and  polite,  to  love 
peace  and  harmony,  cannot  be  guilty  of  any  thing 
the  world  calls  sinful  without  doing  violence  to  all 
the  restraints  of  modesty,  decency,  and  character. 
Of  consequence,  self-pleasing  thoughts  of  her  own 
innocency  and  goodness  hold  firm  possession  of  her 
mind.  She  cannot  believe  that  it  is  necessary  for 
a  person  of  her  good  character  to  feel  shame  and 
sorrow  for  sin,  and  a  broken  contrite  heart,  or  to 
seek  after  any  such  change  as  Scriptural  repent- 
ance means. 

But  notwithstanding  the  attempts  of  many  cele- 
brated and  learned  advocates  for  the  innocency  of 
such  amiable  characters,  the  Scripture,  which  must 
prevail  at  last,  and  be  found  the  only  true  standard 
of  what  is  excellent, — the  Scripture  has  concluded 
all  under  sin.  It  is  therefore  a  most  certain  truth, 
that  sober,  decent,  and  dutiful  as  you  may  be  in  the 
eyes  of  parents,  relations,  or  friends,  yet  if  you  are 
ignorant  of  any  divine  change,  and  a  stranger  to 
those  inward  effectual  workings  which  constitute 
Scripture  repentance,  you  are  far  from  being  in  a 
slate  of  innocency  or  safety  ;  a  charge  of  great 
guilt  remains  in  full  force  against  you;  a  charge 
which  makes  repentance  as  absolutely  needful  for 
you,  as  if  your  iniquities  were  of  a  "more  glaring 
kind.     This  charge  shall  now  be  made  good. 

Let  it  then  be  supposed,  that  you  are  a  young 
person  altogether  decent,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  lovely  in  your  whole  deportment ;  let  it  be 
supposed  that  not  a  relation  or  a  friend  sees  any 
thing  in  you  to  be  amended ;  yet  consider,  O 
much-admired  youth,  how  your  heart  is  affectec1 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


53 


towards  Him,  who  made,  preserves,  and  blesses 
you;  from  whose  bounty  you  have  received  all 
those  endowments,  the  cultivation  of  which  makes 
you  the  agreeable  person  you  are.  Do  you  fear 
and  do  you  love  him!  Do  you  make  con?cim'  e 
of  employing  your  time,  your  talents,  your  influ- 
ence, as  he  has  commanded  you  to  do  1  Are  you 
•  afraid  of  conformity  to  the  "manners  and  tempers 
of  the  world,  and  jealous  of  friendship  with  it  as 
enmity  against  God  1  Do  you  hear  his  word  with 
reverence,  and  in  the  solemn  time  of  prayer  labor 
to  check  every  impertinent  vain  thought  1  Are 
you  restrained  in  your  conversation  by  his  law,  from 
giving  into  that  fashionable  way  of  discourse,  which 
at  once  indulges  and  strengthens  pride,  sensuality, 
vi  tovetousness]  Are  you  desirous  to  live  in  sub- 
jection to  God,  and  careful  to  inform  yourself  what 
he  would  have  you  to  do  ?  Is  your  dependence 
continually  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  righteous- 
ness and  strength'? 

If  conscience  witnesses  against  you  that  you  are 
a  stranger  to  such  intentions  and  tempers  (and  thus 
it  does  witness,  unless  you  have  truly  repented,) 
then  however  admired,  however  in  reality  more  se- 
rious and  sober  than  those  of  your  early  age,  cer- 
tainly your  whole  life  has  been  sin  and  provocation, 
perpetually  repeated;  because  it  has  been  entirely 
led  under  the  power  of  a  depraved  mind.  Your 
study  and  aim  have  been  above  every  thing  to  please 
yourself  and  to  please  men,  whilst  the  holy  will  of 
God  and  his  honor  have  scarce  had  any  place  in 
your  thoughts.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  decent  re- 
gard you  have  been  paying  to  every  one  about  you, 
God  has  cause  to  complain  that  he  only  has  been 
treated  by  you  with  dissimulation  and  neglect,  if 
not  with  scorn.  But  now,  if  the  fact  really  is  so, 
that  you  have  dissembled  with  God,  neglected  and 
despised  him;  is  it  not  a  vain  plea  against  the  ne- 
cessity of  repentance,  to  say  that  you  are  innocent 
of  the  common  vices  of  youth,  and  have  an  un- 
blemished character  !  For  is  not  this  charge  of 
sinfulness  in  your  behaviour  towards  the  most  high 
God,  sufficiently  comprehensive  both  in  the  eye  of 
reason  and  Scripture  to  prove  the  necessity  of  your 
feeling  deep  humiliation  and  self-abhorrence  1 — 
Does  it  not  make  an  entire  renovation  of  mind  ab- 
solutely needful!  or  can  any  one  be  absurd  enough 
to  suppose  the  guilt  of  withholding  all  esteem,  de- 
sire, and  affection  from  God,  is  in  a  manner  can- 
celled by  an  amiable  deportment  to  brothers  or  sis- 
ters, relations  or  friends'?  If  a  sense  of  your  obli- 
gations to  God  as  your  Creator,  Redeemer,  and 
Sanctifier,  has  no  share  in  directing  your  pursuits 
and  modelling  ycur  tempers,  the  difference  with 
respect  to  God  must  be  of  very  little  account 
whether  your  reigning  self-love  be  gratified  in  a 
way  more  reputable  amongst  men,  rather  than  in 
one  which  would  expose  you  as  well  to  shame  here 
as  to  the  wrath  of  God.  In  one  case  as  well  as  the 
other  there  is  no  sense  of  God,  no  practice  of  your 
duty  towards  him,  and  therefore  unless  true  repent- 
ance takes  place,  you  still  remain  an  apostate  crea- 
ture, involved  in  all  the  capital  guilt  and  misery  of 
the  fall;  you  remain  a  creature  setting  up  your  own 
will  above  the  law  of  God,  consequently,  if  you  die 
under  the  power  of  such  a  spirit  you  must  perish 
for  ever. 

Equally  vain  and  frivolous  is  it,  (though  so  de- 
plorably frequent,)  for  men  to  confide  in  the  fidelity 
and  justice  with  which  they  trade,  or  in  the  general 
benevolence  of  their  character,  as  if  this  was  to  su- 
persede in  their  case  the  necessity  of  repentance. 
For  you  may  detest  every  species  of  dishonesty  and 
villany,  of  cruel  and  onpressive  deportment,  whilst 
pride  and  self-sufficiency  reign  undisturbed  in  your 
soul ;  whilst  every  temper  by  which  due  homage  is 
paid  to  God,  is  a  stranger  to  your  heart.    Honesty 


and  benevolence,  upon  whatever  principle  they  are 
exercised,  are  sure  to  be  applauded  by  selfish  men, 
yet  must  these  dispositions  be  the  offspring  of  an 
humble  heart,  before  they  can  find  acceptance  with 
&-d.  ''  Though  I  give  all  my  goods  to  the  poor," 
unless  this  love  of  my  neighbor  springs  from  love 
to  God,  (which  before  true  repentance  can  have  no 
plrce  in  my  h°ar!.,)  "'<  proliteth  me  noth.'.,  ._ 
will  not  be  found  a  virtue,  when  "  weighed  i&  ■;■ 
balance  of  the  sanctuary."'  So  far,  indeed,  is  tk>. 
practice  of  social  duties  from  rendering  godly  sor- 
row, humiliation  for  sin,  and  absolute  dependence 
upon  the  blood  of  Christ  unnecessary,  that  the 
haughty  profane  imagination  of  its  doing  so,  as 
much  needs  mercy  to  pardon  it,  as  the  grossest  act 
of  injustice  towards  men  ;  since  it  proves  the  whole 
head  and  heart,  which  could  give  place  to  such  a 
thought,  utterly  depraved. 

You  have  now  been  instructed  in  the  nature  of 
true  repentance,  and  the  indispensable  necessity 
there  is  that  every  fallen  creature  should  expe- 
rience that  entire  change  of  judgment,  practice, 
and  affections,  which  true  repentance  implies:  I 
would  flatter  myself,  therefore,  that  your  conscience, 
is  now  in  some  degree  awakened;  I  would  flatter 
myself  that  you  have  an  earnest  desire  to  be  in- 
formed "  what  course  you  must  take  to  be  brought 
into  a  state  of  true  repentance;"  if  this  is  your  de- 
sire, instead  of  multiplying  directions,  it  will  suffice 
to  press  you  to  observe  the  few  following. 

First,  Frequently  read  the  Scripture  with  serious- 
ness and  unfeigned  submission  to  it,  as  the  method 
prescribed  by  God  himself  for  your  recovery;  and 
let  your  thoughts  dwell  on  what  immediately  re- 
spects your  own  case,  that  is,  the  nature  and  work- 
ings of  true  repentance.  The  fifty-first  Psalm  will 
unfold  to  you  the  heart  of  the  penitent  contrite 
David  ;  and  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  the 
affecting  return  of  a  sinner  in  your  own  condition 
to  his  much  injured  father.  The  same  inward  and 
entire  change  of  heart  is  described  at  large  in  the 
fifth  chapter  of  the  Ephesians,  and  in  the  sixth  also 
to  the  17th  verse.  Upon  these  and  similar  portions 
of  Scripture  you  must  carefully  meditate.  Whilst 
thus  employed,  you  are  in  the  way  to  receive  some 
enlivening  communications,  to  find  ii;jres  after 
God  spring  up  in  your  soul;  to  feel  thj  .vorking  of 
those  very  dispositions  towards  hail,  which,  as  you 
have  learned  from  his  own  word,  denote  true  re- 
pentance. 

Secondly,  Consider  the  corruption  of  your  nature, 
and  the  many  sins  you  have  actually  committed 
Only  commune  with  your  own  heart,  and  you  will 
immediately  find  your  inclinations  strongly  bent  to 
many  things,  which  your  conscience  tells  you  ought 
not  to  be  done;  and  that  you  have  a  great  aversion 
to  other  things,  which  are  in  themselves  excellent, 
and  ought  to  be  done  by  you;  you  will  observe  a 
miserable  confusion  anil  inconsistency  in  your 
thoughts,  a  perverseness  in  your  will,  and  a  pre- 
vailing sensuality  in  your  affections. 

The  fruit  of  this  universal  depravity  you  must 
also  carefully  observe,  as  it  has  appeared  in  the 
multitude  of  your  transgressions.  Think  on  the 
several  places  you  have  lived  in,  and  what  in  each 
of  these  your  sins  have  been ;  take  an  account  of 
your  offences  against  those  with  whom  you  have 
dealt  in  a  way  of  trade,  conversed  with  intimacy 
and  friendship,  or  those  on  whom  you  shonld  have 
had  compassion  and  exercised  tl.e  most  tender  love: 
mark  those  sins  which  have  arisen  from  your  out- 
ward circumstances ;  and,  above  all,  reflect  deeply 
on  what  is,  strictly  speaking,  your  own  iniquity; 
the  sin  to  which  you  arc  most  enslaved,  whether 
passion,  envy,  unclean  desire,  pride  and  self-con- 
ceit, lying,  the  love  of  money  or  of  esteem  ;  take 
notice  in  how  many  instances  it  has  broken  out,  so 


54 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN 


as  to  leave  uneasy  impressions  on  your  mind,  and 
yet  has  been  again  and  again  repeated  :  alter  this, 
think  how  often  you  have  stifled  convictions  :  how 
often  turned  away  from  the  offers  of  grace  and  calls 
to  repentance :  think  of  your  sins  against  a  Re- 
deemer ;  reflect  how  long  you  have  willingly  lived 
in  ignorance  of  his  undertaking,  have  disregarded 
his  obedience,  though  the  righteousness  of  God, 
and  his  sacrifice,  though  that  of  the  Son  of  God: 
think  of  the  despite  you  have  done  against  the 
Holy  Spirit,  resisting  his  motions,  and  excusing 
yourself  from  a  compliance  with  his  secret  sug- 
gestions. And  then  at  the  end  of  all,  reckon  up 
the  several  aggravations  of  your  sin,  the  judgments 
and  afflictions,  the  mercies  and  deliverances,  the 
counsels  and  reproofs,  the  light  and  knowledge,  the 
vows  and  promises  against  which  you  have  sinned. 
Thirdly,  You  must  pray  to  the  God  of  all  grace, 
to  give  you  repentance  unto  life.  Naturally  you 
suppose  you  have  it  in  your  own  power  to  repent 
just  when  you  please;  at  least  you  suppose  the 
alarming  circumstances  of  sickness  and  approach- 
ing death  will  of  themselves  induce  you  to  repent. 
But  this  is  a  vain  and  proud  opinion,  which  expe- 
rience daily  proclaims  to  be  without  foundation, 
and  which  the  Bible  exposes  as  false  to  every  atten- 
tive reader,  by  calling  repentance  "  the  gift  of  God." 
For  to  produce  in  the  heart  an  abiding  sense  and 
detestation  of  our  own  vileness,  with  confidence  in 
the  pardoning  mercy  of  God  through  Christ,  with 
a  zeal  for  his  glory  expressing  itself  in  newness  of 
life,  (which  alone  is  what  the  Bible  means  by  re- 
pentance,) to  produce  a  change  of  this  nature  be- 
longeth  only  to  the  effectual  working  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit.  Self-love  and  pride,  with  all  their  force, 
withstand  the  charge  of  sinfulness :  every  natural 
inclination  of  the  soul  rises  up  in  arms,  and  op- 
poses with  ail  its  might  true  humiliation.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  impossible,  without  divine  light  and 
supernatural  teaching,  to  discover  any  such  loveli- 
ness in  a  just  and  sin  hating  God,  or  in  a  faithful 
obedience  to  his  law,  as  to  create  abhorrence  of  sin- 
ful lusts,  too  long  cherished  and  indulged  as  the 
sources  of  gratification  and  pleasure.  Therefore 
it  is  from  the  grace  of  God  alone,  the  fountain  of 
every  good  and  perfect  gift,  that  you  must  receive 
repentance  unto  life.  It  is  your  part  as  a  reason- 
able and  immortal  creature,  to  hear  the  command 
of  God  to  repent ;  and  as  a  helpless  sinner,  insuffi- 
cient to  every  good  work,  to  pray  for  his  almighty 
Spirit,  that  you  may  be  obedient  to  it.  It  is  your 
part  meekly  to  confess  your  own  inability  to  glorify 
God  by  true  repentance,  and  to  beg  of  him,  in 
whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of  all  men,  that  you 
may  be  turned  to  him,  seeing  and  bewailing  the  sin 
of  your  nature  as  well  as  of  your  practice,  of  your 
heart  as  well  as  of  your  life,  and  desiring  grace  to 
approve  yourself  to  God  in  newness  of  spirit  a  sin- 
cere penitent. 


SUNDAY  XXI.— CHAP.  XXI. 

THE    DISPOSITIONS    OF   A   CHRISTIAN   TOWARDS   GOD. 

As  God  is  altogether  lovely  in  himself,  and  in  his 
benefits  towards  us  inexpressibly  great,  so  nothing 
can  be  more  evident  than  that  he  ought  to  reign  in 
our  affections  without  a  rival.  But  to  yield  this 
most  rightful  worship  to  his  Creator,  man  is  na- 
turally averse:  and  it  is  owing  only  to  the  peculiar 
doctrines  of  the  gospel,  enforced  by  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  that  the  Christian  renounces  his 
natural  disaffection  to  his  Creator,  and  glorifies 
him  as  God. 

"  The  grace  of  God,"  saith  the  Scripture,  "  which 
bringeth  salvation,  hath  appeared  to  all  men  :"  not 
merely  enjoining  them  by  the  force  of  a  command, 


but  "  teaching  them,"  that  is,  by  the  communication 
of  divine  knowledge,  "to  deny  ungodliness  and 
worldly  lusts ;"  to  loathe  the  very  thought  of  in- 
sulting any  more  their  adorable  Benefactor  by  re- 
bellion, or  of  dishonoring  him  by  neglect.  The 
doctrines  of  grace,  like  an  affectionate  tutor,  form 
men  to  obedience  ;  and  when  clearly  manifested  to 
the  understanding  and  cordially  embraced,  they 
make  every  duty  we  owe  to  our  Creator  appear 
both  rational  and  easy.  They  give  us  a  heart,  a 
hand,  and  sufficient  ability  to  exercise  ourselves 
unto  universal  godliness. 

Having,  therefore,  already  explained  and  esta- 
blished those  doctrines  of  grace,  which  constitute 
the  divine  knowledge  peculiar  and  essential  to  a 
Christian,  I  now  proceed  to  a  particular  delineation 
of  that  most  excellent  practice  by  which  he  differs 
from  the  enslaved  multitude  of  unbelieving  sinners; 
that  practice  which  he  esteems  his  bounden  duty, 
and  by  which  he  shows  forth  the  praises  of  his 
God  and  Saviour,  who  hath  called  him  out  of  dark- 
ness into  his  marvellous  light. 

We  begin  with  those  various  dispositions  towards 
the  ever-blessed  God,  of  which  the  habitual  ex- 
ercise is  to  be  found  in  the  heart  of  every  real 
Christian. 

1.  The  first  disposition  of  this  kind  is  fear.  This 
is  one  of  those  great  springs  of  action  by  which  ra- 
tional creatures  are  influenced.  It  is  of  the  highest 
importance,  therefore,  to  have  this  affection  exer- 
cised upon  some  just  object,  so  that  the  mind  may, 
on  the  one  hand,  be  armed  against  vain  terrors, 
and,  on  the  other,  be  duly  impressed  by  those  things 
which  ought  to  be  dreaded.  In  this  excellent  man- 
ner the  affection  of  fear  is  regulated  in  the  Chris- 
tian's breast.  Temporal  evils  of  every  kind  he 
discerns  to  be  nothing  more  than  instruments  in  the 
hand  of  God,  wholly  subserving  his  pleasure,  and 
unable  to  affect  man's  most  important  interest. — 
Therefore,  he  sanctifies  the  Lord  God  in  his  heart, 
and  regards  as  his  fear  and  his  dread,  him  who  is 
too  wise  to  be  deceived,  too  just  to  be  biassed,  too 
mighty  to  be  resisted,  and  too  majestic  to  be  con- 
templated without  reverence  and  self-abasement. 
Very  different  is  his  fear  of  the  Most  High  from 
the  terror  of  a  slave,  that  uneasy  feeling,  which 
causes  the  object  of  it  to  be  considered  with  pain. 
His  is  the  fear  of  a  rational  creature  towards  its 
all-perfect  Creator,  of  a  servant  towards  a  tender 
master,  of  a  child  towards  its  wise  and  merciful 
father  ;  therefore,  in  the  same  proportion  as  he  in- 
creases in  the  knowledge  of  God,  he  increases  also 
in  the  fear  of  him.  And  so  inseparable  is  such  a 
temper  of  mind  towards  God,  where  his  attributes 
are  known,  that  the  bright  inhabitants  of  heaven 
express  themselves  as  if  they  could  not  suppose  i: 
possible  there  should  be  a  reasonable  being  void  of 
such  a  disposition ;  for  they  say,  "Great  and  mar- 
vellous are  thy  works,  Lord  God  Almighty;  just 
and  true  are  thy  ways,  O  King  of  saints!  who  shall 
not  fear  thee,  O  Lord,  and  glorify  thy  name,  for 
thou  art  holy  1" 

A  Christian  fears  the  Lord,  so  as  to  stand  in 
awe  :  he  can  neither  be  bribed  nor  intimidated  wil- 
fully to  sin  against  him.  But  as  he  is  encompassed 
with  infirmities,  snares,  and  temptations,  so  he  finds 
it  necessary  at  some  seasons,  to  the  end  of  his  life, 
to  repel  solicitations  to  evil  by  reflecting  upon  the 
severity  of  God's  vengeance  on  impenitent  sinners, 
and  meditating  upon  the  wrath  of  God  revealed 
from  heaven,  against  all  ungodliness  and  unright- 
eousness of  men.  In  this  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
safety  ;  and  the  longer  he  lives  under  its  influence, 
the  more  it  becomes  a  generous  filial  fear. 

2.  This  fear,  therefore,  does  not  hinder,  but  pro- 
mote the  exercise  of  anoiher   disposition   towards 

j  God,   which  is  most  conspicuous    in    every  real 


COMPLETE   DUTY    OF    MAN. 


56 


Christian,  namely,  a  readiness  to  obey  God  without 
reserve.  He  beholds  his  Maker's  absolute  domi- 
nion over  him  founded  in  his  very  being.  Every 
faculty  of  his  soul,  and  every  member  of  his  body, 
is  a  witness  of  his  Maker's  righteous  claim  to  his 
life  and  to  his  labors :  when  he  requires  them  to  be 
employed  in  his  service,  he  does  but  appoint  the  use 
of  what  is  his  own  absolute  property.  Ever  con- 
scious of  this,  he  resolutely  regards  the  authority 
of  God  in  a  world  which  despises  it :  he  uniformly 
persists  in  obedience  to  him;  though  his  natural 
jorrupiions,  his  worldly  interest,  and  the  prevailing 
justoms  of  the  world  should  oppose  it.  In  his  judg- 
ment, the  command  of  God  alone  constitutes  a 
practice  reasonable  and  necessary.  He  wants  no 
Aigher  authority  to  confirm  it ;  nor  can  any  ob- 
jections from  selfish  considerations  induce  him  to 
evade  its  force,  or  prevaricate  concerning  the  obli- 
gation of  the  command.  He  makes  his  prayer 
unto  the  God  of  his  life,  to  teach  him  his  statutes; 
to  set  his  heart  at  liberty  from  every  evil  bias,  that 
he  may  run  the  way  of  his  commandments.  He 
says  unto  God,  "  I  am  thine,  O,  save  me,  for  I  have 
sought  thy  commandments."  And  when,  through 
surprise,  he  has  been  drawn  aside,  shame,  sorrow, 
and  indignation  succeed  his  transgression,  and  he 
becomes  more  humble,  and  more  vigilant  also, 
against  future  temptations. 

3.  Gratitude  to  God  is  also  a  distinguishing  part 
of  the  Christian  disposition.  Where  there  is  any 
degree  of  honesty  and  generosity  of  mind,  there 
will  necessarily  be  a  desire  also  of  testifying  a  due 
sense  of  favors  received;  an  eagerness  to  embrace 
the  first  opportunity  of  convincing  our  Friend  and 
Benefactor,  that  we  feel  our  obligations.  In  the 
case  of  benefits  and  favors  conferred  by  man  upon 
man,  all  acknowledge  the  duty  of  this  grateful  re- 
turn, and  all  are  ready  to  brand  with  ignominy  the 
ingrate  who  repays  with  ill-will  or  neglect  his  libe- 
ral patron.  But,  alas!  where  the  obligation  is  the 
greatest  possible,  it  is  often  the  least  felt,  and  men 
scruple  not  to  treat  with  neglect  the  Supreme  Bene- 
factor of  the  human  race.  From  this  detestable 
crime  the  real  Christian  alone  stands  exempted. 
He  perceives  cogent  and  continual  reasons  for  gra- 
titude to  God,  and  is  impressed  by  them.  He  is 
deeply  sensible  of  the  bounty  of  his  Maker  in  all 
the  providences  relating  both  to  his  body  and  to  his 
soul.  Food  and  raiment,  health  and  strength,  he 
day  by  day  receives  as  undeserved  instances  of  the 
loving  kindness  of  his  God  ;  and  all  these  common 
blessings  keep  alive  a  glow  of  gratitude  to  God 
within  him.  But  much  more  is  he  excited  to 
thankfulness  upon  considering  the  mercies  relating 
to  his  eternal  interest.  He  freely  acknowledges 
that  God  might  have  justly  cut  him  off  whilst  he 
was  living  in  rebellion  against  his  law ;  or  have 
left  him  to  continue  under  that  dreadful  hardness 
and  blindness  of  heart,  which  so  long  had  power 
over  him.  Instead  of  this  he  can  say,  "  He  hath 
opened  my  eyes  and  changed  my  heart ;  conquered 
the  stubbornness  of  my  own  will,  and  given  me  an 
unfeigned  desire  to  be  conformed  to  his;  made  me 
a  member  of  Christ;  persuaded  me  by  his  Spirit  of 
the  truth  and  absolute  necessity  of  redemption  by 
the  Son  of  God.  I  am  able,  in  some  degree,  to 
comprehend  with  all  saints  the  length  and  breadth, 
the  height  and  depth  of  the  love  of  Christ.  I  have 
a  distinct  view  of  that  long  train  of  reproaches, 
miseries,  and  torments,  which  my  salvation  cost 
the  Lord  of  life  and  glory.  I  behold,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  fathomless  abyss  of  woe  from  which  he 
has  rescued  me ;  on  the  other,  the  eternal  glory  he 
has  promised  for  my  inheritance.  Whilst  I  medi- 
tate upon  all  these  things,  and  grow  more  and 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  their  truth,  I  feel 
jpon  my  mind  an  increasing  conviction  that  the 


Lord  hath  dealt  bountifully  with  me.  I  am  glad 
to  confess  that  no  slave  can  be  so  absolutely  the 
property  of  his  master,  as  I  am  of  God ;  nor  any 
pensioner,  though  supported  by  the  most  rich  and 
undeserved  bounty,  so  strongly  engaged  to  grati- 
tude, as  I  am  to  glorify  God  both  with  my  body 
and  with  my  soul,  which  are  his." 

That  such  is  the  continual  language  of  a  Chris- 
tian, is  evident  from  the  apostle's  declaration. — 
When  he  is  showing  the  powerful  motive  which 
influenced  him  and  all  the  followers  of  the  Lamb 
to  such  eminent  zeal  in  his  service,  he  says,  "  The 
love  of  Christ  constraineth  us:"  with  a  pleasing 
force  it  bears  down  all  opposition  before  it,  like  a 
mighty  torrent,  and  carries  forth  our  souls  in  all 
the  effusions  of  an  ingenuous  gratitude  and  thank- 
fulness towards  God. 

4.  Another  eminent  part  of  the  Christian  disposi- 
tion is  affiance  in  God.  The  sin  of  unbelief, 
though  so  often  upbraided  in  Scripture,  so  disho- 
norable to  God,  and  so  hurtful  to  ourselves,  is  still 
the  sin  which  naturally  prevails  in  all  men  :  and 
even  the  Christian  is  sometimes  assaulted  and 
greatly  perplexed  by  it.  But  though  he  must  con- 
fess that,  in  seasons  of  great  difficulty  and  danger, 
he  is  sometimes  afraid  ;  he  can  say,  with  equal  truth, 
"  Yet  will  I  put  my  trust  in  God."  He  can  and 
does  habitually  pay  to  his  Maker  that  most  accept- 
able homage  of  placing  his  supreme  confidence  in 
him.  He,  and  he  alone,  can  do  this  :  because  he  not 
only  knows  in  general  that  great  is  the  Lord,  and 
great  is  his  power,  yea  and  his  wisdom  is  infinite; 
but  he  has  positive  and  express  promises  of  grace, 
mercy,  and  peace,  made  to  him.  For  as  true  re- 
pentance, humiliation,  and  faith  in  Jesus,  have  ta- 
ken possession  of  his  heart,  and  are  habitually  ex- 
ercised by  him,  so  when  he  looks  into  the  holy  vo- 
lume, he  sees  God  always  described  as  full  of  com- 
passion, and  abundant  in  mercy  and  truth  to  ali  re- 
penting and  believing  sinners.  The  sight  of  this 
constantly  invigorates  his  hope  and  increases  his 
confidence. 

Besides  he  is  persuaded  that  God  has  given  his 
dear  Son  not  only  as  a  pledge  of  his  affection  to- 
wards sinners,  but  as  a  sin-offering  for  them.  On 
the  merit  of  this  sacrifice  he  builds  his  confidence  : 
he  fixes  his  dependence,  where  alone  it  ought  to  be, 
on  the  God  of  his  salvation.  "  God  hath  promised," 
saith  he,  "  to  bring  every  one  to  glory,  who  receives 
his  only-begotten  Son,  and  trusts  to  his  arm.  He 
hath  confirmed  this  promise  even  by  an  oath  ;  he 
hath  engaged  himself  by  a  covenant,  ratified  by  the 
blood  his  Son.  This  Son,  now  as  Mediator  and 
High-priest  of  his  church,  appears  perpetually  be- 
fore the  throne  of  glory  for  all  who  come  to  God  by 
him;  he  makes  effectual  intercession  for  the  relief 
of  their  wants,  and  for  the  gift  of  all  things  which 
can  edify,  comfort,  and  make  them  meet  for 
heaven." — Filled  with  this  knowledge,  and  embold- 
ened by  it,  he  trusts  in  the  Lord,  and  supports  him- 
self upon  his  God.  "  Though  it  would  be  presump- 
tion," he  saith,  "  and  enthusiasm  in  me  to  expect  to 
receive  from  God  what  he  has  no  where  promised, 
or  what  he  has  promised,  in  a  way  different  from 
what  he  has  prescribed,  yet  whilst  I  am  living 
by  faith  in  tin'  Son  of  Godj  and  testifying  my  un- 
feigned subjection  to  him  as  mv  sovereign  Lord,  I 
cannot  but  rejoice  in  the  thought  that  God  is  faith- 
ful, who  has  given  us  exceeding  great  and  precious 
promises,  and  that  he  is  able  to  do  exceedingly 
above  all  that  I  can  ask  or  think." 

And  as  the  Christian  first  exercises  trust  in  God, 
encouraged  by  the  revelation  he  has  made  of  him- 
self in  the  gospel,  and  the  promises  he  has^  freely 
given,  which  none  besides  himself  receive  with  sin- 
cerity: so  upon  every  advance  he  makes  in  know- 
ledge and  grace,  the'grounds  of  his  affiance  in  God 


66 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF    MAN 


grow  clearer  and  stronger.  His  own  happy  expe- 
rience confirms  the  truth  of  every  promise  which 
at  first  engaged  his  dependence.  The  truth  of  the 
-word  of  the  Lord  is  by  a  vast  variety  of  temptations 
and  enemies  tried  to  the  uttermost,  that  it  may  be 
made  manifest  whether  there  is  any  deceit  in  it: 
hat  the  experiment,  though  ever  so  often  repeated, 
always  confirms  its  value.  He  beholds  his  vile  af- 
fections weakened  and  mortified,  the  violence  of  his 
enemies  restrained,  the  pleasures  and  hopes  of  his 
spiritual  life  all  exactly  corresponding  with  the  ac- 
count given  in  the  holy  word  of  God.  Therefore, 
from  this  complete  evidence  of  its  truth,  he  sees 
that  it  is  good  for  him  to  hold  fast  by  God,  and  to 
put  his  trust  in  the  Lord  God.  And  though  whilst 
he  remains  in  this  fallen  world,  and  has  the  princi- 
ple of  corruption  in  his  heart,  he  may  often  find 
evil  propensities  and  the  workings  of  unbelief;  yet 
he  is  grieved,  ashamed,  and  confounded  at  their 
appearance  ;  he  complains  of  himself  unto  God  ;  he 
cries,  Lord,  increase  my  faith,  deliver  me  from  an 
evil  heart  of  unbelief.  And  thus  he  is  enabled  with 
boldness  to  say,  "Behold,  God  is  my  salvation;  I 
will  trust,  and  not  be  afraid  ;  for  the  Lord  Jehovah 
is  my  strength,  and  my  song,  he  also  is  become  my 
salvation." 

But  what  completes  the  Christian's  trust  in  God, 
even  under  the  most  afflictive  visitations,  is  the  pro- 
mise from  himself  repeated  upon  various  occasions, 
to  this  effect,  "  That  all  things  shall  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God."  Rom.  viii.  28.  His 
afflictions  therefore  he  believes  are  so  far  from  be- 
ing the  scourge  of  an  enemy,  or  the  wound  of  a 
cruel  one ;  so  far  from  coming  by  chance,  or  upon  a 
design  of  vengeance,  that  they  are  sent  with  a  view 
to  his  welfare.  It  is  for  our  profit  that  God  afflicts,  to 
make  us  partakers  of  his  holiness.  A  lively  persua- 
sion of  this  truth  prevents  the  cross  from  galling, 
though  it  does  not  remove  it;  it  gives  to  every  suffer- 
ing a  kindly  and  friendly  appearance.  "Thou,  O 
God,  of  very  faithfulness  hast  caused  me  to  be 
troubled  ;  It  is  the  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given 
me,  shall  I  not  drink  it?" 

5.  It  is  a  distinguishing  part  of  the  Christian's 
temper  in  "  all  things  to  give  glory  to  God."  We 
give  glory  to  another,  when,  with  high  esteem  and 
cordial  regard,  we  declare  the  excellences  he  pos- 
sesses. The  Christian  constantly  endeavors  in  this 
manner  to  glorify  God ;  to  convince  all  who  observe 
his  deportment,  that  he  looks  upon  the  goodness, 
wisdom,  holiness,  and  sovereign  dominion  of  God 
in  such  an  amiable  light,  as  cheerfully  to  employ 
all  his  powers  and  faculties  in  his  service.  The 
false  motives,  the  spurious  principles  which  give 
birth  to  so  many  fair  appearances  and  seemingly 
good  works,  have  no  rule  in  his  heart.  He  is  not 
restrained  from  evil,  through  the  fear  of  shame  or 
of  loss;  nor  is  it  the  love  of  praise  or  self-applause 
which  excites  him  to  do  well ;  it  is  a  sense  of  duty 
towards  his  Maker,  and  a  regard  to  his  command. 
He  offers  all  his  social  virtues  and  all  his  religious 
performances  unto  God,  with  a  predominant  desire 
that  his  glorious  majesty  may  receive  more  and 
more  homage  and  service  from  himself  and  all 
around  him.  The  utility  of  actions  is  the  only 
point  regarded  by  the  world ;  they  care  not  from 
what  principle  they  flow,  provided  good  accrues 
from  them  to  society.  But  the  Christian  knows 
that  God  sees  not  as  man  sees ;  that  he  regards 
chiefly  the  disposition  of  mind  from  whence  our 
actions  arise,  and  above  every  thing  the  respect 
they  have  to  himself.  "  God  hath  commanded  me," 
saith  he,  '"to  do  whatever  I  do,  heartily  as  unto 
the  Lord,  and  not  as  unto  men.'  When  I  am  dis- 
charged therefore,  and  fulfilling  the  duties  of  my 
particular  relation  in  life  as  a  servant  or  master,  a 


husband  or  a  son,  a  tradesman  or  a  magistrate,  it 
is  my  unfeigned  desire  that  all  may  perceive  me  to 
act  conscientiously,  because  I  '  esteem  all  God's  pre- 
cepts concerning  all  things  to  be  right,'  and  am  per- 
suaded he  has  given  us  a  law  in  these  respects, 
which  ought  not  to  be  broken.  It  is  this  holy  aim, 
I  know,  can  alone  consecrate  my  conduct,  make  it 
truly  religious,  and  therefore  good  and  acceptable 
in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour." 

6.  Inseparable  from  this  design  in  the  Christian 
to  give  glory  to  God,  is  a  studious  concern  to  ap- 
prove himself  sincere  before  him,  by  the  purity  of 
his  heart.  He  has  a  much  nobler  and  higher  aim 
than  the  hypocrite  or  the  mere  moralist.  They 
both  can  be  satisfied  with  a  freedom  from  gross  of- 
fences, and  think  God's  authority  sufficiently  re- 
garded, if  the  practice  of  all  outward  wickedness  is 
carefully  avoided.  The  work  and  labor  of  a  Chris- 
tian, on  the  contrary,  is  all  within  ;  to  prevent  the 
deadly  fruit  of  sin  in  the  branches,  by  opposing  or 
mortifying  it  in  the  root.  Though  he  cannot  totally 
suppress  the  pruriency  of  evil  thoughts,  nor  eradi- 
cate the  perception  of  bad  impressions  from  out- 
ward objects  or  inward  corruptions,  he  is  alarmed 
at  their  intrusion  ;  and  with  such  an  emotion  as  a 
sovereign  feels  at  the  first  appearances  of  rebellion 
in  his  kingdom,  he  cries  unto  God  to  rise  to  his 
succor,  and  immediately  to  expel  his  enemies. — 
What  was  at  first  an  involuntary  motion  in  his 
mind,  (sad  indication  of  his  evil  nature!)  he  will 
not  suffer  to  grow  more  exceeding  sinful  by  cherish- 
ing it,  or  by  being  at  peace  with  it.  For  this  he  re- 
gards as  a  plain  mark  of  remaining  love  for  sin, 
though  motives  of  selfish  fear  or  convenience  re- 
strain from  the  commission  of  it. 

To  illustrate  this  excellent  disposition  still  more 
distinctly,  the  Christian  in  youth  and  health,  does 
much  more  than  avoid  the  brothel  or  the  harlot. — 
He  is  offended  at  wanton  jesting  and  filthy  talking  ; 
he  loathes  the  pictures  a  corrupt  imagination  would 
be  painting  before  him,  and  resists  the  impure  lust- 
ings  of  his  heart.  In  business  and  merchandise  he 
does  more  than  renounce  the  bag  of  deceitful 
weights  and  the  frauds  of  villany  ;  he  renounces  the 
love  of  money,  as  one  who  is  indeed  a  stranger 
upon  earth,  and  adopted  into  the  family  of  God.  In 
his  behavior  towards  his  competitors  and  his  ene- 
mies, he  does  not  content  himself  with  abstaining 
from  vilifying  them  by  slander,  or  assaulting  them 
with  railing.  He  condemns  and  watches  against 
silent  envy,  secret  animosity,  and  injurious  surmises. 
He  appears  vindictive  and  malicious  in  his  own 
eyes,  whenever  he  detects  himself  listening  with 
pleasure  to  others  who  are  speaking  evil  of  his  foes, 
though  the  charge  is  founded  on  truth.  He  bewails 
so  plain  a  proof  of  the  power.of  irregular  self-love 
and  uncharitabjeness  in  his  heart.  To  mention  no 
more  instances,  the  Christian  is  not  satisfied  in  re- 
fraining from  speaking  vainly  and  proudly  of  his 
own  accomplishments  and  advantages  (this  good 
sense  will  check,  and  good  manners  teach  to  be 
irksome  to  others,)  but  he  maintains  an  obstinate 
conflict  with  self-admiration  and  self-complacency 
in  his  own  breast;  not  desisting  till  he  has  put  these 
grand  enemies  to  the  glory  of  God  and  his  grace 
to  flight  before  him.  In  each  of  these,  and  many 
other  instances,  he  ascribes  unto  God  the  honor  due 
unto  his  name,  as  the  Lord  of  conscience,  as  the  God 
"  who  searcheth  the  heart,  and  trieth  the  reins,  and 
requireth  truth  in  the  inward  parts."  He  "  sets  the 
Lord  always  before  him  ;"  and  this  is  the  purport 
of  his  constant  desire,  observed  by  the  omniscient 
Judge  :  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart; 
try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts  :  see  if  there  be  any 
wicked  wav  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  ever- 
lasting."   Psal.  exxxix.  23,  24. 


COMPLETE    DUTr   OF   MAN. 


57 


SUNDAY  XXII.— CHAP.  XXII. 

THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 

True  religion  has  the  honor  and  glory  of  God  for 
its  ohisct.  It  brings  back  man  to  his  allegiance  to 
his  Creator ;  ±i  implants  in  his  mind  every  holy  and 
generous  disposition  which  tends  to  glorify  God. — 
Thus  we  have  seen  that  it  teaches  him  to  regard 
God  as  his  fear  and  dread  ;  it  requires  a  cheerful 
and  universal  obedience  to  his  authority  ;  it  inspires 
him  vvith  gratitude,  animates  him  with  confidence 
towards  his  Creator,  induces  him  always  to  aim  at 
the  promotion  of  his  glory,  and  leads  him  to  culti- 
vate a  purity  of  motive  in  all  his  actions.  Such  are 
the  dispositions,  as  they  respect  God,  which  it  is  the 
business  of  Christianity  to  form  in  man.  Besides 
these,  there  are  also  others  equally  excellent,  which 
it  is  my  design  at  present  to  set  before  you ;  in  all 
which  you  will  discover  the  same  supreme  regard 
to  the  Creator,  and  ascription  of  that  honor  and 
glory  which  so  justly  belong  to  him. 

7.  Care  to  imitate  God  in  what  he  is  the  proper 
object  of  imitation,  form  a  principal  feature  in  the 
Christian's  disposition.  He  prays  and  labors  to  have 
transcribed  on  his  own  heart,  and  to  express  in  his 
life,  the  holiness  and  righteousness  of  God  ;  his  for- 
bearance, mercy,  and  communicative  goodness. — 
And  in  order  to  behold  these  attributes  where  they 
shine  with  the  greatest  clearness  and  the  most  trans- 
forming efficacy,  he  contemplates  them  living  and 
breathing  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  in  this,  as 
well  as  every  other  sense,  "  is  the  brightness  of  his 
Father's  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person." 
Upon  this  all-perfect  pattern  he  steadfastly  fixes  his 
eye,  as  a  painter  upon  a  portrait,  when  copying  from 
an  invaluable  original.  He  labors  with  carefulness 
and  persevering  attention,  to  bring  himself  to  a  more 
"ear  and  striking  likeness  of  his  God  and  Saviour. 
It  is  the  work  of  his  life  to  advance  in  this  resem- 
blance ;  strongly  excited  to  it  by  the  incomparable 
excellency  of  the  life  and  character  of  Jesus.  For 
he  beholds  all  its  parts  exhibiting  to  his  view  a  mind 
unpolluted  with  any  defilement,  though  inhabiting 
an  earthly  tabernacle;  a  mind  adorned  with  the  most 
lovely  tempers ;  full  of  all  goodness,  righteousness, 
and  truth ;  not  judging  by  the  sight  of  the  eye,  or 
'■harmed  with  what  is  most  grateful  to  the  voluptuous 
oar;  full  of  pity  towards  a  wretched  sinful  world, 
compassionate  to  its  calamities,  unprovoked  by  its 
sharpest  injuries,  and  bent  upon  doing  the  greatest 
good,  though  suffering  for  it  the  most  cruel  treatment. 
In  such  a  character  there  is  every  thing  which  de- 
mands veneration  ;  and  it  is  not  possible  constantly 
to  behold,  as  the  real  Christian  does,  this  fair  beauty 
of  the  Lord,  without  desiring  to  possess  a  measure 
of  the  same  excellences. 

The  imitation  of  the  life  of  Jesus  has  been  enjoin- 
ed by  his  own  command,  to  which  the  Christian 
pays  the  most  cordial  submission:  "Ye  call  me 
Master  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well :  for  so  I  am. — 
If  I  then,  your  Lord  and  Master,  have  washed  your 
feet,  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet.  For 
I  have  given  you  an  example,  that  you  should  do  as 
I  have  done  to  you."  John  xiii.  13—15.  The  force 
of  this  injunction  makes  all  contrariety  of  temper  to 
the  mind  that  was  in  Jesus  Christ  appear  to  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  true  believer,  though  found  in 
himself,  deformed  and  criminal.  This  opens  his 
eves  to  see  the  glaring  delusion  of  being  called  after 
the  name  of  Christ  without  "  walking  even  as  he 
walked  ;"  without  "  purifying  himself  even  as 
THirist  is  pure  ;"  that  is,  without  being  endued  with 
~ach  a  conformity  to  the  image  of  the  Son  of  God, 
V5  includes  the  whole  chain  of  those  graces  which 
shone  in  him;  and  implies  an  abhorrence,  not  of 
i£ie  kind  of  evil  only,  or  of  another,  but  of  the  whole 
t?dy  of  sin.    Hence  he  is  in  truth  an  imitator  of  his 


Lord,  inasmuch  as  every  excellent  temper,  which 
without  measure  dwelt  in  him,  has  its  real,  though 
limited  and  imperfect  influence,  over  all  the  living 
members  of  his  church;  it  is  a  declaration  descrip- 
tive of  all  real  Christians:  "We  all  beholding  in 
the  person  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  in  a  glass; 
the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same 
image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit  of 
our  God."    2  Cor.  iii.  18. 

The  desire  of  imitating  the  life  and  tempers  of 
Jesus  is  strengthened  exceedingly  by  the  love  the 
Christian  bears  towards  him.  We  imperceptibly 
imitate  the  manners  of  those  we  admire  ;  without 
any  studied  design  on  our  part,  we  resemble  those 
who  have  gained  our  affections  through  thp  great- 
ness of  their  generosity,  and  who  justify  our  regard 
by  the  greatness  of  their  excellence.  It  is  su  be- 
tween man  and  man,  though  the  richest  f»vrs  con- 
ferred below  are  small  in  value,  and  the  most  con- 
summate human  characters  but  the  shadow  of  per- 
fection. How  strongly  then  must  the  Christian's 
heart,  which  is  exercised  daily  in  fixing  his  atten- 
tion on  the  riches  of  his  Saviour's  love,  and  the  un- 
speakable kindness  expressed  in  the  wrrk  of  re- 
demption, be  excited  to  imitate  so  divn.';  a  charac 
ter,  the  character  of  him  who  is  his  ho\  e,  his  life, 
his  peace,  his  God,  and  his  all ! 

8.  The  disposition  of  a  Christian  stands  also  dis- 
tinguished in  a  very  eminent  degree,  from  the  spirit 
of  the  world,  by  the  affectionate  love  he  bears  for 
God,  and  the  supreme  delight  and  joy  he  receives 
from  the  knowledge  of  him.  Man,  sunk  into  bodily 
appetites,  lifts  not  up  the  heavy  eye  of  his  mind  to 
God,  nor  understands  that  he  can  be  to  the  faithful 
soul  a  richer  fund  of  present  comfort  and  happiness 
than  wealth,  grandeur,  sensual  gratification,  or  books 
of  learning  prove  to  their  several  dovoted  admirers. 
Hence  all  expressions  of  fervent  love  to  God,  though 
free  from  enthusiastic  flights,  fall  under  the  censure 
of  the  world.  They  assert  that  they  are  nothing  but 
fictitious  representations,  or  if  any  warmth  of  affec- 
tion is  really  felt,  it  is  to  be  mechanically  accounted 
for.  It  is  owing  to  the  temperature  of  the  body,  to 
a  free  circulation  of  the  blood,  or  the  powers  <f  i 
warm  imagination.  The  Christian,  on  the  contra), 
loves  the  invisible  God  with  as  much  sincerity  of 
affection  as  the  covetous  love  their  possessions,  or 
the  sensualist  the  joys  of  voluptuousness. 

He  loves  God  as  that  blessed  Being  who  is  infi- 
nitely glorious  in  himself,  in  whom  a.l  excellences 
meet  together,  and  who  possesses  them  all  without 
the  possibility  of  ever  suffering  them  to  be  impaired 
or  sullied.  Enlightened  by  the  Scriptures  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  he  beholds  such  goodness  in  God,  as 
disparages  whatever  bears  its  name  amongst  crea- 
tures. Almighty  power,  and  unerring  wisdom,  un- 
blemished truth,  spotless  holiness,  and  lender  mer 
cies;  everything  adapted  to  raise  the  admiration 
of  an  intelligent  being,  he  perceives  in  God.  His 
glory  illuminates  him  in  the  works  of  creation  and 
of  providence,  and  manifests  itself  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  sinners  by  Jesus  Christ  in  its  strongest  light. 
From  these  views  he  is  excited  to  love  God,  and  he 
expresses  that  love  by  discovering  high  and  exalted 
thoughts  of  him  ;  by  reflecting  with  pleasure  on  his 
perfections  as  they  appear  in  the  works  of  nature, 
the  wonders  of  grace,  or  the  prospects  of  glory. — 
This  love  of  God  for  his  own  perfections,  though 
not  ordinarily  discerned  in  the  Christian  at  the  first, 
yet  as  he  grows  in  knowledge  and  faith  becomes 
indisputably  evident.  It  is  discovered,  even  whilst 
he  is  in  doubt  about  his  own  interest  in  God:  be- 
cause  he  will  vet  esteem  and  value  him,  be  careft*  > 
to  commend  his  precepts,  be  faithful  in  his  service,, 
and  speak  good  of  his  name. 

Besides  the  incomparable  excellency  of  God,  s 
Christian  has  also  other  motives  to  love  him.     Fo». 


S3 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF   MAN 


he  more  completely  an  object  is  suited  to  produce 
o  us  benefit  and  advantage,  so  much  the  more  will 
our  hearts  be  united  to  it,  and  feel  a  proportionate 
affection  towards  it.  Accordingly,  the  Christian 
loves  God  as  his  chief  good.  "  God  alone,"  saith 
he,  "  can  be  a  heart-satisfying  portion  to  me.  In 
his  favor  is  my  life,  whilst  all  beneath  or  beside 
him  is  replete  with  vanity  and  disappointment,  too 
mean,  and  too  transient,  fully  to  satisfy  even  one 
appetite  ;  but  God  is  all-sufficient :  '  Whom  have  I 
in  heaven  but  thee  1  and  there  is  none  upon  earth 
that  I  can  desire  besides  thee  V  " 

This  love  to  God  expresses  itself  by  frequent 
longings  that  he  may  share  in  his  pardoning  mercy, 
and  be  happy  for  ever  in  his  acceptance.  For  this 
he  is  content  to  part  with  all :  the  love  of  God  is  to 
him  above  every  thing.  He  can  say  with  David, 
"  I  entreated  thy  favor  with  my  whole  heart;  Lord, 
lift  thou  up  the  light  of  thy  countenance  upon  me." 
He  cannot  be  tranquil,  while  a  cloud  obscures  his 
Fath  ei  's  face.  The  apprehension  of  his  displeasure 
is  most  grievous  to  him  ;  nor  can  he  be  satisfied  till 
God  is  reconciled.  He  cries  with  vehemence  like 
David,  "  Cast  me  not  away  from  thy  presence,  and 
take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me  ;  restore  unto  me 
the  joy  of  thy  salvation,  and  uphold  me  with  thy 
free  Spirit."  He  discovers  also  the  sincerity  of  his 
love  to  God  by  a  delight  in  him,  no  less  than  by  de- 
sires after  him.  His  soul  is  at  rest  Avhilst  he  can 
call  God,  his  God.  In  such  a  view  he  rejoices  in 
the  divine  favor  more  than  he  would  in  calling  the 
whole  world  his  own.  It  animates  him  in  the  high- 
est degree,  to  think  that  God  is  his  portion.  And  so 
truly  does  he  rejoice  in  God,  and  delight  in  him 
with  sincere  affection,  as  to  be  satisfied  under  all 
the  troubles  to  which  he  can  be  exposed.  Amidst 
shame  and  reproach  he  can  support  and  solace  him- 
self in  the  thought  that  God  knows  his  innocency, 
and  approves  of  him.  In  necessities,  distresses,  and 
afflictions,  it  is  his  strongest  consolation  that  in  this 
state  the  Lord  knoweth  his  path,  and  that  "  when 
he  is  tried,  he  shall  come  forth  as  gold."  Even  in 
the  most  perilous  and  dismaying  circumstances, 
when  the  judgments  of  an  incensed  God  are  spread- 
ing consternation  over  whole  countries,  the  Chris- 
tian in  his  love  to  God  still  finds  a  spring  to  cheer 
and  refresh  his  soul,  to  which  none  but  himself 
have  access.  "  God  is  my  refuge  and  strength," 
saith  he,  "  a  very  present  help  in  trouble.  There- 
fore will  I  not  fear,  though  the  earth  be  removed, 
and  though  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst 
of  the  sea  ;  though  the  waters  thereof  roar  and  be 
troubled,  though  the  mountains  shake  with  the 
swelling  thereof."  For  in  the  midst  of  all  this  fiery 
indignation  issuing  forth  against  his  adversaries, 
he  still  beholds  God  in  Christ  Jesus  reconciled  to 
him  and  to  every  humble  sinner. 

Such  as  these  were  the  glorious  expressions  of 
love  to  God  even  before  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had 
ascended  up  on  high,  "  leading  captivity  captive  ;" 
it  cannot  therefore  reasonably  be  supposed  that  the 
more  explicit  knowledge  of  salvation  which  we  en- 
joy should  not  be  more  than  equal  to  such  a  blessed 
effect.  If  the  inspired  -Habakkuk  could  find  such 
love  to  God  it  his  heart  as  to  say,  "  Although  the 
fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in 
the  vines;  the  labor  of  the  (.'live  fail,  and  the  fields 
yield  no  meat ;  the  flocks  be  cut  off  from  the  fold, 
and  there  be  no  herd  in  the  stall ;  yet  will  I  rejoice 
in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation;^ 
if  a  man  of  like  passions  with  ourselves  could  so 
love  God  as  to  find  comfort  in  him  amidst  the  hor- 
rors cf  universal  death  ;  certainly  we  may  conclude 
that  now,  since  the  Messenger  of  the  covenant,  the 
Day-spring  from  on  high,  hath  visited  the  church, 
the  love  which  a  real  Christian  bears  to  his  God 
will  enable  his  soul  to  feel  at  least  as  high  delight 


and  exultation  in  his  favor.  And  though,  alas ! 
few  are  observed  in  our  own  day  to  love  God  in  a 
degree  so  fervent  and  intense  as  this,  yet  the  en- 
deavor and  desire  of  all  who  are  Christians  in  sin- 
cerity is  to  do  so.  And  they  discover  a  principle 
of  love  the  very  same  as  this  in  kind,  by  their  op- 
posing the  first  tendencies  in  themselves  to  com- 
plain, though  in  a  season  of  great  tribulation  ;  by 
rebuking  themselves  for  the  defectiveness  of  their 
delight  in  God,  saying,  "  Why  are  thou  cast  down, 
O  my  soul  1  and  why  art  thou  disquieted  within 
me  1  hope  thou  in  God  ;  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him 
for  the  help  of  his  countenance."  Ps.  xlii.  5.- 
Whether  therefore  the  Christian  be  weak  or  strong, 
still  it  is  apparent  that  he  delights  himself  in  the 
Lord.  When  he  rejoices  and  triumphs  in  the  midst 
of  outward  troubles,  his  delight  in  God  blazes  with 
vigor  and  brightness.  And  when  it  is  his  grief  and 
heavy  burden  that  he  cannot  act  thus,  this  is  still  as 
true  an  expression  of  love  to  God,  struggling  in  a 
sore  conflict  under  the  weight  of  oppression.  For 
was  it  not  the  very  joy  of  his  heart  to  be  glad  in  the 
Lord,  and  in  every  thing  to  give  thanks,  he  could 
not  possibly  feel  any  pain  on  account  of  his  dejec- 
tion or  want  of  joy  in  God  in  the  time  of  tribulation. 
Such  delight  in  God,  even  in  the  midst  of  prosperity. 
is  a  thing  unintelligible  to  the  world,  and  the  ut- 
most they  can  conceive  attainable  by  man,  is  to  bear 
distressing  troubles  with  calmness.  Therefore  the 
very  desire  of  a  Christian  to  be  strengthened  "  with 
all  might,"  according  to  God's  glorious  power, 
"  unto  all  patience  and  long-suffering  with  joy  ful- 
ness," that  is,  to  bear  afflictions  with  holy  triumph, 
in  consideration  of  what  God  is  to  him  and  has  done 
for  him,  is  a  demonstration  that  he  delights  in  God. 

9.  It  is  an  eminent  part  of  the  disposition  of  a 
Christian  towards  God,  to  engage  with  diligence 
and  pleasure  in  all  the  various  exercises  of  devotion, 
and  the  use  of  the  means  of  grace.  Men  have  na- 
turally a  strong  aversion  to  confession  of  sin,  to 
prayer  and  praise,  to  hearing  and  reading  God's 
word,  and  to  receive  the  holy  sacrament.  They 
engage  in  these  duties  only  from  custom,  or  are 
dragged  to  them  merely  to  pacify  conscience. — 
These  duties  are  therefore  performed  in  a  manner, 
which  denotes  the  performance  to  be  irksome. — 
Hence  in  a  few  minutes'  vain  repetition  each  morn- 
ing or  evening,  and  in  an  attendance  at  church  on 
Sundays,  is  generally  comprised  all  the  devotion  of 
the  natural  man ;  in  which  he  is  conscious  of  no 
more  pleasure  than  a  child  feels  when  repeating  by 
rote  words  of  which  he  understands  not  the  mean- 
ing. Or  should  there  be  more  outward  practice 
of  devotion  than  this,  it  is  from  the  popish  notion 
that  religious  duties  have  in  them  an  atoning  virtue, 
and  constitute  a  man  holy,  when  punctually  per- 
formed. 

How  different  the  temper  of  a  Christian ! — he 
lives  in  the  constant  exercise  of  a  devout  spirit.  His 
recollection  of  the  sinfulness  of  his  past  life,  of  that 
hateful  period  when  "  all  the  imaginations  of  the 
thoughts  of  his  heart  were  only  evil  continually;" 
when  self  was  his  god,  and  God  was  nothing  to  him 
but  a  name;  his  consciousness  of  blindness  and  de- 
pravity, still  too  much  remaining,  render  it  a  re- 
lief to  his  soul  to  pour  out  before  God  complaints 
against  himself.  As  he  increases  in  the  knowledge 
of  God  and  his  own  duty,  the  more  strong  are  his 
desires  to  prostrate  himself  before  the  greatness  of 
eternal  Excellency,  and  to  be  filled  with  holy  shame 
and  confusion  at  his  own  sin  and  defilement. — 
Sometimes  he  finds  the  springs  of  ingenuous  sor- 
row opened  within,  and  tastes  d  most  solid  satisfac- 
tion in  giving  glory  to  the  holiness  of  God  and  his 
law.  And  when  his  affections  are  not  thus  influ- 
enced, he  still  engages  diligently  in  the  confession 
of  his  sin,  as  a  mean  of  beholding  more  clearly  his 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


59 


enormity  and  guilt,  and  of  being  impressed  with  a 
more  steadfast  hatred  of  it.  With  pleasure  also  he 
addresses  his  prayer  to  the  "  Father  of  lights,  from 
-n  whom  every  good  and  perfect  gift  cometh,"  for  di- 
vine grace  to  be  imparted  to  him,  because  he  is 
fully  persuaded  that  the  strength  and  the  increase 
of  grace  must  be  maintained  by  God,  and  not  by 
himself.  Human  virtues  and  social  qualities  will 
grow,  he  sees,  in  nature's  garden;  but  affiance  in 
God,  spiritual  obedience,  delight  in  him,  and  all 
the  tempers  becoming  a  creature  and  a  sinner,  must 
be  the  workmanship  pf  God  by  his  Spirit,  which  is 
given  only  to  them  that  ask  it.  Therefore  as  na- 
tural hunger  and  thirst  seek  their  proper  gratifica- 
tions, and  the  desire  of  every  living  soul  is  always 
turned  towards  that  which  it  apprehends  as  its 
chiefest  good;  so  it  is  his  hunger  and  thirst  to  re- 
ceive out  of  the  fulness  there  is  in  Christ,  grace  for 
grace.  So  far  therefore  from  thinking  prayer  a 
burden,  or  performing  it  merely  as  a  duty  at  parti- 
cular times  and  seasons,  the  Christian  may  be  said 
to  pray  without  ceasing.  All  places,  as  well  as  his 
closet  and  his  church,  are  witnesses  of  the  fellow- 
ship he  maintains  in  this  manner  with  an  invisible 
God.  If  his  sleep  depart  from  him,  he  is  awake  to 
the  sublime  sensations  of  prayer  and  devotion. — 
"  With  my  soul,  O  God,"  saith  he,  "  have  I  desired 
thee  in  the  night,  yea  with  my  spirit  within  me  will 
I  seek  the  early." 

From  the  same  love  to  God  springs  a  real  joy  to 
praise  and  extol  him.  "  It  becometh  well  the  just," 
saith  he,  "  to  be  thankful.  Praise  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul,  and  all  that  is  within  me,  praise  his  holy 
name.  For  he  hath  delivered  my  soul  from  death, 
mine  eyes  from  tears,  and  my  feet  from  falling. — 
My  mouth  shall  therefore  be  filled  as  it  were  with 
marrow  and  fatness,  while  I  am  praising  thee  with 
joyful  lips.  This  spiritual  banquet  shall  prove  as 
delicious  to  my  mind  as  the  feast  of  the  epicure  does 
to  his  palate,  when  he  is  swallowing  the  richest 
dainties  which  luxury  can  procure." 

And  from  the  same  love  which  the  Christian 
bears  to  his  God  and  Saviour,  every  thing  which 
belongs  to  God,  his  word,  his  institutions,  and  as- 
semblies, will  be  objects  of  his  pleasure  and  delight. 
I:  Has  God,"  saith  he,  "  written  a  book  of  knowledge 
and  grace  for  the  use  of  man,  and  shall  I  not  be 
glad  to  read  and  hear  the  interesting  contents  of  it  1 
Shall  I  not  converse  most  frequently  with  those  di- 
vine notices  of  himself  which  God  hath  sent  us  from 
heaven1?  Yes,  my  delight  is  placed  on  this  book  of 
God ;  '  O  !  how  I  love  thy  law  !  it  is  my  meditation 
all  the  day.' " 

Has  the  glorious  God  appointed  a  method  of  wor- 
ship, and  required  men  to  assemble  in  multitudes 
to  address  his  divine  Majesty  1  "  I  love,"  saith  the 
real  Christian,  "the  habitation  of  thine  house,  and 
the  place  where  thine  honor  dwelleth;  one  day  in 
thy  courts  is  better  than  a  thousand." 

Has  God  appointed  pastors  and  teachers  for  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  perfecting  his  saints, 
for  the  edifying  his  body  the  church,  and  promised 
to  bless  and  succeed  their  faithful  discourses,  and 
to  be  with  them  always  to  the  end  of  the  world  "? — 
"  It  is  with  raised  expectations  and  steady  atten- 
tion," says  the  Christian,  "that  I  will  hear  the  mi- 
nisters of  the  Lord  and  look  through  the  infirmities 
of  the  speaker  to  the  appointment  and  promise  of 
the  God  of  all  grace,  who  has  seen  fit  to  choose  men 
to  be  instruments  and  ministers  of  grace  to  men,  their 
hearers.  And  has  he,  who  was  dead  for  my  sins, 
and  is  alive  again  and  liveih  for  evermore,  left  with 
his  church  the  memorial  of  his  abundant  goodness 
and  bleeding  love,  commanding  bis  people  to  feast 
upon  if,  that  his  sacrifice  might  grow  more  precious 
in  their  eyes'!  I  will,  with  solemn  joy  and  grati- 
tude, join  the  faithful  company  who  eat  of  that  bread  I 


and  drink  of  that  cup,  as  a  public  testimony  that 
every  blessing  I  have  received  of  God,  and  every 
benefit  I  hope  for,  does  and  will  descend  upon  me 
only  through  the  atoning  death  of  Jesus  Christ  tne 
righteous." 

And  though  it  must  be  confessed,  that  it  is  not  in 
the  Christian's  power  to  be  always  full  of  delight  in 
holy  duties ;  though  he  has  too  often  cause  to  be- 
moan the  want  of  a  more  devout  and  spiritual  frame 
of  mind  when  he  is  using  the  means  of  grace  ;  yet 
the  godly  disposition  of  his  soul  suffers  no  such 
change.  God  is  still  the  constant  object  of  his  re- 
verence and  trust,  of  his  gratitude  and  love  ;  and 
therefore  whether  the  pleasures  of  devotion  in  the 
most  solemn  acts  of  it,  are  more  or  less,  he  is  still 
punctual  in  them:  he  grows  not  weary  of  them, 
though  he  does  more  and  more  of  the  body  of  sin 
which  pioves  so  heavy  an  incumbrance  when  he 
would  have  his  soul  full  of  fervent  adoration  of 
God. 

10.  Humility  is  another  peculiar  and  most  dis- 
tinguishing part  of  the  disposition  of  a  Christian. — 
By  his  humility,  is  not  meant  his  entertaining  a 
worse  opinion  of  himself  or  abasing  himself  lower 
than  he  really  ought  to  do;  but  his  living  under  a 
constant  sense  and  acknowledgment  of  his  own 
weakness,  corruption,  and  sin,  in  the  sight  of  God. 
All  beside  himself  dissemble,  and  offend  God  in  this 
matter.  For  though  some  confess  their  own  weak- 
ness, they  magnify  their  attainments,  and  overrate 
what  they  own  to  be  the  gift  of  God,  because  it  be- 
longs to  themselves.  They  will  not  allow  that  after 
all  they  have  done,  and  all  they  have  received,  then 
plea  must  still  be  this,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner."  The  Christian  has  learned  better  the  po- 
verty and  sin  of  fallen  man,  even  in  his  best  estate. 
As  the  man  who  improves  in  learning,  sees  more 
of  his  own  ignorance  when  he  has  made  a  consi- 
derable progress,  than  when  he  first  began,  so  the 
Christian,  the  more  he  advances  in  the  illumination 
of  his  mind,  and  in  a  clear  view  of  the  extent  of 
his  duty  towards  God,  becomes  more  sensible  of  de- 
fects which  had  hitherto  escaped  his  notice,  and  is 
humbled  for  them.  "  The  commandment  of  God,'' 
he  exclaims,  "  requires  in  every  the  minutest  in- 
stance, that  I  do  nothing  forbidden  by  it,  nor  leave 
undone  in  heart  or  life,  any  one  thing  which  it  en- 
joins ;  that  I  should  ever  exercise  a  perfect  regulari- 
ty of  affection  and  desire,  and  ever  maintain  a  per- 
fect rectitude  of  temper  and  of  thought." — Having 
his  eve  fixed  upon  this  purity,  and  acknowledging 
that  God  ought  in  this  manner  to  be  obeyed  by  every 
intelligent  being,  he  clearly  discerns  his  own  innu- 
merable 1  ail  in  gs,  and  his  inherent  depravity  appears 
without  a  covering.  Therefore,  when  in  his  deport- 
ment he  is,  in  the  eyes  of  men,  unblameable  and 
unreproveable,  and  adorns  the  doctrine  of  God  his 
Saviour  in  all  things,  it  is  still  the  sentiment  of  his 
heart,  living  and  dying,  that  he  has  cause  to  im- 
plore forgiveness  for  his  trespasses  against  God — 
crying  out  before  him,  "  Behold,  I  am  vile;  enter 
not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant,  O  Lord,  for  in 
thy  sight  shall  no  man  living  be  justified." 

Thus  is  the  Christian  preserved  humble  by  his 
knowledge  of  the  law;  and  no  less  so  by  the  know- 
ledge of  the  gospel.  "Have  my  sins,"  he  cries, 
"  rendered  me  so  abominable  in  the  eyes  of  God, 
that  it  would  reflect  dishonor  upon  his  Majesty  to 
receive  my  prayers,  or  admit  me  to  any  share  in  his 
pardoning  mercy  upon  a  less  consideration  than  the 
death  and  intercession  of  his  own  Son  forme;  and 
can  I  in  this  state  regard  myself  as  any  thing  better 
than  a  sruilty  sinner  1  Shall  I  presume  upon  my 
own  holiness,  as  perfectly  free  from  spots  and  de- 
filement, when  I  am  not  permitted  so  much  as  to 
ask  a  pardon,  without  imploring  mediation  of  the 
Redeemer,  that  I  may  be  heard  V    Thus  deeply 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


60 

laid  is  the  foundation  of  Christian  humility ;  a  grace 
above  all  others,  the  very  antidote  to  the  first-born 
sin  of  man,  and  to  every  delusion  of  Satan.  By 
this  the  Christian  is  made  meet  for  that  world 
where  God  is  all  in  all ;  where  the  most  exalted 
spirits  maintain  a  perpetual  sense  of  infinite  dis- 
tance from  God  and  abase  themselves  before  him 
continually,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  transporting  ma- 
nifestations of  glory  they  enjoy.  "The  four-and- 
twenty  elders  fall  down  before  him  that  sat  on  the 
throne,  and  worship  him  that  liveth  for  ever  and 
ever,  and  cast  their  crowns  before  the  throne." — 
Rev.  iv.  10. 

These  several  particulars  present  those  excellent 
tempers  respecting  God  which  rule  and  govern 
every  real  Christian.  Now  if  you,  who  have  heard 
this  description,  live  destitute  of  any  one  of  these 
dispositions  towards  God  your  Creator,  Redeemer, 
and  Sanctifier,  here  enumerated,  you  assume  a 
character,  in  calling  yourself  a  Christian,  to  which 
you  have  no  Scriptural  title.  It  is  true  these  seve- 
ral dispositions  are  possessed  in  very  different  de- 
grees by  the  several  members  of  Christ's  body, 
glowing  in  some  with  brighter  lustre,  in  others  with 
less,  as  one  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory ; 
yet  the  joint  influence  of  them  all  is  as  essential  to 
the  very  being  of  a  real  Christian,  as  the  union  of 
the  soul  and  body  is  to  the  constitution  of  every  in- 
dividual man.  And  with  as  much  propriety  and 
truth  may  a  lifeless  corpse  be  called  a  member  of  so- 
ciety, as  the  soul  which  is  void  of  any  of  these  dis- 
positions, be  numbered  amongst  the  members  of  the 
church  of  Christ.  For  what  more  monstrous  can 
be  conceived,  than  a  Christian  who  has  no  fear  of 
God;  a  Christian  who  pays  no  absolute  submission 
to  his  authority;  a  Christian  who  is  ungrateful,  un- 
believing, and  altogether  selfish;  a  Christian  with- 
out love  to  God  and  Christ,  without  piety,  without 
humility;  take  away  one  of  these  dispositions,  and 
you  deprive  the  soul  of  that  which  is  a  part  of  its 
spiritual  life,  and  without  which  it  must  expire. 

Examine,  therefore,  and  prove  yourself,  whether 
you  belong  to  Christ.  "  If  a  man  say  he  hath  faith, 
and  hath  not  works,"  that  is,  the  tempers  by  which 
only  the  influence  and  the  power  of  faith  can  be  dis- 
cerned, "  can  that  faith  save  him  V  You  may  add 
or  admit  what  you  please  in  the  character  of  one 
you  choose  to  call  a  Christian  ;  you  may  make  him 
only  a  person  devoted  by  a  baptismal  dedication  to 
God ;  or  one  who  gives  his  asse  t  to  this  truth,  that 
Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God,  the  Christ  that  should  come 
into  the  world;  or  one  who  worships  among  Chris- 
tians;— but  the  only  genuine  standard  of  a  Chris- 
tian is  the  written  word  of  God.  Now  this  speaks 
aloud  to  men  at  all  times,  and  in  all  ages  :  it  makes 
no  difference  :  it  allows  of  no  abatement :  it  affirms 
in  the  most  positive  manner,  and  affirms  it  in  a  va- 
riety of  different  expressions,  thai  "they  that  are 
Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with  the  affections 
and  lusts."  Gal.  v.  24.  That  "  if  any  man  be  in 
Christ  Jesus,  he  is  a  new  creature;"  his  heart,  once 
profane,  now  pays  a  supreme  regard  to  God;  is 
willing  to  obey  and  submit  to  him  in  every  thing  ; 
seeks  his  honor  and  approbation ;  loves  him  in  Christ 
Jesus,  and  delights  continually  in  nearer  and  nearer 
approaches  to  him. 

This,  this  only  is  the  genuine  character  of  a 
Christian,  even  were  it  not  to  be  found  in  one  of  a 
million,  nor  in  one  of  a  nation.  To  delude  your- 
self with  notions  and  fancies,  however  popular, 
however  supported  by  the  great  and  learned,  that 
you  shall  partake  of  the  benefits  of  Christ  in  the 
eternal  world,  without  being  thus  conformed  to  his 
precepts  and  example  in  this,  is  to  make  Christiani- 
ty deservedly  the  jest  of  infidels,  the  scorn  of  all 
who  can  distinguish  what  is  really  excellent  from  a 
pompous  useless  profession.    As  you  love  therefore 


the  salvation  of  your  own  soul;  as  you  would  not 
be  found  a  hypocrite  in  the  day  when  the  secrets  of 
all  hearts  shall  be  disclosed  ;  as  you  would  not  be 
the  cause  of  infidels  blaspheming  that  worthy  name 
whereby  you  are  called ;  O  !  take  good  heed  to  your- 
self, and  see  that  for  your  own  part  you  are  found 
a  worshipper  of  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;  see  that 
the  most  exact  observer  of  your  manners  and  tem- 
pers shall  be  forced,  if  he  judge  with  candor,  to  con- 
fess that  the  name  of  God  is  great  in  your  eyes,  and 
his  glory  all  your  aim. 


SUNDAY  XXIII.-CHAP.  XXIII. 

THE  TEMPERS    OP   A    CHRISTIAN   TOWARDS    HIS   FELLOW- 
CREATURES — SINCERITY — JUSTICE. 

The  Scripture  teaches  us  that  God  has  made  all 
things  for  himself.  Yet  notwithstanding  the  su- 
preme regard  which  the  Lord  Almighty  ever  bears 
to  his  own  glory,  he  is  so  far  from  requiring  any 
sort  of  homage  from  us  which  is  detrimental  to  the 
interests  of  society,  that  it  is  impossible  to  please 
God,  without  exercising  every  benevolent  temper 
towards  man:  for  no  parent  ever  more  affection- 
ately studied  the  happiness  of  his  own  offspring,  or 
delighted  in  their  harmony,  than  the  Father  of  the, 
spirits  of  all  flesh  delights  in  seeing  us  obey  his 
great  command,  of  loving  one  another  without  dis- 
simulation. 

And  were  the  divine  commands  in  this  respect 
universally  obeyed,  the  church  of  Christ  would  be 
a  perfect  picture  of  the  heavenly  world,  one  per- 
petual intercourse  of  brotherly  kindness.  It  is, 
alas !  too  notorious,  that  few  in  comparison  of  pro- 
fessed believers  have  ever  been  subject  to  this  law 
of  love.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  noble  peculiarity 
of  a  Christian  to  be  found  in  the  constant  practice 
of  those  tempers  which  every  man  living  would 
have  others  exercise  towards  himself;  and  to  stand 
as  much  distinguished  by  the  excellency  of  his  de- 
portment towards  his  fellow-creatures,  as  he  does 
by  his  faith,  devotion,  and  zeal  towards  God. 

I  shall  therefore  now  make  it  my  business  to  de- 
lineate those  several  lovely  tempers  by  means  of 
which  the  Christian  proves  an  invaluable  blessing 
to  society.  And  with  respect  to  each  temper,  I  shall 
point  out  the  Scriptural  motives  which  excite  and 
maintain  its  exercise. 

May  the  God  of  Christians  make  this  representa- 
tion of  their  duty  towards  men  effectual  to  convince 
every  reader ;  that  if  he  has  at  heart  the  welfare 
of  society,  it  can  only  be  promoted  to  the  utmost, 
where  the  faith  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  sincere- 
ly embraced. 

I.  In  delineating  the  tempers  of  a  Christian  to- 
wards his  fellow-creatures  I  shall  begin  with  that 
eminent  one  sincerity.  As  a  Christian  then,  you 
will  esteem  it  your  duty,  constantly  to  speak  the 
truth,  according  to  the  information  you  have  re- 
ceived, in  all  the  affairs  and  occurrences  of  life. — 
You  will  lay  a  charge  upon  your  conscience  to  give 
no  commendations  where  you  think  they  are  not 
due  ;  nor  to  flatter  any  as  possessed  of  excellences 
which  you  see  not  in  them  ;  nor  to  speak  as  if  you 
regarded  them  with  peculiar  respect,  when  you  only 
design  by  this  means  to  pay  your  court,  to  please  the 
vanity  of  the  human  heart,  orto  deceive.  For  though 
in  the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  amongst  the  re- 
finements of  the  polite,  this  is  valued  as  an  accom- 
plishment, it  is,  in  fact,  a  horrid  perversion  of  lan- 
guage, a  piece  of  dissimulation  which  Christian  sim- 
plicity abhors.  And  as  sincerity  will  be  conspicuous 
in  all  your  conversation  with  respect  to  persons  and 
things,  so  the  same  excellent  temper  will  display  its 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF  MAN. 


61 


influence  with  respect  to  all  your  promises  and  en- 
gagements. When  you  have  bound  yourself  by  a 
promise  to  do  any  good  office,  or  confer  any  bene- 
fit, the  right  of  the  thing  promised  hath,  in  the  court 
of  conscience  and  before  the  God  of  truth,  passed 
over  from  you  to  the  person  receiving  the  promise  ; 
wherefore  you  have,  without  his  leave,  no  more 
power  to  recall  or  reverse  it,  than  if  you  had  given 
him  a  legal  bond.  Consequently  you  will  esteem 
yourself  obliged  to  stand  to  the  performance  of 
your  word,  though  it  may  be  much  to  your  own 
prejudice.  And  this  in  every  instance  where  you 
have  made  a  promise,  unless  some  conditions  were 
specified  which  have  not  been  fulfilled,  or  something 
afterwards  has  come  to  light,  which  annuls  its  obli- 
gation. Above  all,  you  will  show  an  inviolable 
attachment  to  sincerity  when  your  testimony  is  re- 
quired in  a  court  of  judicature,  and  in  decision  of 
matters  of  right.  Here,  divesting  yourself  of  affec- 
tion on  the  one  hand,  and  prejudice  on  the  other, 
you  will  explain  the  true  state  of  the  case,  and  re- 
present every  thing  without  disguise,  as  it  has  fallen 
under  your  notice. 

In  these  several  important  particulars,  and  in  all 
similar  to  them,  you  will  pay  a  conscientious  regard 
to  sincerity.  Your  motives  also  will  be  distinct 
from  those  of  the  mere  moralist,  and  infinitely  more 
cogent.  He  may  be  an  advocate  for  truth  and  sin- 
cerity, and  would  have  all  men  practise  it,  because 
it  is  the  cement  of  society,  and  the  only  foundation 
of  mutual  confidence.  Feeble  motives,  alas  !  when 
opposed  to  the  natural  selfishness  of  man  and  to 
those  violent  temptations  which  assault  the  poor, 
indigent,  and  dependent,  to  obtain  money  and  serve 
their  private  interest. 

The  consideration  of  the  character  of  the  great 
and  glorious  God,  is,  on  the  contrary,  your  encour- 
agement and  support,  O  Christian!  in  the  exercise 
of  this  temper.  He  is  himself  the  God  of  truth, 
and  it  is,  you  know,  what  he  commands,  and  what 
he  delights  in.  "  These  are  the  things  that  ye  shall 
do,"  saith  he,  "  Speak  ye  every  man  truth  to  his 
neighbor."  Zech.  viii.  1G.  The  want  of  sincerity  he 
stigmatizes  with  reproach,  and  threatens  every  false 
tongue  wi»i  eternal  woe.  In  the  character  which 
your  God  gives  of  an  heir  of  heaven,  you  are  as- 
sured that  he  is  one  "  that  hateth  lying,"  Prov.  xiii. 
5.  that  "  speaketh  the  truth  in  his  heart."  Ps.  xv.  2. 
"Lying  lips,"  you  read,  "are  an  abomination  to 
the  Lord."  Prov.  xii.  22.  A  mark,  that  men  "  are 
of  their  father  the  devil  and  the  lusts  of  their  father 
they  will  do,"  John  viii.  44.  and  that  "  whosoever 
loveth  and  maketh  a  lie,  shall  be  cast  into  the  lake 
which  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone."  Rev.  xxi.8. 

In  you,  therefore,  these  motives  will  unite  their 
force,  namely,  a  desire  to  please  God,  and  to  dwell 
for  ever  in  his  presence,  and  a  fear  of  despising  his 
high  and  amiable  authority,  of  incurring  his  severe 
displeasure,  and  the  just  punishment  of  everlasting 
misery.  These  motives  will  arm  you  so  complete- 
ly, that  you  can  dread  no  evil  sufficient  to  deter, 
nor  meet  with  any  bribe  sufficient  to  allure  you 
from  the  practice  of  sincerity.  Add  to  this,  that 
the  Holy  Ghost,  which  every  true  believer  in  Jesus 
Christ  receives,  is  called  the  Spirit  of  truth;  and 
his  fruit  is  in  all  goodness,  righteousness,  and  truth. 
It  is  impossible  therefore  to  be  a  Christian,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  live  under  the  dominion  of  a  false 
and  a  deceitful  tongue. 

If  your  conscience  therefore  accuses  you  in  this 
matter,  O  !  cease  to  flatter  yourself  that  you  are  in 
any  degree  righteous  on  account  of  all  you  may 
boast,  or  glory  in  beside.  No ;  unless  you  abhor 
falsehood,  and  delight  in  sincerity  and  truth,  be  as- 
sured it  is  not  making  many  prayers,  it  is  not  ex- 
tolling the  riches  of  free  grace,  or  attempting  to 
cover  yourself  with  the  robe  of  the  Saviour's  right- 


eousness, that  will  either  excuse  or  screen  your 
abominable  wickedness.  On  the  contrary,  it  you 
can  thus  monstrously  abuse  the  grace  of  God,  it 
only  proves  that  your  idea  of  him  is  infinitely  des- 
picable ;  that  you  conceive  of  him,  as  if  he  could 
be  pleased  with  what  would  even  kindle  your  own 
resentment,  with  deceitful  compliment  and  unmean- 
ing adulation ;  as  if  he  would  regard  words  or 
speculative  notions,  whilst  in  the  weighty  matters 
of  his  law,  you  set  at  nought  his  counsel.  No; 
sincerity  and  truth  are  the  very  essence  of  Chris- 
tian practice;  and  if  you  are  a  believer,  you  will 
eminently  possess  these  shining  qualities. 

11.  It  is  the  temper  of  a  Christian  constantly  to 
act  towards  his  fellow-creatures  with  justice. — 
Has  the  providence  of  God  placed  you  in  some  pub- 
lic situation,  investing  you  with  the  dignity  of  a 
magistrate,  a  senator,  or  a  judge  1  you  will  vigor- 
ously oppose  oppression,  and  punish  the  oppressor ; 
you  will  be  active  to  put  salutary  laws  in  execution, 
to  establish  tranquillity,  and  promote  peace;  you 
will  be  mindful  of  God,  the  high  ordainer  of  all 
civil  government,  to  whom  every  one  intrusted  with 
the  discharge  of  any  part  of  it  stands  as  strictly 
accountable  as  the  steward  to  his  master.  What 
God  so  solemnly  commands,  will  form  your  public 
character;  "  Thou  shall  do  no  unrighteousness  in 
judgment.  Thou  shalt  not  respect  the  person  of 
the  poor,  nor  honor  the  person  of  the  mighty  ;  but 
in  righteousness  shalt  thou  judge  thy  neighbor." 
Lev.  xix.  15.  "  He  that  ruleth  over  men,"  like  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  to  whom  the  words  primarily  re- 
fer, "  must  be  just,  ruling  in  the  fear  of  God  ;  and 
he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  when  the 
sun  riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds:  as  the 
tender  grass  springeth  out  of  the  earth  by  clear 
shining  after  rain."  2  Sam.  xxiii.  3,  4. 

Have  you  riches  in  such  abundance  as  to  create 
a  numerous  set  of  dependants?  you  will  exercise 
Christian  justice  towards  them  all;  you  will  scorn 
to  grasp  after  the  utmost,  farthing  your  estate  can 
produce,  till  your  tenants,  wedded  as  it  were  to  the 
place  of  their  nativity,  groan  beneath  the  load  of 
rents  unreasonably  advanced;  you  will  perceive  an 
inexpressible  degree  of  injustice  also  in  the  fashion- 
able custom  of  owing  large  sums  for  your  furniture, 
equipage,  and  dress,  whilst  your  tradesmen  are  al- 
most at  their  wits  end  to  pay  for  the  things  you  call 
youroion;  whilst  they  are  daily  tortured  with  the 
dilemma  of  bankruptcy,  if  they  recover  not  their 
debts;  or  of  ruin  through  the  cruel  resentment  of 
their  opulent  creditors  if  they  do. 

Your  rule  is  positive  and  express,  "  Owe  no  man 
any  thing,  but  to  love  one  another ;"  and  the  oppo- 
site practice,  though  punishable  in  the  rich  by  no 
human  law  (except  in  extreme  cases)  is  marked  as 
the  object  of  God's  abhorrence,  and  the  certain  way 
to  fall  under  the  severity  of  his  displeasure.  "  Be- 
hold, the  hire  of  the  laborers,  who  have  reaped 
down  your  fields,  which  is  of  you  kept  back  by 
fraud,  crieth  ;  and  the  cries  of  them  which  have 
reaped  are  entered  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of 
sabaoth.  Ye  have  lived  in  pleasure  on  the  earth, 
and  been  wanton."  James  v.  4,  5.  The  application 
of  this  Scripture,  from  the  day-laborer  to  every 
person  in  trade,  whose  money  is  unreasonably  with- 
held, will  be  obvious  and  effectual  to  you,  who  re- 
gard the  reproofs  of  God  in  his  holy  word. 

But  are  you  occupied  yourself  in  trade  or  mer- 
chandise, then  the  energy  of  your  Christian  princi- 
ples will  show  themselves  in  a  still  stronger  light. 
You  will  not  suffer  the  love  of  money  to  bias  or 
corrupt  your  conscience.  You  will  take  no  advan- 
tage either  of  the  ignorance  or  necessity  of  those 
with  whom  you  traffic,  by  putting  bad  things  into 
their  hands  for  good,  or  by  exacting  an  exorbitant 
price.    You  will  neither  lake,  nor  use,  nor  detain 


62 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


through  force  or  fraud,  what  is  your  neighbor's 
property. 

Now  if  any  one  should  say,  it  is  not  possible  to 
live  so  honestly  in  the  present  state  of  the  world: 
that  the  righteous  man,  by  dealing  so  conscientious- 
ly in  the  midst  of  those  who  have  no  conscience, 
would  make  himself  a  prey,  and  therefore  must 
either  leave  his  trade,  or  starve  in  it ;  I  answer,  that 
violent  as  the  temptations,  and  plausible  as  the  pleas 
are,  to  conform  to  general  custom,  in  conniving  at 
breaches  of  honesty,  and  in  living  upon  the  wages 
of  iniquity  ;  yet,  the  motives  for  you  to  be  punctu- 
ally just  and  righteous  in  all  your  dealings,  if  you 
have  any  title  to  the  character  of  a  Christian,  must 
still  preponderate.  For  (whatever  is  the  case  with 
others,  who  have  never  received  the  word  of  God 
in  deed  and  in  truth)  you  know  how  express 
and  peremptory  the  command  of  your  God  is  in  this 
matter.  You  know  that  God,  who  indispensably 
requires  you  to  be  honest,  leaves  no  foundation  for 
the  worldly  infidel's  excuses  constantly  urged  to 
palliate  cheating,  viz.  the  necessity  of  being  dis- 
honest in  order  to  prosper;  for  he  pledges  his  own 
most  sacred  word  for  your  provision,  if  you  will 
deal  uprightly.  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  the  most  high 
God,  governor  of  heaven  and  earth,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  have  in  thy  bag  divers  weights,  a  great  and  a 
small,"  that  is.  one  to  buy  and  another  to  sell  with. 
"  Thou  shalt  not  have  in  thine  house  divers  mea- 
sures, a  great  and  a  small.  But  thou  shalt  have  a 
perfect  and  just  weight,  a  perfect  and  just  measure 
shalt  thou  have:  that  thy  days  may  be  lengthened 
in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee. 
For  all  that  do  such  things,  and  all  that  do  unright- 
eously, are  an  abomination  to  the  Lord  thy  God." 
Deut.  xxv.  13 — 16.  You  hear  him  expressing  his 
abhorrence  of  the  iniquity,  so  customary  in  trade, 
in  the  most  alarming  manner:  "Are  there  yet  the 
treasures  of  wickedness  in  the  house  of  the  wicked, 
and  the  scant  measure,  that  is  abominable  1  Shall 
I  count  them  pure  with  the  wicked  balances,  and 
with  the  bag  of  deceitful  weights'?  For  the  rich 
men  thereof  are  full  of  violence,  and  the  inhabit- 
ants thereof  hath  spoken  lies,  and  their  tongue  is 
deceitful  in  their  mouth.  Therefore  also  will  I 
make  thee  sick  in  smiting  thee,  in  making  thee 
desolate  because  of  thy  sins."  Micah  vi.  10—13. 

Should  it  be  supposed  that  regard  for  yourself 
and  family  will  gain  the  ascendancy,  and  be  prompt- 
ing you  to  use  common  arts  of  fraud;  I  answer, 
that  even  this  pressing  temptation  will  be  counteract- 
ed by  the  unalterable  declarations  cf  your  God; 
"Woe  unto  him  that  buildeth  his  house  with  unright- 
eousness, and  his  chambers  by  wrong."  Jer.xxii.  13. 
"  Be  not  deceived  :  the  unrighteous  shall  not  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God."  1  Cor.  vi.  9.  Besides,  the 
Lord  that  bought  you  with  his  own  blood,  and  from 
whose  grace  you  alone  expect  the  gift  of  salvation, 
has  commanded  you  to  conform  in  your  whole  con- 
duct to  the  following  rule  :  "  Therefore,  all  things 
whatsoever  you  would  that  men  should  do  unto 
you,  even  so  do  unto  them,  for  this  is  the  law  and 
the  prophets." 

Were  you  therefore,  after  these  full  instructions, 
which  you  receive  as  the  irrevocable  righteous  de- 
crees of  the  Almighty;  were  you  to  do  any  thing 
unjustly,  you  know  you  must  renounce  both  the 
authority  of  God,  and  your  interest  in  the  redemp- 
tion which  is  in  Jesus.  You  know,  that  in  the  very 
day  you  determine  to  follow  the  evil  customs  of  the 
world  in  this  point,  you  must  bid  farewell  to  all 
solid  peace  of  conscience,  forfeit  that  delightful 
communion  with  God,  which  has  been  the  sweetest 
enjoyment  of  your  life,  and  give  up  the  pleasing 
expectation  of  a  blessed  immortality,  for  remorse, 
for  fear,  or,  what  is  worse,  for  a  conscience  past 
feeling. ' 


Comparing,  therefore,  things  spiritual  with  thing? 
temporal,  you  will  determine  that  honesty  is  always 
the  best  policy.  And  though  you  know  that  in- 
justice and  fraud  hold  such  a  large  dominion  over 
the  world,  that  you  may  "  run  to  and  fro  through 
the  streets,  and  seek  to  find  a  man,  if  there  be  any 
that  executeth  judgment;"  yet,  unseduced  and  un- 
corrupted  by  the  multitude  of  sinners,  you  will  pity 
those  who  purchase  gain  at  the  expense  of  their  in- 
tegrity. Surely,  you  will  say,  "They  have  made 
their  faces  harder  than  a  rock.  Surely,  they  know 
not  the  way  of  the  Lord,  nor  the  judgment  of  their 
God."  Jer.  v.  3,  4. 

Further,  Do  you  preside  in  a  family  1  you  will 
then  regard  it  as  a  grand  branch  of  your  Christian 
duty  to  give  unto  your  servants  that  which  is  just 
and  equal.  You  will  not  treat  them  with  haughti- 
ness, because  of  their  dependent  state:  you  will 
falsify  no  contract  you  have  engaged  in  with  them, 
nor  withhold  their  wages  which  are  due :  you  will 
make  a  conscience  of  not  exacting  from  them  harder 
labor  than  they  are  well  able  to  perform.  In  case 
of  slight  misdemeanors,  you  will  not  provoke  them 
with  threatenings,  nor  gall  them  with  words  of 
abuse  ;  nor  when  you  observe  them  faithful  in  your 
service,  be  backward  to  give  them  suitable  encou- 
ragement. Above  all,  you  will  abhor  that  custom 
which  is  an  indelible  reproach  to  a  civilized,  much 
less  to  a  Christian  country,  of  abandoning  them  in 
the  time  of  their  sickness,  and  through  fear  of 
paying  for  their  cure,  turning  them  out  without 
money,  without  friends,  when  their  condition  loudly 
calls  for  medicine,  for  attendance,  for  compassion 
towards  them. 

The  command  of  your  God  respecting  the  justice 
due  from  masters  to  their  servants  is  most  express, 
and  the  care  he  has  taken  to  procure  for  them  a  be- 
nevolent regard  from  all  who  reverence  his  autho- 
rity, is  very  remarkable.  You  hear  him  in  their 
behalf,  thus  addressing  you:  "Thou  shalt  not  op- 
press an  hired  servant  that  is  poor  and  needy — lest 
he  cry  against  thee  to  the  Lord,  and  it  be  sin  unto 
thee!"  Deut.  xxiv.  14,  15.  You  are  assured  that 
the  God  of  heaven  and  earth,  like  an  impartial 
loving  Father,  equally  resents  the  wrong  done  to 
any  of  his  offspring;  and  with  him  is  no  respect  of 
persons.  The  knowledge  of  this  will  lead  you  to 
regard  your  domestic  dependants  in  a  respectful 
li^ht;  it  will  lead  you  to  repress  the  emotions  of  a 
selfish  hasty  spirit,  as  the  faithful  Job  was  wont  to 
do:  "  If  I  did  despise  the  cause  of  my  man-servant 
or  of  my  maid-servant,  when  they  contended  with 
me  :"  that  is,  if  in  any  matter  of  debate  betwixt 
them  and  myself,  I  paid  little  regard  to  justice, 
condemning  and  accusing  them  when  guiltless,  or 
treating  them  with  harshness  because  in  my  power; 
"What  shall  I  then  do  when  God  riseth  up?  ar.d 
when  he  visiteth,  what  shall  I  answer  him  ?  Did 
not  he  that  made  me  in  the  womb  make  him  ?  and 
did  not  one  fashion  us  in  the  womb  ?"  Job  xxxi. 
13—15.  Thus  the  awful  thought  that  you  have  a 
Master  in  heaven,  will  regulate  your  deportment 
towards  your  fellow-creatures,  over  whom  his  pro- 
vidence has  given  you  authority. 

So  essential  to  the  character  of  a  real  Christian 
is  this  part  of  justice  which  is  due  from  all  masters 
to  their  servants,  that  whosoever  lives  in  the  vio- 
lation of  this  duty,  does  but  expose  himself  and  the 
faith  of  Jesus  to  derision,  by  pretending  regard  for 
it.  For  what  can  be  more  contemptible,  what  more 
odious,  than  for  a  man  pretending  to  be  a  follower 
of  Jesus,  who  is  a  lion  in  his  house,  and  frantic  to- 
wards his  servants?  One  of  the  most  melancholy 
objects  on  earth  is  a  passionate  governor  of  a  family, 
calling  himself  a  believer,  and  valuing  himself  on 
his  relation  to  Christ.  All  the  servants  who  are 
connected  with  him,  and  all  who  observe  his  car- 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


63 


riage  towards  them,  will  be  led  to  despise  and  to 
revile  that  religion  which  ihey  see  joined  with  such 
loathsome  hypocrisy.  From  regard,  therefore,  to 
the  name  and  gospel  of  Jesus,  i hat  it  may  not 
through  you  be  blasphemed,  as  well  as  from  a  sense 
of  interest,  and  a  love  to  the  commands  of  your 
Saviour,  you,  O  Christian !  will  give  no  occasion 
for  your  servants  to  complain  of  your  unjust  deport- 
ment towards  them. 

But  if,  instead  of  the  place  of  authority  and  go- 
vernment, the  all-wise  God  has  fixed  you  in  that  of 
subjection,  as  a  servant  or  an  apprentice,  you  will 
faithfully  follow  the  directions  which  the  Scripture 
gives  you  for  the  exercise  of  justice  in  that  condi- 
tion ol  life.  You  will  abhor  the  thought  of  wasting, 
embezzling  or  secreting  to  your  own  use  any  of 
your  master's  money,  goods,  or  provisions.  You 
will  neither  do  this  yourself,  nor  basely  connive  at 
others  who  are  wicked  enough  to  do  it.  You  will 
not  see  things  spoiled  before  your  eyes;  nor  give 
away  to  tattlers  and  busy  bodies  what  is  not  your 
own  to  give.  You  will  not  be  idle  and  slothful,  be- 
cause those  are  absent  who  are  to  overlook  you  and 
force  you  to  diligence.  You  will  think  it  your  duty 
to  consult  the  interest  of  your  master,  and  to  make 
it  in  some  sense  your  own. 

The  motives  which  influence  you,  if  you  have 
any  title  to  be  called  a  Christian,  to  do  so  much 
more  in  this  respect  than  it  is  common  to  find  other 
servants  doing,  are  peculiar  and  mighty  in  ope- 
ration. You  will  act  thus  from  a  principie  of  con- 
science, concerned  to  be  approved  by  God  in  your 
behavior,  and  determined  to  do  nothing  knowingly 
and  wilfully  that  is  offensive  to  him,  whether  any 
besides  himself  are  present  to  observe  you  or  not. 
From  a  desire  also  to  adorn  and  recommend  to 
others  that  gospel  of  which  you  know  the  excel- 
lency, you  will  be  uniform  in  the  practice  of  honesty 
and  justice.  In  this  substantial  manner  you  will 
evidence  that  your  faith  is  more  than  a  barren  no- 
tion ;  by  proving  that  it  makes  you  worthy  of  all 
the  confidence  your  master  can  place  in  you,  and 
that  it  preserves  you  from  falling  into  those  lies  or 
frauds  so  generally  the  practice  of  servants  in  al- 
most every  family.  This  conscientious  honesty 
you  will  regard  as  one  of  the  most  substantial 
proofs  that  you  know  God.  You  will  judge  that 
your  master  must  necessarily  mock  at  your  reli- 
gion, and  with  justice  too,  however  zealous  you 
may  seem,  if  he  should  find  that  you  pilfer  as 
others,  and  that  you  are  not  to  be  trusted  when  re- 
moved from  his  inspection. 

Now,  whatever  opposition  and  hatred  you  may 
incur  by  such  conscientious  deportment,  you  will 
patiently  endure  ;  assured  that  in  doing  your  duty 
in  this  manner,  and  upon  these  principles,  you 
shall  receive  from  God  trie  reward  of  an  everlast- 
ing inheritance.  And  though  the  value  of  your 
services,  or  the  things  in  which  you  discover  your 
integrity,  be  little  in  the  judgment  of  the  world; 
you  know  they  shall  witness  for  you,  that  you  were 
faithful  and  obedient;  and,  like  the  widow's  mite, 
be  as  much  in  the  sight  of  God  as  greater  services. 
Since  he,  where  there  is  a  willing  mind,  acceptelh 
according  to  what  a  man  hath,  and  not  according 
to  what  he  tmth  not. 

But  lest  suf-h  promises  should  not  alone  prove 
sufficient  to  animate  you  to  the  practice  of  justice, 
you  know  from  th^  infallible  word  of  God,  that  no 
fraud,  however  common,  however  slightly  thought 
of,  either  in  wasting  your  master's  substance,  or 
neglecting  his  business,  much  less  in  purloining  his 
goods,  if  persisted  in,  will  be  overlooked;  that 
"  every  one  that  djoth  wrong  shall  receive  for  the 
wrong  that  he  doth,"  whether  poor  or  rich,  master 
or  servant. 

Another  important  instance,  in  which  every  real 


Christian  manifests  his  impartial  love  of  justice,  is 
by  paying  those  customs  which  are  by  law  enacted, 
and  from  thence  become  his  earthly  sovereign's 
right.  This  very  thing  is  expressly  mentioned  and 
enjoined  by  the  command  of  y  ur  God.  You  are 
to  "  give  tribute  to  whom  tribute,  and  custom  to 
whom  custom  is  due."  Besides  this  most  express 
command,  you  have  the  example  of  your  Redeemer. 
When  he  had  neither  silver  nor  gold,  he  wrought  a 
miracle  that  he  might  pay  the  tribute  exacted  of 
him  and  his  poor  disciple.  He  did  this  rather 
than  seem  to  countenance  the  iniquity  of  defrauding 
the  crown  of  its  just  revenues.  You  will  therefore 
renounce  the  custom  too  common  in  trade,  of  at- 
tempting either  to  bribe  the  king's  officers  to  betray 
their  trust,  or  of  deceiving  their  utmost  vigilance. 
You  will  renounce  such  practices  as  utterly  irre- 
concileable  with  any  regard  to  Christian  duty. 

The  last  instance  of  justice  which  I  shall  insist 
on,  is  that  of  restitution  to  all  whom  you  have  wil- 
fully injured,  either  in  their  souls  or  their  bodies, 
their  estate  or  reputation.  Have  you  led  any  friend 
or  acquaintance  into  error,  or  tempted  them  to  sinl 
Have  you  solicited  and  obtained  their  compliance 
to  some  base  and  guilty  practice  1  The  first  step 
you  will  necessarily  take,  when  you  yourself  repent 
and  beiieve  in  Jesus,  will  be  to  endeavor  to  recover 
from  danger  your  companions  in  iniquity,  and,  as 
far  as  lieth  in  you,  to  make  them  sensible  of  the 
crimes  in  which  yon  have  shared,  alas!  so  deeply 
with  them.  In  case  you  have  defrauded  any  one, 
you  will  (like  Zaccheus  upon  his  first  receiving 
the  Saviour)  make  what  restitution  you  are  able; 
esteeming  it  a  baseness  provoking  in  the  sight  of 
God  and  man,  to  live  yourself  in  superfluities, 
whilst  others  are  suffering  loss  through  your  former 
injustice.  All  evidences  of  the  truth  of  your  faith 
you  must  esteem  utterly  deceitful,  if  you  can  en- 
joy the  spoils  of  which  you  have  defrauded  your 
neighbor. 

Further,  as  a  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen 
than  great  riches,  if  at  any  time,  through  private 
resentment  or  licentiousness  of  speech,  you  have 
been  either  the  inventor  or  propagator  of  falsehood 
to  the  injury  of  your  neighbor;  you  will  think  it  a 
part  of  justice  to  make  a  particular  retraction  of 
the  calumny  you  advanced,  and  openly  acknow- 
ledge the  particular  aggravations  which  you  have 
■forged.  For  though  it  may  be  prejudicial  to  your 
own  reputation  thus  to  point  out  the  truth  ;  though 
it  may  make  the  world  abate  the  esteem  they  at 
present  have  for  you  ;  this  esteem  belongs  not  to 
you,  but  to  the  person  you  have  injured  ;  and  to 
him  you  must  return  it,  though  you  expose  your- 
self. For  however  mortifying  this  procedure  may 
appear,  it  is  absolutely  necessary;  and  it  is  the  only 
proof  that  you  repent  and  abhor  the  falsehood  and 
licentiousness  of  your  tongue. 


SUNDAY  XXIV.— CHAP.  XXIV. 

THE   SAME   SUBJECT   CONTINUED — MERCY — MEEKNESS. 

Or  sincerity  and  justice,  as  essentially  requisite  in 
the  character  of  a  Christian,  we  have  already 
spoken.  These  virtues,  when  practised  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  they  have  been  here  explained,  are 
too  often  thought  to  comprehend  all  that  can  be  re- 
quired of  man.  It  must,  however,  be  remembered, 
that  these  are  but  the  least  considerable  of  the 
branches  which  spring  from  the  root,  of  faith  in 
Christ.  Where  this  root  is  fixed  in  the  heart,  such 
negative  righteousness  towards  men  will  in  no  wise 
be  deemed  sufficient,  nor  will  you  rest  satisfied 
with  bare  freedom  from  wilfully  injuring,  or  de- 
ceiving any  of  your  fellow-creatures;  on  the  con. 


64 


COMPLETE   DUTY    OF  MAN. 


trary,  to  the  conscientious  observance  of  truth  and 
justice,  you  will  add, 

III.  The  love  and  practice  of  mercy.  Whenever 
the  providence  of  God  places  the  miserable  before 
your  eyes,  as  it  did  of  old  the  wounded  traveller 
before  the  priest  and  Levile,  you  will  be  moved  to 
compassion.  Their  pains  and  diseases  of  body, 
their  troubles  and  distresses  of  mind,  their  neces- 
sitous circumstances,  their  unjust  sufferings  from 
others,  and  even  the  miseries  brought  upon  them- 
selves by  their  own  iniquity,  will  excite  in  you  a 
fellow-feeling  for  them.  So  that  if  you  have  much, 
such  objects  will  receive  liberal  relief  from  your 
bounty.  After  the  example  of  Job,  because  actuated 
by  the  same  spirit,  you  will  become,  in  the  distri- 
bution of  your  alms,  eyes  to  the  blind,  feet  to  the 
lame,  and  a  father  to  the  afflicted  poor.  The  bless- 
ing of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish  will  daily 
come  upon  you,  and  you  will  make  the  widow's 
heart  to  leap  for  joy. 

But  if  you  are  not  in  circumstances  to  give  plen- 
teously,  still  the  temper  of  your  heart  will  be  no 
less  friendly  and  charitable  than  if  you  were. — 
Though  poor,  your  bowels  will  yearn  towards  the 
distressed ;  and  though  you  have  neither  bread  of 
your  own  to  bestow  on  the  hungry,  nor  know  where 
to  make  applications  for  their  relief,  there  still  re- 
mains one  way  in  which  your  merciful  disposition 
will  evidence  itself;  a  way  pleasing  to  God,  and 
profitable  to  men  ;  you  will  make  your  intercession 
to  the  Father  of  all  mercies  and  the  God  of  all  con- 
solation, to  put  an  end  to  their  afflictions,  or  to  sup- 
port them  under  their  pressure. 

Further,  you  will  exercise  mercy,  if  you  are  a  fol- 
lower of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  towards  those,  whom 
either  the  injuries  they  have  done  you,  or  the  debts 
for  which  they  stand  answerable,  have  put  in  your 
power  to  punish.  In  such  cases,  where  mercy  to  the 
wretched  individual  would  not  prove  a  barbarous 
lenity  to  the  community  in  general,  you  will  relax 
in  your  demands,  and  waive  the  rigorous  execution 
of  the  law.  More  especially,  and  without  exception, 
where  the  appointments  of  God's  providence  have 
disabled  those  indebted  to  you  from  answering  your 
legal  demands,  you  will  abhor  the  thought  of 
afflicting  him  whom  God  hath  wounded.  You  will 
reject  with  indignation  the  worldly  maxim  of  seek- 
ing some  sort  of  satisfaction  in  lieu  of  your  debt,  by 
causing  the  man  by  whom  you  suffer  to  lie  in  a  jail. 
For  the  same  reason,  you  will  in  all  cases  where 
the  innocent  must  suffer  with  the  guilty,  choose 
rather  to  be  a  sufferer  in  some  degree  yourself, 
than  bring  many,  for  the  fault  of  one,  into  misery, 
by  taking  away  the  support  of  a  whole  family. 

Besides  these  cases,  there  is  one  in  which  a 
Christian's  merciful  temper  shines  with  the  great- 
est lustre;  I  mean  in  tenderly  regarding  the  spirit- 
ual miseries  and  dangers  of  the  human  race.  It  is, 
I  confers,  generous  and  noble  to  alleviate  and  re- 
move the  sufferings  of  ihe  body,  and  to  take  a  plea- 
sure in  doing  goo'i  to  them  who  are  in  adversity, 
by  liberal  gifts.  Yet  how  limited,  how  partial,  how 
transient  are  the  benefits!  What  can  alms  avail  to 
comfort,  where  every  distemper  of  the  mind  still 
rages'?  Pride,  envy,  hatred,  wrath,  marice,  strife 
and  filthy  lewdness  in  families,  destroy  all  good,  all 
enjoyment  of  comfort.  You  relieve  the  family  day 
by  day,  but  the  husband  abuses  his  wife,  beats  and 
terrifies  his  children;  or  the  proud  imperious  wife 
vexes  her  husband,  driving  him  into  drunkenness 
as  a  refuge  from  her  assaults;  or  the  children,  after 
the  bad  example  they  see  at  home,  grow  in  wick- 
edness as  in  stature,  to  do  mischief  and  increase  the 
guilt  and  wretchedness  of  the  world  by  their  evil 
tempers.  In  every  station  and  walk  of  life,  immor- 
tal souls  are  provoking  their  adorable  Maker  and 
Benefactor  to  jealousy;  spurning  at  his  counsel  and 


his  salvation,  and  heaping  up  wrath  against  the 
day  of  wrath.  These  are  the  great  objects  which, 
louder  than  even  widows  or  orphans,  call  for  mercy, 
and  the  most  active  exertions  of  our  pity.  These 
things  will  awaken  a  lively  pity  in  your  heart,  if 
you  are  a  Christian  in  truth.  You  cannot  without 
a  tender  sorrow,  see  immortal  souls  provoking  the 
great  God  to  jealousy,  spurning  the  offers  of  his 
salvation,  and  heaping  up  wrath  against  the  day  of 
wrath.  As  you  firmly  believe  all  the  realities  of 
the  invisible  world,  you  must  be  much  affected  with 
such  a  melancholy  spectacle;  "I  beheld,"  you  will 
say,  "the  transgressors,  and  I  was  grieved  because 
men  kept  not  thy  law." 

And  this  compassion  to  the  souls  of  men  will  in- 
spire you  with  activity  and  zeal  to  save  them  from 
ruin.  You  will  labor  to  turn  sinners  from  the  error 
of  their  ways,  by  private  entreaties  and  winning 
persuasions,  by  faithful  and  strong  declarations  of 
their  danger,  where  there  is  any  opportunity  of 
speaking,  any  ear  to  hear,  or  lucid  interval  of  re- 
flection in  the  wicked;  by  distributing  heart-search- 
ing books,  and  by  assisting  those  that  are  engaged 
in  the  important  work  oi  spreading  the  knowledge 
of  the  Lord. 

If  you  ask,  what  is  there  peculiar  to  the  real 
Christian,  by  which  a  disposition  so  extensively 
merciful  is  excited  and  maintained  1  I  answer,  the 
reverence  he  pays  to  the  command  of  God,  and  the 
full  persuasion  he  enjoys  of  the  truth  of  his  promises ; 
but  still  more,  the  sense  he  has  of  his  own  redemp- 
tion by  Christ,  and  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on 
his  heart. 

The  command  of  God  to  be  merciful,  is  most  ex- 
press and  frequent ;  "  If  there  be  among  you  a  poor 
man  of  one  of  thy  brethren — thou  shalt  not  harden 
thy  heart,  nor  shut  thine  hand  from  thy  poor 
brother;  but  thou  shalt  open  thine  hand  wide  unto 
him.  Beware  that  thine  eye  be  not  evil  against 
thy  poor  brother,  and  thou  givest  him  nought,  and 
he  cry  unto  the  Lord  against  thee,  and  it  be  sin  unto 
thee.  Thou  shall  surely  give  him."  Deut.  xv.  7 
— 10.  In  every  description  of  the  tempers  God  en- 
joins us  to  show  to  our  fellow-creatures,  mercy 
bears  a  very  distinguished  part.  "  He  hath  shown 
thee  O  man,  what  is  good:  and  what  doth  the 
Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love 
mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God  1"  Micah 
vi.  8.  In  his  estimate,  pure  and  undefined  religion, 
as  it  respects  our  fellow-creatures,  is  to  visit  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless  in  their  affliction.  No 
duty  is  more  frequently  urged  than  this ;  "  Be  ye 
therefore  merciful,  as  your  heavenly  Father  also 
is  merciful."  Luke  vi.  36.  "Be  ye  all  of  one 
mind,  having  compassion  one  of  another."  1  Pet. 
hi.  8. 

And  as  these  commands  of  God  prove  the  neces- 
sity of  a  merciful  temper  in  all  that  are  approved 
by  him,  so  do  his  repeated  promises  invite  and  en- 
courage the  Christian  to  the  practice  of  it.  For 
though  none  of  these  promises  imply  any  worth  in 
a  merciful  temper  where  it  subsists  together  with 
love  to  sin,  or  enmity  to  the  cross  of  Christ ;  though 
they  are  not  to  be  construed  as  if  mercy  would  be 
rewarded  independently  of  faith  in  the  Redeemer: 
yet  are  they  of  great  efficacy  to  remove  the  objec- 
tions which  are  generally  "made  by  our  worldly 
hearts  against  the  exercise  of  love  and  bounty ; 
since  they  so  fully  assure  us,  thai  all  acts  of  benefi- 
cence which  spring  from  faith,  from  love  to  God, 
and  an  obedient  heart,  are  well-pleasing  to  him,  and 
shall  be  honored  through  his  grace  with  an  im- 
mense reward.  "  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they 
shall  obtain  mercy."  Matt.  v.  7.  "  He  which  con- 
verted a  sinner  "from  the  error*  of  his  way,  shall 
save  a  soul  from  death,  and  hide  a  multitude  of 
sins."  James  v.  20.    "  A  new  commandment  I  give 


COMPLETE    DUTY  OF    MAN. 


uiuoyou,  That  ye  love  one  another;  as  I  have  loved 
you,  that  ye  also  love  one  another.  By  this  shall 
all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another."  John  xiii.  34,  35.  Add  to 
this,  that  astonishing  declaration  of  the  Redeemer's 
regard  to  tins  excellent  temper,  even  from  his 
throne  of  judgment,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  universe.  He  will  then  reward  every  exer- 
cise of  mercy,  as  if  it  had  been  conferred  immedi- 
ately on  himself;  as  if  the  afflictions  it  relieved  had 
been  sustained  in  his  own  person ;  as  if  he  alone 
had  received  benelif  and  consolation  from  it;  "In 
as  much  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  oi' 
these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  Malt. 
xxv.  40. 

But  still  beyond  the  force  even  of  these  forcible 
precepts  and  promises,  your  own  sense  of  redemp- 
tion by  the  blood  of  the  cross,  will  excite  and  main- 
tain in  you  a  readiness  and  delight  in  every  kind  of 
mercy.  You  remember  your  apostacy  from  God 
to  have  been  such,  by  natural  disposition,  and  to 
have  been  so  confirmed  by  practice,  that  it  would 
have  been  just  had  God  destroyed  you  both  body 
and  soul  in  hell.  But  instead  of  this  insupportable 
doom,  you,  O  Christian  !  know  that  God,  "  com- 
mended his  love  towards  us,  in  that  whilst  we  were 
yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us."  An  instance  of 
mercy  absolutely  without  a  parallel,  both  in  itself 
and  in  its  beneficial  efficacy  to  the  church  of  God. 
This  you  know  is  the  only  foundation  of  your  peace 
and  hope;  this  is  all  your  salvation,  and  all  your 
desire.  In  consequence  of  your  living  under  af- 
fecting views  of  such  transcendent  grace,  by  which 
you  are  reconciled  to  God  and  made  his  heir,  the 
love  of  Christ  will  constrain  you  ;  with  a  pleasing 
energy  it  will  urge  you  to  all  the  various  exercises 
of  brotherly-kindness  and  charity.  A  delightful 
emotion  of  mind,  resulting  from  these  views,  pecu- 
liar to  the  faithful,  will  lead  you,  even  without  an 
immediate  regard  either  to  the  command  or  pro- 
mises of  God,  to  this  practical  conclusion,  "  Be- 
loved, if  God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one 
another."     1  John  iv.  11. 

Further;  besides  these  awful  commands,  and 
these  inviting  promises,  besides  the  warmth  and 
strength  of  God's  mercy  towards  men,  manifested 
in  the  death  of  Jesus,  the  mighty  influence  also  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  promised  to  dwell  with  the  Chris- 
tian. By  his  agency,  through  means  of  the  motives 
offered  in  the  written  word,  he  is  delivered  from  the 
unfeeling  selfishness  or  the  partial  good-will  natu- 
ral to  the  human  heart.  For  the  fruit  of  that  Spirit 
which  distinguishes  and  infinitely  ennobles  every 
true  believer  in  Jesus,  is  expressly  affirmed  to  be 
love,  and  to  be  "  in  all  goodness." 

Fourthly,  Mkkknkss  is  an  essential  branch  of  the 
Christian  temper.  If  you  are  a  believer  in  Jesus, 
you  will  not  nastily  take  offence,  or  yield  to  the 
suggestions  of  pride  and  self-love.  A  trivial  injury, 
a  reproachful  word,  a  small  indiscretion,  or  a 
casual  loss,  will  not  inflame  your  mind.  Kay,  sup- 
posing you  are  tried  by  some  great  provocation, 
you  will  watch  over  your  own  selfish  spirit,  with  a 
godly  jealousy;  lest  you  should  be  hurried  into  pas- 
sion by  ill  usage,  or  drawn  by  the  misconduct  of 
otners  to  dishonor  your  holy  profession,  to  bring 
guilt  upon  your  own  soul,  and  grieve  the  spirit  of 
God.  Even  when  you  suffer  such  considerable  in- 
juries, that  you  have  a  mht  to  seek  redress,  and 
ought  not  to  sit  down  easv  under  them,  you  will 
s'.ill  exercise  meekness.  You  will  fust  use  every 
mild  method  to  bring,  if  possible,  your  adversary 
to  reason.  You  will  be  disposed  to  try  arguments 
before  punishment,  coference  before  law.  and  pri- 
vate admonition  before  you  proceed  to  make  a  pub- 1 
lie  example.  And,  if  at  length  your  own  security, 
or  the  common  good  compels  you  to  seek  relief  ] 
39 


from  the  execution  of  public  justice,  even  this  will 
be  done  by  you  with  calmness,  without  passionate 
exclamations,  or  bitter  reflections  upon  your  en- 
emy. 

Further,  yo  must,  as  a  real  Christian,  show  the 
meekness  of  your  spirit,  by  carefully  avoiding  just 
cause  of  offence  to  others.  For  this  excellent  grace 
does  not  more  effectually  support  under  provoca- 
tions, than  enable  men  to  deny  their  own  inclina- 
tions rather  than  give  uneasiness.  It  will  make 
you  cautious,  that  neither  your  words  nor  actions 
carry  with  them  any  provocation.  You  will  not  be 
overbearing  in  company,  nor  positive  and  warm  in 
asserting  your  own  opinion  and  sense  of  things. - 
You  will  be  civil  and  respectful  to  every  one.  Men 
generally  know  how  to  do  all  this  where  they  think 
it  necessary  to  serve  their  temporal  interests:  from 
better  principles  and  from  higher  views  you  will 
make  it  the  habitual  exercise  of  your  life  towards 
every  one. 

And  to  mention  no  more  instances  in  which  your 
Christian  meekness  will  eminently  discover  itself, 
you  will  show  that  you  are  under  the  government 
of  this  temper  in  the  matter  of  religion.  Instead  of 
overflowing  with  the  gall  of  bitterness  against  those 
who  depart  from  the  undoubted  essentials  of  Chris- 
tianity, you  will  endeavor  their  recovery  by  calmly 
producing  the  strongest  arguments  in  demonstra- 
tion of  the  truth ;  and  by  cordially  praying  they  may 
have  understanding  and  a  sincere  heart  to  perceive 
their  force.  You  will  abhor  the  thought  of  covering 
your  private  resentment  with  the  venerable  name 
of  zeal  for  God's  glory  and  for  the  good  of  man. — 
You  will  not  think  that  contempt  of  your  erring 
brother,  or  passion  against  him,  can  be  justified  by 
any  means  or  on  ar.y  account  whatsoever.  There- 
fore, though  it  is  so  common  for  those  who  call 
themselves  Christians,  to  vent  their  rage  against  the 
adversaries  of  our  most  holy  faith,  you  "in  meek- 
ness" will  instruct  "those  that  oppose  themselves; 
if  God  peradventure  will  give  them  repentance  to 
the  acknowledging  of  the  truth."     2  Tim.  ii.  23. 

Thus  extensive  is  the  grace  of  meekness,  that 
eminent  branch  of  the  Christian  temper,  as  it  re- 
spects our  fellow-creatures. 

Now  the  peculiar  motives  which  will  excite  and 
•upport  its  exercise  in  your'  heart,  if  you   are  a 
Christian,  are  such  as  the  philosophers  of  old,  and 
their  unbelieving  successors  at  this  day  know  no- 
thing of,  though  in  both  there  has  often  been  a  re- 
semblance of  this  amiable  temper     You  will  not  be 
meek,  from  a  love  of  ease,  which  leads  some  to 
submit  to  the  ill  humors  of  others,  rather  than  bear 
the  trouble  of  contention,  and  by  which  they  gain 
the  credit  of  sweetness  of  temper,  or  from  a  proud 
disdain  of  appearing  to  be  hurt  by  malice,  or  pcr- 
verseness,   which   wou.'d  imply  a  feebleness  and 
weakness  in  your  own  mind  :  but  you  will  be  meek, 
because  this  is  the  will  of  God  concerning  you.  He 
commands  you  to  "be  no  brawlers,  but   gentle, 
showing  aii  meekness  unto  all  men."  Tit.  iii.2.  "To 
put  off  anger,  wrath,  hatred,  variance,  emulation, 
and  strife :  and  to  put  on  kindness,  meekness,  and 
1  ng-suffering,"    Your  Saviour,  the  foundation  of 
ail  your  hope  and  access  to  God  with  confidence, 
den  mnces  a  severe  threatening  against  every  sally 
of  unbridled  passion;  "Whosoever/'  says  he,  "is 
angry  with  his  brother  without  a  cause,"  that  is, 
through  a  selfish  passionate  spirit,   "shall    be  in 
■ment,"  that  is,  shall  fall  under  the 
anger  of  God;  "and  whosoever  shall  say  to  him, 
BLaca,"  or  thou  n'orthless  fellow,  suffering  himself 
to  mock  and  deride  others,  shall  be  still  more  se- 
verely punished,  "shall  be  in  danger  of  the  coun- 
cil; but  whosoever  shall  say,  Thou  fool,"  that  is, 
shall  allow  himself  to  be  so  far  transported  by  his 
passion  as  to  revile  another,  to  represent  him  not 


d6 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN 


oniy  as  fit  to  be  despised,  but  even  to  be  abhorred, 
he  shall  meet  with  still  sorer  punishment.  "  he  shall 
oe  in  danger  of  hell-fire."  So  awful  are  the  sanc- 
tions by  which  you,  O  Christian,  are  called  upon  to 
watch  against  every  violation  of  meekness,  and  to 
7ook  upon  passion  as  one  of  the  worst  enemies  to  your 
soul.  Besides  the  express  and  repeated  command 
of  God  proving  the  absolute  necessity  of  meekness, 
such  honor  is  put  upon  this  grace  as  must  make  it 
the  ambition  of  every  Christian  to  possess  it;  "  He 
that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty;  and 
he  that  ruleth  his  spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a 
city."  Prov.  xvi.  32.  The  meek  are  pronounced 
blessed,  and  the  inheritance  of  the  good  land, 
wherein  dwelleth  righteousness,  is  promised  to 
them.  Matt.  v.  5.  Meekness  is  distinguished  as  the 
principal  ornament  of  a  Christian,  and  honored 
above  every  encomium,  as  being  of  great  price  in  the 
sight  of  God. 

Added  to  all  these  motives  there  is  one  still  more 
powerful,  the  astonishing  meekness  of  that  adorable 
person,  the  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  salvation. 
The  inspired  writers  always  remind  us  of  this  great 
pattern,  and  fix  our  attention  on  the  cross  of  Christ, 
when  they  would  make  us  sensible  of  the  hateful- 
ness  of  an  impetuous,  quarrelsome,  or  angry  tem- 
per. "  Let  all  bitterness,  and  wrath,  and  anger,  and 
clamor,  and  evil-speaking,  be  put  away  from  you, 
with  all  malice  :  and  be  ye  kind  one  to  another,  ten- 
der-hearted, forgiving  one  another,  even  as  God, 
for  Christ's  sake,  hath  forgiven  you.  Christ  suf- 
fered for  us,  leaving  us  an  example,  that  we  should 
follow  his  steps,  who  did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile 
found  in  his  mouth,  who,  when  he  was  reviled,  re- 
viled not  again ;  when  he  suffered  he  threatened 
not ;  who  his  own  self  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God."  Eph. 
iv.  31,  32.  He,  your  Lord  and  Master,  was  op- 
pressed and  afflicted,  yet  he  opened  not  his  mouth. 
I  must  go,  therefore,  you  will  say,  and  implore 
grace  from  God  to  imitate  this  perfect  pattern  ;  since 
it  is  written,  "  He  that  saith  he  abideth  in  him,"  that 
is,  in  Christ,  "ought  himself  also  to  walk  even  as 
he  walked."  1  John  ii.  6. 

A  still  more  effectual  mean  than  any  yet  named, 
which  disposes  every  real  Christian  to  the  exercise 
of  meekness,  is  what  has  passed  in  his  own  heart. 
Self-abasement  and  shame  for  sin  are  inseparable 
from  repentance  and  true  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  A 
kind  of  knowledge  this,  which  greatly  subdues 
haughtiness  of  spirit ;  and  by  so  doing  makes  it  easy 
to  pass  by  those  provocations,  which  set  the  proud 
and  self-admiring  in  a,  flame.  As  persons  who  have 
committed  some  enormous  crime,  when  truly  peni- 
tent, find  no  resentment  of  passion,  whatever  is  said 
of  them,  or  whatever  is  dene  to  them;  so  to  your 
heart  when  humbled  for  your  sin  before  God,  this 
thought  will  readily  occur,  under  every  provocation 
to  wrath,  "  Of  far  worse  treatment  am  I  deserving, 
and  of  much  severer  trial  of  my  patience." 

This  powerful  inducement  to  suppress  all  sinful 
anger,  and  prevent  every  violation  of  the  law  of 
meekness,  St.  Paul  urges  in  its  full  force.  He 
'bunds  his  exhortations  solely  on  fhe  sinful  state  in 
which  we  are  all  by  nature  involved,  as  every  true 
believer  in  Christ  most  clearly  knows.  "Put  them 
in  mind,"  says  he,  "  to  be  gentle,  showing  all  meek- 
ness unto  all  men.  For  we  ourselves" also,  were 
sometimes  foolish,  disobedient,  deceived,  serving 
divers  lusts  and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and 
envv,  hateful  and  hating  one  anrjther."  Titus  iii. 
2—3. 

As  you  make  a  progress  in  the  knowledge  and 
practice  of  your  religion,  fresh  evidences  of  your 
own  corruption  will  discover  themselves  in  your 
heart,  and  prove  so  many  repeated  admonitions  to 
pray  for  and  exercise  meeknes;-,  knowing  with  what 


rich  forbearance  God  endures  the  multitude  of  your 
own  failings.  For  though  the  dominion  of  sin  is 
destroyed,  the  struggle  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit  still  remains,  and  consequently  sufficient  mat- 
ter for  humbling  yourself  till  mortality  is  swallowed 
up  of  life. 


SUNDAY  XXV.— CHAP.  XXV. 

THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED — CANDOR — FORGIVENESS 
OF   ENEMIES — HUMILITY. 

In  delineating  the  character  of  a  real  Christian,  as 
it  respects  the  tempers  he  exercises  towards  his  fel- 
low-creatures, we  have  already  described  him  as 
sincere  and  just  in  all  his  dealings,  as  merciful  and 
kind  towards  all  men,  meek  and  patient  under  all 
provocations.  But  besides  these,  other  graces  are 
still  requisite  to  complete  his  character.  These  I 
proceed  to  enumerate. 

V.  Candor  is  an  essential  branch  of  the  Chris- 
tian temper:  it  discovers  itself  by  the  charitable 
judgment  which  it  passes  on  the  actions,  the  charac- 
ters, and  the  intentions  of  our  fellow-creatures. 

By  their  actions  you  are  not  to  understand  such 
as  are  plainly  condemned  in  the  word  of  God,  and 
declared  positively  to  expose  men  to  the  wrath  of 
God :  because  so  far  is  it  from  any  act  of  charity  to 
strengthen  the  drunkard  or  the  fornicator,  the  fraud- 
ulent or  liar,  the  covetous,  the  profane  or  the  care- 
less, by  flattering  them,  or  leaving  them  to  flatter 
themselves  that  they  shall  escape  for  their  wicked- 
ness, unless  they  become  new  creatures,  that  it  is 
joining  with  their  invisible  adversary  the  devil,  and 
giving  him  your  aid  to  delude  their  souls  till  they 
are  lost  for  ever.  But  besides  the  multitude  of  evil 
actions  and  tempers,  distinguished  in  Scripture  by 
the  name  of  sins,  which  go  before  men  to  judgment, 
there  is  a  considerable  part  of  human  conduct  of  a 
doubtful  aspect.  Now  here  is  the  peculiar  province 
for  the  exercise  of  charitable  judgment :  and  in  this 
place,  O  Christian,  you  will  esteem  it  your  bounden 
duty,  and  make  it  your  practice.  You  will  watch 
over  your  tongue,  to  restrain  it  from  condemning 
men  without  proofs,  or  merely  upon  the  slight  evi- 
dence of  a  single  report.  You  will  be  careful  to  in- 
form yourself  of  the  particular  circumstances  con- 
nected with  the  action  in  question ;  and  when  no 
sufficient  light  appears  to  justify  a  peremptory  ver- 
dict, you  will  conclude  as  candor  and  love  direct. 
Thus  in  the  numberless  quarrels  between  near  re- 
lations, and  in  contests  about  matters  of  property,  it 
is  common  to  hear  violent  accusations  which  have 
no  foundation,  and  plausible  misrepresentations  of 
each  other  by  both  the  parties  concerned.  In  the 
midst  of  which  very  few  can  know  any  thing  with 
certainty,  and  therefore  all  are  bound  to  suspend  their 
judgment,  and  receive  no  ill  impressions  from  com- 
mon fame. 

With  regard  also  to  the  characters  of  men,  you 
will  be  charitable  in  your  judgment.  The  commis- 
sion of  a  single  crime  contrary  to  the  tenor  of  the 
delinquent's  life,  you  will  never  cruelly  construe 
into  an  impeachment  of  his  sincerity.  You  will 
not  brand  a  man  as  an  incorrigible  villain  ever  af- 
ter, because  he  was  once  guilty  of  a  dishonest  action 
towards  yourself;  or  proclaim  another  to  be  a  mere 
hypocrite  in  religion,  because  you  have  once  detect- 
ed him  in  some  wicked  practice.  You  will  not  im- 
mediately, as  the  manner  of  a  vindictive  man  is, 
cry  out,  that  all  pretence  of  conscience  in  such  is 
only  cant,  or  profession  of  the  fear  of  God  only  a 
snare  to  entrap  the  simple,  or  a  cloak  to  cover  ini- 
quity. On  the  contrary,  you  will  remember  how 
often  the  violence  of  temptation,  suited  to  your  con- 
stitutional sin,  has  been  too  mighty  for  you,  or 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


C7 


brought  you  to  the  very  point  of  yielding.  You  will 
call  to  mind,  that  the  best  of  men,  those  whom  God 
himself  has  canonized  as  saints  in  glory,  did  not 
always  persevere  in  the  path  of  duty,  without  a 
blemish  or  a  fall:  they  were  overtaken  with  faults, 
though  they  soon  abhorred  themselves  for  them, 
and  vanquished  for  the  future  their  attempts.  You 
will  acknowledge  it  very  possible  for  such  frail 
creatures  as  men  are,  in  their  best  state,  to  make  a 
slip  contrary  to  habitual  practice  and  acknowledged 
duty. 

Fair  evidences  therefore  of  repentance  will  de- 
mand in  your  opinion  a  favorable  judgment  of  those 
who  have  dishonored  their  Christian  profession ; 
and  lead  you  to  conclude,  that  inward  shame  and 
secret  sorrow  for  their  fall,  have  exceeded  all  the 
open  reproach,  which,  as  backsliders,  they  have 
brought  upon  themselves  and  religion. 

With  regard  to  the  intentions  of  men,  as  in  most 
cases  they  can  with  certainty  be  known  to  God  only, 
you  will  esteem  it  your  bounden  duty  to  impute  no 
evil,  where  it  is  not  manifest,  nor  dare  to  allow  the 
injurious  surmise  that  such  and  such  things  spring 
from  a  bad  design,  when  you  have  no  proof  to  as- 
certain the  charge. 

In  these,  and  in  many  other  similar  points,  you 
will  exercise  a  charitable  judgment,  because  the 
command  of  your  God  and  Saviour  is  most  plain 
that  you  should.  "  Judge  not,"  (that  is,  in  cases 
where  you  cannot  have  a  competent  knowledge,  and 
where  God's  law  is  silent,)  "that  ye  be  not  judged. 
For  with  what  judgment  ye  judge,  ye  shall  be  judg- 
ed ;  and  with  what  measure  ye  mete,  it  shall  be 
measured  to  you  again."  Matt.  vii.  1,  2. 

Your  obedience  to  this  command  will  appear 
most  reasonable,  and  be  made  easy  by  the  witness 
in  your  own  heart.  You  are  conscious  how  often 
vou  yourself  when  you  have  acted  uprightly  have 
been  charged  with  evil  intentions.  Your  own  con- 
duct has  often  been  cruelly  misconstrued,  often  con- 
demned as  being  of  quite  another  complexion  than 
what  you  knew  it  to  have  been.  You  remember  also 
how  often  you  have  done  what  you  ought  not,  what 
you  promised  and  vowed  you  would  not:  that  many 
prayers,  much  watchfulness,  and  obstinate  conflicts 
were  scarcely  sufficient  to  gain  you  an  established 
victory  over  you  own  wickedness.  You  know  that 
when  you  fell,  the  fall  was  instantly  lamented;  and 
though  in  fact  wounded  grievously,  you  rose  to  re- 
new the  combat,  earnestly  striving  to  obtain  deliver- 
ance from  the  power  of  your  adversary.  There- 
fore, though  you  may  be  now  a  conqueror  in  the 
fight,  you  will  feel  for  others  in  the  situation  in 
which  you  were  once  yourself;  assured  that  men 
may  really  design  the  glory  of  God,  and  be  in  gene- 
ral influenced  by  good-will  to  their  fellow-creatures, 
though  they  may  sometimes  be  betrayed  into  a 
breach  of  duty. 

Such  sentiments,  deeply  impressed  on  your  own 
heart,  will  form  a  habit  of  judging  of  your  fellow- 
creatures  with  tenderness  and  mercy. 

VI.  It  is  a  very  distinguishing  part  of  the  temper 
of  a  real  Christian,  to  forgive  ana  love  his  enemies. 
Therefore,  if  you  are  entitled  to  the  name  you  bear, 
your  behavior  under  provocations  will  be  quite  op- 
posite to  the  custom  of  the  world,  and  the  impulse 
of  corrupt  nature.  Is  your  character  basely  vilified'! 
you  will  refute  the  malicious  slander,  should  it  need 
an  answer,  without  retaliating  abuse  for  abuse,  or 
blackening  you  defamers.  Should  your  foes  pro- 
ceed from  ill  language  to  ill  usage,  you  will  still 
forgive;  and  prove  the  reality  of  your  good-will  to- 
wards them,  by  pitying  them  in  their  distress,  by 
even  serving  them  as  occasion  offers.  And  though 
in  some  cases  the  very  grievous  wrongs  with  which 
you  may  be  oppressed,  may  justify  and  demand  le- 
gal redress,  your  heart  will  burn  with  no  animosity 


against  those,  whose  violence  has  forced  you  to  this 
method  of  self-defence.  And  to  advance  still  one 
step  higher,  were  the  case  ever  to  happen  that  yor:^ 
should  be  left  in  the  power  of  bloody  persecutors,  of 
the  faith,  who  are  determined,  unless  you  will  re- 
nounce it,  to  take  away  your  life,  yet  even  here,  so 
sublime  is  the  holiness  flowing  from  Christian  prin 
ciples,  you  would  feel  a  love  of  benevolence  towards 
your  persecutors.  You  would  pray  for  them  to  that 
God,  before  whom  it  is  equally  dangerous  and  im- 
pious to  dissemble.  You  would  entreat  him  to  give 
them  repentance  to  the  acknowledgment  of  the 
truth,  that  their  sin  may  be  pardoned,  and  the  joy 
of  heaven  finally  become  their  portion. 

Thus  complete  is  the  nature,  and  ihus  wide  the 
extent  of  the  forgiveness  and  love  which  you  will 
exercise,  O  Christian,  towards  your  enemies. 

The  arguments  which  convince  you  of  the  rea- 
sonableness and  absolute  necessity  of  this  temper, 
are,  as  they  need  to  be,  remarkably  strong  and  im- 
pressive. Your  knowledge  of  God  in  his  govern- 
ment and  redemption  of  the  world,  will  lead  you 
utterly  to  condemn  and  to  oppose  the  first  risings  of 
malice,  or  of  hatred  even  against  your  bitterest  foes. 
For  you  are  thoroughly  sensible  what  manner  of 
affronts  and  insults  the  great  God  daily  receives.— 
You  consider  the  condition  of  the  persons  who  offer 
them,  and  the  obligations  they  are  under  to  him.— 
You  remember  the  glory  of  the  Most  High,  the  am 
pie  means  he  has  in  his  power  instantly  to  avenge 
his  injured  name,  and  to  destroy  its  daring  adver- 
saries in  a  moment.— At  the  same  time  you  behold 
him  slow  to  anger,  full  of  long-suffering,  and  of 
great  mercy;  net  willing  that  any  should  perish, 
but  waiting  for  many  months,  nay,  many  years,  in 
patient  compassion  towards  them  that  hate  him. 

This  adorable  temper  in  the  God  of  heaven,  so 
conspicuous  in  his  providential  government  of  the 
world,  shines  still  brighter  to  your  mind  in  the  plan 
of  man's  redemption.  By  serious  meditation  on 
this  scheme,  you  will  be  led,  O  Christian,  to  reason 
thus  with  yourself;  "  Had  God  been  provoked  with 
his  enemies,  as  I  am  so  impatiently  inclined  to  be 
with  mine;  had  he  been  prone  to  resentment,  or 
wanting  in  the  riches  of  mercy,  what  had  become 
of  us  all  1  of  a  world  in  arms  against  him  1  Had 
God  loved  those  only  who  first  loved  him,  or  waited 
to  give  his  inestimable  blessing,  till  we  sinners  had 
made  the  first  advance,  where  had  been  the  means 
of  grace  1  where  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  1— 
God,  on  the  contrary  commended  his  love  to  us,  '  in 
that  when  we  were  yet  enemies  Christ  died  for  us.' 
How  inexcusable  then,  how  desperately  wicked 
must  it  be  in  me,  to  want  love  for  a  fellow-servant, 
though  a  fellow-sinner,  since  God  has  had  so  much 
compassion  on  us  all." 

Further,  the  force  of  this  argument  in  proof  of  the 
reasonableness  of  loving  your  enemies  is  still  con- 
siderably more  increased  by  your  own  experience, 
of  God's  grace  and  tender  mercy  to  yourself. 

You  remember  how  long  you  lived  in  forgetful- 
ness  and  in  horrid  contempt  of  God,  as  if  you  had 
been  independent  of  him,  or  he  unworthy  of  your 
ii. dice  ;  how  long  you  were  seeking  your  happiness 
in  the  pursuits  of  vanity,  without  inquiring,  Where 
is  God  my  Maker  1  You  know  he  suffered  you  to 
survive  all  this  insolence  of  affront  to  him.  In  the 
midst  of  n,  his  mercy  was  not  esiranged  from  you  ; 
he  still  protected,  still  provided  for  you;  he  pre- 
served yon  from  dying  in  a  reprobate  condition.— 
At  leng'h  he  crowned  his  goodness  towards  you,  by 
giving  you  grace  to  see  your  sin  and  Saviour,  by 
forgiving  and  forgetting  all  the  evil  you  had  done 
against  him.  This  very  long,  this  very  gracious 
indulgence  of  your  heavenly  Father,  manifests  the 
hideous  deformity  of  a  vindictive  spirit,  and  enables 
you  to  see  how  monstrous  it  must  be  in  you  to  listen 


68 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


to  its  dictates;  or  not  to  return  love,  whatever  inju- 
ries you  have  received,  when  the  God  of  glory  both 
has  dealt,  and  still  continues  to  deal  so  graciously 
with  you. 

Therefore,  though  some  violent  provocations  may 
suddenly  kindle  resentment,  and  prompt  you  to 
cherish  the  thought  of  returning  evil  for  evil,  soon 
the  sensibility  of  God's  patience  and  love  towards 
yourself,  will  make  the  transient  intention  appear 
full  of  injustice  and  ingratitude  to  God,  and  totally 
unbecoming  your  guilty  state  before  him.  Thus  the 
hell-engendered  spark  of  revenge  will  quickly  die 
away,  and  love  instead  of  resentment  reign  within. 

Besides  these  arguments,  the  full  credit  which 
you,  O  Christian,  give  to  every  Scripture  declara- 
tion will  dispose  you  to  resist  every  rising  sentiment 
of  ill  will  against  your  enemies.  You  are  assured 
by  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself,  that  no  one  who 
harbors  the  least  degree  of  malice  or  hatred  in  his 
heart,  can  stand  within  the  limits  of  mercy  till  that 
detestable  spirit  is  subdued.  So  highly  offensive  is 
it  to  God,  whenever  found  in  such  guilty  sinful 
creatures  as  we  are,  that  it  renders  us  incapable 
even  of  praying,  without  increasing  our  sin  ;  for  the 
tongue  which  holds  any  correspondence  with  a 
heart  envenomed  by  hatred,  does  but  call  for  a 
curse,  when  it  calls  upon  God  in  those  words  which 
Christ  has  taught  us,  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses, 
as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us:"  the 
man  who  does  not  forgive  his  enemies,  calls  in  these 
words  for  justice  on  himself  instead  of  compassion. 
The  petition  dreadfully  inverted,  sounds  thus  in  the 
ears  of  God,  "Forgive  not  me  my  trespasses,  as  I 
do  not  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  me."  And 
if  any  man  persist  in  hatred  of  his  foes,  God  will 
answer  him  according  to  this  true  meaning  of  his 
prayer. 

In  such  a  forcible  manner  are  you  taught,  O 
Christian,  to  forgive  and  love  your  enemies.  And 
whilst  these  considerations  prove  to  you  beyond 
ijuestion  both  the  reasonableness  and  the  absolute 
necessity  of  the  duty,  the  grace  of  God  is  promised 
to  your  prayer,  that,  what  with  man  is  impossible, 
may,  through  the  Spirit's  influence,  be  accomplished 
by  you.  For  though  injuries  so  affect,  so  irritate 
our  selfish  hearts,  that  it  seems  an  impracticable 
task  to  attempt  to  extinguish  animosity  towards  our 
foes,  yet  by  the  Holy  Ghost  there  is  given  to  every 
true  believer  in  Christ,  "  a  s]  irit  of  love,  and  of 
power,  and  of  a  sound  mind. ;"  so  that,  through 
Christ  strengthening  him,  he  can  do  all  things. 

VII.  By  continuing  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  and 
growing  in  his  grace,  you  will  at  length  obtain  true 
humility,  "preferring  everyone  before  yourself." 
This  indeed  is  the  crowning  attainment  of  a  real 
Christian.  An  attainment  not  barely  surpassing 
what  the  world  thinks  requisite  to  form  a  complete 
character,  but  even  appearing  to  the  proud  big  with 
absurdity  and  contradiction.  I  shall  show  therefore 
in  what  sense,  and  on  what  account,  you  will  prefer 
every  one  before  yourself,  if  you  are  advanced  in 
Christian  holiness.  You  will  do  this,  not  because 
you  know  yourself  to  live  in  I  he  indulgence  of  sin 
as  much  as  others;  for  irresistible  evidence  com- 
pels you  to  believe  the  contrary.  Neither  does  this 
preference  which  you  give  to  every  one  before  your- 
self, imply  any  denial  of  the  real  change  wrought 
in  your  soul  by  the  grace  of  God ;  much  less  does  it 
suppose  that  you  might  as  well  have  continued,  like 
the  world  at  large,  in  servitude  to  sin.  Were  it 
so  understood,  I  should  allow  the  objections  made 
against  this  part  of  the  Christian  temper,  by  men  of 
superficial  virtue  and  predominant  self-conceit. — 
Then  indeed  it  might  justly  be  said,  "  Is  it  possible 
lo  be  so  blind  as  not  to  perceive  the  vast  difference 
there  is  in  the  characters  of  men  1  And  if  I  am  al- 
lowed to  see  it  in  regard  of  others,  how  can  it  be 


wrong  to  acknowledge  as  much  with  regard  to  my 
self?  What  violence  should  I  offer  to  my  reason, 
to  attempt  to  persuade  myself  that  I  am  not  to  prefer 
myself  to  the  children  of  disobedience  ;  1  who  pay 
regard  to  God  and  to  all  his  commandments  V 

But  let  the  case  be  properly  slated,  and  then  I 
trust  there  will  appear  very  sufficient  grounds  for 
this  humble  estimation  of  yourself. 

It  is  certain  then,  if  you  are  much  advanced  in 
the  knowledge  and  practice  of  the  religion  of  Jesus, 
that  you  are  sensible  of  much  corruption  in  your 
heart;  for  to  imagine  otherwise,  is  the  effect  of 
pride  reigning  and  blinding  the  eyes  of  the  mind. — 
It  is  certain,  also,  thst  you  are  conscious  of  many 
instances  of  unfaithfulness  to  the  grace  you  have 
received ;  that  you  have  to  bewail  many  known 
omissions,  and  much  negligence  in  the  service  of 
God ;  and  that  you  cannot  but  acknowledge  your 
tempers  to  have  been  far  short  of  that  perfection 
which  the  Christian  purity  requires.  At  the  same 
time,  you  clearly  perceive  what  excellent  advan- 
tages you  have  enjoyed,  what  mercies  have  been 
granted  to  you,  demanding  suitable  returns  of  faith, 
love,  and  obedience.  You  remember  the  alarming 
calls,  the  affectionate  warnings,  which  have  made 
strong  impressions  on  your  heart ;  the  answers 
which  have  been  given  to  your  prayers  ;  the  trou- 
bles, the  dangers,  the  enemies  from  which  you  have 
been  delivered;  together  with  the  peace,  the  com- 
fort, and  joy  you  have  so  often  experienced,  in  com- 
munion with  your  God.  In  a  word,  you  are  fully 
convinced,  that  much,  very  much  indeed,  has  been 
done  for  you,  to  make  you  a  shining  pattern  of  holi- 
ness. In  this  view,  therefore,  every  appearance  of 
insensibility  towards  Gcd  ;  every  secret  sinful  dis- 
order of  your  affections,  which,  with  many  who  ac- 
count themselves  religious,  passes  for  nothing,  will 
wear  a  quite  different  aspect  in  your  eye — it  will 
afflict  and  abase  you. 

Things  being  thus  circumstanced  with  the  hum- 
bled and  advanced  Christian  ;  I  would  now  ask, 
Where  is  the  palpable  absurdity,  where  the  fancied 
impossibility,  that  each  person  of  this  character 
should  judge  himself,  all  things  considered,  inferior 
to  other  men  1  or  that  he  should  believe  there  is  no 
other  person,  who,  had  he  been  blessed  with  equal 
helps  and  advantages,  would  not  have  so  adorned 
his  Christian  profession  as  to  surpass  his  attain- 
ments 1 

The  whole  difficulty  of  conceiving  that  this  tem- 
per can  actually  subsist  in  the  heart,  arises  from  the 
self-conceit  so  general  and  abounding,  which  is 
puffed  with  the  least  shadow  of  supposed  pre-emi- 
nence above  others.  This  hateful  disposition  it  is 
which  makes  men  so  apt  to  prefer  themselves  to 
others  on  account  of  their  own  goodness,  without 
considering  how  much  more  favored  they  have  been, 
and  without  comparing  the  progress  they  have  made 
with  the  means  of  improvement  they  have  enjoyed. 

The  advanced  Christian  is  of  a  more  humble  and 
reasonable  mind :  he  blushes  at  his  manifold  and 
great  defects ;  he  is  ashamed  for  his  faults  in  the 
remembrance  of  the  rich  grace  of  God  bestowed 
upon  him,  and  the  consideration  of  the  excellencv 
of  his  majesty.  He  is  too  candid  to  think  that  others 
have  been  guilty  in  the  same  degree  ;  the  transition 
then  is  easy  to  prefer  every  one  before  himself. 

Besides  this  inward  testimony,  which  will  lead 
you,  if  you  are  much  advanced  in  the  religion  of 
Jesus,  to  this  humble  estimation  of  yourself,  the 
command  is  positive;  "In  lowliness  of  mind,  let 
each  esteem  others  belter  than  themselves."  Phil, 
ii.  3.  A  command  expressly  enjoined,  as  the  only 
effectual  prevention  of  "  vain  glory."  And  that 
this  admonition  is  not  to  be  interpreted  as  relating 
to  those  only  who  walk  worthy  of  their  Christian 
profession,    appears   evidently    from    the   parable 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


G9 


which  our  Saviour  spake  on  purpose  to  expose 
the  sin  of  valuing  ourselves  above  any  one.  He 
sets  before  our  eyes  a  Pharisee  and  a  Publican. — 
The  former  is  a  man  honest,  strictly  conscientious, 
and  very  devout.  These  his  virtues  he  acknow- 
ledges to  be  the  free  gifts  of  God ;  and  he  only  pre- 
fers himself  on  their  account  to  the  wicked  and 
abandoned.  One  of  them  he  mentions  in  his  prayer, 
without  any  personal  aversion,  merely  because  he 
saw  him  in  the  temple,  and  thanks  his  God  that  he 
was  not  so  wicked  and  base  as  this  Publican.  You 
know  the  judgment  of  God  in  this  case.  The  Pha- 
risee was  left  in  his  sins,  highly  offensive  in  the  eye 
of  his  Maker,  because  he  exalted  himself  above  the 
Publican.  "  Because,"  says  our  Lord,  "  he  trusted 
in  himself  that  he  was  righteous,  and  despised 
others,"  that  is,  in  comparison  of  himself. 

A  fuller  proof  you  cannot  desire  of  the  necessity 
of  entertaining  the  lowest  opinion  of  yourself.  This 
example  therefore  will  lead  you,  O  Christian,  to 
understand,  that  all  who  prefer  themselves  to  others, 
adopt,  in  fact,  the  sentiments  of  the  Pharisee,  tread 
in  his  steps,  and  must  have  done  just  as  he  did,  had 
the  same  thing  occurred  to  them.  It  will  teach  you, 
that  as  there  were  none  in  common  repute  more 
wicked  than  the  Publicans;  so  there  are  none  so 
wicked  as  to  justify  your  placing  yourself  above 
them.  Hence  you  will  learn  to  be  constantly  on 
your  guard  against  self-complacency  as  a  dangerous 
though  subtle  enemy  to  your  soul.  You  will  repel 
its  vile  insinuations,  to  which  you  will  find  yourself 
exposed,  whenever  you  hear  of  the  faults  or  see  the 
wickedness  of  others.  You  will  be  jealous  lest  pride 
should  grow  out  of  the  consciousness  of  what  God 
has  done  for  you  ;  and  be  afraid  of  nothing  more 
than  the  vanity  of  your  own  mind:  remembering 
that  Truth  itself  has  thrice  proclaimed,  "  He  that 
exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  and  he  that  hum- 
bleth  himself  shall  be  exalted." 

From  this  true  representation  of  the  tempers  of  a 
Christian  towards  his  fellow-creatures,  it  is  evident, 
that  he  must  prove  an  inestimable  blessing  to  all  in 
connection  with  him.  For  what  a  delightful  union 
is  found  in  his  heart,  of  useful  and  excellent  quali- 
ties !  Who  would  not  rejoice  to  have  that  man  for 
his  superior  or  relation,  his  neighbor  or  acquaint- 
ance, in  whom  sincerity  and  justice,  mercy  and 
meekness,  candor  and  universal  benevolence,  shine 
with  continued  lustre '<  Who  must  not  admire  a 
man  habitually  exercising  all  these  virtues,  yet 
taking  himself  the  lowest  place;  not  counting  him- 
self to  have  apprehended,  not  soothing  the  vanity 
of  his  mind  by  the  applause  he  receives,  or  by  any 
comparison  of  himself  with  others;  but  doing  this 
one  thing,  pressing  forward,  ashamed  of  his  small 
progress.  Such  is  not  the  ideal  picture  of  what  a 
Christian  should  be,  but  the  practice  of  thousands 
who  are  living  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  as  their 
atoning  sacrifice  and  the  Lord  their  righteousness. 
In  fact,  every  one  who  has  a  Scripture  title  to  the 
character  of  a  Christian,  will  thus  walk  in  this 
world,  and  be  thus  zealous  of  good  works. 


SUNDAY  XXVI.— CHAP.  XXVI. 

ON   THE    DUTY    OF    A   CHRISTIAN    IX   A    MARRIED     STATE. 

In  the  last  chapter  we  took  a  view  of  the  real  Chris- 
tian exercising  sincerity,  justice,  and  mercy,  meek- 
ness, candor,  love,  and  humility,  towards  all  his 
fellow-creatures.  We  now  come  to  consider  him 
discharging  those  peculiar  duties  which  arc  incum- 
bent upon  him  when  engaged  in  the  married  state. 
The  mutual  duty  of  Christian  husbands  and 
wives  is  fidelity  and  love  :  the  separate  duty,  sup- 


port and  government,  on  the  husband's  part;  on  the 
wife's,  assistance  and  obedience. 

Fidelity  to  the  marriage-bed  is  equally  bound  by 
the  matrimonial  covenant  on  both  parties;  because, 
in  virtue  of  this  union,  they  become  each  other's 
property.  So  that  it  is  not  possible  for  either  to 
yield  to  the  embraces  of  another  without  a  crime 
punishable  in  every  well-ordered  society;  without 
disannulling  the  covenant  of  marriage;  without 
justifying  a  divorce  ;  without  incurring  the  wrath 
of  the  righteous  God,  who  hath  said,  "  VVhoremon- 
gers  and  adulterers  he  will  judge." 

In  the  eyes  of  all,  therefore,  who  form  their  senti- 
ments by  the  Scriptures,  lewdness  in  the  marriage- 
state  is  abhorred  as  the  blackest  villany.  And  so 
far  must  Christian  husbands  and  wives  be  from  in- 
juring each  other  by  defiling  tne  marriage-bed,  that 
Ihey  must  be  free  from  every  thing  in  their  air, 
dress,  or  discourse,  which  would  encourage  wanton 
desires.  Whatever  has  this  tendency,  however  po- 
lite and  fashionable,  they  must  shun  as  a  hateful 
violation  of  the  spirit  of  their  marriage-contract. — 
In  their  judgment,  it  must  be  no  sufficient  observa- 
tion of  conjugal  fidelity  barely  to  be  innocent  of 
adulterous  commerce :  they  must  maintain  a  purity 
of  heart  undefiled  by  any  lusting  after  others,  and 
by  any  lascivious  jesting,  which  discovers  at  least, 
an  appearance  of  it.  Nothing  less  than  this  is  ne- 
cessary on  the  man's  part,  to  keep  his  marriage-vow 
inviolate,  and  on  the  woman's,  to  show  a  chaste  con- 
versation. A  duty  equally  incumbent  on  both:  and 
for  either  to  transgress  here,  is  audaciously  to  re- 
bel against  the  plain  command  of  the  Lord  God 
Almighty,  against  his  benevolent  everlasting  ordi- 
nance. 

To  fidelity  must  be  added  mutual  tender  love. — 
For  love  is  the  life  of  marriage  ;  without  which  it 
differs  as  much  from  the  comfortable  society  the 
gracious  God  intended  to  establish  by  it,  as  a  state 
of  servitude  from  one  of  freedom.  When  this  union 
was  first  made  in  Paradise,  it  was  immediately  de- 
clared, that  the  bonds  of  marriage  should  prove 
stronger  than  the  bonds  of  nature;  so  that  a  man 
should  "  forsake  even  his  father  and  mother," 
from  whom  he  instrumentally  derived  his  being, 
"and  cleave  to  his  wife."  Like  the  two  pieces  of 
wood  which  God  commanded  the  prophet  Ezekiel 
to  join  together,  and  they  became  one  in  his  hand. 
Ezek.  xxxvii.  17.  So  the  marriage-tie  was  ordained 
as  an  including  rind,  to  make  of  two  persons  one 
flesh.  From  this  intimate  union  there  ought  ever 
to  follow  a  constant  circulation  of  all  kind  offices 
and  endearments,  just  as  the  vital  juices  circulate 
through  the  natural  body. 

From  hence  it  follows,  that  husbands  and  wives, 
though  irreproachable  even  in  their  own  con- 
sciences, in  point  of  conjugal  fidelity,  are  still  great- 
ly guilty  if  they  live  in  indifference,  or  slight  regard 
to  each  other.  It  is  true,  a  failure  in  point  of  lovs 
does  not,  as  adultery,  break  the  marriage-bond,  but 
it  defeats  one  principal  purpo-e  of  its  institution. — 
For  it  was  designed  to  uni'e  the  hearts  of  the  mar- 
ried pair  as  much  as  their  bodies;  and  to  produce 
the  delicious  fruit  of  the  most  consummate  friend- 
ship, from  th"  pleasing  combination  of  two  persons, 
whose  interests  were  by  this  means  made  invaria- 
bly the  same.  But,  instead  of  these  advantages. 
want  of  love  in  either  of  the  parties  will  pervert  the 
state  of  marriage  into  the  most  grievous  infelicity 
and  burden  of  life. 

For  this  reason,  great  stress  is  laid  in  God's  holy 
word  on  this  duty.  Husbands  and  wives  arc  not. 
only  commanded  to  preserve  the  bed  wmietiled,  but 
to  maintain  also  a  most  affectionate  regard  for  each 
oilier.  The  precept  indeed  is  immediately  addressed 
to  husbands,  but  the  force  of  it  must  equally  reach 
to  both  parties  engaged  in  the  nuptial  uniou:  "  So 


70 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


ought  men  to  love  their  wives,  as  their  own  bodies. 
He  that  loveth  his  wife  loveth  himself.  For  no  man 
ever  yet  hated  his  own  flesh:  but  nourisheth  and 
cherisheth  it,  even  as  the  Lord  the  church."  Eph. 
v.  28,  29.  The  quick  feeling  which  every  man  has 
of  the  least  injury  done  to  his  own  body,  the  invin- 
cible aversion  to  every  thing  painful  to  it,  the  in- 
cessant desire  of  possessing  it  in  health  and  com- 
fort, form  the  image  here  used  to  represent  the 
strength,  the  delicacy,  and  the  perpetuity  of  conju- 
gal affection.  And  as  our  bodies  do  not  partake  less 
of  our  care  and  love,  on  account  of  their  weakness, 
deformity,  or  disease,  or  because  they  prove  much 
more  burdensome  to  us  than  others  of  a  healthier 
habit,  find  theirs  to  be;  so  no  disagreeable  qualities, 
no  perverse  humors  on  either  side,  can  justify  the 
other  party  in  withholding  the  tribute  of  love. — 
These  faults  indeed  will  make  it  more  difficult  to 
behave  with  proper  tenderness  and  affection  ;  but 
though  severe  trials  of  our  faith  and  patience,  they 
by  no  means  vacate  the  obligations  of  the  married 
state. 

This  truth  is  finely  taught  the  husband  in  the  con- 
clusion of  the  precept,  by  directing  him  to  copy  the 
tender  love  of  the  Saviour  towards  his  church  in 
his  own  behavior  to  his  wife.  As  if  it  had  been 
said,  "  You  yourself  abundantly  experience  the  care 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  over  you,  and  observe  it 
exercised  over  your  fellow-christians  ;  you  see  how 
he  bears  with  your  negligences  and  your  infirmities, 
with  hovv  many  things  in  themselves  blameable,  and 
to  him  peculiarly  distasteful;  yet  he  grows  not  cold 
to  your  welfare,  nor  rejects  you  from  among  his 
children.  Show  you  therefore  the  same  tenderness 
one  towards  another,  as  the  whole  church  experi- 
ences from  its  head ;  and  never  think  your  are  either 
of  you  at  liberty  to  yield  to  moroseness,  or  to  be  void 
of  love." 

Further:  Christian  husbands  and  wives  must  not 
only  be  faithful  to  each  other's  bed,  and  cordially 
love  eacii  other's  person,  but  their  conjugal  affection 
must  be  spiritual  also  both  in  its  foundation  and  in 
its  exercise. 

It  must  not  be  built  only  on  beauty;  for  this  is 
one  of  the  most  fleeting  things  in  nature,  incapable, 
even  while  it  lasts,  of  maintaining  its  enchanting 
power.  Hence  those  who  come  together  with  rap- 
ture, enamored  with  each  other's  form,  often  grow 
cold,  2nd  soon  become  distasteful  to  one  another. — 
At  leas,!,  there  can  be  no  security  this  will  not  sooner 
or  later  prove  the  melancholy  event,  when  the  cause 
of  love  is  so  superficial,  so  sensual. 

But  suppose  that  good  sense,  good  manners,  or 
the  appearance  of  a  temper  formed  for  the  dearest 
friendship,  should  engage  the  parties  in  a  married 
union  :  even  these  amiable  accomplishments,  with- 
out divine  grace,  may  leave  them  in  great  danger 
of  estrangement  from  each  other;  for  these  excel- 
lences do  not  subdue  either  pride,  or  a  love  of  in- 
dependence, or  of  the  world.  Husbands  and  wives, 
therefore,  who  have  no  better  foundation  of  their 
Jove  than  these  charms,  with  which  they  were  at 
first  struck,  by  finding  more  restraint  in  the  mar- 
riage-state than  was  expected,  or  less  reality  of  ami- 
able tempers,  often  in  fact  lose  the  love  they  had 
when  they  first  came  together ;  especially  where  the 
Mtterness  of  misfortune  produces  a  change  in  world- 
ly circumstances.  It  is  too  frequent  to  see  the  well- 
bred,  the  sensible,  the  sweet-tempered  husband  or 
wife,  changed  by  the  loss  of  fortune,  into  a  fretful, 
complaining,  irksome  companion.  Indeed,  the  rea- 
son why  this  is  not  the  case  much  oftener,  is  owing 
to  the  providence  of  God,  which  keeps  men  out  of 
those  trials  they  are  not  strong  enough  to  bear. 

The  affection  of  Christian  husbands  and  wives 
must  be  established  upon  a  firmer  basis.  The  hus- 
band must  love  his  wife,  not  only  for  the  charms  of 


her  person,  the  sweetness  of  her  manners,  or  evetj 
the  affection  he  knows  she  bears  him;  but,  above 
all,  because  their  supreme  Benefactor,  the  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,  hath  said,  "  Husbands,  love  your 
wives."  The  Christian  wife  must  also  love  her 
husband  principally  in  obedience  to  the  divine  will; 
not  on  account  of  the  superiority  of  his  understand- 
ing, the  applause  he  receives,  the  honor  of  his  con- 
dition, or  the  cordiality  of  his  affection  towards  her- 
self. For  if  conjugal  love  is  not  secured  by  con- 
science towards  God,  a  thousand  various  accidents 
may  make  that  union  miserable,  which  was  happy 
before.  Some  sudden  storm  of  contention  may  arise, 
violent  enough  to  tear  up  natural  affection  by  the 
roots.  Some  bitter  expre:  sion  may  escape  in  the 
heat  of  passion,  which  shall  eat  in  secret  as  a 
canker,  and  comsume  all  enjoyments  of  the  mar- 
riage-state. 

Husbands  and  wives,  on  the  contrary,  in  whose 
hearts  the  love  and  authority  of  God  reign,  will  be 
united  together  by  the  common  object  of  their  high- 
est adoration  and  all-sufficient  happiness  ;  they  will 
find  their  affection,  like  the  law  of  their  God,  which 
has  bound  them  in  so  close  an  alliance,  constant  and 
unalterable. 

And  as  the  ground  of  affection  between  Christian 
husbands  and  wives  must  be  spiritual,  so  must  the 
various  exercises  of  it  too.  To  be  solicitous  to  pro- 
cure a  comfortable  provision  for  a  wife  ;  to  abhor 
the  thought  of  leaving  her  in  distress  or  depend- 
ence, when  diligence  or  frugally  may  prevent  it, 
is  common  to  every  married  man,  who  is  not  sunk 
beneath  the  level  of  humanity.  In  like  manner,  for 
the  wife  diligently  and  discreetly  to  manage  her 
husband's  family,  cheerfully  to  join  in  every  thing 
for  their  common  good,  attentively  to  study  to  make 
his  life  and  home  agreeable  to  him,  is  an  expression 
of  affection  which  may  subsist  in  a  heart  altogether 
void  of  the  least  savor  of  Christianity.  Mutual  and 
earnest  endeavors  to  be  pleasing  to  each  other  are 
often  found  where  the  parties  can  see  and  hear  each 
other  do  a  thousand  things  in  open  defiance  of  God'a 
authority:  and  where,  instead  of  disapproving  si- 
lence, and  meek  remonstrance  on  either  side,  they 
remain  perfectly  well  satisfied  with  each  other.  A 
most  perfidious  kind  of  love  is  this,  though  every 
where  prevalent;  a  sort  of  hideous  confederacy 
against  the  cause  of  God  and  truth,  in  which  they 
encourage  and  strengthen  one  another,  and  are  the 
principal  instruments  of  each  other's  everlasting 
condemnation. 

In  a  manner  totally  different  from  this  must  the 
affection  which  Christian  husbands  and  wives  bear 
towards  each  other,  show  itself.  They  must  be  most 
concerned  for  each  other's  spiritual  welfare;  they 
must  be  kind  and  tender-hearted  inspectors  of  each 
other's  conduct,  meekly  pointing  out  errors,  and 
with  love  admonishing  for  faults,  which  otherwise 
would  have  escaped  notice.  They  must  converse 
together  of  the  power,  the  glory,  the  mightiness  of 
God's  kingdom,  to  kindle  and  increase  their  mutual 
love  towards  him.  They  must  prompt  each  other 
to  holy  vigilance,  and  a  frequent  use  of  the  means 
of  grace  ;  they  must  associate  chiefly  with  that  sort 
of  company  which  tends  to  increase  carefulness  for 
the  soul,  faith  in  Jesus,  love  to  God,  and  all  the 
graces  of  a  Christian  life.  As  the  nuptial  union 
gives  each  of  the  parties  much  influence  which  may 
prove  either  greatly  serviceable  or  terribly  hurtful 
to  each  other's  everlasting  interests,  they  must  look 
upon  themselves  as  bound  in  conscience  to  use  it  all, 
against  the  corruptions  of  the  heart,  against  pride, 
unbelief,  and  worldly  lusts. 

In  this  manner,  with  unspeakable  advantage  and 
delight,  Christian  husbands  and  wives  prove  the 
spiritual  nature  of  their  conjugal  affection  ;  and 
then  they  will  be  sure  to  find  it  equally  constant  in 


COMPLETE    DUTY   OF   MAN 


71 


youth  and  age,  sickness  and  health,  indigence  and 
plenty,  lasting  as  their  abode  together  in  this  world, 
and  redounding  to  their  advancement  in  glory  in 
that  which  is  eternal. 

Now  real  Christians  are  the  only  persons  capable 
of  dwelling  together  in  the  mutual  exercise  of  such 
spiritual  and  permanent  affection;  because  they 
alone  confess  their  own  innate  depravity  in  the 
sight  of  God;  and,  under  this  humbling  sense  of 
themselves,  use  the  means  of  grace  aright.  They 
J  alone  are  constant  and  persevering  in  prayer,  for 
daily  remission  of  each  other's  sins;  for  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  help  each  other's  infirmities,  and  to  grant 
daily  supplies  of  strength  against  occurring  tempta- 
tions. 

These  humble  exercises  of  heart  prove  a  fruitful 
source  of  mutual  endearment.  They  deeply  im- 
press each  party  with  a  sense  that  they  are  connect- 
ed by  ties  lar  more  noble  even  than  those  of  wed- 
lock: that  they  are  children  of  one  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, servants  of  one  gracious  Lord,  members  of 
one  body,  and  heirs  of  one  glorious  kingdom.  The 
lively  knowledge  of  these  inestimable  privileges, 
and  of  a  common  interest  in  them,  has  power  to 
unite,  even  at  the  first  interview,  those  who  were 
strangers  to  each  other's  persons.  Judge  then  how 
much  more  effectual  this  knowledge,  when  increas- 
ed and  enlightened  by  daily  prayer,  must  be  to  pre- 
vent coldness  and  alienation  of  love  in  those  who 
are  already  united  in  fervent  affection. 

Again:  it  is  satiety  which  often  proves  the  bane 
of  conjugal  affection.  The  parties  by  long  acquaint- 
ance grow  insipid  to  each  other:  the  husband  grows 
more  reserved,  or  the  wife  loses  her  vivacity;  in 
either  case  disregard  ensues.  But  the  spiritual 
course  in  which  believers  in  Jesus  are  engaged, 
prevents  this  satiety;  the  infinite  grandeur  of  the 
objects  of  their  common  faith,  the  importance  of 
their  nuptial  union  with  respect  to  them,  joined  to 
a  mutual  desire  of  obtaining  salvation,  will  not 
suffer  that  stagnation  to  take  place  in  the  married 
state,  in  which  otherwise  it  is  so  frequently  found 
to  settle. 

Further;  strife  and  contention  first  cool,  and  then 
destroy  all  conjugal  affection.  But  the  devout  ex- 
ercises in  which  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus  are 
employed,  are  of  great  efficacy  to  prevent  variance ; 
or  when  in  any  measure  it  happens,  to  heal  it.  For 
when  they  appear  before  God,  seeing  and  lament- 
ing their  own  defects,  renouncing  themselves,  and 
praying  that  their  repeated  offences  may  not  be  im- 
puted to  them,  but  remitted  for  the  sake  of  Jesus, 
how  easily  will  they  find  it  to  confess  their  own 
proneness  to  passion,  to  make  merciful  allowances 
for  each  other,  and  to  divide  the  blame  instead  of 
imputing  it  wholly  to  one  side,  after  the  manner  of 
pride  and  self-sufficiency !  By  these  concessions 
the  contention  will  end  in  mutual  self-condemna- 
tion, and  in  earnest  desire  of  greater  vigilance 
against  any  disagreement  in  future. 

Though  the  height  and  ardor  therefore  of  na- 
tural love  which  usually  precedes  the  nuptial  union, 
and  flourishes  after  it  for  a  time,  may  wear  off  and 
subside,  husbands  and  wives  who  are  united  in 
Christian  knowledge  and  principles,  may  be  certain 
that  a  solid  tender  affection  will  ever  remain;  an 
affection  far  more  exalted,  sufficient  to  produce  all 
the  happiness  the  marriage-state  was  intended  to 
afford,  and  ripening  more  and  more  as  they  graw 
in  grace  and  every  divine  attainment 

Besides  mutual  fidelitr,'  and  love,  wnich  are 
branches  of  duly  common  to  both  parties  in  the 
married  state,  there  are  some  m 
husband,  others  to  the  wife;  and  the  conscientious 
i  discharge  of  these  respectively,  will  be  regarded  as 
matter  of  strict  duty  by  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus. 

The  peculiar  province  of  the  hcsband  is  to  go- 


vern. "  For  the  husband  is  the  head  of  the  wile, 
even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  church."  Eph.  v 
23.  Therefore, when  the  husband  ceases  to  preside, 
giving  up  without  just  reason  lite  authority  to  the 
wife,  he  transgresses  no  less  than  an  officer  in  an  ar- 
my would  do  who  surrenders  the  honor  of  r::s  com- 
mand to  the  importunity  and  ambition  of  cm  infe- 
rior. But  then,  as  the  head  hath  no  interest  oi  its 
own  distinct  from  the  rest  of  the  body,  nor  any  ad- 
vantage over  the  other  parts  (unless  the  care  of  di- 
recting and  providing  for  them  be  deemed  an  ad- 
vantage) so  the  husband  hath  no  interest  separate 
from  his  wife,  nor  any  private  advantage  flowing 
from  his  superiority.  For  the  authority  intrusted 
with  the  husband  by  Almighty  God  is  designed  for 
the  direction,  the  preservation,  and  well-being  of 
the  wife,  and  therefore  can  never  be  exercised  by 
any  husband,  who  fears  God,  but  with  this  view, 
and  to  this  excellent  end  ;  not  with  such  arbitrary 
power  as  men  rule  their  slaves,  but  with  such  a  be- 
nign influence  as  the  soul  exerts  towards  the  body, 
presiding  over  and  governing  it ;  for  the  command, 
in  the  Christian  rule  of  conduct  is,  that  "husbands 
dwell  with  their  wives  according  to  knowledge, 
giving  honor  unto  the  wife  as  unto  the  weaker  ves- 
sel," 1  Pet.  iii.  7.  that  is,  making  the  superiority 
which  God  hath  ordained  and  given  them  a  reason, 
not  of  insolence  and  abuse,  but  of  indulgent  tender 
ness.  So  that  the  authority  lodged  in  the  husband, 
by  being  managed  with  propriety,  instead  of  prov- 
ing a  galling  yoke  to  the  wife,  shall  be  found  a  real 
source  of  greater  ease  and  happiness  to  both. 

Another  peculiar  branch  of  the  husband's  duty 
to  his  wife  is  to  provide  her  with  all  things  necessa- 
ry, convenient,  and  comfortable  according  to  his 
own  rank  and  condition  of  life.  He  must  express 
a  pleasure  in  letting  her  share  in  all  the  advantage 
he  possesses,  and  by  evident  marks  of  joy  convince 
her  that  he  is  made  happy  by  seeing  her  use,  within 
the  limits  which  God  has  prescribed,  all  the  world- 
ly accommodations  he  enjoys.  And  though  conju- 
gal affection  renders  any  command  to  the  husband 
to  communicate  in  his  joys  with  his  wife  less  need- 
ful, it  is  still  necessarily  included  in  that  sacred  in- 
junction, "  So  ought  men  to  love  their  wives,  as 
their  own  bodies.  He  that  loveth  his  wife  loveth 
himself,  for  no  man  ever  yet  hated  his  own  lie-;. 
but  nourisheth  and  cherisheth  it."  Eph.  v.  28,  29. 

The  peculiar  duty  of  the  Christian  wife,  and 
which  for  conscience  towards  God  she  will  observe, 
is  to  give  aid  and  comfort  to  her  husband  in  the 
midst  of  his  business  and  labor.  The  good  manage- 
ment of  a  family  is  a  thing  quite  different  from 
making  a  provision  for  the  support  of  it.  The 
former,  in  general,  depends  chiefly  on  the  wife; 
the  latter  is  the  husband's  province.  In  this  manner 
the  labor  of  life  is  divided,  and  if  either  neglects 
their  respective  duty,  much  confusion  may  be  ex- 
pected, which  it  was  one  design  of  the  nuptial 
union  to  prevent.  A  Christian  wife,  therefore,  in- 
stead of  affecting  to  be  above  the  care  of  a  family, 
as  if  she  was  made  only  to  dress,  visit,  and  he  es- 
teemed, like  a  statue  or  a  picture,  for  her  shape  or 
face,  will  look  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household, 
and  eat  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  Thus  will  she 
give  her  husband  a  solid  testimony  of  her  regard 
to  him,  by  being  careful  to  see  that  the  fruit  of  his 
labor,  or  his  income,  is  not  wasted  through  extrava- 
gance, or  consumed  for  want  of  female  inspection 
and  order  at  home. 

A  second  instance  of  duty  peculiar  to  the  wife, 
!  md.    When 

hvough 
a  vain  desire  of  knowledge,  the  most  holy  God  was 
pleased  to  punish  that  vanity  with  a  disappointment 
of  the  very  end  at  which  it  aimed,  by  making  that 
desire  of  pre-eminence  a  reason  of  her  subjection. 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN. 


It  pleased  God  therefore  to  declare  that  ft  om  thence- 
forward her  desires  should  be  referred  to  the  will 
of  her  husband,  either  to  reject  or  comply  with 
them  in  things  lawful  as  he  thought  proper :  "  And 
thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband,  and  he  shall  rule 
over  thee."  Gen.  iii.  16. 

It  is  therefore  nothing  less  than  an  open  resistance 
of  the  ordinance  of  God  :  it  is  nothing  less  than  a 
proud  self-exalting  contempt  of  the  word  of  God, 
in  a  wife  to  affect  to  rule  or  to  refuse  to  submit  to 
the  authority  of  her  husband.  For  this  submission 
is  ordained  of  God,  even  from  the  fall  of  man  ;  and 
is  confirmed  again  by  the  command  of  the  inspired 
apostle,  "As  the  church  is  subject  to  Christ,"  ac- 
knowledging his  power,  and  submitting  to  his  au- 
thority, though  contrary  to  natural  inclination,  "so 
let  the  wives  be  to  their  own  husbands,  in  every 
ihing."  Eph.  v.  24.  The  plain  meaning  is,  that  in 
every  instance,  where  the  command  of  the  husband 
does  not  interfere  with  duty  to  God,  the  wife  is 
obliged  to  comply,  and  give  up  her  own  will  without 
murmuring. 

If  it  is  urged,  that  the  wife  has  frequently  more 
understanding  and  ability  to  govern  than  the  hus- 
band, and  therefore  on  this  account  may  think  her- 
self excused  from  paying  obedience  and  living  in 
subjection,  the  answer  is  obvious:  she  has  liberty 
to  use  her  superior  wisdom  in  giving  counsel,  in  pro- 
ducing such  strong  reasons  as  are  proper  to  correct 
a  mistaken  judgment,  and  persuade  a  change  of 
sentiment  or  conduct.  But  if  the  force  of  her  per- 
suasions prove  ineffectual,  subjection  is  her  wisely 
appointed  duty.  Indeed,  if  more  than  the  liberty 
to  advise  were  allowed,  on  account  of  greater  talents, 
it  must  follow,  that  authority  is  founded  on  the  su- 
periority of  intellectual  endowments ;  a  notion  big 
with  confusion  and  ruin  to  society.  For  suppose  a 
servant  endued  with  more  capacity  and  grace,  too 
(as  often  is  the  case,)  than  his  master,  still  how  in- 
dolent, how  insupportable  would  it  appear,  should 
this  be  urged  as  a  reason  for  his  refusing  to  be 
under  a  control,  to  which  it  was  indisputably  his 
duty  to  submit  on  another  account;  indisputably 
his  duty,  because,  though  allowed  to  be  superior  in 
understanding,  he  is  inferior  in  station.  To  attempt 
therefore  to  gain  the  place  of  authority,  or  contend 
for  it  on  account  of  gifts  and  parts,  is  to  abuse  them 
to  the  subverting  that  order  which  the  sovereign 
Giver  of  them  has  himself  established.  The  Chris- 
tian rule  is  positive  against  such  usurpation.  It 
speaks  thus:  "  Let  the  wife  see  that  she  reverence 
her  husband,"  that  is,  in  opposition  to  violent  pride 
and  selfishness  of  human  nature,  let  her  with  care- 
fulness watch  her  own  heart,  that  she  may  not  be 
found  wanting  in  submission  to  him  ;  for  if  she  is, 
her  deportment  is  most  unbecoming  a  woman  pro- 
fessing godliness.  Let  her  look  through  her  hus- 
band to  God  the  author  of  the  marriage  union,  and 
habitually  call  to  mind  the  holy  appointment  so 
plainly  made  known  in  his  word. 

It  is  a  case  which  too  frequently  happens,  that 
one  party  is  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  God  and 
Christ  Jesus,  whilst  the  other  remains  in  natural 
unbelief  and  bitter  prejudice  against  the  power  of 
•rodlinesss.  Here  much  of  the  comfort  of  the  nup- 
tial union  must  be  prevented  :  here,  instead  of  ani- 
mating and  assisting  each  other  in  their  best  inter- 
ests, the  believing  husband  or  wife  will  find  a  severe 
cross  in  the  vain  company,  the  foolish  discourse, 
the  favorite  pleasures,  and  the  low  pursuits,  in 
which  only  the  unconverted  party  can  delight.  Yet 
in  these  trying  circumstances,  the  power  of  Chris- 
tian faith  will  display  itself  to  great  advantage.  It 
will  produce  a  persevering  meekness,  and  patient 
waiting  in  love,  if  God  peradventure  shall  give  re- 
pentance to  the  acknowledgment  of  truth.  It  will 
excite  to  greater  circumspection  in  adorning  the 


gospel,  so  that  the  mind  disaffected  to  God  and  his 
great  salvation  may  be  won  over  even  without  the 
word.  It  will  provoke  to  earnest  intercession  with 
God  to  crown  his  loving-kindness  by  making  both 
one  spirit  in  the  Lord,  who  are  already  united  by 
the  marriage-tie. 


SUNDAY  XXVII.— CHAP.  XXVII. 

THE    DUTY    OF    PARENTS   TOWARDS  THEIR   CHILDREN. 

The  nearest  connection  in  life  after  the  nuptial 
union,  is  that  which  subsists  between  parents  and 
their  children.  From  this  connection  arises  various 
duties  both  of  a  temporal  and  spiritual  kind,  to  the 
discharge  of  which  every  Christian  will  conscien- 
tiously attend. 

I.  It  is  a  duty  all  parents  owe  their  children  to 
accustom  them  to  a  habit  of  industry,  to  inspire 
them  with  a  contempt  and  abhorrenee  of  idleness, 
as  the  great  corrupter  of  the  human  mind  and  inlet 
to  every  vice.  The  poor  must  strongly  insist  upon 
their  children's  giving  themselves  diligently  to 
work,  not  only  as  necessary  to  procure  themselves 
bread,  but  as  the  means  of  preventing  temptations 
to  pilfering  and  theft,  and  keeping  them  from  infa- 
my and  the  gallows.  The  children  of  the  rich 
stand  in  no  less  need  of  being  excited  to  industrious 
application  of  their  time  and  talents.  From  their 
earliest  years  they  should  hear  that  neither  wealth 
nor  a  large  estate,  not  even  nobility  of  birth,  can 
preserve  them  from  being  despicable  and  noxious 
to  society,  if  they  take  no  pains  to  acquire  what 
will  improve  the  mind,  and  give  them  ability  to 
perform  their  duty ;  that  without  love  of  employ- 
ment suited  to  their  station,  like  truant  school-boys, 
they  must  seek  men  as  idle  as  themselves  for  their 
companions  ;  and,  to  kill  time,  must  be  eager  in  the 
pursuit  of  foolish  and  puerile  amusements ;  and 
even  be  templed  to  sink  into  meanness  and  the 
wickedness  of  a  debauched  life,  merely  to  free 
themselves  from  the  languor  and  misery  of  sloth. 
On  the  contrary,  that  by  cultivating  the  love  of 
study  and  fine  writers,  by  being  active  and  useful, 
by  improving  their  advantages  of  station,  they  will 
never  feel  time  a  burden  on  their  hands.  They 
will  always  be  doing  good,  and  be  honorable  in 
their  generation.  These  instructions,  enforced  by 
the  example  of  the  very  conduct  they  inculcate, 
will  work  as  a  powerful  antidote  to  the  intoxicating 
pride  which  wealth  and  grandeur  naturally  inspire. 
Enforced,  I  say,  by  the  example  of  the  conduct  they 
inculcate;  for  if  the  persons  who  give  these  in- 
structions violate  them,  they  can  have  no  effect. — 
Children  must  necessarily  believe  that  their  parents 
judge  that  to  be  the  way  of  happiness  in  which 
they  see  them  continually  walk,  because  they  do  it 
out  of  choice ;  and  if  they  did  not  think  it  best,  why 
should  they  choose  if?  As  it  would  therefore  ap- 
pear cruel  in  parents  to  correct  or  reprove  for  tem- 
pers and  practices  their  children  learn  from  them- 
selves, so  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect  that  precept 
or  reproof  should  profit  them,  when  the  persons 
from  whom  they  come,  are  not  themselves  acting 
under  their  influence. 

II.  It  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  make  a  provision 
for  their  children,  sufficient,  if  they  can,  to  enable 
them,  by  honest  industry,  or  some  liberal  profes- 
sion, to  support  themselves,  and  be  useful  members 
of  society.  For  what  can  be  more  contrary  to  the 
feelings  "of  parental  love,  than,  by  idleness  or  ex- 
travagance, to  expose  their  offspring  to  poverty,  or 
to  force  them  to  settle  in  a  station  of  life  much  be- 
neath that  in  which  they  were  born,  a  cause  fre- 
quentlv  of  much  vexation  to  them,  and  a  bitter  dis- 


COMPLETE  DUTY  OF  MAN. 


TJ 


appointment  which  few  are  able  to  bear.  But  with 
regard  to  what  may  properly  be  called  a  provision, 
reason,  not  fashion,  the  word  of  God,  not  blind  af- 
fection, must  determine.  When  persons  who  were 
born  to  no  estate,  think  it  incumbent  on  them  to 
amass  wealth  sufficient  to  raise  their  children  above 
the  need  of  any  employment  or  profession,  scanty 
must  be  their  charities,  and  strong  their  love  of 
money.  And  so  far  is  opulence  from  being  any 
real  benefit  to  children,  that  (a  lew  instances  ex- 
cepted) it  proves  a  corrupter  of  their  hearts,  a  pan- 
der to  their  lusts,  fixing  them  in  habits  of  vanity 
extravagance,  and  luxury. 

III.  But  the  duty  which,  above  all  others,  is  in- 
cumbent on  parents,  is  to  provide,  as  far  as  lies  in 
them,  for  the  spiritual  and  everlasting  welfare 
of  their  offspring.  And  here  let  me  request  the 
most  serious  attention  of  every  parent.  I  am  at  a 
loss  for  words  strong  enough  to  describe  the  impor- 
tance of  this  duty.  Parents  ought  to  consider  them- 
selves as  chiefly  living  for  the  proper  discharge  of 
it,  and  as  in  the  most  solemn  manner  accountable 
to  God  for  their  conduct  herein.  Let  them  attend 
to  the  many  and  strong  obligations  by  which  they 
are  bound  to  the  performance  of  it. 

First,  This  is  clearly  the  command  of  God: 
"  These  words,"  saith  he  "  which  I  command  thee 
this  day  shall  be  in  thine  heart;  and  thou  shalt 
teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shall 
talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine  house,  and 
when  thou  walkest  by  the  way,  and  when  thou  liest 
down,  and  when  thou  risest  up."  Deut.  vi.  6,  7. — 
"He  established  a  testimony  in  Jacob,  and  appoint- 
ed a  law  in  Israel,  which  he  commanded  our  fa- 
thers that  they  should  make  them  known  to  their 
ehildren  :  that  the  generation  to  come  might  know 
them,  even  the  children  which  shoum  be  born  ;  who 
should  arise  and  declare  them  to  their  children; 
that  they  might  set  their  hope  in  God,  and  not  for- 
get the  works  of  God,  but  keep  his  commandments." 
Psal,  lxxviii.  5 — 7.  The  New  Testament  enforces 
the  same  duty,  and  calls  upon  fathers  to  bring  up 
their  children  "  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  Lord."  Eph.  vi.  4. 

Secondly,  This  command  of  God  is  solemnly  ac- 
knowledged by  the  covenant  into  which  professing 
Christians  enter  their  children.  Almost  as  soon  as 
they  have  received  them  from  God,  they  vow,  in 
the  ordinance  of  baptism,  to  educate  them  in  the  ser- 
vice, and  for  the  honor  of  their  Maker  and  Re- 
deemer. Or  if  they  do  not  appear  themselves  as 
sponsors  for  their  own  children,  they  make  choice 
of  some  particular  friends  who  engage  to  see  their 
children  properly  instructed.  Unless  therefore 
these  parents  are  careful  to  do  for  their  children 
what  was  then  promised  in  their  behalf,  they  turn 
the  solemn  religious  rite,  which  claims  God  our  Sa- 
viour lor  its  Author,  into  an  idle  ceremony. 

Thirdly,  Natural  affection  should  influence  Chris- 
tian parents  to  be  solicitous  for  the  salvation  of  their 
children.  That  they  know  they  have  immortal 
souls  is  taken  for  granted  ;  therefore  if  they  neglect 
the  cultivation  and  improvement  of  them,  anxious 
only  to  heap  up  wealth,  to  provide  them  with  tem- 
poral subsistence,  this  is  but  a  brutish  fondness,  not 
a  rational,  much  less  a  Christian  kind  of  love.  A 
rational,  a  Christian  affection  for  children,  must 
make  parents  reason  thus  about  them  : 

"These  tender  plants,  sprung  from  our  own 
bodies,  are  endued  with  an  immortal  spirit :  they 
possess  a  capacity  of  serving,  loving,  and  enjoying: 
the  favor  of  the  blessed  God  for  ever.  And  if  they 
do  not  serve,  love,  and  enjoy  him  for  ever,  their 
production  into  being,  instead  of  a  blessing,  will 
prove  an  insupportable  curse.  We,  their  parents, 
feel  such  love  for  them,  as  impels  us  to  think  no 
pains  too  great  to  provide  for  their  present  comfort. 


But  what  avails  it  to  secure  them,  were  we  able, 
from  the  evils  of  transient  sickness,  pain,  and  pover- 
ty, if  woes  of  endless  duration  are  to  be  their  final 
portion"?  What  avafb  the  most  ardent  affection, 
which  reaches  only  to  the  mortal  part,  if  all  that 
lieth  in  our  power  is  not  done,  that  after  their  pas- 
sage through  the  present  short-lived  scene,  they 
may  enter  into  eternity  in  the  favor  of  God  1" 

A  small  degree  of  natural  affection,  where  there 
is  persuasion  of  the  certainty  of  another  world,  must 
excite  such  reasoning  as  this  in  the  breasts  of  pa- 
rents, and  be  followed  with  some  correspondent  care 
in  the  education  of  their  offspring. 

But  those  parents,  who  are  in  truth  what  they 
profess  to  be,  Christians,  have  a  clear  view  by  faith 
of  the  realities  of  the  invisible  world.  Of  those  re- 
alities they  feel  the  unspeakable  importance,  and 
such  is  their  love  to  God,  that  were  it  in  their  power 
to  accomplish  it  there  would  not  remain  one  rebel 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  one  slave  to  sin.  They 
are  grieved  to  see  any  perishing,  whilst  Jesus, 
mighty  to  save,  and  merciful  to  pardon,  stands 
ready  with  open  arms  to  receive  all  who  will  come 
to  him  for  life.  With  what  greater  force  then  must 
these  principles  and  sentiments  work  in  them  to- 
wards their  own  offspring  1  How  solicitous,  how 
active  must  they  be,  to  secure  their  spiritual  wel- 
fare! 

Fourthly,  The  aptitude  of  children  to  receive  ei- 
ther good  or  bad  impressions,  which  can  scarcely 
be  afterwards  effaced,  forms  another  powerful  argu- 
ment for  instructing  them  with  the  utmost  care  in 
the  knowledge  of  God.  Should  this  noble  opportu- 
nity to  season  their  minds  with  excellent  sentiments, 
and  to  furnish  them  with  just  notions  be  lost,  all  fu- 
ture methods  of  instruction  or  means  of  grace  are 
likely  to  be  without  effect.  For  children  very  soon 
and  very  justly  conclude,  that  Mmatever  their  pa- 
rents inculcate  with  seriousness  and  frequency, 
must  be  worthy  of  their  remembrance  ;  and,  on  the 
contrary,  that  the  things  which  they  have  never  or 
very  seldom  taught  them,  must  be  of  little  or  no  ad- 
vantage to  their  happiness.  Hence  young  people 
who  have  never  been  instructed  at  home  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  excellent  majesty  of  the  Lord  our  God  ; 
of  our  absolute  dependence  upon  him,  and  of  his 
unwearied  mercy  towards  us,  attend  the  public 
worship  of  his  name  with  most  offensive  levity  and 
profaneness  of  carriage.  What  mere  babbling  also 
must  their  secret  prayers  be  (if  they  are  directed  to 
pray  at  all,)  if  they  have  never  been  instructed  in  the 
nature  and  qualities  of  sin,  never  been  taught  the 
worth  of  the  soul,  or  the  weakness  and  depravity 
of  men,  on  which  is  founded  the  necessity  of  prayer 
and  the  aids  of  grace?  What  an  invincible  obsta- 
cle, humanly  speaking,  to  the  success  of  the  preacher 
of  the  gospel,  must  be  found  in  the  hearts  of  young 
people,  whose  natural  ignorance,  pride,  and  unbe- 
lief, like  poisonous  plants,  have  been  nourished  by 
their  parents'  principles,  or  suffered  to  strenglhen 
by  their  criminal  neglect  1  Nay,  even  the  calls  of 
God  in  the  voice  of  his  providence,  by  the  death  of 
relations,  by  misfortunes,  and  afflictions  in  the  fa- 
mily, are  likely  to  lose  their  intended  benefif,  where 
no  care  has  been  taken  to  teach  children,  that  these 
are  monitors  from  God,  to  lead  men  to  consider 
their  ways  and  repent  of  their  transgressions. 

It  is  true  (blessed  be  the  free  grace  of  God,  and 
the  power  of  his  Spirit)  that  children  who  were  ut- 
terly neglected,  and  even  become  depraved  through 
their  paren's'  neglect,  have  been  and  are  brought 
daily  to  the  knowledge  of  salvation  by  Christ.  Ne- 
vertheless, it  is  certain  that  the  abounding  both 
of  empty  formality  and  open  profaneness  is  in  a 
great  measure  owing  to  parents  neglecting  their 
duty  to  their  children,  and  by  them  it  must  be  an- 
swered for.     And  this  suggests  another  reason. 


ti 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF    MAN 


FiftMy,  Which  should  engage  parents  to  care  for 
the  salvation  of  their  children.  God  takes  particu- 
lar notice  of  their  behavior  in  this  matter.  Abra- 
ham, the  father  of  the  faithful  and  friend  of  God, 
stands  greatly  distinguished  on  this  very  account: 
"  And  the  Lord  said,  Shall  I  hide  from  Abraham 
the  thing  which  I  do,  seeing  that  Abraham  shall 
surely  become  a  great  and  a  mighty  nation,  and  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  shall  be  blessed  in  him  1 
For  I  know  him,  that  he  will  command  his  children 
and  his  household  after  him."  Other  shining  excel- 
lences in  Abraham  might  have  been  mentioned: 
but  the  Lord  God,  you  observe,  selects  and  holds 
forth  to  our  notice,  as  a  peculiar  excellency  in 
which  he  delighted,  and  names  it  in  conjunction 
with  the  inestimable  promise  of  the  Saviour,  that 
Abraham  would  above  all  things  regard  the  salva- 
tion of  his  children,  and  the  honor  of  God  in  his 
family. 

SixIMy,  The  state  of  children,  exposed  to  the 
most  alarming  dangers,  loudly  calls  upon  parents 
to  be  solicitous  for  their  salvation.  Their  case  de- 
mands compassion,  for  they  are  wholly  distemper- 
ed. How  much  grief,  anger,  and  vexation  do  you 
see  them  feel,  even  in  their  very  childhood,  from 
their  natural  stubbornness,  passion,  envy,  pride,  and 
selfishness  1  And  do  you  not  know  what  these  dis- 
orders portend  ?  What  greater  troubles,  what  se- 
verer conflicts,  what  more  frequent  vexations 
await  them  as  their  certain  portion,  unless  the 
strength  of  these  baleful  passions  are  subdued  1  Are 
you  not  conscious  what  latent  seeds  of  various  lusts 
are  to  be  found  in  their  hearts,  which  will  ripen  by 
time,  and  occasion  a  terrible  harvest  of  corruption, 
unless  prevented  by  you?  Can  you  think  of  this, 
and  be  negligent  or  dilatory  in  commending  their 
case  to  the  great  Physician  of  souls,  and  teaching 
them  how  much  they  need  and  ought  to  seek  for  his 
power  to  heal  them  'l 

Were  a  parent  to  leave  his  child  alone  in  paths 
beset  with  beasts  of  prey,  and  full  of  covert  precipi- 
ces, would  not  his  scandalous  negligence  or  wanton 
barbarity  shock  every  humane  heart  1  But  do  you 
act  a  better  part,  O  parent,  if  you  leave  your  child  to 
walk  through  this  world,  filled  with  seducing  ob- 
jects, infested  with  a  subtle  watchful  adversary,  and 
lying  in  wickedness — to  walk  through  such  a  world, 
without  the  light  of  faith,  the  defence  of  God,  the 
influences  of  his  Spirit ;  ignorant  of  the  grounds  of 
justice,  truth,  sobriety,  chastity,  and  a  Christian 
life  ;  by  what  strength  they  are  to  be  practised  ;  why 
are  they  so  absolutely  required;  and  what  the  ir- 
reparable misery  of  violating  these  holy  duties'? — 
A  young  man  or  woman  entering  upon  the  stage  of 
life,  ignorant  of  these  things,  is  like  a  child  deserted 
by  its  unnatural  parent  in  the  howling  wilderness, 
and  is  not  more  likely  to  escape  destruction. 

But  should  there  be  any  parents  so  hardened  in 
profaneness,  as  not  to  care  what  may  become  of 
their  offspring  hereafter,  provided  they  escape  po- 
verty, and  prosper  in  this  world ;  let  them  know 
and  hear  once  more,  whether  they  will  attend  to  the 
awful  truth  or  no,  that  there  is  a  day  coming  when 
they  will  see  that  their  relation  to  their  children 
was  constituted  for  far  higher  purposes  than  to  se- 
cure them  advantages  in  this  world,  or  to  keep 
them  from  its  misfortunes.  Then  how  insupporta- 
ble will  it  be  to  them  to  hear  their  own  children 
calling  out  for  justice  on  them,  imputing  their 
damnation,  in  a  great  measure,  to  their  cruelty. — 
They  kept  the  dreadful  danger  out  of  sight,  they 
suffered  their  passions  to  rule,  they  joined  in  extol- 
ling pi  asures,  riches,  honor,  and  power ;  but  never 
exposed  the  mischief,  infamy,  and  ruin,  inseparable 
from  obstinate  disobedience  to  God.  How  insuffer- 
able the  anguish,  when  children  with  bitter  impre- 
cations, will  rage  against  their  father  and  mother, 


and  curse  the  day  in  which  they  were  born  to  them, 
born  finally  to  aggravate  their  misery,  by  perishing 
together  with  them. 

The  united  force  therefore  of  these  various  obli- 
gations, and  these  heart-affecting  considerations, 
must  make  all  Christian  parents  active  and  solici- 
tous above  every  thing  to  do  what  lies  in  their  pow- 
er, as  instruments,  to  prepare  their  offspring  to  re- 
ceive the  truth  of  God  to  the  saving  of  their  souls, 
and  to  use  those  methods  in  which  they  may  expect 
his  grace  to  work  with  them,  and  give  them  the  de- 
sired efficacy. 


SUNDAY  XXVIII.— CHAP.  XXVIII. 

ON  THE  METHOD  OF  INSTRUCTING  CHILDREN. 

The  duty  of  Christian  parents  to  instruct  their  child- 
ren in  the  knowledge  of  God  and  Christ  has  been 
laid  before  you.  But  as  the  condition  and  capaci- 
ties of  men  are  very  different,  it  is  accordingly  the 
duty  of  some,  and  what  God  will  undoubtedly  re- 
quire at  their  hands,  to  bestow  much  more  pains  in 
this  matter,  and  to  use  a  greater  variety  of  methods 
with  their  children  than  others. 

The  poor  will  discharge  their  duty  to  their  child- 
ren by  correcting  them  from  their  early  childhood 
for  lying,  for  pilfering,  even  in  the  smallest  degree, 
for  swearing,  for  quarrelling,  and  for  every  mark 
of  a  cruel  disposition — by  frequently  declaring  to 
them  that  it  is  a  good  and  gracious  God  who  gives 
their  parents  strength  to  provide  food  for  their  off- 
spring: that  he  is  their  Maker,  whose  eye  is  ever 
over  all,  that  he  may  give  unto  every  one  according 
to  his  doii.gs,  when  he  shall  call  the  whole  world 
before  his  tribunal :  that  this  glorious  God  will  ever 
bless,  love,  and  comfort  those  that  fear  and  love 
him,  but  punish  with  inconceivable  pains  all  wicked 
and  ungodly  persons,  who  do  the  things  and  live  in 
the  tempers  which  he  hates. 

The  poor  who  fear  God  themselves,  have  it  fur- 
ther in  their  power  to  make  their  children  pray 
morning  and  evening — to  tell  them  that  the  Bible  is 
the  word  of  God,  which  they  must  believe  and  love  ; 
to  carry  them  to  church  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  to 
keep  them  from  profaning  it.  And  when  these 
things  are  enforced  by  a  good  example,  there  is 
little  doubt  but  the  children  of  the  poor  will  be  great- 
ly blessed,  and  generally  speaking,  tread  in  the  steps 
of  their  godly  and  excellent  parents.  And  where 
so  much  time  must  be  employed  in  hard  labor,  and 
the  understanding  can  be  so  little  improved,  this 
may  justly,  I  apprehend,  be  deemed  a  conscientious 
discharge  of  I  heir  duty  towards  their  children  whilst 
they  are  young. 

But  when  years  have  ripened  the  minds  of  their 
offspring,  all  that  believe  in  Jesus,  however  poor, 
will  delight  to  enlarge  their  instructions.  They 
will  tell  them  that  their  own  guilty  consciences 
never  found  peace,  till  they  depended  on  the  aton- 
ing blood  of  Jesus  shed  on  the  cross,  and  pleaded 
that  alone  for  their  pardon  before  God ;  that  they 
obtained  deliverance  from  their  strongest  sins  only 
by  praying  for  the  power  and  presence  of  God's 
Spirit :  that  they  have  been  kept  in  peace  from 
worldly  fears,  and  from  anxiety  for  a  subsistence, 
by  casting  all  their  care  upon  God  reconciled  tt 
them  in  his  dear  Son. 

In  the  middle  ranks  of  life,  where  superior  educa- 
tion has  better  qualified  parents,  and  leisure  has 
made  them  capable  of  taking  more  pains  with  theii 
children,  it  is  certainly  their  duty  to  go  far  beyond 
the  poor  in  this  important  matter.  They  must  there- 
fore not  only  use  the  same  care  as  the  poor  in  all  the 
things  already  mentioned,  in  instilling  into  them  a 


COMPLETE   DUTY    OF    MAN. 


75 


regard  for  truth  justice,  and  mercy  ;  but  study  also 
the  most  probable  methods  ol making  divine  know- 
ledge pleasant  to  the  souls  of  their  children.  A  suc- 
cessful method  of  doing  this,  I  apprehend,  will  be 
to  watch  the  opportunities  when  outward  things  and 
particular  providences  will  give  efficacy  to  their  re- 
ligious instruction.  Now  this,  by  a  proper  attention, 
may  be  done  by  parents  in  so  great  a  variety  of  in- 
stances, as  to  take  in  all  the  particular  branches  of 
divine  knowledge,  in  which  children  should  be  es- 
tablished. 

To  explain  myself  at  large :  the  first  thing  in 
■which  all  children  should  be  thoroughly  instructed, 
is  that  God  is  good  and  gracious,  and  that  the  earth 
is  full  of  his  goodness.  To  give  force  to  this  truth, 
which  you  must  be  often  inculcating  upon  your 
children,  point  out  to  them,  in  the  spring,  when  the 
whole  country  is  arrayed  in  all  its  beauty,  what 
their  eyes  attest,  the  wide-extended  bounty  of  God  ; 
tell  them  they  are  his  clouds  which  drop  fatness  ; 
that  is  his  sun  which  imparts  its  genial  warmth  to 
make  the  ground  fruitful ;  that  he  causeth  the  grass 
to  grow  for  the  cattle,  and  herb  for  the  service  of 
man,  and  bread  to  strengthen  man's  heart,  and  oil 
and  wine  to  make  him  of  a  cheerful  countenance  ; 
that  could  they  see  the  bounty  of  God  in  its  whole 
extent,  they  would  see  innumerable  millions  of 
creatures  in  heaven  above,  in  earth  beneath,  and  in 
the  waters  under  the  earth,  sustained  by  his  daily, 
his  incessant  communications  of  good.  In  autumn, 
when  the  fields  stand  thick  with  shocks  of  corn,  and 
the  trees  bend  under  their  load  of  fruit ;  amidst  this 
delightful  scene,  draw  aside  the  veil  of  ignorance, 
and  fix  their  attention  upon  God,  as  the  invisible  yet 
only  cause  of  all  the  plenty  and  beneficence  before 
and  around  them.  In  winter  you  will  have  fre- 
quent opportunities  of  bringing  the  elements  to  bear 
witness  to  the  glory  of  their  Maker.  In  this  dreary 
season  of  the  year,  when  frost  has  made  the  earth 
as  iron,  and  congealed  the  flowing  streams  into  solid 
ice,  lead  your  children  to  observe  how  passive  the 
whole  creation  is  in  the  hand  of  its  eternal  Maker. 
When  the  cold  is  so  intense  as  to  become  in  some 
degree  distressing,  and  its  continuance  would  prove 
hurtful,  then  observe  to  them  how  instantly  he 
changes  the  scene  ;  he  bloweth  with  his  wind,  and 
the  waters  flow  again.  At  another  time,  when  the 
deep  snow  falls,  and  covers  every  object  with  its 
fleeces;  teach  them  how  suddenly  at  his  word  it 
totally  disappears,  having  answered  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  sent. 

Pursuing  the  same  method,  when  you  have  told 
your  children  of  the  power  of  God,  and  what  a 
"dreadful  thing  it  is  to  have  him  their  enemy,  repeat 
the  instruction  just  after  his  thunder  has  shaken 
your  dwelling,  and  the  arrows  of  his  lightning  have 
glared  before  their  eyes;  or  just  after  the  tempest- 
uous wind  has  left  in  the  neighborhood  some  traces 
of  its  fury.  That  is  the  time  to  assure  them  that 
fire  and  vapor,  snow  and  hail,  storm  and  tempest, 
wild  and  outrageous  as  they  seem  to  us,  move  only 
as  and  where  God  appoints  their  course,  with  infi- 
nitely inure  exactness  than  the  best  disciplined 
troops  obey  the  signals  of  their  leader ;  and  that 
though  the  earth  should  be  moved,  and  the  hills  be 
carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea,  the  Lord  of  hosts 
is  with  his  obedient  people,  and  is  their  refuge  and 
trust. 

Thus  by  pointing  out  to  your  children  the  invisible 
God  as  working  in  nil  these  most  sensible  changes, 
and  by  furnishing  their  minds  with  those  sublime 
Scriptures,  in  which  he  asserts  his  own  immediate 
absolute  dominion  over  all  the  elements  of  fire  and 
water,  earth,  and  air;  you  will  make  the  creation 
a  school  of  instruction  to  them.  By  this  manner  of 
teaching  you  will  give  a  body  and  substance  to  the 
truth,  which  otherwise  is  too  abstracted  for  their 


clear  apprehension.  Lectures  of  this  kind,  repeated 
not  too  frequently  (lest  they  should  surfeit  children, 
a  thing  greatly  to  be  guarded  against,)  but  at  such 
intervals  as  these  various  appearances  occur,  will 
early  form  your  children  to  adore  their  great  Crea- 
tor, and  impress  them  with  a  sense  of  his  presence 
and  agency  in  every  place.  Thus,  in  the  most  ra- 
tional manner,  and  in  obedience  to  your  Maker's 
command,  you  will  talk  of  him,  and  his  works,  and 
truth,  "  when  you  go  out,  and  when  you  come  in, 
when  you  sit  down,  and  when  you  rise  up." 

Another  truth  of  the  last  importance,  which  young 
children  are  capable  of  being  taughi,  is,  that  health 
and  strength  are  the  gifts  of  God.  This  you  must 
frequently  assure  thein  is  the  truth.  But  to  make 
this  truth  palpable  to  them,  watch  some  opportunity, 
and  regard  it  as  the  noblest  employ,  to  carry  them 
to  the  bed  of  a  brother,  a  sister,  or  play-fellow,  who 
is  sick  and  in  pain.  Immediately  after  the  visit, 
take  them  aside  to  tell  them  you  waited  for  this  op- 
portunity to  persuade  them  of  the  truth  of  what  you 
have  often  taught  them,  that  it  is  God  "  vvho  maketh 
sick  and  maketh  well ;"  that  it  is  owing  to  his  sove- 
reign infinitely  wise  appointment,  that  some  are  on 
a  bed  of  languishing,  crying  out  through  strong 
pain  ;  others  decked  with  health,  and  smiling  with 
joy ;  and  conclude  with  observing  how  thankful 
you  are  to  God,  that  they  are  still  preserved  by  him 
in  strength.  The  very  same  instruction  will  come 
also  with  a  still  more  powerful  application,  when 
brought  to  their  remembrance  upon  their  own  feel- 
ing the  blessing  of  ease  after  the  smart  of  pain. 

It  is  of  great  benefit  early  to  teach  your  children 
also  that  life  and  death,  as  well  as  sickness  and  pain, 
are  at  the  supreme  disposal  of  God.  The  proper 
season  to  rivet  this  instruction,  is  when  a  servant,  a 
friend,  or  neighbor  known  to  your  children,  is  just 
expired,  and  the  awful  report  is  brought  tc  their 
ears.  Then  the  circumstances  of  the  deceased  im- 
mediately before  death,  the  medicines  used,  the  help 
of  physicians,  the  sorrows,  sighs,  and  tears  of  friends 
and  relations,  are  to  be  urged  as  sensible  proof";  that 
it  is  God  that  taketh  away  our  breath  in  infancy, 
youth,  or  riper  years,  just  as  he  sees  fit,  and  that 
none  can  deliver  out  of  his  hand. 

At  the  same  time  especially,  you  should  he  care- 
ful to  instruct  your  children  what  is  meant  by  the 
news  just  brought  to  their  ears,  Such  a  one  is  dead. 
Then  assure  them  that  to  die  is  to  pass  out  of  a 
changing  world  into  one  unchangeable  :  that  it  is 
the  removal  of  an  immortal  soul  out  of  a  corruptible 
body,  to  be  happy  or  miserable  in  an  extreme  de- 
gree, according  to  the  conduct  pursued  in  this  life; 
that  to  every  proud,  every  wicked,  every  unbeliev- 
ing man  or  woman,  whether  rich  or  poor,  a  king  or 
a  beggar,  death  is  the  beginning  of  endless  sorrow  ; 
but  to  every  one  who  has  loved  God,  and  Lived  and 
believed  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  death  is  the  door 
to  endless  joys,  and  the  perfection  of  glory. 

And  if  it  should  please  God  ever  to  bring  your 
own  children  into  extreme  danger  of  death,  and  yA 
restore  them  again  to  your  arms,  it  would  be  a  very 
criminal  neglect  in  you  to  omit  telling  them,  that 
you  hung  over  their  bed  with  tears,  and  felt  for  their 
pains,  but  could  give  them  no  ease;  that  you  made 
your  prayer  to  God,  and  by  his  power  alone  they 
were  relieved  and  made  whole.  Suppose  also,  that 
either  of  you  their  parents  has  been  recovered  from 
the  borders  of  the  grave,  and  brought  again  with 
joy  to  see  your  offspring,  that  is  the  season  to  im- 
press them  with  the  truth,  that  God  is  the  Lord  of 
life  and  death;  that  it  is  he,  who  in  tender  mercy 
hath  spared  you  still  to  be  the  guide  of  their  youth. 

All  these  methods  of  instruction  should  have  been 
used,  all  these  religious  truths  you  ought  to  have 
inculcated  upon  your  children  before  they  have  ex- 
ceeded the  age  of  twelve  or  fourteen.     After  this 


re 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF    MAN. 


period,  generally  speaking,  they  are  capable  of  be- 
ing reasoned  with  ;  capable  of  perceiving  the  force 
of  all  those  capital  arguments,  upon  which  a  godly 
and  Christian  life  is  supported  against  all  opposition 
from  without  or  within.  Now  their  faculties  are 
strong  enough  to  receive  those  important  doctrines, 
which  before  they  were  scarcely  able  to  understand. 
The  duty  of  parents  therefore  now  requires  them  to 
proceed  in  inculcating  Christian  principles ;  in  re- 
presenting to  them  the  excellency  and  absolute  ne- 
cessity of  loving  God,  and  delighting  in  his  word 
and  service  ;  the  sin  of  being  peevish  and  discon- 
tented, passionate  and  proud,  envious  or  revengeful, 
lewd,  worldly,  or  covetous. 

By  this  time  your  children  will  have  committed 
so  many  faults,  have  been  so  often  corrected,  or  re- 
buked sharply  for  them,  and  only  restrained,  con- 
trary to  natural  inclination,  from  committing  many 
more  and  greater,  that  you  will  have  various  strik- 
ing proofs  to  convince  them,  that  they  are  creatures 
corrupted  in  their  nature,  disaffected  to  the  govern- 
ment and  will  of  the  glorious  God,  and  full  of  vile 
propensities.  Now  show  them  the  Scripture  cha- 
racter of  fallen  man  ;  produce  that  awful  passage, 
li  Yea  also  the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  full  of  evil, 
and  madness  is  in  their  heart  while  they  live." — 
Eccl.  ix.  3.  And  that  parallel  to  it,  "  We  all  like 
sheep  have  gone  astray,  we  have  turned  every  one 
to  his  own  way."  Isa.  liii.  6.  In  full  confirmation 
that  their  depravity  is  such  as  is  here  set  forth,  you 
may  tell  them  what  pains,  what  correction,  what 
restraints  you  have  been  using  with  them  from  their 
very  infancy,  on  account  of  their  faults,  to  conquer 
their  evil  tempers,  and  to  inspire  them  with  love  to 
God  and  man  ;  and  then  appeal  to  their  consciences, 
whether  they  do  not  find  contrary  tempers  still  ris- 
ing and  getting  the  mastery  within,  though  they 
dare  not  suffer  them  to  break  out  1  Whilst  you  are 
thus  unanswerably  proving  their  innate  corruption, 
it  is  however  your  duty  to  do  it  with  tender  expres- 
sions of  love,  lest  by  seeming  to  upbraid,  pride  and 
prejudice  should  be  excited. 

The  use  you  are  immediately  to  make  of  this 
discovery,  is  to  prove  to  them  the  great  need  of  the 
Redeemer's  interposition  and  merits.  For,  after 
having  fixed  a  conviction  upon  their  consciences, 
that  they  have  often  knowingly  done  what  God  has 
forbidden,  what  their  own  hearts  condemned  them 
for,  and  that  they  have  even  taken  pleasure  therein 
— after  proving  that  complication  of  injustice,  in- 
gratitude, and  rebellion,  which  has  been  in  their 
conduct  towards  God,  you  may  draw  with  great 
force  this  important  conclusion,  that  it  did  not  be- 
come him,  by  whom  are  all  things,  to  pardon  and 
receive  into  his  favor  such  sinful  creatures  with- 
out an  atonement ;  without  some  sufficient  and  ever- 
lasting demonstration  of  his  infinite  abhorrence  of 
their  sin,  whilst  he  was  showing  an  astonishing  de- 
gree of  love  for  their  persons — that  without  shed- 
ding of  blood  there  could  be  no  remission;  nor  any 
other  way  for  the  wisdom,  justice,  and  mercy  of 
God  lo  act  harmoniously  in  the  salvation  of  sinners 
but  through  Jesus  Christ — and  that  it  is  upon  ac- 
count of  what  Jesus  did  arid  suffered,  that  they 
have  been  spared,  and  never  yet  punished,  as  their 
provocations  deserved. 

Now  also  is  the  time  to  bring  to  their  mind  the 
great  doctrines  which  the  Scriptures  reveal;  that 
the  Redeemer,  who  was  in  the  form  of  God,  and 
thought  it  no  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,  took 
upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  died  on  a 
cross,  to  the  end  that  all  who  believe  in  him  might 
be  pardoned,  sanctified,  and  saved.  From  this  it 
will  be  easy  to  observe  farther  to  your  children, 
that  no  morality,  no  religion  (where  the  gospel  is 
known,)  can  be  acceptable  to  him,  however  ap- 
plauded and  extolled  by  men,  but  that  which  is  ex- 


ercised in  an  entire  dependence  upon  Jesus  Christ, 
which  proceeds  out  of  a  believing,  humble  heart, 
and  consists  in  a  constant  exercise  of  all  those  tem- 
pers towards  the  world,  our  fellow-creatures,  and 
our  God,  which  were  in  Christ  Jesus. 

One  point  more  with  respect  to  Scripture  doc- 
trines, which  your  children  are  now  very  capable 
of  being  taught,  is,  their  weakness  and  inability  to 
live  up  to  what  the  law  of  God  justly  requires. 
You  may  observe  to  them  how  often  they  have  been 
breaking  their  resolutions,  acting  against  their  con- 
victions, sorry  for  doing  amiss,  wishing  and  striving 
in  their  own  fancied  power  to  make  themselves 
better,  yet  still  defeated,  still  only  the  more  en 
tangled,  vexed,  and  guilty  in  their  own  eyes.  Tell 
them  that  this  must  ever  be  the  case  if  they  ask  not 
for  the  Spirit  of  God,  if  they  place  not  their  trust 
wholly  in  his  power  and  influence  ;  acquaint  them 
that  God,  knowing  our  weakness,  has  promised 
this  Spirit,  and  commanded  us  to  implore  his  con- 
tinual aid  and  guidance.  Desire  them  to  make  the 
experiment  for  themselves;  to  have  done  with  plac- 
ing confidence  in  their  vows,  promises,  and  good  re- 
solutions ;  and  to  pray,  as  creatures  without  strength 
and  utterly  depraved,  for  the  Spirit  of  God  to  work 
effectually  in  them;  and  conclude  with  assuring 
them,  that  in  this  very  manner  you  yourselves  make 
application  for  power  to  lead  a  Christian  life.  And 
that  whatever  conformity  to  the  will  of  God  they 
see  in  your  own  behavior  toward.?  themselves  or 
others,  is  wholly  owing,  not  to  any  goodness  of 
yours,  but  to  the  grace  of  God  which  is  in  you. 

The  last  method  of  instruction  I  shall  mention, 
and  of  equal  benefit  with  those  already  hinted,  is  to 
remark  to  your  children,  now  capable  of  observa- 
tion, the  amiable  behavior  of  real  Christians.  I 
suppose  you  to  be  acquainted  with  some  who  justify 
their  title  to  this  glorious  appellation.  Remark  the 
tranquillity  of  their  countenance,  and  the  modesty 
of  their  conversation ;  observe  how  free  they  are 
from  passion  and  positiveness,  from  ill-natured  wit 
or  ostentation;  how  far  from  despising  those  who 
want  their  advantages,  either  of  education,  birth,  or 
riches  :  how  careful  to  give  no  pain  or  uneasiness 
to  any  one.  In  farther  commendation  of  true 
Christianity,  it  will  be  of  peculiar  benefit  to  let 
your  children,  when  grown  up,  witness  the  be- 
havior of  sincere  believers  in  the  midst  of  their 
severest  trials.  If  you  are  a  Christian  yourself  in 
spirit  and  in  truth,  it  is  most  probable  you  will 
know  persons  of  the  same  character.  When  such 
are  in  affliction  or  tribulation  of  any  kind,  carry 
your  children  to  hear  for  themselves  the  meek  pa- 
tient sufferers  blessing  God  for  all  their  afflictions: 
not  fainting,  not  discouraged,  but  quietly  enduring 
chastisement.  Their  discourse,  their  very  coun- 
tenance will  edify.  This  will  irresistibly  convince 
them  of  the  value  and  substance  of  the  knowledge 
of  Christ,  and  open  their  eyes  to  see  that  it  is  as 
much  to  be  desired  for  present  support  and  consola- 
tion in  a  trying  hour,  as  to  secure  salvation  in  the 
eternal  world.  Then  assure  them  that  .true  faith 
in  Jesus,  showing  itself  in  unfeigned  subjection  to 
his  gospel,  leads  to  all  the  same  comfortable  ac- 
quaintance with  God,  and  cheerful  submission  to 
his  holy  will. 

And  if  an  opportunity  could  be  found  of  bringing 
your  son  or  daughter  to  the  bed  side  of  a  departing 
saint,  it  will  infinitely  exceed  the  force  of  all  in- 
struction, to  let  them  see  with  their  own  eyes,  and 
hear  with  their  own  ears,  the  faithful  servant  of 
God  speaking  good  of  his  name,  declaring  how  true 
the  Lord  his  stren&  h  is,  proclaiming  the  peace  of 
his  own  mind  under  the  pains  of  an  approaching 
dissolution,  whilst  he  is  looking  for  the  mercy  of 
God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  unto  eternal  life. 

Persons  of  rank,  or  of  easy  fortunes ;  those  also 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF  MAN. 


77 


of  the  ministerial  and  various  other  professions. 
with  merchants,  and  tradesmen  of  substance,  will 
possess  opportunity  and  ability  to  use  with  their 
dear  children  these  and  many  other  methods  of  in- 
struction of  the  same  kind,  before  they  arrive  at 
man's  estate.  And  if  in  their  own  hearts  they  infi- 
nitely prefer  the  favor  of  God  before  the  praise  of 
men,  the  happiness  of  eternity  before  the  poor  satis- 
faction of  time — if  they  know  there  is  no  other  way 
of  salvation  for  their  offspring,  than  that  which  is 
marked  out  by  the  Spirit  of  God  in  his  word,  then 
such  attention  to  the  everlasting;  welfare  of  their 
children  will  not  be  irksome,  but  delightful.  Their 
reward,  generally  speaking,  will  be  with  them  in 
their  labors  of  love,  and  their  hearts  will  be  glad- 
dened by  seeing  considerable  impressions  made 
upon  their  children. 

But  if,  instead  of  this  attention,  custom  and  fashion 
are  taken  for  the  rule  and  measure  of  what  you,  O 
parents,  are  to  account  a  sufficient  care  of  your 
children's  education:  if  hours  upon  hours  from  day 
to  day  are  consumed  in  amusements,  and  mere 
sensual  gratification,  hurtful  to  yourselves  and 
others;  whilst  your  children  hear  from  you  no 
wholesome  lectures,  and  see  in  yon  no  prevailing 
concern  for  the  honor  of  God  and  the  salvation  of 
their  souls,  your  conduct  is  dreadful  indeed;  your 
regard  to  Scripture  is  worthless,  whatever  you  pro- 
less,  and  your  ignorance  of  the  excellency  of  God 
and  the  only  way  of  true  happiness,  as  gross  as  that 
of  an  Indian  savage.  Examine  therefore,  and  prove 
your  Christian  faith  by  your  works.  The  care  you 
take,  for  the  salvation  of  your  offspring,  or  your 
neglect  of  them,  is  the  surest  test  of  what  you  es- 
teem the  supreme  good,  the  favor  of  God  or  of  the 
■world. 

I  shall  only  add  further  on  this  head  of  the  duty 
of  Christian  parents  towards  their  children,  that  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  that  the  pains  to  instruct 
should  be  accompanied  by  constant  prayer  to  God 
in  their  behalf.  Without  his  grace  their  best  con- 
certed efforts  will  be  ineffectual,  and  all  their  coun- 
sels vain  ;  for  "  it  is  God  who  giveth  the  increase." 
You  may  take  as  much  pains  as  it  is  possible,  to 
make  your  offspring  Christians  altogether  ;  but  still 
those  who  receive  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  "  are  born 
not  of  blood,  nor  of  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man, 
but  of  God."  Therefore  you  are  the  more  ear- 
nestly, humbly,  and  incessantly  to  pray  unto  God 
to  implant  early  in  them  his  grace,  and  give  power 
and  success  to  your  attempts,  that  as  by  them  the  in- 
habitants of  the  world  are  increased,  an  addition 
also  may  be  made  by  their  names  to  the  church  of 
the  living  God,  and  the  inhabitants  of  heaven. 


SUNDAY  XXIX.— CHAP.  XXIX. 

THE    DUTY     OF    CHILDREN,    AND     OF    SERVANTS    AND 
MASTERS. 

Having  considered  the  domestic  duties  of  husbands 
and  wives  to  each  other,  and  of  parents  towards 
their  children,  it  remains  now  that  we  complete 
those  which  concern  a  family,  by  stating  such  as 
relate  to  children,  to  servants,  and  to  masters. 
The  duty  of  children  towards  their  parents  is, 
1.  To  honor  them  by  respectful  language;  by  ab- 
staining from  every  thing  that  may  reasonably  give 
then  the  least  offence  or  disquiet.  All  young  peo- 
ple who  receive  the  Scripture  as  the  rule  of  their 
behavior,  will  esteem  it  their  duty  to  be  exact  and 
conscientious  in  this  respect;  because  in  the  Scrip- 
ture, God  requires  children  to  "honor  their  father 
and  mother,"  promising  his  blessing  to  all  who  do 
BO.  This  homage  is  expressly  said  to  be  "  well 
pleasing  unto  the  Lord."  Col.  iii.  20.  The  crime 
of  disobedience  to  parents  is  marked  as  the  just  ob- 


ject of  the  curse  and  judgments  of  God ;  for  you 
read,  that  immediately  after  the  prohibition  of  idol- 
atry, a  sin  levelled  directly  against  the  glory  of  God 
himself,  and  after  appointing  all  Israel  to  pronounce 
the  idolater  accursed,  the  very  next  offence,  which 
at  the  same  time  is  held  forth  as  the  object  of  uni- 
versal execration,  is  the  neglect  of  paying  a  dutiful 
regard  to  parents ;  "  Cursed  be  he  that  setteth  light 
by  his  father  and  mother,  and  all  the  people  shall 
say,  Amen."  Deut.  xxvii.  16.  And  in  case  any 
child  did  walk  with  stubbornness,  and  refuse  to 
obey  the  voice  of  his  father,  or  of  his  mother,  after 
correction,  it  was  the  special  appointment  of  the 
most  high  God.  that  his  father  and  his  mother 
should  "  lay  hold  on  him,  and  bring  him  out  unto 
the  elders  of  his  city,  and  unto  the  gate  of  his  place; 
and  they  were  to  say  unto  the  elders  of  his  city, 
This  our  son  is  stubborn  and  rebellious,  he  will  not 
obey  our  voice;  he  is  a  glutton  and  a  drunkard. 
And  all  the  men  of  his  city  shall  stone  him  with 
stones,  that  he  die :  so  shalt  thou  put  evil  away 
from  among  you ;  and  all  Israel  shall  hear  and 
fear."  Deut.  x'xi.  18—21. 

What  strong  conceptions  of  the  great  guilt  of 
disobedience  to  parents,  must  this  ordinance  raise 
in  the  minds  of  all  who  regard  the  word  of  God ! 
For  though  this  civil  and  political  law  is  not  now 
executed  upon  rebellious  children,  it  remains  a  suf- 
ficient proof  of  the  detestation  with  which  God  re- 
gards the  disobedience  of  children  towards  their 
parents. 

2.  It  is  the  duty  of  children  to  conceal  and  ex- 
tenuate the  imperfections  of  their  parents,  so  far  as 
truth  and  justice  will  admit.  This  is  but  a  small 
return  for  the  great  benefits  which  they  have  re- 
ceived ;  and  if,  instead  of  thus  acting  tenderly,  they 
are  guilty  of  exposing  voluntarily  either  the  sins 
or  the  indiscretions  of  their  parents,  they  are  very 
criminal  in  the  sight  of  God.  It  was  the  sin  of 
publishing  and  ridiculing,  instead  of  covering  his 
father's  nakedness  and  shame,  which  brought  down 
a  signal  judgment  upon  Ham. 

3.  It  is  the  duty  of  children  to  requite  their  pa- 
rents as  far  as  lies  in  their  power,  for  all  the  com- 
forts and  benefits  by  their  means  bestowed  upon 
them.  Ingratitude  is  the  only  sin  which  never 
found  one  single  advocate:  yet  of  all  ingratitude, 
the  negligence  of  children  in  supporting  and  com- 
forting their  parents,  is  by  far  the  most  black  and 
abominable  that  can  be  practised  by  man  towards 
man.  For  what  care  and  expense,  what  solicitude 
and  labor  for  the  welfare  of  their  offspring,  are  not 
parents  usually  wont  cheerfully  to  bear  1  Now 
when,  in  the  course  of  God's  providence,  parents 
stand  in  need  of  some  returns  of  the  same  tender 
disposition  towards  themselves — when  the  infirmi- 
ties of  age,  or  the  burdens  of  afflictions  come  upon 
them,  what  child,  that  is  not  without  feeling,  as 
well  as  without  any  tincture  of  Christianity,  but 
must  rejoice  to  be  as  helpful  to  them,  now  going 
out  of  the  world,  as  his  parents  were  to  himself 
when  he  first  came  into  if?  This  exercise  of  grati- 
tude is  marked  in  Scripture  as  the  bounden  duty  of 
children  towards  their  parents,  and  a  neglect  of  it 
is  considered  not  only  as  a  renunciation  of  the  gos- 
pel, whatever  zealous  professions  of  love  to  it  may 
be  pretended,  but  as  a  crime,  which,  even  Pagans, 
void  of  the  light  and  advantage  of  God's  word, 
would  abhor.  "  If  any  provide  not  for  his  own" 
(his  own  near  relations,  and  especially  his  own 
aged  parents,)  "he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is 
worse  than  an  infidel."  1  Tim.  v.  8. 

The  exact  proportion  indeed  which  a  child  ought 
to  set  apart  for  the  discharge  of  this  duty  to  his  pa- 
rents must  be  various,  according  to  the  condition 
of  life.  But  if  it  be  inadequate  to  the  income  of 
the  child,  God  will  regard  it  as  a  vile  and  despica 


78 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN. 


lie  offering.  And  this  rule  may  always  be  observ- 
ed, that  if  a  person  can  be  lavish  in  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure,  and  live  in  expensive  splendor,  whilst  he 
is  satisfied  with  assigning  to  his  parents  a  strait 
and  bare  subsistence,  a  sense  of  duty  is  certainly 
not  felt:  and  what  is  given,  is  given  rather  from 
fear  of  scandal,  or  from  dread  of  remorse,  than 
from  love  to  God,  or  affection  to  his  own  parents. 

4.  The  last  duty  I  shall  mention  due  from  chil- 
dren to  their  parents  is  obedience  ;  obedience  in  all 
cases  which  lie  within  the  proper  scope  and  influ- 
ence of  the  authority  of  parents  ;  where  their  com- 
mands do  not  lead  their  children  to  oppose  what 
God  has  required,  to  do  violence  in  matters  of  con- 
science to  their  own  minds,  or  to  transgress  the 
laws  of  their  country. 

These  are  the  duties  which  children  are  bound, 
from  their  relations  to  their  parents,  to  observe. — 
And  those  children  who  obey  the  Scripture,  will  be 
found  dutiful  and  affectionate  and  very  observant 
of  these  things.  Indeed,  those  parents  who  are 
neglected  or  despised  by  their  children,  may  gene- 
rally impute  it  to  themselves.  It  is  the  effect  and 
punishment  of  their  own  sin.  They  fostered,  when 
they  should  have  corrected,  wicked  tempers,  in  tneir 
children's  earliest  years :  they  shamefully  sacrificed 
parental  authority  to  a  froward  mind,  and  abjectly 
submitted  to  be  governed  by  those  over  whom  they 
were  appointed  governors,  in  the  order  of  nature, 
and  by  the  command  of  God.  Excepting  therefore 
a  few  cases,  Christian  parents,  through  the  grace  of 
God  succeeding  their  endeavors,  will  reap  as  they 
have  sown,  and  enjoy,  even  before  they  leave  the 
world,  the  fruit  of  those  cares  and  pains  with  which 
they  studied  to  promote  the  salvation  of  their  chil- 
dren, and  will  often  die  in  the  pleasing  expectation 
of  meeting  them  in  endless  glory. 

There  is  still  another  domestic  relation,  namely, 
that  which  subsists  between  masters  and  servants. 
And  a  real  Christian  is  furnished  with  ample  direc- 
tions and  cogent  motives  to  discharge  his  duty  in 
either  station  with  comfort  to  himself  and  those 
around  him. 

1.  Servants  who  receive  the  word  of  God,  must 
in  the  first  place  be  faithful  and  honest,  free  them- 
selves from  deceit,  and  be  incapable  of  suffering 
their  masters  to  be  injured  in  their  sight.  This  has 
been  observed  in  a  preceding  chapter,  as  part  of 
their  character  as  Christians.  Besides  this,  they 
must  obey  their  masters,  without  that  surly  sullen 
behaviour  which  renders  their  persons  offensive, 
and  their  services  disagreeable.  It  is  ever  a  sure 
proof  of  prevailing  pride,  when  subjection,  though 
ever  so  reasonable,  is  galling.  They  must  obey 
their  masters  in  all  things,  provided  that  nothing  is 
required  oppressive  or  dishonest.  A  surly  spirit 
in  servants  chiefly  shows  itself  in  families,  where 
the  wages  given  are  comparatively  small,  and  the 
servant  is  wanted  not  for  show  or  luxury  of  living, 
but  for  usefulness  and  labor.  It  is  in  these  instances 
therefore,  especially,  that  the  beneficial  influence 
of  Christian  doctrine  is  to  manifest  itself  in  the  be- 
havior of  servants.  Christian  servants  will  re- 
member that  their  duty  towards  their  master  or 
mistress  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  splendor  of 
the  family  or  the  gains  of  the  place,  but  by  the  order 
of  God,  who  requires  them  "with  good-will  to  do 
service,  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not  to  men."  Eph.  vi.  7. 

2.  It  is  the  duty  of  servants  patiently  to  bear  re- 
proof. The  pride  of  human  nature  rises  with 
eagerness  in  self-vindication,  and  is  backward  to 
own  itself  deserving  of  any  blame.  From  this 
spirit  servants  are  ever  apt  to  impute  the  admoni- 
tions they  receive  to  ill-nature  or  peevishness  in 
their  superiors :  and  if  they  bear  without  a  visible 
contempt  what  is  said,  they  look  upon  themselves 
at  liberty  to  pay  no  more  regard  to  it  than  is  neces- 


sary to  keep  their  place,  if  it  is  a  profitable  one. — 
But  no  servant  who  receives  the  word  of  God  can 
act  in  this  unreasonable  manner.  It  is  expressly 
required  of  them  to  adorn  the  gospel  of  God  our 
Saviour  in  all  things  :  but  if  they  show  themselves 
deaf  to  just  admonition,  and  hardened  against  rea- 
sonable remonstrances,  they  utterly  disgrace  their 
holy  profession,  and  make  their  religious  pretences 
contemptible.  Besides,  if  they  arc  not  ready  to  ac- 
knowledge their  faults,  and  will  not  patiently  bear 
to  be  reproved  for  them,  they  must  be  void  of  hu- 
mility, without  which  no  man  can  possibly  belong 
to  Christ ;  since  this  is  the  direction  particularly 
given  to  them  in  Scripture,  "  to  be  obedient  unto 
their  own  masters,  and  to  please  them  well  in  all 
things;  not  answering  again."  Tit.  ii.  9. 

And  as  servants  who  regard  their  Christian  duty 
must  be  faithful  and  just  to  their  masters,  must  obey 
them  with  cheerfulness,  receive  their  reproofs  with 
meekness,  must  be  careful  to  amend  what  is  faulty ; 
so  must  masters,  who  are  in  subjection  to  Christ, 
conscientiously  perform  all  parts  of  their  duty  to- 
wards their  servants. 

1.  With  respect  to  the  justice,  the  mildness,  the 
gentleness,  and  real  good-will  which  masters  must 
exercise  towards  their  servants,  these  tempers  were 
mentioned  before,  as  necessary  to  every  Christian. 
I  shall  speak  now  therefore  only  of  those  duties, 
which  are  peculiar  to  those  who  preside  in  families. 
The.  first  of  which  is,  "to  be  careful  of  the  beha- 
vior of  their  servants."  The  head  of  every  fami- 
ly is  obliged  to  watch  over  those  who  are  subject  to 
his  authority.  We  blame  magistrates  when  they 
suffer  irreligion  and  dissoluteness  of  manners 
among  the  people.  And  can  a  master  of  a  family 
be  guiltless,  who  connives  at  domestic  irregulari- 
ties, when  with  far  less  difficulty  he  can  govern  his 
little  commonwealth'?  He  ought  therefore  to  look 
upon  his  servants,  not  as  he  does  upon  his  cattle, 
merely  considering  the  labor  and  service  they  can 
do,  but  as  fellow-creatures  capable  of  the  knowledge 
of  God,  and  as  candidates  equally  with  himself 
for  his  eternal  kingdom.  In  this  view  it  is  his  duty, 
and  a  part  of  a  Christian  benevolence,  to  suffer  no 
immorality,  nor  any  open  violation  of  God's  holy 
law  in  them — to  oblige  his  servants  to  a  regular  at- 
tendance on  the  public  worship  of  God  on  the 
Lord's  day,  and  to  insist  on  their  not  profaning  it — 
to  put  books  into  their  hands,  written  to  awaken 
the  conscience,  and  bring  them  to  the  knowledge  of 
Christ, — and,  if  the  nature  of  business  does  not  in 
fact  render  it  impracticable,  to  call  the  members  of 
the  household  to  join  in  the  daily  worship  of  God, 
who  is  the  Fountain  of  all  family  mercies  and 
blessings. 

2.  It  is  his  duty  also,  to  set  a  Christian  example 
to  servants  ;  to  be  constant  in  worshipping  God  on 
his  own  day  at  church,  and  religiously  to  abstain 
in  it  from  business  and  diversion — to  convince  them 
that  he  acts  honestly,  as  in  the  sight  of  God,  in  all 
his  dealings — to  show  them  that  he  is  innocent  of 
those  common  yet  presumptuous  sins,  of  speaking 
loosely,  swearing  profanely,  and  living  without  any 
secret  worship  of  your  God.  By  this  example,  as 
far  as  means  alone  can  be  effectual,  he  will  restrain 
from  much  evil,  and  prove  a  powerful  monitor  to 
stir  up  ignorant  sinful  creatures  to  seek  after  God; 
at  least  he  will  be  pure  from  their  blood,  if  they  ob- 
stinately persist  in  their  sin. 

The  last  duty  of  masters  which  I  shall  mention 
is,  to  encourage  and  reward  their  servants  for  well- 
doing. Kind  expressions  quicken  ingenuous  minds 
to  diligence  and  attention ;  encouragement  there- 
fore ought  to  be  given  to  servants  on  this  principle. 
Further,  when  a  servant  hath  laid  out  his  whole 
time  and  strength  in  his  master's  service,  and  made 
it  his  study  to  consult  his  interest,  the  master  is 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


79 


bound,  by  the  ties  of  justice  and  gratitude,  where 
there  is  a  sufficient  fortune,  to  remember  such  a 
faithful  servant  in  the  decline  of  life.  And  the 
cases  of  sickness,  or  accidental  loss  of  limbs  in  ser- 
vice, which  disable  from  labor,  and  are  sometimes 
even  more  calamitous  than  the  infi.;nilies  of  old 
age,  call  for  equal  compassion.  A  Christian  mas- 
ter will  consider  how  much  otheio  have  lost  by  the 
dishonesty  of  those  about  them;  how  much  trouble, 
anxiety,  and  vexation  they  have  suffered,  whilst  lie 
has  committed,  with  composure  and  coniidence, 
his  affairs  into  the  hands  of  a  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, and  has  received  no  damage.  How  much  of 
his  comfort  in  this  life  has  been  owing  to  this  ma- 
terial circumstance  !  Where  then  would  be  his 
Christian  love,  his  generosity,  or  his  humanity,  if 
he  did  not  take  pleasure  in  showing  kindness  in  re- 
turn. 


SUNDAY  XXX.— CHAP.  XXX. 

ON   SELF-DENIAL  —  INTEMPERANCE. 

False  teachers  court  the  favor  of  men  by  preaching 
to  them  tlattering  doctrines ;  but  Jesus,  the  true  wit- 
ness, abhors  such  base  compliance  with  our  corrupt 
passions.  He  places  therefore  in  the  very  front,  as 
it  were,  of  his  camp,  before  the  eyes  of  every  one 
assaying  to  enter  into  his  service,  this  searching  test 
of  courage  and  fidelity:  "Except  a  man  deny  him- 
self, and  lake  up  his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me,  he 
cannot  be  my  disciple." 

No  doubt  then  can  he  made,  whether  self-denial 
is  the  duty  of  a  real  Christian.  But  what  the  ground 
of  this  grace  is,  what  the  important  particulars  in 
which  it  is  exercised,  are  points  of  very  useful  and 
necessary  consideration.  The  more  so,  because 
superstition  has  long  done  every  thing  possible  to 
make  this  doctrine  utterly  contemptible ;  and  en- 
thusiasm is  ever  ready  to  place  self-denial  in  things 
absurd  or  frivolous,  whilst  the  substantial  matters, 
about  which  in  reality  it  is  concerned,  are  little  re- 
garded. 

Each  of  these  points  therefore  I  purpose  fully  to 
discuss.  Thus  every  duty  respecting  himself,  which 
the  Christian  is  obliged  and  enabled  to  discharge, 
will  be  sufficiently  explained. 

The  origin  of  self-denial  is  to  be  traced  to  the 
corruption  of  our  nature  by  the  fall  of  Adam.  For 
if  there  were  no  innate  propensity  in  all  his  off- 
spring to  evil,  we  might  then  indeed  have  been 
warned  not  to  debase  our  dignity  by  complying  with 
iniquity.  Supposing  that  we  possessed  an  untainted 
excellence  of  nature,  so  far  would  the  abstaining 
from  sin  be  from  deserving  the  name  of  self-denial, 
that  it  would  be  the  highest  self-gratification.  In 
this  case  a  total  opposition  to  transgression  of  every 
kind  would  be  perfectly  undisturbed  by  any  thing 
within  of  a  contrary  tendency.  The  native  bent  of 
the  soul  would  then  incline  it,  with  all  its  power, 
and  with  the  highest  relish,  to  perform  duty  in  its 
full  extent.  This  we  necessarily  conceive  to  be  the 
state  with  those  angels,  who  are  sent  forth  to  minis- 
ter to  them  that  shall  be  the  heirs  of  salvation,  and 
who  consequently  must  be  witnesses  of  what  passes 
in  our  world.  For,  to  connect  the  idea  of  self-denial 
with  their  abstaining  from  the  pollutions  of  which 
they  are  spectators,  would  be  to  destroy  the  very  per- 
fection of  their  state. 

But  the  present  condition  of  man  is  directly  oppo- 
site to  that  of  superior  beings  who  never  fell  from 
God.  A  corrupt  bias  prevails  in  his  heart,  which, 
instead  of  appearing  to  him  detestable,  is  loved  and 
cherished:  so  loved,  that  to  be  deaf  to  its  tender 
pleadings  for  indulgence,  and  lo  sacrifice  it  in  obe- 


dii  :e  to  God,  is  compared  by  him,  who  knew  what 
wus  in  man,  to  cutting  offa  right  hand  and  pluck- 
ing out  a  right  eye.  For  though  happiness  is,  in  fact, 
inseparable  from  a  uniform  subjection  to  the  truth 
of  God,  yet  our  corruptions  represent  these  as  things 
distinct,  and  even  incompatible.  Hence  men  na- 
turally fight  against  the  prohibition  of  God  for  their 
favonte  selfish  enjoyments,  as  subjects  for  their 
native  rights  against  a  tyrant:  nor  can  they  ever 
submit  to  it  without  doing  violence  to  their  own  de- 
praved appetites. 

This  being  our  natural  state,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  assures  us,  in  the  most  unreserved  manner, 
that  if  ever  we  become  partakers  of  his  great  salva- 
tion, we  must  not  only  oppose  the  prevalent  wicked- 
ness of  the  world  around  us,  but  those  very  inclina- 
tions, too,  which  are  interwoven  with  our  present 
frame,  and  therefore  may  properly  be  called  a  part 
of  ourselves. 

Having  thus  briefly  observed  what  is  the  origin 
of  self-denial,  I  proceed  to  point  out  the  particulars 
in  which  this  grace  is  to  be  exercised.  Now  as  the 
constitutional  sin  makes  that  an  instance  to  some  of 
great  self-denial,  which  is  scarcely  any  to  others  ; 
as  there  are  cases,  also,  where  decency,  reputation, 
and  worldly  interest,  create  and  maintain  a  kind  of 
self-denial;  and  other  instances,  in  which  only  the 
power  of  Christian  godliness  is  sufficient:  I  shall 
therefore  begin  with  such  instances  of  it  as,  general- 
ly speaking,  are  most  easy  to  practice,  and  then  as- 
cend to  those,  in  which  the  sincerity  and  eminence 
of  Christian  self-denial  shines  forth,  and  most  re- 
dounds to  the  honor  of  God. 

First,  then,  temperance  with  respect  to  our  food, 
is  not  to  be  practised  without  self-denial.     Few,  in- 
deed, find  much  difficulty  in  abstaining  so  far  from 
this  bodily  indulgence  as  to  escape  the  censure  of 
gluttony  or  Epicurism;  yet  to  be  so  abstemious  with 
regard  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  as  not  to  in- 
fringe upon  the  grace  of  Christian  temperance,  calls 
for  some  mortification  in  most  people,  and  in  manv 
for  a  great  deal.     Without  practising  this, Me  shall 
be  often  guilty  of  over-charging  ourselves,  so  far  at 
least  with  surfeiting,  as  to  feel  the  desire  after  eter- 
nal blessings  and  the  delight  in  them  greatly  abat- 
ed, if  not  extinguished  for  a  time.     With  a  reputa- 
tion for  temperance,  we  may  indulge  at  our  table, 
till  indolence  takes  full  possession  of  us,  till  neither 
body  nor  mind  are  disposed  for  any  rational,  much 
less  any  spiritual  employment.     To  the  want  of 
self-denial,  in  respect  of  this  low  appetite,  is  owing 
that  strong  uneasiness  and  vexation  often  discover- 
ed, though  more  frequently  concealed,  when  the 
gratification  of  the  palate  in  the  parlor,  is  disap- 
pointed by  ignorance  or  neglect  in  the  kitchen ;  to 
this  are  owing  the  many  sensual  remarks  made  in 
conversation  upon  what  deserves  no  more  notice 
than  the  husks  the  swine  devour.    These  things,  so 
frequently  occurring,   are    sufficient    proofs,   that 
there  is  need  of  self-denial  even  with  respect  to  our 
food.     Indeed,  he  that  receives  any  other  pleasure 
than  what  health  and  hunger  will  make  the  com- 
mon provisions  of  his  table  afford,  has  already  be- 
gun to  yield  to  intemperance,  and  is  a  transgressor 
of  his  Christian  duty.    He  is  shamefully  giving  en- 
couragement to  an  appetite  which  must  exceedingly 
sensualize  his  soul,  enthral  it  to  bodily  gratification, 
and  of  consequence  render  it  averse  to  suffering  in 
any  degree  for  the  sake  of  truth  and  conscience. — 
So  that  those  who  allow  themselves  to  eat  at  large, 
and  to  have  their  thoughts  dwell  with  delight  on  the 
luxury  of  the  palate,  are  so  far  from  taking  heed 
as  Christians  are  required,  to  make  no  provision  foi 
the  flesh,  that  they  are  evidently  pampering  it:  so 
far  from  being  temperate,  as  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  all  who  iun  the  race  Christ  has  set  before  us, 
that  they  remain  slaves  to  sensuality.    None  are 


80 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


capable  of  relishing,  much  less  of  making  a  pro- 
gress in  any  thing  so  spiritual  and  divine  as  Chris- 
tianity, till,  in  the  language  of  holy  writ,  "they  put 
a  knife  to  their  throat,"  when  dainties  aie  set  before 
them ;  that  is,  strike  at  the  root  of  that  carnal  grati- 
fication which  arises  merely  from  the  pleasure  of 
feasting. 

A  second  instance  of  self-denial  included  under 
the  head  of  temperance  is,  the  strictly  avoiding 
any  degree  of  excess  in  drinking.  It  is  necessary  to 
speak  distinctly  on  this  subject,  because,  to  the  re- 
proach of  our  species,  self-indulgence  in  this  respect 
is  commonly  placed  in  the  number  only  of  venial 
infirmities,  and  amongst  the  slight  misdemeanors, 
for  which  other  good  qualities  will  amply  atone. — 
To  prove  therefore  the  absolute  necessity  of  self- 
denial,  with  respect  to  excess  in  drinking,  consider 
what  provocation  it  bears!  It  is  a  waste  of  that 
plenty  which  God  designed  to  supply  the  wants  of 
mankind.  Now  what  can  you  conceive  more  con- 
trary to  reason,  to  humanity,  and  to  the  providence 
of  our  common  Father,  than  that  one  man  should 
be  inflaming  his  body  with  pernicious  draughts  even 
to  excess,  whilst  another  wants  the  very  necessaries 
of  life?  that  one  should  be  swallowing  down  his 
poisonous  cups  in  riot,  which,  if  properly  applied, 
would  prove  a  cordial  to  the  languishing,  and  re- 
vive the  health  of  those  who  are  fainting  for  the 
want  of  if?  Suppose  you  had  several  children  set- 
tled in  some  distant  province,  some  of  them  pros- 
perous, and  others,  through  unavoidable  misfortune, 
in  a  destitute  condition;  suppose  the  former  were  void 
of  all  feeling,  giving  themselves  up  to  rioting  and 
excess,  refusing  to  retrench  in  the  least  degree  in 
order  to  relieve  their  necessitous  brethren:  what 
mingled  grief  and  indignation  would  the  report  of 
this  raise  m  your  breast!  Yet  this  is  the  very  case 
in  the  eye  of  our  common  Father,  whenever  the 
man,  who  has  riches,  consumes  upon  the  extrava- 
gant gratification  of  his  base  appetites,  what  might 
have  been  applied  to  the  relief  of  the  poor  and 
needy.  Even  allowing  the  intemperate  man  lo  have 
the  means,  and,  in  the  language  of  the  world,  liber- 
ty to  live  as  he  pleases,  still  his  conduct  is  charge- 
able with  inhumanity  and  cruelty  to  those  who  are 
in  want  before  his  eyes;  or  who  are  at  least  so  near 
him,  that  if  he  was  not  wilfully  deaf  or  blind,  he 
must  hear  their  groans  and  see  their  distress. 

But  when  the  man,  who  indulges  in  intemperance 
and  drunkenness,  is  poor,  or  one  whose  business  or 
income  is  but  just  enough,  with  frugality,  to  support 
himself  and  his  family,  his  guilt  is  still  more  aggra- 
vated. For  then,  whilst  he  is  gratifying  himself,  and 
rejoicing  in  his  cups,  he  is  breaking  through  the 
tenderest  ties  of  nature.  He  is  stripping  his  child- 
ren of  that  which  is  necessary  to  defend  them  from 
the  cold ;  he  is  snatching  the  bread  from  the  mouth 
of  his  little  ones,  ready  to  famish  for  want  of  food  ; 
and  making  his  wife  suffer  to  extremity  for  his  sen- 
suality. Therefore,  though  his  besotted  companions 
may  extol  him  for  his  honesty  and  good-nature,  and 
some  be  so  stupid  as  to  call  him  no  man's  enemy 
but  his  own,  he  is,  in  the  eye  of  truth  and  of  God, 
a  monster  of  cruelty  and  villany.  The  Father 
of  us  all  can  look  down  upon  no  one  of  his  crea- 
tures more  horridly  rebelling  against  his  benevolent 
laws,  or  more  injurious  to  those  who  are  miserable 
enough  to  be  in  close  connection  with  him,  than  the 
drunkard. 

Further :  we  owe  much  thankfulness  to  God  for 
our  reason.  By  this  we  become  capable  of  know- 
ing him  in  his  word  and  works  here,  and  of  enjoy- 
ing him  for  ever  hereafter.  We  are  happy  in  our- 
selves, and  useful  to  others,  just  in  proportion  as 
our  reason  is  improved,  by  the  due  exercise  and 
cultivation  of  it,  through  the  knowledge  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  the  grace  of  God.    We  may,  therefore, 


safely  say,  that  one  of  the  sorest  evils  which  can 
befall  us  in  this  world,  is  the  loss  of  our  reason. — 
What  guilt  then  must  be  chargeable  on  every  drunk- 
ard, who  presumptuously,  only  for  the  poor  plea- 
sure of  gratifying  the  lowest  appetite  of  his  nature, 
suspends  the  use  and  exercise  of  his  reason?  who 
reduces  himself  to  such  a  state  that  he  knows  nei- 
ther what  he  does,  nor  what  he  says?  And  as  we 
are  commanded  to  be  always  on  our  guard  in  our 
discourse,  and  warned  of  the  account  we  must  give 
of  it  to  God,  what  can  be  a  more  audacious  of- 
fence, than  for  a  man  to  intoxicate  himself  till 
"his  mouth  poureth  out  foolishness;"  till  there  is 
nothing  so  filthy  or  blasphemous,  which  he  will  not 
utter?  ' 

Besides,  it  is  our  duty  to  mortify  all  our  depraved 
appetites,  and  to  bring  them  into  subjection  to  the 
law  of  God.  What  a  total  violation  of  this  com- 
prehensive obligation  is  it  to  strengthen,  by  intem- 
perate drinking,  every  evil  propensity,  and  inflame 
it  to  the  utmost !  Yet  this  is  the  certain  effect  of 
drinking  to  excess.  It  provokes  to  anger,  passion, 
and  quarrelling;  it  ^begets  insolence,  and  increases 
pride  ;  it  not  only  often  separates  between  the  great- 
est friends,  but  hurries  them  into  duels  and  trans- 
ports of  bloody  revenge  upon  each  other.  Lustful 
passions  it  heats  also  beyond  measure,  and  gives  to 
lewd  desire  an  unbridled  rage. 

Now  so  shameful  a  violence  against  reason,  so 
provoking  an  abuse  of  plenty,  so  daring  an  act  of 
rebellion  against  God,  must,  without  repentance, 
certainly  exclude  every  one  guilty  of  it  from  any 
share  in  God's  favor,  as  it  demonstrates  him  to  be 
void  of  any  degree  of  his  grace.  Accordingly,  we 
are  taught,  in  different  yet  most  alarming  ways,  the 
insupportable  doom  of  drunkards,  and  of  those  who 
inflame  themselves  with  wine.  Drunkards  are  enu- 
merated in  the  black  catalogue  of  transgressors, 
who,  the  apostle  solemnly  declares  to  the  Corinth- 
ians, "cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  1  Cor. 
vi.  10. — The  dreadful  end  of  self-indulgence  in  this 
respect  is  most  emphatically  described  by  our  Sa- 
viour: "But  and  if  that  evil  servant  shall  say  in 
his  heart,  My  Lord  delayeth  his  coming;  and  shall 
begin  to  smite  his  fellow-servants,  and  to  eat  and 
drink  with  the  drunken  ;  the  Lord  of  that  servant 
shall  come  in  a  day  when  he  looketh  not  for  him, 
and  in  an  hour  that  he  is  not  aware  of,  and  shall 
cut  him  asunder,  and  appoint  him  his  portion  with 
the  hypocrites:  there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth."  Matt.  xxiv.  48— 51. 

Not  only  the  train  of  present  evils  which  intem- 
perance draws  after  it,  but  the  wages  of  this  shame- 
ful iniquity  in  the  eternal  world,  are  revealed  in 
Scripture,  to  alarm  the  conscience,  and  give  us  full 
conviction  of  the  sinfulness  of  this  common  sin. — 
So  that  either  we  must  take  heed,  and  beware  of 
excess  in  drinking,  or  give  up  all  reasonable  hope 
of  salvation  and  the  favor  of  God.  The  thought  of 
losing  the  favor  of  God,  is  worse  than  death  to  every 
one  who  truly  believes  the  Scripture:  every  Chris- 
tian, therefore,  however  he  may  naturally  incline  to 
drink  freely,  or  be  tempted  to  it  by  company,  or  al- 
lured to  it  by  a  hope  of  recommending  himself  to 
his  worldly  advantage,  will  guard  against  all  these 
temptations,  and  persevere  in  an  inviolable  regard 
to  that  sobriety,  upon  which  his  safety  so  much  de- 
pends. 


SUNDAY    XXXI.— CHAP.    XXXI. 

ON   SELF-DENIAL   WITH  RESPECT   TO   IMPURITY. 

Man,  in  his  fallen  state,  is  so  constituted,  that  there 
is  not  one  natural  passion,  however  useful  and 
excellent  it  may  be  when  properly  regulated,  which 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


•SI 


does  noi  become  an  occasion  of  sin,  and  require  to 
be  resisted  and  mortified.  We  have  already  seen 
how  much  this  is  the  case  with  respect  to  the  appe- 
tite for  food  and  drink;  the  natural  love  of  the  sexes 
is  another  example  of  the  same  kind.  This  impulse, 
though  necessary  for  the  propagation  of  mankind, 
and  useful  in  wedlock  to  several  excellent  ends, 
will  prove  in  single  persons,  unless  constantly  re- 
strained, a  seducer  of  the  soul  into  mum  sin,  and 
the  cause  of  the  most  extensive  evil.  It  prompts 
some  to  the  commission  of  secret  uncleanness,  and 
precipitates  others  into  the  open  offence  of  fornica- 
tion. At  the  instigation  of  this  lust,  what  time, 
what  parts,  what  influence,  are  daily  prostituted  to 
the  shameful  business  of  inveigling  and  debauching 
young  women !  Men  of  the  finest  sense  and  best 
education,  for  the  poor  perishing  gratification  of  an 
hour,  will  be  guilty  of  what  is  shocking  to  every 
mind  that  retains  the  least  fear  of  God,  or  compas- 
sion for  their  fellow-creatures  :  guilty  of  bringing  a 
heedless  virgin  to  indelible  shame,  her  parents  to 
grief  as  torturing  as  it  is  undeserved  and  hopeless  : 
guilty  of  offering  the  ruined  object  of  their  lust  such 
an  injury,  as  if  done  to  a  sister,  a  daughter,  or  any 
near  relation  of  their  own,  they  would  revenge  with 
the  point  of  the  sword.  Instigated  by  lust,  they  will 
be  accessary  even  in  opening  the  way  to  adultery 
and  all  its  train  of  mischiefs;  for  women  seldom 
prove  chaste  after  wedlock,  who  before  it  have  fallen 
a  prey  to  lewdness;  accessary,  as  far  as  lies  in  their 
power,  in  filling  the  world  with  whores,  at  once  its 
plague  and  scourge  ;  creatures  abandoned  to  every 
detestable  practice,  corrupters  of  youth,  pushing 
them  headlong  into  desperate  courses,  to  pay  for 
their  infectious  embraces. 

These  consequences  in  a  greater,  or  less  degree, 
certainly  follow  the  indulgence  of  this  bodily  appe- 
tite, to  which  we  are  na'urally  prone.  But  bad  as 
the.->e  consequences  are,  they  compose  only  the 
smallest  part  of  the  evil  produced  by  fornication. — 
No  pen  is  able  fully  to  unfold  what  the  soul  suffers 
from  this  sin.  Where  any  sense  of  modesty  or  of 
duty  prevails,  it  is  instantly  on  the  first  commission 
punished  with  the  secret  stings  and  horrors  of  a 
guilty  mind.  By  frequent  repetition  of  the  crime, 
all  sense  of  religion  is  extinguished,  and  all  inter- 
course with  God  ceases.  Associations  with  those 
who  are  hardened  in  lewdness  are  sought  after,  as 
a  refuge  from  conscience  ;  till  at  length  the  secret 
offender  against  chastity  contracts  a  brow  of  brass, 
and  becomes  an  infamous  pleader  for  the  lust  of 
concupiscence;  till,  in  one  word,  his  conscience  is 
seared,  the  captive  hugs  his  chains,  and  glories  in 
his  shame. 

Add  to  this  catalogue  of  dreadful  evils,  the  bloody 
quarrels  amoDgst  the  lewd,  and  the  murders  which 
they  are  led  to  commit ;  murder  of  children,  yet  un- 
born, loading  the  mind  with  guilt,  and  embittering 
life  beyond  conception;  murder  often  of  the  new-born 
babe,  which  the  law  avenges  by  the  infamous  death 
of  its  sanguinary  parent.  Instead,  therefore,  of 
saying  (as  libertines  impudently  speak)  where  is  the 
harm  of  taking  a  little  pleasure  out  of  the  way,  you 
will  perceive,  that  thieves  and  robbers  are  harmless 
and  honorable  compared  with  the  lewd.  Injuries 
from  these  open  foes,  have  very  soon  an  end,  in 
most  instances  are  borne  with  ease,  and  may  be  re- 
dressed ;  they  do  not  strike  at  our  immortal  interest. 
But  the  seducer  of  a  female  destroys  her  reputation, 
tears  her  away  from  her  family  and  friends,  ba- 
nishes her  from  the  society  of  virtuous  women,  en- 
tangles her  in  the  bloom  of  her  years  in  the  snare 
which  will  soon  drag  her  down  to  a  condition  be- 
low brutality,  the  condition  of  a  prostitute.  So  that 
the  very  mention,  or  even  remembrance  of  her 
name,  shall  afresh  excite  grief  in  her  family  and 
39* 


relations,  grief  unassuaged  by  the  least  ray  of  hope 
in  her  death,  or  after-stale. 

There  is  indeed  little  reason  to  hope  that  young 
men  will  present  to  themselves  such  a  view  as  this 
of  the  evil  of  fornication  :  but  it  is  the  inestimable 
benefit  of  Sciipture,  that  it  is  presented  to  them 
there  in  the  most  striking  manner,  and  by  an  au- 
thority that  must  not  be  trifled  with.  The  rise  and 
progress  of  lewdness,  with  all  the  various  allure- 
ments that  lead  to  it,  are  there  contrasted  with  its 
fatal  end.  The  lips  of  the  harlot  are  painted  drop- 
ping sweets  like  the  "  honey-comb,  and  her  mouth 
smoother  than  oil :"  but  instantly  to  quench  the 
least  rising  of  a  lustful  thought,  "  her  end,"  we  are 
taught  of  God,  "  is  bitter  as  wormwood,  and  sharp 
as  a  two-edged  sword."  Prov.  v.  3,  4.  The  simple 
young  man  she  invites  with  much  fair  speech,  to 
take  his  fill  of  love  till  the  morning :  but  immedi- 
ately the  treacherous  offer  is  laid  bare,  and  under  the 
thin  veil  of  one  night's  pleasure,  an  injured  body  with 
an  upbraiding  conscience  is  discovered  pouring  out 
that  sad  confession,  "  How  have  I  hated  instruction, 
and  my  heart  despised  reproof!" 

To  finish  the  testimony  of  God's  abhorrence  of 
the  sin  of  fornication  published  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, let  it  be  observed,  that  it  was  made  a  capital 
offence,  by  the  sentence  of  his  own  law;  and  the 
most  abominable  of  vices  is  itself  included  in  the 
same  prohibition  with  that  of  fornication;  design- 
ing, I  apprehend,  to  teach  us  to  what  horrid  lengths 
lewdness,  indulged,  will  lead,  and  to  create  a  dread 
of  that  sin,  which  is  forbidden  together  with  one  so 
infamous  ;  "  There  shall  be  no  whore  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  Israel,  nor  a  Sodomite  of  the  sons  of  Israel." 
Deut.  xxii.  21. 

1  have  been  full  in  producing  the  law  of  God  in 
old  time  against  the  sin  of  fornication,  in  order  to 
silence  the  ignorance  of  some  who  are  foolish 
enough  to  wax  bold  in  their  lewdness,  vaunting  that 
there  is  only  a  passage  or  two  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment po^3itive  in  condemning  their  darling  lust. 

Indeed  were  it  so,  this  would  be  sufficient ;  for 
till  the  New  Testament  is  proved  a  forgery  (which 
is  impossible,)  every  injunction  it  contains  claims 
an  equal  regard  with  any  thing  delivered  before 
from  God ;  since  his  declaration  alone  is  such  a 
sanction  as  stands  in  no  need  of  any  prior  revelation 
to  enforce  it. 

But  instead  of  a  passage  or  two  only  in  the  New 
Testament,  as  some  pretend,  absolutely  condemning 
fornication,  it  is  not  possible  to  name  a  sin  (that  of 
contempt  of  Christ  excepted)  which  is  so  generally 
mentioned  in  Scripture,  or  so  constantly  marked  a* 
the  object  of  God's  wrath.  Not  only  our  Redeemer 
and  Judge  ranks  this  with  sins  of  the  most  malig- 
nant kind,  and  as  a  peculiar  provocation  of  divine 
wrath,  Matt.  xv.  19.  Mark  xvii.  21.  but  his  great 
apostle  scarcely  writes  a  single  epistle  without  some 
alarming  prohibition  against  it.  In  one  place  St. 
Paul  beautifully  opposes  the  benevolent  gratifica- 
tion of  our  natural  appetite  in  a  lawful  way,  to  the 
terrible  condition  of  those  who  are  engaged  in 
lewd  commerce ;  "  Marriage  is  honorable  in  all, 
and  the  bed  undefiled  ;  but  whoremongers  and  adul- 
terers God  will  judge."  Heb.  xiii.  4.  In  another, 
he  not  only  affirms  that  adultery,  fornication,  las- 
civiousness,  and  uncleanness,  "are  the  works  of  the 
flesh,"  the  fruit  of  our  corrupted  nature  ;  but,  with 
remarkable  vehemence,  he  presses  us  to  lay  it  to 
heart  as  a  most  certain  truth,  that  each  of  these  sins 
is  ab  iolutely  inconsistent  with  a  state  of  salvation  ; 
"  Of  the  which  I  tell  you  before,  as  I  have  also  told 
you  in  time  past,  that  they  which  do  such  things 
shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  Gal.  v.  21. 

Such  is  the  light  and  power  accompanying  the 
gospel,  wherever  duly  received,  that,  in  the  judg- 
ment of  the  apostle,  it  should  put  an  end  to  the  very 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


being  of  this  enormity  within  the  pale  of  the  Chris- 
tian church:  "Fornication  and  all  uncleanness — 
let  it  not  once  be  named  among  you,  as  becometh 
saints — for  this  ye  know,  that  no  whoremonger,  nor 
unclean  person — hath  any  inheritance  in  the  king- 
dom of  Christ  and  of  God"."  Eph.  v.  3,  5.  And  lest 
the  plausible  ways  of  talking  in  defence  of  lewd- 
ness, in  which  debauched  men  of  parts  are  very 
expert,  should  stagger  any  weak  believer,  and  se- 
duce him  to  imagine  that  fornication  may  be  prac- 
tised with  impunity,  this  awful  caution  is  given : 
"  Let  no  man  deceive  you  with  vain  words  :  for  be- 
cause of  these  things  cometh  the  wrath  of  God  upon 
the  children  of  disobedience.  Be  ye  not  therefore 
partakers  with  them."  Eph.  v.  6,  7.  The  same  doc- 
trine is  as  strongly  inculcated  upon  the  Christians 
at  Colosse,  and  those  at  Thessalonica,  in  the  follow- 
ing ample  manner:  "  This  is  the  will  of  God,  even 
your  sanctification ;  that  ye  should  abstain  from  for- 
nication, that  every  one  of  you  should  know  how 
to  possess  his  vessel  in  sanctification  and  honor ; 
not  in  the  lust  of  concupiscence,  as  the  Gentiles 
which  know  not  God  ;  for  God  hath  not  called  us  to 
uncleanness,  but  unto  holiness.  He  therefore  that 
despiseth"  (what  is  said  of  the  evil  and  danger  of 
fornication,  and  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  purity,) 
"  despiseth  not  man,  but  God." 

St.  John,  taught  by  the  inspiration  of  God,  expo- 
ses no  less  clearly  the  greatness  of  the  sin  of  forni- 
cation :  for  whoremongers,  he  declares  are  shut  out 
of  the  gates  of  the  heavenly  city.  Rev.  xxii.  15. — 
Whoremongers  have  their  part  assigned  them  "in 
the  lake  which  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone : 
which  is  the  second  death."  Rev.  xxi.  8. 

But  of  all  the  Scriptures  written  on  purpose  to  in- 
spire an  horror  of  fornication,  those  animated  in- 
terrogations to  the  believers  at  Corinth  are  most 
striking;  "  Know  ye  not  that  your  bodies  are  the 
members  of  Christ  1"  Do  you  "not  profess  to  belong 
to  him,  and  that  he  is  your  life-giving  headl — 
"Shall  I  then  take  the  members  of  Christ,  and 
make  them  the  members  of  an  harlot  1  God  forbid." 
Would  it  not  be  monstrous  to  make  such  a  vile  use 
of  them  as  to  alienate  them  from  his  service,  and, 
rending  them  off  as  it  were  from  him,  to  turn  them 
into  the  members  of  a  lewd  woman,  by  committing 
whoredom  with  her!  "What,  know  ye  not  that 
your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  is 
in  you,  which  ye  have  of  God,  and  ye  are  not  your 
own  1"  1  Cor.  vi.  19.  Appropriated  to  God,  you 
have  no  right  to  abuse  your  bodies  by  gratifying  a 
brutal  desire  of  pleasure.  This  is  the  worst  kind  of 
sacrilege :  this  the  most  dreadful  of  all  profanations, 
the  turning  what  is  consecrated  a  temple  for  the 
living  God  into  an  habitation  for  the  spirit  of  un- 
cleanness. 

Know  therefore,  that  yon  must  either  become 
apostate  from  the  Christian  faith,  renouncing  every 
hope  of  finding  mercy  from  God,  or  you  must  mor- 
tify your  members  which  are  upon  the  earth,  forni- 
cation, uncleanness;  and  be  fully  persuaded,  that 
this  sin  alone,  supposing  it  were  possible  to  subsist 
with  the  discharge  of  Christian  duty  in  other  respects, 
would  drown  the  soul  in  perdition.  For  this  ful- 
ness of  persuasion  of  the  evil  and  sinfulness  of  for- 
nication is  of  great  use  to  secure  you  in  the  early 
and  most  important  season  of  life,  from  what  is  gene- 
rally the  first  instance  of  premeditated  rebellion 
against  God;  the  first  means  of  rivetting  on  the  sin- 
ner that  chain,  which  drags  down  its  thousands  and 
ten  thousands  to  the  prison  of  hell. 

Further;  wherever  any  end  is  proposed,  or  duty- 
enjoined,  the  means  necessary  to  maintain  the  one, 
and  to  perform  the  other,  are  tacitly  included  in  the 
general  precept ;  and  whatever  in  itself  renders  the 
practice  of  the  duty  very  precarious,  is  virtually  for- 
bidden where  it  can  be  avoided.    Now  from  this 


most  evident  principle,  a  Christian  is  obliged  it 
carry  his  self-denial  much  farther  than  a  mere 
abstinence  from  the  gross  acts  of  fornication  or  un- 
cleanness; for  this  maybe  done  when  there  is  no 
chastity ;  nothing  more  than  a  prudential  conti- 
nency.  A  Christian  must  resolutely  shun  all  repre- 
sentations to  the  eye,  and  every  thing  that  by  the 
medium  of  the  senses  can  be  offered  to  his  mind, 
exciting  impure  desire,  or  defiling  the  imagination. 
Thus  the  chastity  of  Job  is  expressed  by  his  making 
a  covenant  with  his  eyes,  absolutely  to  check  them 
from  gazing  on  any  inflaming  object :  and  our  Lord 
brands  as  the  adultery  of  the  heart,  the  "looking 
upon  a  woman  to  lust  after  her."  In  short,  the  same 
divine  authority  which  condemns  all  gross  lewd- 
ness, condemns  every  species  and  appearance  of  it 
also  in  word  or  thought. 

Here  then  behold  a  noble  province  for  Christian 
self-denial  opens!  here  the  spiritual  warfare,  in 
which  every  believer  in  Jesus  is  daily  engaged, 
becomes  most  visible  ;  most  visible  in  opposing  all 
the  licensed  honorable  ways  invented  by  the  world: 
to  gratify  the  lewdness  of  the  heart.  In  the  number 
of  these  licensed  and  honorable  ways  of  cherish- 
ing defilement,  are  all  wanton  glances  of  the  eye, 
that  mirror  of  the  mind,  the  singing  soft  and  amor- 
ous songs,  double-entendres,  mixed  dancings,  read- 
ing novels,  and  above  every  thing,  frequenting 
the  play-house.  For  in  this  innocent  amusement,  as 
the  world  will  have  it  called,  in  defiance  of  our  holy 
faith,  our  reason  and  experience — in  this  innocent 
amusement,  whatever  can  corrupt  the  mind  is  set 
off  to  the  greatest  advantage.  Is  there  a  lewd  allu- 
sion, or  stroke  of  impure  wit  1  the  air,  the  voice  of 
the  actor  labor  to  give  it  the  highest  emphasis: 
while  the  greater  part  of  the  audience  loudly 
applaud  the  entertainment.  Nay,  if  by  chance 
some  piece  should  gain  admittance  on  the  stage, 
free  from  a  filthy  tincture,  the  house  must  still  h^e 
their  prurient  humor  gratified  by  an  epilogue,  o 
farce,  full  of  inuendos;  intimating  that  the  haf  p 
ness  of  the  human  race  must  stand  or  fall  v  in 
those  things  they  know  naturally  and  as  b  nte 
beasts. 

Now  to  live  in  the  world,  and  thus  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  its  favorite  taste,  to  preserve  true  chastity 
of  mind,  is  a  fruit  of  faith  in  Christ,  and  a  part 
of  self-denial  indispensably  required  from  all  Chris- 
tians. 


SUNDAY  XXXII.— CHAP.  XXXII. 

ON  SELF-DENIAL,  WITH  RESPECT  TO  THE  DESIRE  OP 
WEALTH,  THE  INORDINATE  AFFECTION  FOR  THINGS 
LAWFUL,  AND  THE  LOVE  OF  PRAISE. 

It  is  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  corruption  of  human 
nature  that  ail  the  passions  which  are  natural 
to  the  human  race,  require  to  be  restrained  and 
mortified.  If  we  look  into  the  world,  we  do  not 
find  men  in  general  so  impressed  by  love  to  God,  by 
delight  in  spiritual  things,  by  ardent  benevolence, 
that  attention  and  caution  are  required  lest  those 
virtues  should  be  carried  to  excess  (if  there  could 
be  excess  in  them,)  and  lest  the  business  of  this  life 
should  be  neglected.  As  the  bias  lies  on  the  other 
side,  the  danger  is,  lest  Religion  should  be  neglected; 
lest  the  love  of  the  world  and  the  lusts  of  the  flesh 
should  be  cherished.  Religion  therefore  supposes 
human  nature  to  be  corrupt.  It  is  in  fact  nothing 
but  a  S}-stem  of  restraint  upon  man  :  it  prevents  his 
doing  what  he  is  strongly  inclined  to  do,  and  requires 
him  to  do  what  else  he  would  not  think  of  perform- 
ing. We  have  already  seen  how  much  self-denial 
is  requisite  with  respect  to  the  natural  appetite  for 
food,  and  the  love  of  women ;  we  now  observe 


COMPLETE    DUTY  OF    MAN. 


83 


thirdly,  that  corrupt  self  must  be  denied  in  its  pro- 
pensity to  covetousncss. 

This  propensity  to  love  money  it  is  the  duty  of  a 
Christian  to  resist  in  its  first  workings :  for  it  is  en- 
tirely opposite  to  the  temper  of  mind  required  in  a 
Christian,  and  it  is  declared  by  Scripture  to  be  ruin- 
ous to  the  soul  wherever  it  prevails. 

It  is  opposite  to  the  temper  of  mind  required  in  a 
Chiistian,  for  he  is  called  to  seek  after  a  better,  that 
is,  a  heavenly  country,  and  to  stand  always  ready 
for  an  immediate  separation  from  all  things  visible. 
But  the  propensity  to  covelousness,  unless  denied, 
will,  on  the  contrary,  utterly  benumb  all  feeling  of 
futurity,  suffering  him  to  think  of  nothing  with  fre- 
quency or  earnestness,  but  wealth  and  its  present 
advantages.  It  will  possess  his  mind  with  a  strong 
delusion,  that  money  is  the  chief  good  of  man  on 
earth ;  and  utterly  exclude  all  just  apprehensions 
of  the  religion  which  cometh  from  God,  whose 
characteristic  is,  that  it  overcometh  all  worldly  lust. 
The  gospel  makes  the  truth  and  substance  of  reli- 
gion to  be  a  firm  trust  in  God,  and  a  delight  in  him 
as  our  chief  happiness.  But  Avarice  says  unto  gold, 
"  Thou  art  my  confidence  ;  thou  art  the  god,  whose 
presence  brings  with  it  the  greatest  blessing,  and 
whose  absence  is  the  greatest  curse."  The  gos- 
pel is  given  on  purpose  to  raise  our  desires  with 
increasing  fervor  towards  God,  to  fix  our  affec- 
tions with  immoveable  steadfastness  on  things 
above,  and  to  engage  us  in  the  constant  pursuit  of 
them  with  an  ardor  in  some  degree  suited  to  their 
worth.  The  covetous  person,  by  making  wealth 
the  object  of  his  chief  desire,  has  no  warmth  of 
affection  left  for  God,  he  retains  nothing  more  than 
the  husk  cf  heartless  duties ;  he  forms  no  idea  of 
the  blessedness  of  being  with  God  in  any  other  view 
than  as  a  sort  of  refuge,  when  death  comes,  and 
riches  can  be  no  longer  possessed. 

And  to  mention  no  more  instances  of  the  contra- 
riety of  a  covetous  spirit  to  the  state  of  a  real  be- 
liever ;  it  hardens  the  heart  towards  our  fellow- 
creatures,  and,  either  from  a  fear  of  lessening  our 
treasure,  or  a  desire  of  increasing  it,  will  construe 
charity  to  be  a  low  subordinate  duty,  and  leave  our 
neighbor,  partaker  of  our  own  flesh,  to  struggle 
with  sickness  and  with  want,  and  to  perish  unassisted. 
Directly  opposite  to  this  selfish  one  is  the  disposition 
of  a  Christian  :  he  is  ready  to  give,  and  glad  to  dis- 
tribute, putting  on  bowels  of  mercy,  and  feeling  love 
unfeigned.  He  remembers  with  joy,  that  it  is  the 
will  of  God  that  those  who  are  rich  should  give 
plenteously,  as  stewards  and  not  proprietors  of  their 
wealth  ;  that  thus  the  great  abundance  of  some  may 
prove  a  supply  to  the  want  of  others;  that  those 
Avho  have  much  should  have  nothing  over,  and  they 
that  have  nothing  should  feel  no  lack. 

In  this  view,  the  contrariety  of  covetousncss  to 
the  temper  of  a  Christian,  respecting  either  God  or 
man,  is  most  evident,  and  by  consequence  the  duty 
of  self-denial,  in  withstanding  every  motion  we 
feel  tending  towards  covelousness  in  our  own  breasts. 
To  enforce  this  self-denial,  it  is  necessary  to  con- 
sider further  the  Scripture  representation  of  covet- 
ousncss, as  a  temper  ruinous  to  the  soul. 

And  here  it  is  remarkable  that  the  covetousncss 
against  which  we  are  so  earnestly  warned  in  God's 
word,  is  not  of  the  kind,  generally  deemed  scan- 
dalous, but  such  as  may  govern  the  heart  of  a  man, 
who  is  esteemed  virtuous  and  excellent  by  the 
world.  In  the  tenth  Psalm,  the  covetous,  whom  the 
Lord  is  there  said  to  abhor,  are  the  very  persons  of 
whom  the  wicked  speak  well ;  which  could  never 
be  the  case,  did  their  love  of  money  make  them 
either  villanous  in  their  practice,  or  miserably  penu- 
rious in  their  temper;  for  men  of  this  stamp  none 
commend.  The  same  thing  is  observable  in  that 
solemn  caution  given  by  our  Redeemer;  "Take 


heed,  and  beware  of  covetonsness."  By  which  it  is 
evident  that  he  meant  no  more  than  a  desire,  spring- 
ing from  a  rooted  persuasion,  that  the  comfort  of 
life  consists  in  abundance,  to  be  rich:  this  was  the 
covetousness  our  Lord  condemns.  And  that  his 
admonition  might  sink  the  deeper,  he  represents  the 
workings  of  that  avarice  which  he  condemns  in  a 
case  which  passes  every  day  before  out  eyes.  It  is 
this ;  a  man  grows  rich  in  his  business,  not  through 
fraud  or  extortion,  but  by  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
his  own  labor  and  skill.  As  is  usual,  he  is  highly 
delighted  with  his  success ;  he  exults  in  the  pros- 
pect of  being  master,  in  a  few  years,  of  an  indepen- 
dent fortune  !  In  the  meantime  he  is  determined  to 
be  frugal  and  diligent,  till  he  takes  his  final  leave 
of  business,  to  enjoy  all  the  sweets  of  ease  and  splen- 
dor. Luke  xii.  19.  Now,  who,  that  are  governed 
by  the  common  maxims  and  principles  of  human 
nature,  can  see  any  thing  to  blame  in  this  man's 
sentiment  or  conduct  1  Is  it  not  what  they  applaud 
and  imitate  themselves  1  Yet  this  very  man  our 
Lord  sets  before  our  eyes  as  the  picture  of  one  en- 
grossed by  a  covetous  desire  of  the  things  of  this 
world.  This  very  man  he  represents  as  summoned, 
in  the  midst  of  all  his  golden  hopes,  to  appear  a 
guilty  criminal  at  the  bar  of  his  Maker.  Lo!  this 
is  the  man  whom  our  Lord  exposes  as  a  miserable 
wretch  for  all  others  to  take  warning  by,  and  resist 
covetousness.  "  So,"  such  a  fool  and  such  a  sinner 
as  this,  "is  he  that  layeth  up  treasure  for  him- 
self;" that  is,  every  earthly-minded  man,  who  seeKs 
after  wealth,  as  if  it  were  the  foundation  of  happi- 
ness; "  and  is  not  rich  towards  God ;"  rich  in  faith, 
hope,  and  holiness.  Luke  xii.  21. 

St.  Paul,  in  perfect  harmony  with  his  Lord,  for- 
bids the  desire  of  wealth  as  a  criminal  effect  of  ava- 
rice. "  Let  your  conversation  be  without  covetous- 
ness, and  be  content  with  such  things  as  ye  have  ; 
for  He  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee."  Heb.  xiii.  5.  And  where,  instead  of  this 
self-denied  temper,  a  desire  of  increasing  in  wealth 
is  cherished,  there  snares,  defilement,  and  ruin,  are 
declared  to  be  the  certain  consequences.  For,  "  they 
that  will,"  the  original  signifies  the  simple  desire, 
"  be  rich,  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into 
many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men 
in  destruction  and  perdition.  For  the  love  of  mo- 
ney is  the  root  of  all  evil ;  which  while  some  coveted 
after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced 
themselves  through  with  many  sorrows."  1  Tim. 
vi.  9,  10. 

Now,  however  easy  it  may  seem  to  despise  that 
sordid  spirit  of  avarice,  which  only  meets  with  con- 
tempt from  the  world;  the  accumulation  of  riches 
by  every  dirty  method,  and,  for  fear  of  expense,  the 
refusal  afterward  to  make  any  use  of  them  !  yet  to 
resist  the  workings  of  covetousness,  according  to 
the  Scripture  definition  of  that  depraved  disposition, 
must  be  confessed  to  be  a  most  heroic  instance  of 
self-denial.  For  suppose  men  to  be  engaged  in  bu- 
siness, how  strong  are  their  natural  fears  of  failing, 
and  their  desire  to  prosper!  how  dependent  must 
they  be  at  first  on  those  who  employ  them  !  Con- 
sider the  constant  language  of  the  world  in  calling 
wealth  a  blessing  and  a  reward  ;  its  custom  of  treat- 
ing men  with  respect,  and  paying  court  to  them,  ex- 
actly in  proportion  to  their  monied  worth  ;  weigh 
these  things,  and  then  say  whether  any  thing  can  be 
more  contrary  to  our  natural  selfishness,  than  to  re- 
nounce all  love  of  money  1  than  to  be  quite  satisfied 
with  using  constant  industry  and  all  our  skill,  which 
God  commands  us  to  do,  in  our  trade  or  profession, 
and  when  that  is  done  to  cast  all  our  care  upon  him, 
cheerfully  leaving  it  to  his  own  most  wise  and  gra- 
cious will  in  what  degree  we  shall  grow  rich,  or 
whether  ever  at  all ;  assured  that  if  we  dwell  in  the 
land  and  are  doing  good,  by  a  uniform  subjection  to 


84 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF  MAN. 


God's  word,  he  will  bring  it  to  pass,  that  upon  the 
whole  our  condition  shall  be  appointed  to  ns  in  rich- 
est mercy  ?  What  more  difficult  self-denial  can  be 
conceived,  than  to  live  in  the  temple  of  the  god  of 
riches  (as  this  world  may  too  justly  be  called,)  hear- 
ing high  and  low,  priests  and  people,  all  paying  their 
adoration  to  this  Mammon  of  unrighteousness,  and 
yet  remain  uninfected  by  thirst  for  money?  This 
can  be  obtained  only  by  unintermitted  discipline 
exercised  over  our  own  hearts,  and  by  possession  of 
the  true  riches  in  the  knowledge  of  God  and  Christ. 

If  it  should  be  said,  Do  you  mean  then  to  affirm, 
that  it  is  wrong  for  any  man  to  rise  to  a  state  of  great 
wealth?  The  Scripture,  I  answer,  condemns  only 
the  desire  of  riches  and  the  passion  for  them,  as  de- 
filing and  sinful.  Therefore,  if  whilst  your  whole 
heart  is  given  to  God,  he  is  pleased  to  prosper  what- 
ever you  take  in  hand,  and  lo  give  yon  an  abundant 
increase;  then  your  wealth  is  evidently  as  much  the 
gift  of  God,  as  if  it  came  to  you  by  legacy  or  inherit- 
ance. 

Fourthly,  Self  must  be  denied  also  in  the  use  and 
enjoyment  even  of  things  lav-fid.  Intemperance, 
lewdness,  and  covetousness,  are  in  every  degree  de- 
filing and  sinful :  nothing  can  be  urged  in  their  de- 
fence by  those  who  will  reason  justly,  or  who  believe 
sincerely  the  word  of  God.  But  when  we  have  sub- 
dued these  corruptions  of  the  heart,  there  still  re- 
mains much  exercise  for  self-denial  with  respect  to 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  we  possess.  We 
must  be  careful  to  use  them  as  not  to  abuse  them. — 
We  must  keep  our  hearts  disengaged  from  those 
temporal  blessings  which  have  no  intrinsic  worth, 
and  which  others,  better  than  ourselves,  often  want. 
By  this  self-denial  we  shall  receive  all  the  benefit 
outward  comforts  were  intended  to  confer  on  their 
possessors,  without  putting  our  peace  in  their  power, 
in  case  the  providence  of  God  should  deprive  us  of 
them.  Now,  considering  how  very  uncertain  all 
our  outward  comforts  are,  and  how  impossible  to  be 
absolutely  secured  to  us  for  any  time,  to  sit  loose  to- 
wards them  is  cerlainly  wise  and  necessary. 

Amongst  these  lawful  things  in  which  self  must 
be  denied,  our  nearest  and  dearest  relations  are  in- 
cluded. For  though  much  love  is  due  to  them,  and 
a  tenderness  of  affection  Avhich  will  make  our  con- 
nection a  source  of  true  pleasure,  still  God  alone 
must  possess  the  supreme  place  in  our  hearts.  But 
unless  we  are  much  upon  our  guard,  and  very  jea- 
lous of  ourselves,  where  we  love  as  we  ought,  we 
shall  soon  love  as  we  ought  not.  The  affection 
which  should  be  kept  subordinate,  will  entrench 
upon  what  we  owe  to  God,  and  render  us  by  degrees 
cold  towards  him.  What  neither  intemperance, 
nor  lust,  nor  covetousness  could  effect,  a  passionate 
fondness  for  a  husband,  a  wife,  or  a  child  will  often 

E reduce.  It  will  alienate  the  affections  from  God, 
y  substituting  an  idol  in  his  place ;  an  idol  which 
we  shall  more  studiously  seek  to  please,  and  be  more 
fearful  lo  offend,  than  our  God  :  an  idol,  in  whose 
precarious  life  all  our  happiness  will  centre,  and 
whose  death  will  prove  a  stroke  too  heavy  to  bear 
with  Christian  submission. 

The  danger  of  this  inordinate  affection  is  men- 
tioned in  Scripture,  and  self-denial  in  this  instance 
is  peculiarly  enjoined.  "  If  any  man  come  to  me, 
and  hate  not  his  father  and  mother,  and  wife  and 
children,"  that  is,  so  far  as  they  would  interfere 
with  a  supreme  affection  for  Christ,  and  hinder 
faithfulness  in  his  service ;  if  he  does  not  as  much 
renounce  all  fondness  for  them,  as  if  he  had  an  ac- 
tual hatred  towards  their  persons,  "  he  cannot  be 
my  disciple  ;'  he  cannot  stand  when  brought  to  the 
fiery  trial ;  and  though  that  should  never  be  the 
case,  his  heart  cannot  be  whole  with  me.  Luke 
xiv.  26. 
The  same  doctrine  of  self-denial  is  inculcated  by 


St.  Paul,  and  founded  upon  an  abiding  reason. — 
"Brethren,"  says  he,  "  the  time  is  short :  it  remain- 
e?h  that  both  they  that  have  wives  be  as  though  they 
had  none  ;  and  they  that  weep,  as  though  they  wept 
not ;  and  they  that  rejoice,  as  though  they  rejoiced 
not ;  and  they  that  buy,  as  though  they  possessed 
not ;  and  they  that  use  this  world,  as  not  abusing  it: 
for  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away."  1  Cor. 
vii.  29 — 31.  Short-lived  as  we  are  ourselves,  and 
still  shorter  in  duration  as  our  best  earthly  com- 
forts so  often  prove,  we  only  act  according  to  the 
truth  of  our  condition,  as  well  as  in  obedience  to 
God,  when  we  limit  our  affections  towards  them. — 
Thus  we  shall  still  be  happy  in  a  separation  from 
them,  no  less  than  in  their  possession.  God,  who  is 
without  any  variableness,  will  be  our  joy,  and  the 
failure  of  the  cisterns  too  many  hew  out  for  them- 
selves, will  the  more  enhance  to  us  the  Fountain  of 
living  waters.  To  perceive  the  excellency  of  being 
ilms  disengaged  from  inordinate  affection  towards 
objects  which  it  is  not  unlawful  to  regard  with  pe- 
culiar love;  look  upon  the  fond  mother,  stupid  and 
dumb  with  grief,  like  Rachel,  weeping  for  her  child- 
ren, and  refusing  to  be  comforted  because  they  are 
not ;  observe  the  settled  melancholy  by  which  thou- 
sands are  oppressed,  through  a  separation  from  the 
husband  or  wife  of  their  youth,  with  whom  they 
promised  themselves  a  length  of  joyous  years.  Be- 
hold all  their  happiness  shivered  in  pieces,  all  in- 
terred with  the  idol  on  which  they  doted !  The 
whole  creation  is  now  become  as  the  barren  wilder- 
ness, and  no  prospect  of  ease  before  them,  but  in  the 
gloomy  thought  of  dying  soon  themselves. 

Consider  this  afflicting  scene  occurring  daily,  and 
you  will  be  compelled  to  own  that  no  self-denial  can 
be  more  reasonable  or  mc/e  necessary,  than  that  ot 
suppressing  all  inordinate  affection  towards  those 
dear  objects  which  may  be  torn  in  a  moment  from 
us :  and  which,  when  delighted  in  beyond  measure, 
are  sure  to  pierce  us  far  more  deeply  with  anguish 
by  their  loss,  than  they  ever  could  repay  our  ex- 
cessive love  with  joy  by  their  presence. 

Fifthly,  Corrupt  self  must  be  denied  in  our  love 
of  the  praise  of  men.  It  is  evident,  that  unless  some- 
thing nobler  than  what  earth  can  give,  be  the  grand 
object  of  pursuit,  the  praise  of  men  is  as  delightful 
to  the  mind  as  sounds  exquisitely  harmonious  are  to 
the  ear,  or  the  most  delicious  flavors  to  the  taste. — 
The  heathens  avowed  the  love  of  praise  to  be  the 
spring  of  all  that  gave  a  lustre  to  their  names. — 
Thus  Themistocles  owned,  that  being  pointed  at  in 
the  public  meetings,  afforded  him  a  pleasure  which 
amply  rewarded  him  for  all  the  great  exploits  he 
had  done  for  his  country.  And  Tully  is  not  ashamed 
to  publish  to  the  whole  world  his  vanity,  that  he  rose 
up  in  defence  of  Rome  against  her  unnatural  con- 
spirators, not  from  a  spirit  of  patriotism,  but  to  erect 
to  himself  a  monument  of  glory.  The  same  prin- 
ciple gave  birth  to  the  austerities  of  the  Pharisees, 
and  to  the  duties  of  religion  they  performed ;  all 
their  works  they  did  to  be  seen  of  men.  That  in 
this  respect  human  nature  is  always  the  same,  is 
evident  from  the  pain  men  feel  whenever  they  meet 
with  expressions  of  disgrace  and  scorn  ;  how  keenly 
do  they  pierce,  how  greatly  provoke  !  It  is  evident 
also  from  the  visible  pleasure  with  which  men  ge- 
nerally listen  to  their  own  commendation,  and  incite 
every  designing  flatterer  to  offer  them  his  incense. 

Now  this  strong  innate  love  of  the  praise  of  men, 
it  is  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  deny.  He  must  not 
suffer  it  to  direct  his  actions.  Were  so  false  a  prin- 
ciple to  govern  him,  the  judgment  of  the  world  would 
be  his  rule  of  life,  in  contempt  of  God  his  Maker  and 
his  Judge.  He  would  judge  of  the  extent  of  his  duty, 
not  from  the  plain  command  of  God,  but  from  what 
was  reputable  or  otherwise.  What  will  the  world 
think  of  me  ?  would  be  an  alarming  suggestion,  fa- 


COMPLETE   DUTY    OF    MAN, 


85 


tal  to  every  purpose  of  living  as  a  real  Christian  ; 
and  the  fear  of  an  appearance  of  enthusiasm  in  ab- 
staining from  fashionable  vices,  would  reconcile 
him  to  practices  glaringly  opposite  to  his  duty. — 
Whatever  knowledge  and  conviction  of  the  truth 
he  might  have  more  than  others,  fondness  for  ap- 
plause from  men  would  compel  him  to  hold  the 
truth  in  unrighteousness,  and  to  be  worse,  even  in 
spite  of  his  convictions,  than  the  world,  in  order  to 
enjoy  its  approbation. 

Now  these  instructions  come  strongly  in  aid  of  a 
sense  of  duty,  to  love  the  praise  of  God,  and  to  seek 
only  that  honor  that  cometh  from  him.  They  are 
of  great  efficacy  to  cool  the  heart,  that  would  other- 
wise burn  for  teputation.  And  whilst  Christians 
are  only  studying  to  be  found  approved  of  God, 
their"  eye  being"  thus  "single;  their  whole  body," 
according  to  that  gracious  promise,  Luke  xi.  34. 
will  be  "full  of  light,"  of  the  light  of  truth,  holi- 
ness, and  comfort :  in  this  they  will  enjoy  more  than 
a  counterbalance  to  the  loss  of  human  praise,  more 
than  a  recompense  for  all  aspersions  cast  upon  their 
understanding,  choice,  and  conduct. 


SUNDAY  XXXIII.— CHAP.  XXXIII. 

ON  SELF-DENIAL  WITH  RESPECT  TO  SHAME,  OR  LOSS 
ON  ACCOUNT  OF  RELIGION,  PRIDE  OF  REASON,  AND 
SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

We  have  seen  the  necessity  of  exercising  self- 
denial  with  respect  to  our  sensual  appetites,  with 
respect  also  to  the  inclinations  natural  to  man,  for 
wealth,  the  comforts  of  life,  and  the  praise  of  our 
fellow-creatures: — Religion,  which  teaches  us  the 
necessity  of  self-denial  in  general,  is  itself  the  occa- 
sion of  opening  to  us  a  new  scene  for  its  exercise : 
it  creates  new  duties,  and  requires  self-denial  in 
cases  which  do  not  come  within  the  notice  of  the 
world  in  general.  Thus  the  profession  of  a  higher 
degree  of  religion  than  is  common  in  the  world, 
subjects  us  to  a  loss  of  reputation,  to  bear  which, 
without  being  ashamed  or  hurt,  will  require  no 
trifling  exertion  of  self-denial.  We  all  naturally 
follow  the  custom  and  fashion  of  the  world  around 
us,  and  though  not  fired  with  the  love  of  fame,  we 
still  feel  it  grievous  to  be  reproached  as  bigots,  fools, 
or  enthusiasts.  When  therefore  we  observe  that 
our  attachment  to  Scripture  principles,  in  condem- 
nation of  corrupt  practices  and  fashionable  errors, 
will  render  us  disagreeable  and  unfit  for  the  com- 
pany of  the  polite ;  pride  will  begin  strongly  to  urge 
us  to  dissemble,  and  not  to  appear  more  attached  to 
religion  than  others  :  it  will  be  swaying  us  to  seem 
at  least  to  approve  what  all  the  company  approves, 
though  we  condemn  it  in  our  hearts. — Therefore, 

Sixthly,  This  evil  shame,  in  all  its  workings,  must 
be  denied  ;  because  nothing  can  be  more  base,  more 
encouraging  to  wickedness,  or  more  destructive  to 
our  own  souls. 

Nothing  can  be  more  base  than  such  a  dastardly 
obsequiousness  to  the  opinions  of  men;  since,  be- 
sides the  reigning  cowardice  it  betrays,  what  a  re- 
turn is  this  for  the  inestimable  blessing  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth'?  Was  it  for  this  end,  do 
you  think,  that  God  gives  to  you  the  knowledge  of 
his  truth,  to  which  others  are  strangers,  only  that 
you  might  show  him  the  greater  indignity,  by  pre- 
ferring to  his  favor  your  reputation'?  Was  the 
light  of  life  kindled  within  you,  that  you  should  in- 
dustriously conceal  it,  choosing  to  appear  dark  in 
your  understanding,  rather  than  bear  the  censure 
or  ridicule  of  those,  who  you  well  know  are  ene- 
mies to  the  light,  only  because  their  deeds  are  evil  1 
Were  an  officer  to  be  found  thus  ashamed  of  his 
king  or  his  service,  how  must  he  appear  1  yet  what  I 


fidelity  does  he  owe  to  his  king,  or  what  advantages 
does  he  receive  in  his  service,  worthy  to  be  named 
with  the  benefits  God  pours  out.  upon  us"?  Hence 
both  gratitude  and  justice  require  us  all,  as  far  as 
we  know  the  truth  and  our  duty  towards  God,  to 
avow  religion,  and  not  to  be  ashamed  of  being 
counted  righteous  over-much  by  those  who  neither 
have  nor  can  bear  more  than  the  senseless  form  of 
godliness. 

Seventhly,  Self-denial  must  be  exercised  with  re- 
spect to  the  fear  of  suffering  for  the  sake  of  God 
and  his  truth.  In  the  inferior  ranks  of  life  all  per- 
sons are  called,  more  or  less,  to  this  exercise,  through 
their  necessary  dependence  upon  the  rich.  For 
when  a  person  begins  business,  or  enters  upon  his 
profession  of  law,  physic,  or  divinity,  how  desirable 
is  the  favor  of  the  great  and  opulent  to  him!  to 
have  their  smile,  to  be  admitted  a  guest  at  their 
table,  is  deemed  an  honor;  and  whilst  their  inter- 
est procures  preferment,  their  custom  brings  the 
tradesman  the  largest  return  of  gain.  Hence  a 
violent  temptation  arises,  to  be  esteemed  no  more 
religious  than  is  agreeable  to  the  rich,  or  to  their 
principal  domestics,  on  whose  favor  so  much  de- 
pends. Are  they  therefore  profane  1  every  depend- 
ent will  be  tempted  to  say,  why  should  I  appear  a 
friend  to  godliness  1  Are  they  lewd  and  intem- 
perate 1  why  should  I  hurt  my  interest  by  refusing 
to  join  with  them  in  excess  of  wine,  or  in  lascivi- 
ousness,  or  by  appearing  to  condemn  such  vile 
practices'?  Should  conscience  remonstrate,  self-in- 
terest will  lead  a  man  industriously  to  stifle  every 
conviction,  afraid  of  losing  the  best  of  his  custom- 
ers, or  his  only  patron,  by  being  offensively  religious. 

Every  one  knows  how  much  the  principal  inha- 
bitants in  all  places  keep  their  inferiors  in  awe  by 
the  tie  of  worldly  gain:  and  where  their  example 
is  profane,  they  spread  on  every  side  a  dreadful 
contagion. 

In  such  a  situation,  Christian  self-denial  displays 
its  energy.  The  believer  will  dare  to  show  a  con- 
scientious regard  to  the  law  and  truth  of  God  in  the 
view  of  his  superiors,  though  sensible  that  his  con- 
duct will  gall  and  irritate.  Fear  of  poverty  will 
not  make  him  belie  his  better  judgment,  or  deny  his 
God  in  order  to  gain  favor  with  men.  And  whilst 
discretion  and  humility,  on  one  hand,  set  bounds  to 
his  advice  or  reproof,  and  direct  him  as  to  the  time 
and  manner  of  applying  them,  his  fear  and  love  of 
God,  on  the  other,  will  certainly  lead  him  to  disco- 
ver his  true  character,  and  his  abhorrence  of  all 
iniquity. 

The  weight  which  eternal  things  have  upon  the 
believer's  mind,  the  sting  which  he  has  often  felt 
in  his  conscience  for  seeming  to  approve  what  God 
condemns,  the  express  command  to  make  a  public 
profession  of  godliness,  and  the  disinterested  man- 
ner in  which  the  Redeemer  has  suffered  to  purchase 
his  everlasting  salvation,  all  join  their  influence, 
and  are  of  great  force  to  enable  him  to  risk  the  loss 
of  all  things,  sooner  than  be  ashamed  of  God  and 
his  word. 

Eighthly.  Self-denial  must  be  exercised  with 
respect  to  the  pride  of  reason,  in  submitting  without 
disputing  to  the  written  word  of  God.  A  kind  of 
restraint  this  no  less  difficult  for  men  of  superior 
understanding  to  practise,  than  for  the  sensual  to 
be  chaste,  or  the  covetous  charitable.  Yet  in  re- 
quiring such  submission  to  his  bare  authority,  God 
requires  from  us  nothing  unreasonable;  because 
the  objects  he  reveals  to  us  are  both  above  human 
comprehension,  ami  at  present  only  revealed  in 
part.  "  We  preach,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  the  wisdom 
of  God  in  a  mystery;"  and  therefore  the  doctrines 
of  Scripture  must  not  be  rejected,  under  a  pretence 
that  they  contradict  common  sense.  Instead  of  in- 
dulging, we  must  repel  that  insolent  query,  How 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


can  these  things  be1?  For,  as  ignorant  creatures, 
it  is  our  duty,  and  as  Christians,  our  profession,  to 
rest  satisfied  with  what  God  has  declared  to  be  the 
truth.  When  this  declaration  is  once  known,  we 
are  to  shut  our  eyes  against  numberless  difficulties 
relating  to  the  truth,  which  human  wit  or  human 
ignorance  may  start.  This  is  our  duty,  though  in- 
finitely mortifying  to  the  proud  and  arrogant.  This 
is  also  rational ;  for  how  can  any  one  reasonably 
deny  that  to  be  truth,  if  it  involves  no  palpable  con- 
tradiction, which  hath  this  decisive  evidence,  that 
God  in  his  revelation  has  declared  it.  And  how 
can  any  one  be  sure  that  there  is  a  real  contradic- 
tion in  things,  which  it  is  confessed  he  cannot  tho- 
roughly comprehend.  Though  reason  therefore  is 
of  signal  service  in  teaching  as,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, the  knowledge  of  causes  and  effects ;  and, 
within  its  proper  limits,  not  to  be  disparaged ;  yet, 
when  it  is  puffed  up  with  a  false  conceit  of  its  own 
power,  it  must  be  mortified,  no  less  than  any  other 
depraved  part  of  our  frame.  Otherwise  we  shall 
soon  think  ourselves  at  liberty  to  disdain  implicit 
faith  even  in  God  himself.  Instead  of  proving 
doctrines  to  be  unscriptural,  it  will  lead  us  to  urge 
their  apparent  absurdity  as  sufficient  reason  to  reject 
them.  Thus  one  part  of  revealed  truth  after  an- 
other will  be  renounced:  first  the  Trinity,  then  the 
doctrine  of  Christ's  atonement,  next  our  fall  ami 
natural  corruption ;  till  at  length  there  will  be  no- 
thing in  the  Bible  allowed  to  be  true,  but  what  a 
pagan  might  subscribe,  and  a  deist  receive. 

The  absolute  necessity  of  this  submission  of  the 
understanding  to  the  authority  of  God's  revelation 
is  most  evident.  A  man  cannot  be  a  Christian 
without  it;  since  all  the  doctrines  which  by  way  of 
distinction  are  called  Christian,  have  confessedly 
great  difficulties  in  them.  From  our  fall  in  Adam, 
to  the  complete  salvation  of  the  soul  by  Christ  at 
the  last  day,  there  is  abundant  room  to  cavil,  if  men 
choose  to  erect  themselves  into  judges  upon  the  coun- 
sel of  God.  A  small  degree  of  wit  with  much  pride, 
will  furnish  endless  matter  for  arraigning  the  Scrip- 
ture in  its  account  of  the  origin  of  our  misery ;  in 
the  character  it  gives  of  the  Redeemer  and  his  in- 
carnation; in  the  way  of  receiving  benefit  from  him; 
in  the  Spirit's  influence  on  the  heart ;  in  the  penal- 
ly denounced  upon  every  degree  of  disobedience, 
and  the  punishment  of  the  damned.  These  several 
important  articles  of  our  creed,  which  are  the  very 
soul  of  Christianity,  must  be  received  upon  the 
mere  credit  of  their  voucher,  the  word  of  God. — 
And  those  who  disdain  to  be  persuaded  by  such 
evidence,  do  in  fact  give  up  the  faith  of  Christ, 
though  it  may  be  convenient  for  them  to  retain  the 
name  of  Christians,  and  to  remain  in  the  bosom  of 
Christ's  church. 

Lastly,  Self-denial  must  be  exercised  with  respect 
to  our  opinion  of  our  own  righteousness ;  a  severer 
instance  of  mortification  to  all  than  any  yet  men- 
tioned. But  it  must  be  submitted  to.  Whatever 
our  good  qualities  are,  we  must  confess  ourselves 
criminals  before  God,  whose  condemnation  would 
be  inevitable,  should  he  execute  justice  instead  of 
showing  compassion  towards  us.  How  is  it  possi- 
ble we  can  honor  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  on  the 
cross,  as  God  would  have  it  honored,  if  we  imagine 
our  goodness  can  absolve  us  from  guilt'?  how  can 
we  flee  for  refuse  to  the  Saviour,  unless  our  hearts 
condemn  us  as  lost  without  his  merit1?  or  how  abide 
in  this  city  of  refuge  unless  we  perceive  ourselves 
exposed  to  the  avenger  of  blood  1  how  can  we  bow 
down  in  self-abasing  gratitude  to  God,  for  imputing 
to  us  the  righteousness  of  another,  if  we  renounce 
not  our  own  as  utterly  insufficient  to  answer  for  usl 
how  place  our  full  dependence  on  the  Beloved  of 
the  Father  for  acceptance  through  him,  unless  we 
iire  conscious  of  the  defilement  of  our  corrupt  na- 


ture, cleaving  to  us  to  the  very  last  moment  of  life 
on  earth,  and  rendering  us  in  ourselves  unworthy 
of  notice  from  God] 

Upon  all  these  accounts  it  is  a  necessary  part  of 
Christian  self-denial  to  renounce  all  confidence  in 
our  own  virtues  and  attainments,  as  if  they  could 
justify  us  in  the  sight  of  God,  or  bear  the  trial  of  his 
holy  law.  This  kind  of  self-denial,  directly  opposite 
to  every  earth-born  system  of  religion,  is  of  the  es- 
sence of  the  religion  of  Jesus.  And  though  this 
very  humbling  estimation  of  our  moral  excellence 
be  most  difficult  to  attain,  yet  Scripture,  both  by  ex- 
ample and  doctrine,  strongly  urges  it  upon  us. — 
Thus  Job,  in  the  bitterness  of  self-reproach,  cries 
out,  "  Behold,  I  am  vile,  I  abhor  myself.  Upon  in- 
quiry into  the  character  of  this  complainer  against 
himself,  we  learn  that  he  had  no  equal  in  goodness 
upon  the  whole  earth,  even  in  the  judgment  of  the 
Omniscient;  but  the  fault  which  he  here  bewailed, 
and  the  guilt  that  extorted  this  confession,  was  too 
high  an  opinion  of  his  own  character;  he  had  said, 
"  I  am  clean  without  transgression,  I  am  innocent ; 
neither  is  there  iniquity  in  me."  Job  xxxiii.  9.  For 
thus  overrating  his  spiritual  attainments  Job  abhors 
himself.  And  who,  after  Job,  that  receives  the 
Scripture  record,  shall  think  himself  less  sullied  in 
his  character,  or  less  defective  in  point  of  practical 
holiness,  than  this  illustrious  servant  of  God  1 

What  Job  was  in  old  time,  St.  Paul  appears  to 
have  been  under  the  New  Testament.  For  who  in 
labors  or  in  sufferings  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
good  of  man ;  who  in  purity  of  heart,  and  extensive 
usefulness,  was  to  be  compared  to  him?  Yet  so  far 
was  this  most  distinguished  saint  from  confiding  in 
his  own  goodness  as  a  fit  object  of  the  divine  com- 
placency, that  he  mentions  both  what  he  had  at- 
tained in  moral  and  religious  obedience,  and  what 
he  had  suffered  for  Christ's  sake,  on  purpose  that  he 
might  pour  contempt  upon  it  all ;  that  he  might  call 
it  "  loss  and  dung"  in  comparison  of  being  found  in 
Christ,  "not  having  his  own  righteousness,  which 
is  of  the  law,"  that  is,  not  trusting  in  his  own  per- 
sonal obedience  for  justification  before  God,  "  but 
having  that  righteousness  which  is  through  the 
faith  of  Christ,  the  righteousness  which  is  of  God 
by  faith."  Phil.  iii.  9. 

What  these  and  others  of  the  most  excellent  of 
the  earth,  by  their  own  confession,  declare  in  dis- 
couragement of  human  righteousness,  as  a  title  to 
justification  before  God,  or  as  a  ground  of  self-con- 
ceit, is  confirmed  by  many  places  of  Scripture. — 
Thus  the  poor  and  needy  are  represented  as  the 
only  objects  of  the  Redeemer's  grace.  Psal.  lxxii. 
13.  whilst  the  good  and  virtuous  in  their  own  sight, 
"  are  scattered  in  the  proud  imaginations  of  their 
hearts,  and  sent  empty  away."  Luke  i.  51.  Low- 
liness of  mind  is  described  as  the  only  temper  be- 
coming our  Christian  profession  ;  whilst  the  haugh- 
tiness which  prompts  men  to  plead  their  own  right- 
eousness as  a  title  to  God's  favor,  is  exposed  as  the 
cause  of  excluding  from  salvation  those  who  had 
even  a  zeal  for  God.  Rom.  ix. 

Both  by  doctrine  and  example,  therefore,  the  dis- 
ciple of  Jesus  is  led  to  call  himself  vile  in  the  midst 
of  his  highest  attainments,  and  constantly  to  regard 
himself  as  a  needy  impotent  vessel  of  mercy,  who 
has  nothing  to  boast  of  but  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
and  no  ground  of  confidence  towards  God,  but  his 
righteousness  only. 


SUNDAY  XXXIV.— CHAP.  XXXIV. 

ON   PRAYER — ITS    OBJECT,    NATURE,    AND   SUBJECT. 

Whenever  the  practice  and  tempers  essential  to  be- 
lievers in  Christ  Jesus  are  explained,   many,  in- 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


87 


stead  of  attempting  to  acquire  them,  object,  If 
these  be  absolutely  requisite,  who  then  shall  be  sav- 
ed 1  But  there  is  really  no  place  for  this  despond- 
ing objection  in  the  Christian  scheme;  bewuse, 
though  the  natural  weakness  and  corruption  of 
man  is  much  greater  than  such  objectors  believe, 
still  the  obedience  required  as  the  fruit  of  faith, 
grows  from  a  root  which  is  able  to  produce  it :  for 
such  light  and  power  are  promised  by  God  to  all 
who  properly  seek  them,  as  are  very  adequate  to 
maintain  all  Christian  tempers  in  the  measure  indis- 
pensably required. 

The  means,  which  must  be  diligently  used  in  or- 
der to  obtain  the  continuance  of  those  supernatural 
supplies,  are  by  way  of  distinction  called  Devotional 
Duties;  and  they  are  so  essential  to  religion,  that  it 
cannot  subsist  without  them.  Their  importance  is 
indeed  generally  allowed,  yet  through  sad  abuse 
these  exercises  are  frequently  turned  into  a  mere 
religious  formality,  by  which  God  is  dishonored, 
nominal  Christians  lulled  into  a  false  peace,  and 
the  profane  hardened  in  their  contempt  of  devotion. 

To  guard  against  this  error,  so  pernicious  to  the 
Christian  church,  I  shall  treat  at  large  on  the  na- 
ture of  devotional  duties,  and  the  proper  method  of 
discharging  them;  principally  confining  myself  to 
treat  of  secret  prayer,  and  reading  the  word  of  God ; 
leaving  it  to  the  reader  to  apply  what  is  said  of 
them  to  all  the  other  public  ordinances  and  means 
of  grace. 

1.  With  respect  to  prayer,  the  object  of  it  is  God 
only.  The  end  of  prayer  is,  to  obtain  deliverance 
or  preservation  from  evil,  or  the  possession  and 
continuance  of  good.  Our  application  therefore 
must  be  made  to  him,  who  is  the  Almighty  Source 
of  every  good  and  perfect  gift;  who  orders  all 
things  according  to  the  counsel  of  his  own  will ; 
who,  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  can  completely  bless 
us:  and  without  whose  favor  every  being  in  the 
whole  creation,  though  leagued  in  our  defence, 
could  afford  us  no  protection.  He  also  to  whom 
prayer  is  addressed  must  be  omniscient  and  omni- 
present. Otherwise,  how  is  it  possible  that  amidst 
so  many  constant  supplicants  none  should  be  over- 
looked ;  amidst  so  many  millions  of  petitions  offered 
up  in  the  same  instant  throughout  the  world,  none 
be  lost ;  amidst  such  a  numberless  variety  of  com- 
plicated cases,  the  things  best  for  each  individual, 
and  those  only,  should  be  conferred.  The  most 
transcendent  mercy  and  love  also  ought  to  be  inhe- 
rent in  him  to  whom  we  offer  our  prayers,  in  order 
to  forgive  our  sins,  to  overcome  our  fears,  and  to 
encourage  our  petitions,  conscious  as  we  must  be  of 
our  own  vileness,  when  we  are  most  fit  to  pray. 

2.  Now  as  God  is  the  only  object  of  prayer,  so  its 
nature  consists  in  offering  up  to  him  the  wants  of 
the  heart.  Unless  the  heart  is  engaged,  the  best 
chosen  petitions,  punctually  repeated  morning  and 
evening  out  of  a  book,  or  the  most  fluent  addresses 
in  language  of  our  own  conception,  are  no  more 
than  the  mimicry  of  prayer:  a  sort  of  devotion, 
which  pride  and  self-sufficiency  can  practise;  on 
which  formality  and  superstition  can  erect  their  ab- 
surd pretences  to  religion,  whilst  the  spirit  and  the 
truth  of  prayer  are  unexperienced  and  neglected. 
For  as  the  needy  only  can  stoop  to  ask  the  relief  of 
an  alms,  so  then  we  only  can  begin  to  pray  when 
we  feel  ourselves  necessitous  creatures;  when  we 
long  to  receive  from  God  what  we  beg  of  him, 
knowing  that  without  the  gift  of  it  we  must  be  mi- 
serable. 

This  sensibility  of  our  real  want,  both  Scripture 
representations  and  Scripture  examples  prove  es- 
sential to  true  prayer.  The  Scripture  representn- 
tions  instruct  us  thus  ;  "  If  thou  shalt  seek  the  Lord, 
thou  shalt  find  him  ;  if  thou  seekest  him  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul."    Deut.  iv.  9. — 


"  Trust  in  God  at  all  times ;  ye  people,pour  out 
your  hearts  before  him."  Psai.  ixii.  8.  "  The  Lord 
is  nigh  unto  all  them  that  call  upon  him,  to  all  that 
call  upon  him  in  truth."  Psal.  cxlv.  18.  When  the 
inspired  Solomon  exhorts  us  to  pray  for  spiritual 
wisdom,  he  takes  care  to  mark,  with  the  utmost  en- 
ergy of  expression,  the  need  we  must  at  the  same 
lime  feel  of  it  in  our  hearts  :  "  If  thou  criest,"  says 
he,  "after  knowledge,  and  liftest  up  thy  voice  for 
understanding ;  if  thou  seekest  her  as  silver,  and 
searchest  for  her  as  for  hid  treasures."  Prov. 
ii.  3,  4.  The  same  feeling  of  our  wants  our  Lord 
points  out  as  essential  to  prayer,  describing  it  by  the 
united  terms  of  asking,  seeking,  knocking  ;  terms 
most  expressive  of  an  urgent  need  of  immediate 
succor.  And  St.  James  leads  us  to  the  very  same 
conception  of  the  thing,  by  ascribing  success  to  fer- 
vent prayer.  James  v.  1G. 

AVhat  the  Scripture  thus  defines  to  be  prayer,  is 
fully  illustrated  by  the  practice  of  the  most  approved 
servants  of  God  recorded  in  it.  They  were  pene- 
trated with  a  feeling  of  their  necessities  when  they 
came  before  the  throne  of  grace.  "  With  my  whole 
heart,"  says  one,  "  have  I  sought  thy  favor."  "At 
evening,  and  at  morning,  and  at  noon-day  will  I  cry 
unto  thee,  and  that  instantly,"  says  David,  "  and 
thou  shalt  hear  me."  Another  makes  his  supplica- 
tion with  all  the  heart-felt  importunity  of  a  distress- 
ed petitioner  ;  "  Out  of  the  depths  have  I  cried  unto 
thee,  O  Lord;  Lord,  hear  my  voice.  O  Let  thine 
ears  be  attentive  to  the  voice  of  my  supplication." — 
In  the  address  also  of  Daniel  the  greatly  beloved, 
every  syllable  breathes  a  sense  of  want,  which 
scarcely  knows  how  to  bear  with  denial  or  delay ; 
"  O  Lord,"  says  he,  "  hear,  O  Lord,  forgive,  0  Lord, 
hearken  and  do,  defer  not  for  thy  name's  sake,  O 
my  God." 

From  this  Scripture  representation  of  prayer, 
that  it  is  the  want  of  the  heart  offered  up  to  God,  it 
appears  plain,  that  all  men  naturally  stand  upon  a 
level  with  respect  to  their  ability  of  praying  truly. 
Outward  circumstances  in  this  case  makes  no  dif- 
ference. The  ignorant  clown  and  the  polished 
scholar,  those  who  have  been  most  piously  trained, 
and  those  who  have  been  miserably  neglected  in 
their  education,  those  who  have  been  restrained 
from  sinful  excesses,  and  those  who  have  plunged 
the  deepest  into  them,  remaiu  alike  incapable, 
without  the  grace  of  God,  of  real  prayer.  Notwith- 
standing the  grossest  ignorance,  the  worst  educa- 
tion, and  the  most  profligate  life,  yet  as  soon  as  ever 
the  guilt,  and  strength,  and  tyranny  of  sin,  are  felt 
to  oppress  the  soul,  we  shall  flee  to  God  for  refuge, 
and  prayers  and  cries,  like  incense,  will  ascend  up 
before  him  from  the  troubled  and  the  humbled 
heart.  On  the  contrary,  if  the  guilt,  the  strength, 
and  defilement  of  sin  are  not  felt  and  lamented, 
neither  learning,  nor  the  most  pious  education,  nor 
abstinence  from  every  gross  vice,  nor  even  all  these 
united,  can  create  the  leasl  measure  of  the  spirit  of 
praver.  In  many  instances  these  advantages  flatter 
and  blind  with  their  specious  appearance,  instead  of 
producing  any  just  sensibility  of  the  guilt  of  sin,  or 
any  alarming  apprehension  of  its  issue,  unless  par- 
doned and  subdued.  In  fact,  all  true  knowledge, 
and  all  just  apprehensions  of  sin,  wherever  found, 
are  owing  to  an  infinitely  higher  cause:  they  are 
the  effect  of  a  firm  belief  in  God's  word  declaring 
the  sinfulness  of  sin,  and  of  a  heart  humbled  so  as 
to  plead  guilty  to  the  charge  of  it.  But  this  firm  be- 
lief of  God's  word,  and  this  conviction  of  sin,  are  in 
no  instance  the  fruits  of  education,  much  less  the 
of  learning,  but  the  inestimable  gifts  of  God  : 
gifts  no  sooner  received,  than  all  the  impediments 
to  i  niver  are  removed.  Want  will  immediately 
make  the  stammering  tongue  of  the  most  unlearned, 
or  of  thooe  who  have  been  in  time  past  the  most 


COMPLETE   DUTY  OF   MAN. 


abominably  wicked,  speak  plain  enough  in  the  ears 
of  God.  Want  will  make  the  heart,  which  was  be- 
fore too  gross  to  conceive  any  excellency  in  the 
things  of  God,  seek  after  them  with  strong  cries  and 
lasting  importunity.  And  whatever  difference  a 
good  understanding,  a  pious  education,  or  general 
abstinence  from  vice  (which  are  on  other  accounts, 
invaluable  blessings)  may  make  in  the  matter  of 
confession,  in  the  degree  of  guilt,  or  in  the  choice 
of  devout  phrases,  still  the  prayer,  by  which  God  is 
honored  and  the  soul  blessed,  will  be  exactly  the 
same  in  the  little  sinner  as  in  the  great,  in  the  poor 
as  in  the  rich,  in  the  very  lowest  and  weakest  of  the 
people,  as  in  the  most  accomplished  preacher  of 
God's  truth. 

3.  From  the  nature  of  prayer,  we  are  led  to  con- 
sider the  subject  of  it,  or  what  it  is  we  are  to  ask  of 
God.  Certainly  it  must  be  what  it  becomes  him  to 
supply,  what  we  are  warranted  by  his  own  word  to 
request,  and  assured  by  his  own  promise  either  ab- 
solutely, or  with  some  limitation,  that  he  will  grant. 

We  may  ask  temporal  blessing:  for  instance, 
ease  when  we  are  racked  with  pain,  health 
when  taken  off  from  our  employment  by  languish- 
ing sickness,  or  maintenance  when  we  are  left  des- 
titute. We  may  ask  the  continuance  of  our  own 
lives  and  those  of  our  dearest  relations  when  sick, 
or  in  danger  of  death.  For  each  of  these  benefits, 
prayer  may  be  made  to  God,  because  instances  of 
each  kind  are  recorded  in  Scripture;  because  by 
prayer  for  them  God  is  exalted  as  the  sovereign 
Lord  both  of  life  and  all  its  comforts;  our  depend- 
ence upon  him  as  such  is  confirmed,  and  our  grati- 
tude towards  him  is  increased. 

But  though  we  may  pray  for  any  of  these  bene- 
fits, we  must  always  do  it  with  entire  submission  to 
the  will  of  God,  whether  he  sees  it  best  to  give,  to 
continue,  or  remove  them.  We  should  always  re- 
member that  things  of  this  kind  are  not  promised 
without  limitation,  but  only  upon  condition  that 
they  are  for  our  good,  and  for  the  glory  of  God. — 
We  should  ask  for  them  with  a  sense  upon  our 
hearts,  that  ease,  health,  maintenance,  friends,  and 
life  itself,  are  things  unspeakably  mean,  compared 
to  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings. 

Blessings  of  a  spiritual  and  eternal  nature  must 
therefore  make  up  the  principal  subject  matter  of 
the  prayer  of  Christians.  Let  them  request  more 
knowledge  of  the  Lord  that  bought  them,  more  de- 
pendence upon  his  name,  pardon  of  their  sins  through 
his  blood,  mortification  of  their  vile  affections 
through  his  Spirit,  and  a  more  perfect  conformity 
to  his  example. 


SUNDAY  XXXV.-CHAP.  XXXV. 

THE   NECESSITY    OF    PRAYER. 

The  object,  the  nature,  and  the  subject  of  true 
prayer  have  already  been  considered  :  but  ignor- 
ance, alas  !  in  this  case  is  but  the  weakest  obstacle 
with  which  we  have  to  contend ;  the  natural  pro- 
faneness  of  the  human  heart,  and  its  aversion  to 
every  truly  spiritual  exercise,  are  far  more  difficult 
to  overcome.  However,  for  this  purpose  let  us  con- 
sider in  what  manner  the  holy  Scripture  expresses 
the  necessity  of  prayer. 

It  is  enforced  there  by  the  practice  of  the  most 
venerable  persons;  it  is  laid  down  as  the  indispens- 
able means  of  obtaining  srrace;  it  is  required  by  the 
express  command  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty. 

It  is  enforced  by  the  most  venerable  names;  for 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  David,  Daniel,  Peter, 
and  Paul,  in  a  word,  all  those  who  stand  the  high- 
est of  the  human  race  for  their  excellency  in  the 
sight  of  God,  were  most  eminent  and  abundant  in 
the  exercise  of  prayer ;  by  this  their  graces  were 


enlivened  and  brightened  to  superior  lustre.  Now 
their  diligence  in  prayer  is  recorded,  not  for  their 
sakes-to  give  them  the  trifling  honor  of  a  posthum- 
ous fame,  but  for  a  substantial  use  as  patterns  whom 
we  are  to  copy ;  that  if  we  hope  to  dwell  with  them 
in  the  end,  we  should  walk  in  their  good  paths,  and 
be  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  patience 
inherit  the  promises.  So  that  whilst  we  have  any 
real  reverence  for  the  word  of  God,  it  is  impossible 
we  should  neglect  and  think  slightly  of  a  duty, 
which  was  of  such  unspeakable  importance  in  the 
judgment  of  the  chief  saints  of  God. 

But  if  the  example  of  all  the  Scripture  saints 
proves  the  necessity  of  prayer,  how  much  more  the 
practice  of  the  Saviour,  before  the  brightness  of 
whose  glory,  prophets,  apostles,  and  martyrs  are 
eclipsed,  as  the  stars  in  the  firmament  by  the  rising 
sun.  He  was  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separate 
from  sinners;  nevertheless  prayer  still  employed  a 
considerable  portion  of  his  time.  Fatigued  as  he 
was  wont  to  be  by  travelling  from  place  to  place  to 
preach  the  gospel,  and  thronged  by  crowds  who 
pressed  upon  him  to  hear  the  gracious  words  which 
proceeded  out  of  his  lips,  always  therefore  in  need 
of  the  rest  of  the  whole  night;  yet  would  he  some- 
times rise  up  a  great  while  before  it  was  day,  to  re- 
lire  to  a  mountain  or  solitary  place  apart  to  pray ; 
sometimes  the  moon  and  the  stars  beheld  him 
through  the  whole  night  an  earnest  supplicant  and 
devout  intercessor,  whilst  the  rest  of  the  world  were 
taking  their  full  rest  in  their  beds. 

After  this  record,  can  any  one,  professing  him- 
self a  Christian,  admit  a  doubt  of  the  absolute  ne- 
cessity of  prayer "?  If  the  master  of  the  house,  who 
had  no  guile  nor  the  slightest  stain  of  depravity, 
prayed,  how  much  more  must  they  of  his  house- 
hold, who  are  both  weak  and  wicked  1  If  the  Lord 
from  heaven,  when  he  took  upon  him  our  llesh, 
lifted  up  his  eyes  and  prayed,  how  much  more  must 
his  servants  1  Should  any  one  imagine  himself  ex- 
cused from  this  duty,  what  stronger  reproof  need  to 
be  given  to  his  audacious  impiety,  than  to  reply — 
The  prophets,  the  apostles,  the  martyrs,  Jesus  him- 
self, our  Redeemer,  prayed:  whom  makest  thou 
thyselfl 

Every  one  therefore  who  despises  this  channel  in 
which  God  sees  fit  to  convey  to  the  soul  its  necessa- 
ry supplies  for  eternal  life,  through  a  confidence  in 
the  sufficiency  of  his  own  strength,  in  the  excellency 
of  his  virtues,  or  in  the  finished  work  of  Christ, 
must  unavoidably  remain  under  the  power  and  guilt 
of  sin.  His  fancied  goodness,  in  which  he  confides, 
will  necessarily  be  scanty  and  partial :  some  ruling 
passion  will  still  prevail  over- him,  witnessing  the 
impossibility  of  attaining  real  righteousness  without 
divine  aid. 

Lastly,  The  absolute  necessity  of  prayer  is  put  out 
of  all  doubt  by  the  plain  command  of  God.  No  man 
is  left  at  liberty  whether  he  will  pray  or  no,  or  al- 
lowed to  neglect  prayer,  without  suffering  any  other 
loss  than  the  want  of  those  supplies  he  might  pro- 
cure by  it.  He  who  does  not  pray,  contracts  addi- 
tional guilt  and  sets  at  defiance  the  ordinance  of 
God  ;  since  he  has  not  more  expressly  required  us 
to  show  mercy  to  our  fellow-creatures,  than  to  wor- 
ship himself.  We  are  taught,  that  "  Men  ought 
always  to  pray,  and  to  continue  in  prayer."  In 
vain  therefore  do  we  plead  a  strict  regard  to  the 
substantial  duties  of  temperance,  of  justice,  and  of 
mercv,  as  an  exemption  from  the  obligation  of  pray- 
er. To  do  so,  is  actually  to  live  in  the  commission 
of  the  basest  theft,  defrauding  our  God  of  his  due, 
by  refusing  to  render  to  him  that  tribute  of  praver 
which  he  demands.  With  equal  reason,  and  with 
as  little  affront  to  him,  may  we  refuse  to  obey  his 
law  in  being  just  to  men,  as  refuse  to  honor  him  by 
real  prayer. 


COMPLETE    DUTY  OF   MAN. 


This  contempt  of  God,  expressed  by  neglecting 
prayer  for  his  favor,  grace,  and  Spirit,  is  a  sin, 
which  no  excellences  that  the  world  applauds,  can 
at  all  compensate.  Like  rebellion  in  the  state, 
wherever  it  is,  it  cancels  all  pretences  to  any  good 
qualities.  As  the  kings  of  the  earth  do  not  acquit 
a  rebel,  though  rebellion  may  be  his  only  crime, 
much  less  does  the  King  of  kings,  whose  name  is 
jealous,  overlook  contumely  thrown  upon  himself, 
because  the  person  guilty  of  it  abstains  from  fraud 
and  injustice  towards  men.  To  imagine  God  will 
overlook  such  an  affront,  is  to  entertain  the  most 
frivolous  idea  of  the  divine  character :  it  is,  with  the 
Epicureans  of  old,  to  enthrone  God  in  heaven  in- 
deed, but  at  the  same  time  to  regard  him  as  quite 
indifferent  whether  he  is  held  in  reverence  or  in 
contempt  on  earth.  But  such  a  God  is  no  more  like 
the  God  of  the  Christians,  than  Baal  or  Moloch  are. 
The  God  of  Christians  is  a  God  jealous  and  terrible : 
jealous,  not  to  allow  his  honor  to  be  given  to  an- 
other, or  denied  to  himself;  terrible,  to  avenge  him- 
self on  his  adversaries,  who  withhold  that  homage 
which  appertains  to  him  as  the  Lord  of  the  universe, 
in  whom  we  all  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being. 
This  God  hath  commanded  his  servants  and  mes- 
sengers, by  every  form  of  expression  that  can  en- 
gage the  attention,  to  teach  men,  that  to  serve  him 
with  godly  fear  and  reverence  is  the  one  thing  need- 
ful. By  consequence,  a  despiser  and  neglecter  of 
prayer,  though  adorned  with  all  the  amiable  quali- 
ties the  world  can  admire,  still  wants  that  which 
must  hallow  his  generosity,  his  benevolence,  and 
all  that  is  extolled  as  virtue.  For  though  social 
good  qualities  are  idolized  by  the  multitude,  they 
weigh  nothing  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary,  un- 
less they  spring  from  religious  affections :  "  For 
them  that  honor  me,"  says  the  Almighty,  "  I  will 
honor,  and  they  that  despise  me  shall  be  lightly 
esteemed."  1  Sam.  ii.  30.  In  other  words,  nothing 
shall  excuse  or  palliate  the  guilt  of  attempting  to 
supersede  the  necessity  of  devotional  duties,  by 
affecting  to  magnify  moral  honesty  and  social  vir- 
tues as  the  sum  and  substance  of  man's  duty. 


SUNDAY  XXXVI.— CHAP.  XXXVI. 

THE   REQUISITE!?    CP  TRUE   PRAYER,    AND  ITS  SUCCESS. 

We  have  taken  a  view  of  the  object,  the  nature, 
the  matter,  and  the  necessity  of  prayer :  what  fur- 
ther relates  to  this  important  subject  respects  the 
requisites  of  true  prayer,  and  its  infallible  success, 
where  they  are  found." 

1.  The  first  requisite  in  acceptable  prayer,  is  a 
real  intention  to  observe  and  do  what  God  com- 
mands. For,  if,  out  of  regard  to  worldly  interest, 
or  for  the  sake  of  some  evil  gratification,  we  refuse 
to  submit  to  his  authority,  flattering  ourselves  that 
multiplied  devotions,  or  obedience  in  all  points  ex- 
cept where  the  darling  iniquity  interferes,  is  suffi- 
cient; then  our  prayers,  instead  of  finding  accept- 
ance, will  be  resented  as  the  highest  provocation. — 
For  what  can  be  more  base  than  for  a  man  to  pre- 
tend to  honor  God  by  prayer,  whilst  he  is  giving  the 
most  substantial  proof  of  real  contempt  of  him  in 
his  wilful  disobedience  1  What  can  be  more  offen- 
sive than  to  pretend  to  implore  pardon  when  we  are 
determined  not  yet  to  give  up  sin;  or  to  entreat  to 
be  set  at  liberty,  as  if  we  were  unwillingly  enslaved, 
when  we  really  love  our  bondage  1  If  we  thus  re- 
gard iniquity  in  our  heart,  though  we  move  many 
prayers,  the  Lord  will  not  hear  us;  though  we  are 
most  passionate  in  our  devotions,  he  will  hide  his 
face  from  us :  "  for  God  heareth  not  sinners  ;  but  if 
any  man  be  a  worshipper  of  God  and  doeth  his  will, 
him  he  heareth." 

It  must  however  be  observed  with  peculiar  cau- 


tion in  this  place,  that  no  one,  though  in  actual  sub- 
jection to  sin,  ought  on  this  account  to  be  discour- 
aged from  praying,  provided  he  longs  for  deliver- 
ance from  it ;  for  at  the  throne  of  grace  it  is  that  he 
must  receive  this  blessing.  Nor  is  any  one  unquali- 
fied to  make  acceptable  prayer  to  God,  though  dur- 
ing his  first  seeking  his  favor  the  combat  with  old 
sins  is  severe  and  dubious ;  and  he  may  be  once 
and  again  hurried  into  his  former  wickedness,  in 
this  case,  if  the  sinner  finds  shame,  sorrow,  and 
self-abhorrence,  with  a  desire,  notwithstanding  the 
dreadful  power  of  his  corruptions,  to  serve  God  in 
truth,  he  is  immediately  to  make  his  complaint  to 
him  more  bitterly,  and  to  bewail  his  miserable  bond- 
age more  deeply :  and  then  he  will  know  there  is  a 
God,  who  looketh  down  from  heaven  to  hear  the 
groanings  of  such  as  are  in  captivity  to  their  sins, 
and  to  deliver  the  souls  in  their  own  apprehension 
appointed  unto  death. 

2.  A  second  requisite  in  prayer  is  humility.  We 
must  pray  under  a  sense  of  our  guilt  and  of  our  de- 
pravity, as  well  as  of  our  weakness  and  wants. — 
We  must  pray  with  self-abasing  sentiments,  con- 
scious that  we  are  not  worthy  to  lift  up  our  eyes  to 
God,  much  less  to  receive  from  him  pardon,  peace, 
and  salvation :  we  must  pray  as  mere  supplicants 
for  mercy,  who  would  have  no  cause  at  all  to  com- 
plain of  injustice,  if  our  sins  were  avenged  upon  us. 
Great  stress  is  laid  in  Scripture  upon  this  humilia- 
tion in  prayer  :  "  The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  them  that 
are  of  a  broken  heart ;  and  saveth  such  as  be  of  a 
contrite  spirit."  Psal.  xxxiv.  18. — And  when  the 
divine  Majesty  is  described  with  all  possible  sub- 
limity, this  requisite  of  an  acceptable  worshipper  is 
specified  :  "  Thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  one  that, 
inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy;  1  dwell 
in  the  high  and  holy  place,  with  him  also  that  is  of 
a  contrite  and  humble  spirit,  to  revive  the  spirit  of 
the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  contrite 
ones."  Isa.  lvii.  15.  St.  James  also  very  strongly 
urges  the  necessity  of  this  humiliation:  he  addresses 
himself  to  those  who  were  formalists  in  dovotion  ; 
constant  enough  in  their  prayers,  but  very  easy  and 
thoughtless  about  their  guilt.  After  reproving  them 
therefore  for  asking  amiss,  that  they  might  consume 
it  upon  their  lusts,  he  directs  them  to  a  successful 
manner  of  praying :  "  God,"  says  he,  "  resisted! 
the  proud  ;  but  giveth  grace  unto  the  humble.  Be 
afflicted,  and  mourn,  and  weep:  let  your  laughter 
be  turned  to  mourning,  and  your  joy  to  heaviness. 
Humble  yourselves  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,"  that 
is,  with  the  lowest  prostration  and  self-abasement 
confess  your  guilt  and  your  desert  in  his  sight,  "  and 
he  shall  lift  you  up."    James  iv.  9,  10. 

3.  This  sense  of  our  own  vileness  must  accompa- 
ny our  prayer  in  opposition  to  Pharisaic  self-con- 
ceit; and  in  proof  of  abiding  consciousness  that  we 
can  never  be  justified  before  our  God  through  our 
own  woiks.  But  with  this  humiliation  must  be 
joined  an  affiance  in  God,  and  a  holy  boldness  in 
approaching  him.  When  we  ask,  we  must  not 
fluctuate  between  hope  and  despondency,  but  assure 
ourselves  that  we  shall  be  as  certainly  succored, 
and  as  certainly  enriched  with  all  that  our  souls 
need,  as  if  the  power  and  the  blessings  we  implore 
were  already  in  our  possession.  For  instance,  when 
we  confess  our  sin  with  sorrow,  shame,  and  humi- 
liation, begging  for  mercy  through  the  atonement, 
we  must  be  fully  persuaded  that  we  do  obtain  mercy. 
When  we  pray  for  the  mastery  over  our  natural 
corruptions,  we  must  assure  ourselves  they  shall  be 
subdued.  When  in  perplexity  of  mind  and  in  great 
tribulation,  we  beg  of  God  support  and  deliverance, 
we  must  not  entertain  a  fear  that  perhaps  he  will 
not  hear  us.  For  by  giving  way  to  distrust,  ques- 
tionings, and  jealousies,  whether  God  will  perform 
the  gracious  promises  which  he  hath  made  to  tne 


150 


COMPLETE  DUTY   OF  MAN 


poor  and  needy,  we  greally  dishonor  him,  and  in 
the  very  act  of  solemn  address  to  him  as  the  Al- 
mighty, betray  a  disbelief  of  his  veracity,  or  power, 
or  love  to  them  that  call  on  his  name. 

For  this  cause  we  are  warned  in  Scripture  to 
take  heed,  that  when  we  come  to  God  in  prayer  we 
resist  every  doubt  that  may  arise  about  his  relieving 
our  wants.  "  Jesus  answering,  saith  unto  them, 
Have  faith  in  God,"  that  is,  depend  upon  his  al- 
mighty power  for  the  performance  of  every  thing 
that  he  encourages  you  to  expect  from  him  :  "  For 
verily  I  say  unto  you,  That  whosoever  shall  say 
unto  this  mountain,  Be  thou  removed,  and  be  thou 
cast  into  the  sea  ;  and  shall  not  doubt  in  his  heart, 
but  shall  believe  that  those  things  which  he  saith 
shall  come  to  pass,  he  shall  have  whatsoever  he 
saith  :"  that  is,  how  great  soever  any  difficulty  may 
seem,  which  you  have  to  overcome,  in  the  way  of 
duty,  even  though  it  were  as  unlikely  to  be  effected 
as  that  you  should  root  up  a  mountain  by  a  word  of 
command,  it  shall  be  brought  to  pass,  provided  that 
ye  have  an  humble  and  unshaken  trust  in  the  divine 
power  and  promises.  Mark  xi.  22,  23.  And  in 
proof  that  this  confidence  in  prayer  was  not  to  be 
peculiar  to  the  aposiles,  but  a  necessary  requisite  in 
all  Christians,  St.  James  gives  this  unchangeable 
direction  to  the  Christian  church  ;  "  If  any  one  of 
you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that  giveth  to 
all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not ;  and  it  shall 
be  given  him.  But  let  him  ask  in  faith,  nothing 
wavering ;  for  he  that  wavereth,  is  like  a  wave  of 
the  sea,  driven  with  the  wind  and  tossed.  For  let 
not  that  man  think  that  he  shall  receive  any  thing 
of  the  Lord."    James  i.  5,  6,  7. 

From  these  passages  it  appears  that  affiance  in 
God  is  a  principal  qualification  in  acceptable  prayer ; 
that  we  ought  to  have  recourse  to  God  with  the  same 
liberty  and  confidence  as  to  a  father,  a  brother,  or  a 
bosom  friend.  The  delightful  communion  carried 
on  between  him  and  believers  is  therefore  thus  em- 
phatically expressed  :  "  We  have  not  received  the 
spirit  of  bondage  again  to  fear,  but  we  have  receiv- 
ed the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we  cry,  Abba, 
Father.  The  spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our 
spirit  that  we  are  the  children  of  God  ;"  that  is,  the 
law  of  worship  and  submission  to  the  eternal  Ma- 
jesty is  softened  into  a  holy  familiarity,  and  con- 
verted, through  the  abundant  manifestations  of  his 
grace,  into  a  sweet  and  childlike  dependence  upon 
his  care  and  love  for  us.    Rom.  viii.  15,  16. 

4.  It  is  indeed  difficult  to  conceive  how  such  con- 
fidence in  God,  such  assurance  of  receiving  from 
him  whatever  we  ask  for  the  good  of  our  souls,  can 
consist  with  a  consciousness  of  our  own  vileness ; 
or  how  can  we  conquer  the  fear  that  must  arise  from 
a  sense  of  the  multitude  of  our  defects,  so  as  not  to 
talk  with  a  faltering  tongue.  This  difficulty  is 
removed  by  another  grand  requisite  of  prayer,  with- 
out which  it  can  have  no  success  :  I  mean  the  offer- 
ing it  up  to  God  in  dependence  on  the  sacrifice, 
righteousness,  and  intercession  of  Jesus,  as  the  great 
Hisrh-priebt  of  his  church. 

By  this  we  acknowledge  that  our  own  duties  are 
ro  far  from  having  any  merit  to  procure  for  us  a 
favorable  regard  from  God,  that  we  do  not  even 
presume  to  offer  to  him  his  due  homage  without 
having  respect  to  our  accepted  surety,  the  all-perfect 
Mediator  between  God  and  man.  By  this  we  con- 
fess, that  the  death  of  Jesus  for  our  transgressions 
in  vindication  of  the  justice  of  God,  and  his  appear- 
ance in  heaven  as  our  Intercessor,  are  our  encou- 
ragement to  draw  nigh  to  God  in  full  assurance  of 
faith,  notwithstanding  the  absolute  purity  of  his 
nature,  and  the  tokens  of  his  indignation  against  sin. 

And  when  Jesus  is  this  our  hope,  and  his  atoning 
blood  and  righteousness  all  our  confidence,  we  can 
see  that  there  is  no  room  for  confusion  or  distrust, 


notwithstanding  our  own  vileness.  He  is  ordained 
of  God  for  this  very  purpose  to  make  reconciliation 
for  the  sins  of  the  people.  Both  by  office  and  by 
love  he  stands  engaged  to  mediate'  in  favor  of  all 
who  come  to  God  by  him,  and  to  accomplish  all 
their  just  and  lawful  desires.  The  command  from 
heaven  therefore  is  express  that  we  should,  in  con- 
sideration of  his  character  and  office,  "  come  boldly 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy 
and  find  grace  to  help  in  the  time  of  need."  Heb. 
iv.  16. 

The  success  of  true  prayer  is  most  certain  from 
considering  the  source  of  it  in  the  heart  of  fallen 
man.  We  are  taught  in  Scripture  that  we  are  not 
sufficient  to  think  a  good  thought  of  ourselves ;  it 
follows  therefore,  that  no  one  can  feel  a  real  inten- 
tion to  glorify  God  by  uniform  obedience,  or  a  holy 
shame  and  sorrow  for  sin  ;  no  one  can  come  to  God 
as  a  child  in  want  to  his  heavenly  Father,  or  trust 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  without  an  actual  gift  of 
grace,  without  a  divine  influence,  and  drawing  from 
the  Father.  Now  can  it  be  supposed  that  this  gift 
is  bestowed  in  vain  1  Can  it  be  thought  that  any 
one  will  be  so  much  enlightened  from  above,  as  to 
desire  to  be  kept  from  every  wilful  offence,  to  know, 
and  to  live  in  obedience  to  the  gospel,  and  that  he 
will  be  stirred  up  in  prayer  to  make  request  unto 
God,  that  he  may  have  power  to  do  so,  and  yet  not 
be  heard  1  Can  such  a  supplicant  fall  down  on  his 
knees  before  God,  only  to  rise  up  covered  with  con- 
fusion at  the  rejection  of  his  suit  1  No,  by  no  means. 
God,  gracious  and  merciful,  is  not  wont  thus  to 
grieve  the  contrite  spirit,  or  to  disappoint  the  holy 
expectations  excited  in  the  heart  by  his  own  divine 
agency.  On  the  contrary,  a  real  desire  of  receiving 
spiritual  mercy,  is  a  pledge  of  obtaining  it :  for 
since  "every  good  and  every  perfect  gift,"  in  every 
degree  of  it,  "  cometh  from  above,  from  the  Father 
of  lights,  in  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither  sha- 
dow of  turning,  who  of  his  own  will  begat  us  by  the 
word  of  his  truth ;"  we  must  assuredly  conclude, 
that  if  he  hath  inclined  our  hearts  to  seek  him,  he 
will  be  found  of  us.   James  i.  17,  18. 

This  most  comfortable  truth  is  positively  esta- 
blished, by  many  declarations  of  God's  delight  to 
hear  and  answer  all  that  call  upon  him.  Thus  in 
one  place  he  describes  himself  as  looking  into  the 
inmost  recesses  of  the  heart,  waiting  to  see  the  first 
dawning  of  prayer,  and  to  answer  it  before  it  has 
put  on  the  direct  form  of  petition  :  "  And  it  shall 
come  to  pass  before  they  call,  I  will  answer,  and 
while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will  hear."  Isa.  Ixvu 
24.  In  another,  he  commands  one  of  his  prophets 
lo  publish  the  immediate  acceptance  of  his  own  peti- 
tion, the  moment  he  steadfastly  proposed  to  offer  it 
unto  him;  "  I  said,  I  will  confess  my  sins  unto  the 
Lord,  and  so  thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of  my  sin." 
Psal.  xxxii.  5.  And  that  we  might  harbor  no  sus- 
picion of  the  success  of  prayer,  our  Redeemer  com- 
pares the  readiness  of  God  to  succor  the  poor  and 
needy,  who  call  upon  him,  to  that  which  parents 
feel  with  regard  to  their  offspring:  "  What  man  is 
there,"  says  he,  "  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread, 
will  give  him  a  stone  1  or  if  he  ask  a  fish,  will  he 
give  him  a  serpent!  If  ye  then  being  evil"  (corrupt 
and  vitiated  in  your  nature)  are  still  by  the  force  ot 
instinct  drawn  gladly  to  supply  the  necessities  of 
your  children,  "how  much  more  shall  your  hea- 
venlv  Father  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask 
him''?" 

If  it  should  be  objected,  that  the  undutifulness 
which  the  very  best  men  too  often  manifest  towards 
their  heavenly  Father,  and  their  violations  of  his 
law  in  time  past,  may  well  justify  doubts  whether 
God  can  hear  them  consistently  with  the  honor  ol 
his  perfections;  this  perplexity  is  removed  by  the 
assurance  that  Jesus  appears,  with  his  own  blood 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF  MAN 


91 


in  the  presence  of  God,  as  an  Intercessor  for  all  who 
call  upon  him  in  his  name.  He  appears  as  an  ad- 
vocate in  the  behalf  of  the  guilty,  alleging  what  satis- 
fies the  law,  and  absolves  the  humbled  delinquent. 
The  memorial  of  his  abundant  kindness  in  dying 
on  the  cross,  is  perpetually  represented  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God;  and  the  Mediator  declares  it  to  be 
his  no  less  earnest  than  just  request,  that,  for  his 
sake,  the  penitent  acknowledgments  of  those  who 
believe  on  him,  and  their  prayers,  should  be  accept- 
j  ed;  their  sins  blotted  out,  ami  increase  of  grace  be- 
stowed upon  them:  "for  he  ever  Jiveth  to  make 
intercession." 

To  strengthen  our  assurance  of  the  success  of 
prayer,  nothing  further  can  possibly  be  added  than 
the  confirmation  of  fact  and  experience.  If  all  who 
have  made  their  prayer  to  God  in  the  way  he  has 
himself  appointed,  anct  for  the  blessings  he  has  pro- 
mised, have  ever  received  the  things  they  asked  from 
him,  then  there  cannot  be  a  more  complete  demon- 
stration of  any  truth,  than  of  the  infallible  success 
of  prayer.  Now  the  word  of  God  abounds  with 
proofs  of  the  Almighty's  pleasure  to  make  his  power 
as  it  were  tributary  to  the  prayer  of  his  faithful  peo- 

Ele.  Thus  the  prayer  of  Joshua  stopped  the  sun  in 
is  course,  and  that  of  Elijah,  though  a  man  of  like 
passions  with  ourselves,  opened  and  shut  the  springs 
which  water  the  earth.  The  prayer  of  the  three 
children  preserved  them  from  being  hurt  in  the 
fiery  furnace,  and  that  of  Daniel  saved  him  from 
the  devouring  lions.  The  time  indeed  would  fail 
to  mention  what  we  find  recorded  in  Scripture  of 
the  wonders  wrought  through  the  power  of  prayer. 
Now  if,  in  extraordinary  cases,  for  the  vindication 
of  God's  truth  and  manifestation  of  his  glory,  the 
effect  of  prayer  was  thus  miraculous,  how  much 
more  may  we  conclude  it  to  be  effectual,  when  it 
only  seeks  deliverance  from  sin,  and  the  gift  of 
those  graces  by  which  God  may  be  glorified  on 
earth  1 

There  is  indeed  no  age  without  a  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses of  the  infallible  efficacy  of  prayer.  Ask 
those  distinguished  persons  in  our  generation,  who 
really  conform  to  the  Christian  rule,  and  copy  the 
example  of  their  Lord,  whaf  has  given  them  such 
mastery  over  their  passions,  such  sweet  complacency 
and  good-will  towards  all  men,  such  a  readiness  to 
be  directed  and  governed  by  the  word  of  God  through 
unfeigned  love  to  him  and  delight  in  his  service,  and 
they  will  unanimously  declare  that  not  by  their  own 
power,  wisdom,  or  resolution  ;  not  through  any  ori- 
ginal better  formation  of  their  tempers,  or  the  advan- 
tage of  education,  but  through  the  grace  of  God 
obtained  by  prayer,  they  are  what  they  are.  They 
began  in  earnest,  they  persevered  with  importunity 
in  calling  upon  the  Lord,  and  according  to  his 
promise  he  heard  them :  they  made  their  applica- 
tion to  him,  and  were  not  disappointed. 

On  the  contrary,  there  is  not  a  slave  to  sin  within 
the  pale  of  the  Christian  church  ;  not  one  defiled  by 
the  lust  of  uncleanness  or  the  love  of  money;  not 
one  tyrannized  over  by  angry,  peevish,  or  turbulent 
dispositions,  but  he  is  condemned  in  his  own  con- 
science either  as  an  utter  despiser  of  prayer,  or  as  a 
mere  formal  trifler  in  it  :  Mich  a  one,  therefore,  ex- 
periences no  deliverance  from  the  power  of  evil 
tempers,  nor  gains  the  least  ground  against  them. 

Real  Christians  therefore  must  value  prayer,  and 
be  constant  and  unwearied  in  it  :  so  will  the  same 
bountiful  God,  whose  ears  are  ever  open  to  the 
prayers  of  his  faithful  people,  open  in  the  end  heaven 
to  receive  their  persons.  He  will  give  them  an 
abundant  entrance  into  that  kingdom,  where  peti- 
tions will  be  no  more;  because  neither  weakness 
nor  want,  fear  nor  trial,  will  remain,  but  every 
feeling  of  the  soul  be  perfect  felicity,  and  every 
expression  of  it  perfect  praise. 


SUNDAY  XXXVII.— CHAP.  XXXVII. 

STUDY    OK  THE    SCRIPTURE. 

Having  considered  the  nature  of  prayer  as  a  prim  1- 
pal  exercise  of  devotion,  I  now  proceed  to  sicie 
another  duty  equally  important,  equally  biudL.g 
upon  Christians,  and  equally  necessary  to  maintain 
a  holy  life — the  study  of  the  holy  Scripture. 

As  the  Scripture  was  given  by  inspiration  of  God, 
and  its  great  design  is  to  instruct  men  in  the  know- 
ledge of  him,  so  it  contains  repealed  commands  to 
search  into  and  meditate  upon  its  sacred  contents. 
"  These  words,"  says  God, "  which  I  command  thee, 
shall  be  in  thy  heart,  and  thou  shalt  bind  them  as  a 
sign  upon  thy  hand,  and  they  shall  be  as  frontlets 
between  thine  eyes,  and  thou  shalt  write  them  upon 
the  posts  of  thy  house,  and  upon  thy  gates,"  Deut. 
vi.  8,  9.  that  is,  thou  shalt  most  familiarly  discourse 
with  them,  and  most  carefully  treasure  them  up  in 
thy  mind.  St.  Paul,  speaking  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, tells  us,  that  "  whatsoever  things  were  written 
aforetime,  were  written  for  our  learning  and  for  out 
admonition."  Of  the  New  Testament  we  are  told, 
that  it  was  written  "  (hat  we  might  believe  that  Je- 
sus is  the  Christ,  the  Son  God;  and  that  believing 
we  might  have  life  through  his  name."  John  xx.  31. 
St.  Peter  instructs  us,  that  he  wrote  both  his  Epis- 
tles to  stir  up  the  pure  minds  of  Christians  by  way 
of  remembrance,  and  to  put  them  in  mind  "  of  the 
words  which  were  spoken  before  by  the  holy  pro- 
phets, and  of  the  commandments  of  the  apostles  of 
the  Lord  and  Saviour."  1  Pet.  iii.  1,  2.  Now  as 
these  are  the  ends  for  which  the  Scriptures  were 
inspired  of  God,  and  directed  to  us,  so  do  they  lay 
an  obligation  upon  all  into  whose  hands  they  are 
put  to  acquaint  themselves  with  them.  And  not  to 
read  what  God  has  written  and  directed  to  us,  is  in 
fact  a  profane  contempt  both  of  his  authority  and 
mercy  ;  it  looks  as  if  wc  thought  him  such  an  in- 
significant Being,  or  ourselves  so  little  to  need  his 
information,  that  it  is  not  worth  our  while  to  peruse 
with  care  and  frequency  the  contents  of  those  sacred 
books,  which  by  Ins  inspired  penmen  he  hath  vouch- 
safed to  send  us. 

Indeed,  the  will  of  Go  I  is  so  plainly  revealed  in 
this  matter,  that  no  one  but  an  infidel  will  justify  a 
total  neglect  of  the  Bible.  Many,  however,  who 
profess  to  believe  in  it,  read  it  so  carelessly,  or  so 
seldom,  as  to  derive  little  advantage  from  it.  Al- 
lowance no  doubt  must  be  made  for  different  capa- 
cities and  different  situations  in  life  :  yet  after  this 
allowance  too  many  will  still  be  found  guilty  of 
trifling  with  the  word  of  God.  The  principal  thing 
which  men  of  all  stations  should  avoid  is,  a  formal, 
careless  way  of  reading.  This  has  been,  in  all  ages, 
a  general  fault,  and  a  great  one  indeed:  for  we  may 
read  the  Scripture  in  this  way  everv  day  of  out- 
lives, and  be  in  no  degree  wiser  or  better.  To  de- 
rive spiritual  benefit  therefore  fro.r.  the  Bible,  the 
following  rules  must  necessarily  be  observed. 

1.  Whenever  we  open  the  sacred  book  of  God, 
we  should  lift  up  our  hearts  to  him  to  teach  us  the 
true  meaning  of  what  we  are  going  to  read.  This 
is  necessary,  because  those  doctrines,  which  are  its 
very  glory,  offend  our  natural  pride,  and  its  precepts 
contradict  our  dearest  lusts.  To  receive  the  one 
theiefore  with  humility  and  thankfulness,  and  to 
submit  to  be  governed  by  the  other,  requires  assist- 
ance from  heaven,  and  a  blessing  from  the  Father 
and  Fountain  of  light.  Acco'iingly,  in  the  Bible 
we  are  frequently  taught  that  we  cannot  know  the 
excellency  of  his  doctrines,  nor  rely  on  them  with 
such  a  persuasion  as  to  honor  God  by  it,  unless  he 
opens  our  understandings;  for  "  no  man,"  saiih  St. 
Paul,  "can  say  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  but  by  the 
Holy  Ghost."    And  when  the  apostle  speiks  of 


92 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


those  believers  in  Christ  who  knew  the  things  which 
vvere  freely  given  of  God  to  them,  he  declares  they 
received  "the  spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  they 
might  know  them."  So  deeply  sensible  were  the 
holy  men  of  old,  of  their  own  natural  incapacity  of 
reaping  any  profitable  knowledge  from  the  Scrip- 
ture, without  the  teachings  of  God  obtained  by  pray- 
er, that  with  the  Bible  open  before  them  they  conti- 
nually made  request  for  illumination  of  their  minds 
to  understand  it  aright.  "  I  am  a  stranger  upon 
earth,  O  hide  not  thy  commandments  from  me :  I 
am  thy  servant,  give  me  understanding  that  I  may 
know  thy  statutes.  Open  thou  mine  eyes,  that  I 
may  behold  wondrous  things  in  thy  law."  These 
blessed  servants  of  God  we  must  imitate,  and  de- 
pend on  the  Spirit  for  light  and  instruction  when 
we  read  God's  word.  Not  indeed  expecting  a  new 
light,  that  is,  any  new  doctrine,  either  distinct  from 
the  Scripture  rule,  or  supplemental  to  it ;  nor  laying 
aside  our  reason  and  understanding,  relying  upon 
an  immediate  inspiration  to  interpret  Scripture. — 
Either  of  these  things  is  weak  enthusiasm.  But 
with  the  greatest  sobriety  we  may  expect,  and  ought 
to  pray  for  the  Spirit's  help  to  give  us  real  advan- 
tage and  improvement  whilst  we  are  reading  the 
word  of  God.  Because  the  Spirit  is  promised  to 
abide  with  the  church  for  ever,  as  a  Spirit  of  wis- 
dom and  revelation  in  the  knowledge  of  the  things 
of  God:  nor  shall  we  ever  know  them  so  as  to  feel 
their  power  and  authority  on  the  heart,  without  in- 
ternal illumination. 

There  is,  I  readily  grant,  a  knowledge  of  Scrip- 
ture truths,  which  men  of  parts  and  penetration  at- 
tain at  once,  upon  turning  their  attention  to  them ; 
so  that  they  can  talk  and  preach  about  them  without 
detection  amongst  the  multitude,  whilst  they  are 
workers  of  iniquity,  blind  and  dead  in  their  sins. — 
But  then  this  knowledge  is  speculative,  worthless, 
resting  in  the  head,  and  never  changing  the  heart. 
And  so  must  all  knowledge  of  divine  things  be,  un- 
less the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God  gives  it  power 
to  command  and  sway  the  soul.  Because  whatever 
way  we  come  to  be  certain  of  any  thing  contrary  to 
the  bent  of  our  own  wicked  hearts,  we  need  much 
more  than  the  brightest  possible  external  evidence 
of  the  truth  of  the  thing,  to  make  it  efficacious  to 
determine  our  will  against  its  own  strong  and  cor- 
rupt propensity.  If  you  demand  a  proof  of  this, 
consider  the  rpmarkable  case  of  the  people  of  the 
Jews  at  mount  Horeb.  Could  any  one  of  them 
doubt  that  'he  authority,  which  avouched  the  law 
given  to  them,  was  decisive  1  Nevertheless,  how 
daringly  did  they  rush  into  idolatry!  They  did  it 
not  only  against  the  express  letter  of  the  law,  but 
whilst  the  terrible  voice,  in  which  it  was  delivered, 
one  would  think,  was  still  sounding  in  their  ears. — 
And  though  they  could  not  doubt  the  authority  of 
God,  yet  their  rebellions  are  imputed  to  their  infi- 
delity. "  How  long,"  saith  the  Lord  God,  "  will  this 
Eeople  provoke  me  1  how  long  will  it  be  ere  they 
elieve  mel"  Num.  xiv.  14.  The  very  same  is  the 
case  with  ourselves.  We  turn  aside  from  the  known 
commandments  of  our  God;  we  prefer  the  service 
of  some  vile  lust  to  our  bounden  duty,  though  we 
allow  the  Scripture  to  be  a  divine  revelation,  and 
read  it  as  such,  till  we  read  it  with  prayer,  implor- 
ing the  God  whose  word  it  is,  to  grant,  by  the  illu- 
mination of  his  Spirit,  that  his  word  may  De  put  into 
our  mind,  and  exert  a  sovereign  sway  over  it. 

2.  A  second  rule,  no  less  worthy  of  our  constant 
and  careful  observation,  is  to  read  but  a  small  por- 
tion at  one  time.  It  is  common  for  those  who  have 
the  character  of  being  very  devout,  to  set  themselves 
a  certain  quantity,  suppose  two  or  three  chapters,  to 
read  every  day;  a  much  larger  portion  this  than 
they  can  sufficiently  attend  to,  except  it  be  in  some 
ot  the'  historical  parts  of  the  Bible.    Hence,  though 


they  converse  much  in  this  manner  with  the  word 
of  God,  they  remain  as  ignorant  of  its  contents,  at 
least  as  much  unrenewed  in  their  minds,  as  those 
who  never  look  into  it.  We  must  by  no  means  there- 
fore content  ourselves  with  having  the  words  and 
expressions  of  God  before  our  eyes,  or  in  our 
mouths.  On  the  contrary,  we  must  pause  and  deli- 
berate much  on  the  things  signified  by  the  words; 
we  must  labor  to  fix  the  true  import  of  the  divine 
expressions  deep  in  our  minds!  so  that  the  very 
spirit  of  the  Bible  may  be,  as  it  were,  transcribed 
into  them. 

It  is  true,  in  this  method  we  shall  read  but  a  little, 
and  our  progress  in  going  through  all  the  principal 
parts  of  the  sacred  volume  will  be  slow,  compared 
with  those  who  can  read  many  chapters  in  a  da}'. 
But  then  the  singular  benefit  of  such  a  method  will 
amply  reward  our  pains,  and  prove  its  preference ; 
for  whilst  in  much  recollection  and  silent  medita- 
tion we  take  the  word  of  God  into  our  hands,  and 
place  ourselves  as  it  were  before  him  for  instruc- 
tion, we  shall  find  the  meaning  of  it  beautifully  un- 
folding; and  the  knowledge  of  what  we  gain  in  this 
manner  will  come  with  a  transforming  efficacy.  It 
will  also  remain  with  us,  and  be  our  own  for  use 
and  recollection  at  all  times ;  whilst  the  comments 
and  explanations  of  other  men,  and  our  own  hasty 
readings,  however  they  may  seem  to  instruct  us,  are 
soon  forgotten,  because  they  have  no  root  in  us. — 
Notwithstanding  therefore  that  we  may  be  strongly 
opposed  in  this  method  of  reading  the  word  of  God 
by  our  sloth  and  natural  aversion  deeply  to  attend 
to  spiritual  things,  we  must  do  violence  to  ourselves ; 
a  little  perseverance  will  master  all  the  difficulty, 
and  a  little  perseverance  will  enable  each  of  us  to 
say,  "  The  law  of  the  Lord  is  more  precious  to  me 
than  thousands  of  gold  and  silver  ;  in  that  law  do  I 
exercise  myself  day  and  night." 

3.  Nearly  allied  to  this  careful  meditation  on  the 
word  of  God  is  another  important  rule,  which  we 
must  observe  when  we  read  any  principal  part  of 
it;  that  is,  to  exact  of  ourselves  correspondent  affec- 
tions, and  if  we  do  not  experience  them,  to  lament 
and  bewail  the  poverty  and  misery  of  our  condition. 
For  instance,  when  the  character  of  God  is  before 
us ;  when  we  are  reading  such  passages  as  describe 
him  infinite  in  power,  glorious  in  holiness,  continu- 
ally adored  by  the  host  of  heaven,  yet  more  tender 
and  affectionate  than  a  parent  to  the  faithful  in 
Christ  Jesus,  and  interesting  himself  in  all  the  most 
minute  circumstances  that  can  affect  the  welfare  of 
those  that  love  him :  to  read  such  descriptions  of 
God  will  be  to  very  little  purpose,  unless  we  pause 
and  ask  ourselves,  Whether  we  in  this  manner 
really  behold  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  the  excel- 
lency of  our  God  !  whether  we  have  such  view3  of 
him  who  is  thus  represented,  as  to  make  him  in- 
deed our  delight;  as  to  satisfy  us  of  his  good  and 
gracious  intentions  towards  ourselves  in  particular, 
and  to  lead  ns  with  comfort  to  rely  on  him  for  all 
we  wantl  In  like  manner,  when  we  read  the  Scrip- 
ture representations  of  the  glory,  the  offices,  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  Redeemer,  with  the  inestimable 
promises  he  makes  to  them  who  trust  in  his  name, 
little  will  it  profit  us  unless  we  also  at  the  same  time 
search  and  try  our  souls,  whether  these  representa- 
tions make  us  eager  to  embrace  a  Saviour  thus  al- 
together lovely, — unfeignedly  thankful  to  God  for 
this  unspeakable  gift  1 — and  able,  without  doubt  or 
wavering,  to  yield Yourselves  up  to  his  service,  and 
to  trust  him  as  the  guardian  of  our  eternal  interests! 
Also,  when  we  meet  with  Scripture  assertions  of 
the  weakness,  blindness,  guilt,  and  depravity  of 
fallen  man,  in  vain  shall  we  assent  to  them,  because 
found  in  the  book  of  God,  if  we  do  not  trace  each 
of  these  branches  of  natural  corruption  as  they  have 
discovered  themselves  in  our  behavior  and  behold 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN 


some  remains  of  them  still  in  ourselves.  When  the 
sell-denying  tempers  of  the  faithful  in  Christ,  their 
deliverance  from  the  dominion  of  worldly  hopes 
and  fears,  their  unfeigned  love  to  God  and  man,  and 
their  real  imitation  of  Jesus  in  the  abhorrence  of 
all  evil,  is  the  subject  before  us,  in  vain  shall  we 
read  of  these  spiritual  attainments,  unless  we  exa- 
mine in  what  degree  the  infinitely  desirable  trans- 
formation has  taken  place  in  our  own  hearts. 

4.  Lastly,  We  must  read  those  portions  of  Scrip- 
ture most  frequently,  which  relate  to  subjects  of  the 
greatest  moment.  For  as,  in  the  frame  of  our  body, 
God  has  ordained  some  parts  to  be  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  its  life,  others  to  its  comfort  and  ease,  and 
others  again  to  its  ornament ;  in  the  same  manner 
is  the  Scripture  composed.  As  our  greatest  regard 
therefore  is  to  such  parts  of  the  body  as  are  most 
vital,  so  our  most  frequent  contemplation  must  be 
fixed  on  those  parts  of  Scripture  which  most  nearly 
concern  the  glory  of  God,  our  own  eternal  salvation, 
and  the  good  of  others.  The  Scriptures  therefore 
which  delineate  the  perfections  of  God,  his  jealous 
regard  for  his  own  honor,  the  necessity  of  living  in 
willing  subjection  to  his  authority,  the  certain  in- 
supportable miseries  of  the  unconverted  and  unbe- 
lieving, the  earthly  and  the  sensual,  call  for  our  fre- 
quent perusal;  for  in  such  a  world  as  this,  and  with 
hearts  disposed  as  ours  are,  in  vain  we  attempt  to 
observe  the  commands  of  God,  if  we  are  not  im- 
moveably  persuaded  of  these  truths,  and  constantly 
reminded  of  them.  The  Scriptures  also  which  de- 
scribe the  miseries  of  our  fallen  state,  the  evil  bias 
that  is  upon  our  will,  our  utter  impotence  on  this 
very  account  to  recover  ourselves,  are  in  a  very 
eminent  degree  deserving  of  our  frequent  medita- 
tion. Of  the  same  important  nature  are  all  those 
passages  in  holy  writ  which  declare  what  the  Sa- 
viour is  in  his  own  personal  excellency;  what  he 
has  done  and  suffered  on  earth  ;  what  he  is  now  do- 
ing in  heaven  for  his  church:  which  acquaints  us 
with  his  gracious  calls  and  his  tender  expostula- 
tions; which  instruct  us  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
own  indispensable  need  of  him  in  his  offices  of  pro- 
phet, priest,  and  king.  No  one  can  look  into  the 
Bible,  without  perceiving  with  what  peculiar  em- 
phasis these  subjects  are  treated  ;  how  they  project 
to  our  view,  and  are  insisted  upon  and  extolled  as 
the  glorious  display  of  God's  wisdom  and  love.  A 
deep  intimate  acquaintance  therefore  with  these 
things  is  a  principal  end  for  which  Scripture  was 
given,  and,  therefore,  should  be  our  object  in  pe- 
rusing it. 


SUNDAY  XXXVIII.— CHAP.  XXXVIII. 

THE   SOURCES    OF    CHRISTIAN   HAPPINESS. 

It  is  too  general  an  opinion,  that  men  cannot  be  so 
happy  in  the  present  world  by  submitting  in  all 
things  to  the  rules  of  the  Christian  faith,  as  by  al- 
lowing themselves  more  liberty  than  it  permits; 
that  if  we  are  to  be  entirely  subject  to  the  law  of 
God,  we  must  give  up  every  present  gratification, 
and,  like  the  superstitious  recluses  of  the  convent, 
pass  our  time  in  melancholy,  or  at  least  under  very 
irksome  restraints.  A  falsehood  this,  which  is  at 
once  full  of  impiety  and  mischief.  Full  of  impiety ; 
for  it  represents  a  life  of  faith  and  obedience  to  God 
as  irksome,  and  only  to  be  endured  in  view  of  some 
reward,  or  through  fear  of  some  evil  in  another 
world;  when,  in  point  of  gratification,  it  has  the 
promise  of  this  world,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to 
come.  The  slander  also  is  big  with  mischief;  be- 
cause if  men  imagine  Christian  obedience  an  un- 
comfortable service,  their  violent  propensity  to  im- 
mediate pleasure,  joined  with  their  faint  belief  of 
eternal  things,  will  certainly  lead  them  to  choose  a 


part  in  the  voluptuousness  at  hand,  risking  any  loss 
they  may  sustain  beyond  the  grave,  as  it  is  distant 
aiui  invisible. 

The  system  therefore  of  doctrinal  and  practical 
Christianity  contained  in  this  volume,  cannot  more 
properly  he  concluded  than  with  a  representation 
of  several  sources  of  happiness  peculiar  to  the 
faithful  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  with  some  unanswer- 
able proofs  of  the  reasonableness,  certainty,  and  ne- 
cessity of  those  evangelical  consolations.  From 
whence  the  conclusion  will  be  evident,  that  there 
are  no  pleasures  upon  earth  worthy  to  be  named 
with  those  enjoyed  by  the  obedient  children  of  God 
though  they  are  often  pitied  as  miserable  and  me- 
lancholy persons  on  account  of  the  strictness  of  their 
religion. 

1.  The  first  source  then  of  happiness  peculiar  to 
the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus,  is  the  excellent  know- 
ledge they  have  attained.  God  the  Father  in  all  his 
adorable  perfections,  in  the  works  he  has  made,  and 
in  the  word  he  has  caused  to  be  written,  in  the  re- 
demption he  has  provided,  and  in  the  blessings 
has  promised :  God  the  Son  in  his  original  glory 
and  marvellous  humiliation,  in  all  the  parts  and 
most  benevolent  purposes  of  his  mediation  :  God  the 
Holy  Ghost  in  all  his  influences,  gifts,  and  graces, 
with  the  realities  of  the  invisible,  eternal  world, 
constitute  the  pleasing  subjects  of  meditation  to  the 
true  believer.  Nominal  Christians,  it  is  true,  hear 
of  all  these  subjects,  perhaps  profess  constantly  to 
believe  in  them ;  but  they  can  neither  find  time  to  take 
any  exact  survey  of  them,  nor  to  ponder  them  in 
their  hearts:  therefore  "  seeing  they  see,  and  do  not 
perceive,  and  hearing  they  hear,  and  do  not  under- 
stand." The  knowledge  of  the  things  of  God,  on 
the  contrary,  which  real  believers  possess,  is  lively, 
penetrating,  and  of  course  delightful. 

No  one  can  question  the  pleasures  of  the  under- 
standing, while  thousands  toil  for  no  other  reward. 
In  the  eyes  of  all  the  votaries  of  science,  the  disco- 
very of  truth  has  the  most  bewitching  charmr,  even 
though  the  truth  only  relates  to  something  in  this 
perishing  world,  ami  is  without  any  power  to  pro- 
duce the  dispositions  essential  to  peace  of  mind.  Is 
such  knowledge  pleasant  1  How  much  more,  then, 
the  discovery  of  truths,  which,  besides  their  novel- 
ty, have  a  grandeur  capable  of  engaging  the  whole 
mind,  and  filling  it  with  admiration  !  This  grand- 
eur is  no  sooner  apprehended  than  the  truths  of 
God  necessarily  become  a  source  of  delight.  Be- 
fore, they  were  either  despised  or  suspected,  or 
blindly  assented  to,  from  the  force  of  education; — 
now,  they  act  like  themselves;  they  inspire  new 
resolutions,  they  kindle  ardent  desires,  they  excite 
abundant  hope:  in  a  word,  by  their  spiritual  know- 
ledge believers  are  brought  into  a  new  and  glori- 
ous world,  where  objects  interesting  beyond  mea- 
sure, and  tending  to  their  honor  and  exaltation,  sur- 
round them. 

This  pleasure,  which  true  believers  enjoy  from 
their  first  acquaintance  with  divine  truths,  increase 
as  they  advance.  There  is  a  very  sensible  progress 
in  divine,  no  less  than  in  human  science:  first  a 
faint  or  confused  view  of  the  truths  of  God,  then  a 
clear  perception  of  their  matchless  excellence,  and 
various  usefulness:  first  a  dependence  upon  them, 
mixed  with  hesitation  and  fear,  afterwards  a  full 
assurance  of  understanding  and  hope,  a  compre- 
hending the  breadth  and  length,  and  height  and 
depth,  of  what  before  was  very  superficially  known. 
Such  a  progress  is  inseparable  from  perseverance 
in  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  a  diligent  use  of  the 
word  of  God  and  of  prayer,  and  it  never  fails  to 
prove  a  spring  of  fresh  and  increasing  delight. 

2.  But  this  knowledge  of  the  truth  is  always  con- 
nected with  the  possession  of  the  richest  spiritual 
blessings;  particularly  the  peace  of  God. 


H 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF   MAN. 


No  sooner  are  believers  brought  to  the  knowledge 
of  Christ  so  as  to  depend  upon  his  work  and  me- 
diation, than  they  are  assured  by  the  promise  and 
the  oath  of  God,  that,  there  is  no  condemnation  to 
them  that  are  in  him,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh, 
but  after  the  Spirit.  To  this  truth,  the  prophets, 
the  apostles,  and  the  Redeemer,  continually  bear 
witness.  In  the  same  proportion  therefore  as  they 
receive  it,  their  conscience  is  justly  quieted,  and 
from  a  sharp  accuser  is  turned  into  an  encouraging 
friend.  It  now  no  longer  upbraids  them  with  their 
folly,  but  commends  their  wisdom  in  flying  to  the 
stronghold  which  God  hath  provided;  no  longer 
haunts  them  with  apprehensions  of  approaching 
punishment,  but  registers  and  attests  their  cordial 
acceptance  of  the  Lord,  who  is  mighty  to  save ; 
they  have  now  "the  answer  of  a  good  conscience 
towauls  God  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  from  the 
dead."  In  this  supernatural  fact  they  can  perceive 
that  the  indictment  which  was  against  them  for 
their  transgressions  of  the  law,  is  taken  out  of  the 
way,  and  "  they  have  boldness  to  enter  into  the  ho- 
liest through  the  blood  of  Jesus." 

3.  Another  blessing  accompanying  the  knowledge 
of  Christ  is  the  privilege  of  adoption  into  the  fami- 
ly of  God.  To  give  some  just  idea  of  the  delight 
arising  from  this  peculiar  privilege  of  believers,  it 
is  necessary  to  explain  the  nature  of  adoption,  as 
the  practice  of  it  anciently  obtained.  It  was  cus- 
tomary, especially  in  the  Grecian  and  Roman  states, 
for  a  man  of  wealth,  in  default  of  issue  from  his 
own  body,  to  make  choice  of  some  person  upon 
whom  he  put  his  name,  requiring  him  to  relinquish 
his  own  family,  and  dwell  from  that  time  in  his, 
and  proclaiming  him  publicly  his  heir.  In  this  act 
there  was  an  imitation  of  nature,  and  the  afflictive 
failure  of  offspring  from  himself,  was  supplied  by 
something  as  really  compensating  for  his  loss  as 
possible.  The  person  thus  adopted,  was  by  law 
entitled  to  the  inheritance,  upon  the  decease  of  his 
adopter,  and.  however  before  void  of  all  claim  to 
such  a  benefit,  or  cf  expectation  of  it,  was  invested 
with  the  same  privileges  as  if  he  had  been  born 
heir  to  his  benefactor.  Suppose  then  this  act  of 
adoption  taking  place  in  favor  of  some  desolate  or- 
phan, how  conspicuous  would  be  his  exaltation  ! 
how  delightful  the  change  of  his  condition !  how 
happy,  in  the  jndgment  of  the  world,  the  object  of 
such  a  prosperous  providence  ! 

Rut  worse  than  that  of  the  most  destitute  orphan 
is  our  natural  state.  Our  great  Redeemer  teaches 
us  that  we  are  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  poor,  and 
blind,  and  naked,"  till  our  relation  to  him  by  a  liv- 
ing faith  enriches  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings, 
Though  the  truth  of  this  representation  should  be 
disallowed  by  the  world,  yet  all  believers  in  Christ 
Jesus  acknowledge  it  to  be  a  faithful  picture  of  their 
own  case.  In  this  condition  it  was,  they  heard, 
and  understood,  and  believed,  that  the  most  merci- 
ful God  "  sent  his  own  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made 
under  the  law,  .o  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  they  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons;" 
that  thus,  through  faith  in  his  name,  they  might  be- 
come fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of  the 
household  of  God ;  "  for  to  as  many  as  received 
him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of 
God." 

Have  not  these  persons  then,  who  attain  to  this 
heavenly  gift,  a  source  of  delight  above  all  others 
in  the  world  1  Have  they  not  the  utmost  cause  to 
cry  out  in  joyful  admiration,  Behold  what  manner 
of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we 
should  be  called  the  sons  of  God  !  what  an  height 
of  honor!  what  an  acquisition  of  true  riches!  for 
sinners  to  be  adopted  by  the  Lord  God  Almighty 
into  a  relation  with  himself,  which  at  once  entitles 
them  to  all  things.    For  "  all  things,"  says  God, 


speaking  by  his  apostle  to  true  believers,  "  arc 
yours ;  whether  Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas,"  that 
is,  all  means,  ordinances,  or  ministers ;  "  or  the 
world,"  all  the  creatures  and  things  in  it,  as  far  as 
they  can  be  of  any  real  service  ;  "  or  life,"  as  long 
as  its  continuance,  can  redound  to  your  good ;  "  or 
death,"  which  will  be  your  everlasting  gain  ;  in  a 
word,  "  things  present,  and  things  tocome;"  that 
is,  all  temporal  and  eternal  mercies,  "  are  yours, 
and  ye  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's." 

4.  Inseparably  joined  with  the  knowledge  and 
privileges  already  mentioned,  there  is  another 
source  of  peculiar  delight  to  real  believers,  namely, 
the  exercise  of  gracious  tempers,  wrought  in  them 
by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

In  their  repentance  (how  discouraging  an  aspect 
soever  repentance  may  wear  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world)  pleasure  still  mingles  with  their  tears ;  be- 
cause they  are  tears  which  flow  from  a  just  and 
sacred  principle  within.  They  love  to  abase  them- 
selves before  God,  to  give  his  holiness,  justice,  and 
majesty  their  due  honor;  they  are  happ3r  whilst 
they  feel  deep  relentings  for  their  past  ill  conduct 
towards  Him,  who  does  not  stand  over  them  with  a 
rod  of  iron,  to  execute  vengeance  on  them  as  they 
deserve,  but  holds  forth  the  sceptre  of  his  grace, 
that  they  may  approach  him  and  live.  There  is  an 
inconceivable  delight  felt  when  the  believer,  return- 
ing to  God,  can  say,  "  Lo  !  I  come  to  thee :  thou  art 
the  Lord  whom  I  will  serve  :  what  I  so  long,  by  the 
basest  sacrilege,  alienated  from  thy  blessed  service, 
presence,  and  communion,  I  now  desire  to  bring 
back  to  thee.  Take  all  the  powers  of  my  soul  an<* 
body;  possess  and  employ  them  only  in  thy  work 
and  to  thy  glory.  When  believers  in  this  manner 
disclaim  their  own  base  interests  unreservedly,  with- 
out intending  to  keep  any  thing  from  God  ;  abso- 
lutely, without  making  any  conditions  of  their  own, 
accepting  his  with  all  thankfulness;  peremptorily, 
without  halting  between  two  opinions,  as  if  they 
were  inclined  to  retract  the  surrender  of  themselves 
which  they  have  made;  there  is  much  delight  in- 
terwoven in  these  exercises  of  repentance  towards 
God. 

But  still  much  more  in  acts  of  faith  towards  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ;  for  in  these,  there  is  a  lively 
acknowledgment  and  habitual  consideration  of  the 
highest  benefits,  of  the  strongest  motives  to  love 
and  obedience,  as  well  as  the  strongest  ground  of 
joy  and  triumph.  What  can  you  imagine  more 
delightful  than  for  men,  who  see  themselves  all  sin 
and  misery,  to  look  unto  Jesus,  who  says,  "  he  will 
deliver  the  poor  and  needy  when  they  cry  unto  him, 
and  them  that  have  no  helper  1"  Their  own  empti- 
ness they  feel,  and  know  his  fulness  for  their  relief; 
they  bow  at  his  footstool  ready  to  perish,  and  he  re- 
ceives them  as  the  father  the  returning  prodigal,  to 
put  upon  them  the  best  robe ;  they  confess  their 
desert  of  nothing  but  wrath,  and  he  freely  grants 
them  pardon  ;  they  know  that  without  his  interpo- 
sition they  must  have  sunk  into  hell,  but  behold  he 
has  exalted  them  into  children  of  God,  and  heirs 
of  glory.  What  pleasing  emotions  must  such  views 
of  themselves  and  of  him  excite  in  their  minds ! 

With  these  permanent  sources  of  peculiar  de- 
light, all  real  believers  are  in  some  measure  ac- 
quainted. Hence  they  stand  independent  of  the 
world  for  their  best  joys,  and  can  be  happy  in  spite 
of  all  disappointments  from  it. 

Judge  no  longer  then  after  the  flesh  concerning 
the  source  of  true  happiness ;  for  it  is  no  more  per- 
ceptible by  sense  than  the  excellences  of  the  mind, 
than  learning  or  genius.  And  as  you  would  justly 
meet  with  contempt  from  the  world  for  your  igno- 
rance and  stupidity,  should  you  dare  to  say  that 
there  is  no  delight  in  studying  the  fine  arts,  or  in 
making  discoveries  in  nature  by  philosophical  pe- 


COMPLETE    DUTY    OF    MAN. 


9b 


netration;  because  these  things  are  not  adapted  to  the 
taste,  or  within  the  comprehension  oi  the  vulgar; 
because  they  are  neither  showy  nor  palpable,  like 
the  pleasures  of  the  sensualist :  so  you  may  equally 
betray  your  own  miserable  ignorance  in  the  sight 
of  all  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  when  you  dare  to 
deny  the  present  delight  enjoyed  by  those  who  be- 
»ieve  to  the  saving  of  their  souls. 

Pray  therefore  for  a  divine  knowledge  to  correct 
your  depraved  apprehensions,  and  to  remove  your 
grossness  and  unbelief  of  heart.  Then  you  will 
perceive  that  Christians  are  not  more  distinguished 
by  purity  of  practice,  than  by  their  superior  plea- 
sures :  then  you  will  understand  (contrary  to  the  low 
thoughts  entertained  of  the  Christian's  choice,  con- 
trary to  the  impious  prejudices  abounding  every 
where  against  it,)  that  among  all  the  objects  of 
sense  never  did  the  eye  see  any  thing  so  grand  and 
beautiful,  or  the  ear  hear  any  thing  so  delightful 
and  advantageous ;  amongst  all  the  branches  of 
science,  never  did  the  thoughts  of  man  comprehend 
any  thing  so  completely  adapted  to  bless  the  whole 
soul,  "as  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for 
them  that  love  him,  even  before  the  sons  of  men  ;" 
which  things  are  given  to  them  on  this  side  the  grave, 
as  a  pledge  of  what  they  shall  possess  in  the  perfec- 
tion of  glory  to  all  eternity. 


SUNDAY  XXXIX.— CHAP.  XXXIX. 

THE   REASONABLENESS     OP     EXPECTING    CHRISTIAN   JOY. 

There  is  nothing  perhaps,  at  first  viewr  more  unac- 
countable than  the  strong  prejudices  which  are  en- 
tertained against  the  peculiar  delights  which  spring 
from  the  knowledge  of  Christ.  That  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel  should  offend,  is  no  wonder;  for  the 
haughty  spirit  of  man  cannot  brook  the  self-abase- 
ment they  requre.  That  its  precepts  should  be  com- 
plained of,  it  is  easy  to  suppose,  from  the  self-denial 
they  enjoin.  But  that  men,  who  call  themselves 
Christians,  should  quarrel  even  with  the  joys  of 
their  own  religion;  that  theysnould  contemn  them 
as  at  variance  with  solid  reason  and  sound  judg- 
ment, is  indeed  a  most  surprising  fact :  since,  upon 
the  bare  report  of  such  sources  of  joy,  our  natural 
desire  of  happiness,  one  would  conclude,  must 
strongly  prompt  us  to  wish  them  real;  and  fre- 
quent disappointments  from  the  world  must  incline 
us  to  think  it  also  reasonable,  that  there  should  be 
some  friendly  sanctuary  appointed  for  man,  in 
which  true  joy  and  peace  might  be  found. 

But  upon  closer  inquiry,  we  shall  discover  the 
ground  of  these  violent  prejudices  against  the  joys 
of  the  Christian  faith.  If  these  joys  were  allowed 
to  be  real,  then  those  who  have  no  experience  of 
them  must  by  their  own  confession  discover,  that 
they  themselves  are  destitute  of  true  Christianity  ; 
they  must  be  compelled  to  own  how  low  the  state  of 
their  own  religion  is,  which  consists  in  assenting 
to  Scripture  truths  without  feeling  their  power  ;  in 
a  round  of  duties  without  spiritual  life;  in  being 
honest,  sober,  and  harmless,  without  any  more  de- 
light in  God  than  professed  infidels  experience. — 
The  character,  peace,  and  security  therefore  of  all 
nominal  Christians  are  at  stake,  and  they  are  con- 
cerned for  their  own  sakes,  to  cry  down  that  joy  as 
enthusiastic,  to  which  they  are  themselves  stran- 
gers. Add  to  this,  that  "the  spirit  that  lusteth  in 
us  to  envy,"  cannot  allow  others  to  receive  tokens 
of  the  favorable  loving-kindness  of  God,  of  which 
we  do  not  partake  ourselves. 

From  these  causes,  enforced  perhaps  by  a  few 
instances  of  real  delusion,  we  may  fairly  account 
for  the  general  prejudice  against  one  of  the  noblest 
rrivileges  of  a  Christian,  delight  and  joy  in  God.      j 


In  vindication  therefore  of  this  privilege.  I  shall 
prove,  that  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude  that  real 
Christians  may  experience  from  the  sources  of  joy 
already  mentioned,  peculiar  happiness,  and  tha.'  b 
is  certain  they  in  fact  do. 

1.  Fust  then,  It  is  most  reasonable  to  conclude, 
that  real  Christians  may  experience  peculiar  hap- 
piness, because  the  infinitely  gloriqps  God  always 
proposes  himself,  in  his  own  blessed  word,  to  our 
conceptions  under  the  character  of  a  Father  io  the 
faithful  in  Christ,  in  a  sense  to  which  none  besides 
themselves  can  lay  claim.  It  would  be  endless  to 
cite  all  the  passages  which  assert  this  important 
distinction.  The  Redeemer,  in  the  plainest  manner 
possible,  distinguishes  all  believers,  to  the  end  of 
time,  from  the  rest  of  mankind:  "For  whosoever," 
says  he,  "  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is 
in  heaven,"  that  is,  in  a  believing  reverential  re- 
gard tome,  "the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister, 
and  mother."  A«d  when  he  w;as  going  into  heaven, 
he  said  unto  the  representatives  of  the  whole  body 
of  believers,  "I  ascend  unto  my  Father,  and  your 
Father,  and  to  my  God  and  your  God."  The  apos- 
tle makes  the  very  same  distinction,  and  exhorts 
those  who  were  wavering,  whether  they  should  se- 
parate and  come  out  from  the  world  or  not,  to  shun 
all  conformity  to  the  ungodly,  from  this  very  mo- 
tive, that  then  God  would  receive  them,  and'  be  a 
Father  unto  them,  and  they  should  be  his  sons  and 
daughters.  2.  Cor.  vi.  17,  18. 

As  the  great  God  then  stands  in  this  relation  of  a 
Father,  peculiarly  to  the  faithful,  we  may  assuredly 
conclude  from  thence,  notwithstanding  the  distance 
between  him  and  us,  that  his  affection  towards 
these  his  children  far  surpasses  the  love  of  earthly 
parents  towards  their  own  offspring.  But  where  is 
the  parent  worthy  of  that  tender  name,  who  does 
not  manifest  his  delight  in  all  his  dutiful  children 
— who  does  not  make  their  state  of  subjection  a 
pleasure  to  them  by  numerous  tokens  of  parental 
love  ?  Is  it  not  reasonable  then  to  conclude  that 
the  eternal  Father  may  make  as  sensible  a  differ- 
ence between  believers  and  hypocrites,  as  we  do  be- 
tween our  duteous  children,  who  deserve  and  want 
encouragement  from  us,  and  stubborn  ones  wh  i 
must  be  kept  under  a  frown"? — that  he  should 
manifest  himself  to  the  one  as  he  doth  not  to  the 
other  1 — that,  to  use  his  own  words,  "his  secret 
should  be  with  them  that  fear  him,  and  that  he 
should  show  them  his  covenant,"  whilst  others  re- 
main in  a  state  of  distance  from  him?— whilst  utte. 
strangers  to  spiritual  light,  they  are  left  to  grovel  in 
the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  the  things  of  time,  which 
they  are  base  enough  to  prefer  to  God,  and  to  the 
riches  of  his  grace  1  Certainly  this  is  a  most  ra- 
tional conclusion,  especially  when  it  is  considered 
that  believers  are  declared  through  the  whole  Bible 
to  be  the  delight  and  the  treasure  of  God. 

2.  Further;  The  reasonableness  of  supposing  be- 
lievers may  experience  peculiar  delight,  will  ap- 
pear more  evident  from  considering  in  what  man- 
ner a  tender  father  behaves  to  his  children,  who 
from  their  relation  to  him  are  exposed  to  the  perse- 
cution of  his  foes.  Here  all  the  fire  of  parental 
love  blazes  out;  here  it  is  the  parcnt's'highest  grati- 
fication to  caress  his  suffering  children  with  all  po.T- 
sihle  demonstrations  of  his  delight  in  them.  If  we, 
then,  to  use  our  Lord's  inference,  being  evil,  know 
how  in  such  cases  to  reward,  by  an  overflowing  of 
affection,  our  children,  how  much  more  shall  our 
heavenlv  Father  in  some  better  manner  give  tokens 
of  his  delight  in  ihem,  who  are  sufferers  through 
zeal  to  his  truth  and  love  to  his  name?  But  who 
can  be  a  Christian,  according  to  the  Scripture  defi- 
nition of  that  character,  and  not  suffer  for  it,  whilst 
the  world  licth  in  wickedness?  Who  can  abstain 
from  all  epidemical  profaneness  and  carelessness, 


96 


COMPLETE   DUTY   OF   MAN. 


without  meeting  immediately  with  much  to  exer- 
cise his  paiience,  to  try  his  courage,  and  to  prove 
his  Christian  fidelity'?  What  young  person,  espe- 
cially (and  a  very  great  part  of  the  servants  of  God 
devote  themselves  to  him  in  the  days  of  their  youth,) 
what  young  person,  I  say,  shall  dare  to  be  more  re- 
ligious than  those  about  him,  without  feeling  a  per- 
secution, which,  though  domestic  and  little  observ- 
ed, is  very  grievous  to  flesh  and  blood  to  bear  1  In 
such  cases  does  not  sound  reason  justify  the  Scrip- 
ture assertion,  and  teach  us  to  conclude,  that  God 
will  afford  some  immediate  counterbalance  to  what 
is  inflicted  upon  these  confessors  for  his  name  and 
truth  1 — that  he  will  enlighten  the  eyes  of  their  un- 
derstanding to  know  what  is  the  hope  of  their  call- 
ing, and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his  inherit- 
ance in  the  saints,  and  what  is  the  exceeding  great- 
ness of  his  power  towards  them  that  believe,  to  save 
and  defend  theml 

3.  Again  ;  It  is  highly  reasonabfe  to  conclude  that 
real  Christians  may  enjoy  peculiar  happiness  in 
this  life,  because  shortly  their  eternal  state  will  be  so 
immensely  different  from  that  of  the  careless  and  un- 
godly. The  latter,  alas  !  hardened  even  unto  death, 
then  meet  with  a  full  reward  for  their  deeds  in  the 
frown  of  an  angry  God,  and  in  the  feelings  of  a 
conscience  that  can  know  no  rest.  The  former  are 
no  sooner  absent  from  the  body,  than  we  are  assur- 
ed they  shall  be  present  with  the  Lord. 

I  would  ask  then,  is  it  not  most  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  some  kind  of  anticipation  of  this  bliss  is 
enjoyed,  before  the  fulness  of  it  is  revealed  to  their 
transported  souls;  that  those  blessed  heirs  of  salva- 
tion, who  are  soon  to  inherit  the  promises  should 
have  a  delightful  acquaintance  with  their  meaning 
and  appropriation  beforehand,  and  some  degree  of 
joy  in  their  God,  the  same  in  kind  with  what  is  re- 
served for  them  in  heaven  1 — that  those,  whom  the 
King  of  kings  will  confess  before  men  and  angels, 
and  reward  with  everlasting  honors,  should  in 
their  own  consciences  rejoice  in  the  hope  of  glory, 
and,  as  the  Scripture  affirms,  should  be  sealed  of 
God,  and  have  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  in  their 
hearts  1  Is  not  this  much  more  reasonable  than  the 
supposition,  that  those  who  are  very  soon  to  be  as 
widely  distant  from  each  other  as  heaven  from  hell, 
should  be  at  present  alike  destitute  of  any  sensible 
enjoyments  of  the  divine  favor  1 — that  both  should 
be  left  to  go  on  till  the  day  of  death  and  final  sepa- 
ration ;  the  one  no  more  than  the  other  experienc- 
ing the  comfort  of  God's  Spirit,  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  and  the  joy  of  his  salvation  1  Cer- 
tainly there  can  be  no  greater  absurdity  than  to  im- 
agine this. 

What  has  been  offered  may,  we  hope,  suffice  to 
prove  that  it  is  not  in  the  least  degree  enthusiastic 
to  conclude  that  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus  may 
have  peculiar  gratifications  of  their  own;  and  it 
may  convince  us  that  the  experience  of  these  de- 
lights too  often  exploded  as  delusive,  will  appear 
upon  closer  examination  to  be  perfectly  rational. 


SUNDAY   XL.-CHAP.    XL. 

THE  CERTAINTY  OF  CHRISTIAN  JOY. 

It  is  of  so  much  importance  to  give  a  just  impres- 
sion of  the  happiness  of  the  service  of  our  Redeemer, 
that  we  have  been  very  full  in  explaining  the  sources 
from  which  it  arises,  and  the  reasonableness  of  ex- 
pecting it ;  but  however  reasonable  it  may  be  that 
Christians  should  expect  it,  still  it  will  be  inquired, 


whether,  in  point  of  fact,  they  do  enjoy  it.  This  in- 
quiry I  shall  now  answer. 

And  here  let  me  first  refer  you  to  the  example  of 
primitive  Christians.  Immediately  after  that  great 
conversion  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  their  behavior 
is  described  in  several  particulars,  and  their  state 
of  mind,  which  indeed  showed  itself  in  their  actions, 
is  sufficiently  signified  by  two  words,  gladness  or 
exaltation  and  singleness  of  heart.  In  the  same 
book  of  the  Acts,  after  Philip's  preaching  in  the  city 
of  Samaria  is  mentioned,  it  is  remarked,  "  there  was 
great  joy  in  that  city."  When  the  jailor  who  had 
St.  Paul  in  custody  had  heard  him  once  speak  the 
word  of  the  Lord,  besides  his  actions,  which  plainly 
implied  great  alacrity  of  heart,  it  is  expressly  added 
in  the  close,  "that  he  rejoiced."  The  same  account 
is  given  of  the  Ethiopian  eunuch.  As  soon  as  Philip 
had  preached  Jesus  unto  him,  he  was  baptized  ;  and 
though  his  heavenly-appointed  guide  was  snatched 
from  him,  yet  the  doctrine  taking  place  in  his  heart, 
"  he  went  on  his  way,"  it  is  not  said  reasoning,  or 
deeply  meditating  only,  but  "  rejoicing."  Indeed 
we  have  reason  to  think  that  all  who  heard  the  gos- 
pel to  any  good  purpose,  heard  it  with  the  same  sen- 
timents of  joy.  They  behaved  at  first  like  persons 
quite  amazed  and  surprised  with  the  grace  of  God. 
Before  habit  or  improvement  could  have  had  time 
as  yet  to  manifest  themselves,  they  were  raised  by 
the  pure  joy  of  the  gospel  above  this  world,  and  ready 
in  its  defence  to  embrace  the  martyr's  stake. 

But  besides  the  united  testimony  of  prophets,  apos- 
tles, and  the  Saviour  himself,  in  proof  that  real  be- 
lievers in  his  name  do  actually  enjoy  peculiar  delight 
in  his  service,  there  is  the  evidence  of  daily  fact. — 
For  how  can  we  otherwise  account  for  the  total  al- 
teration both  of  choice  and  conduct  in  some  persons 
of  all  ranks,  and  of  all  ages,  and  of  all  tempers,  as 
soon  as  they  really  behold  the  glory  of  the  gospel "? 
All  these  are  unanimous  in  avowing  they  never 
knew  what  true  happiness  meant  before  they  be- 
lieved. Whatever  they  found  formerly  from  the 
pleasures  of  sin,  they  confess  to  be  now  rendered 
despicable  by  their  spiritual  joy.  Hence,  long  after 
the  terrors  of  the  Lord  have  ceased  to  work  upon 
their  fears,  they  keep  at  a  distance  from  sin  and 
vanity,  from  persons,  things,  and  amusements  on 
which  they  once  doated,  in  order  to  enjoy  more  of 
what  now  makes  them  happy.  Nor  can  this  be 
owing  to  notions  put  into  their  heads,  or  to  the  force 
of  imagination  working  up  fantastic  joy ;  because 
great  numbers  have  had  no  idea  that  there  was  any 
such  thing  as  delight  in  God,  till  it  sprung  in  their 
own  hearts,  at  once  the  object  of  their  surprise,  and 
the  cause  of  their  preference  of  the  service  of  the 
Lord  to  all  other  things.  Add  to  this,  that  many, 
who  notwithstanding  their  meek  and  prudent  car- 
riage, are  obnoxious  to  their  relations  for  their  god- 
liness, and  treated  with  hardship  on  that  account, 
are  still  far  from  desiring  to  make  their  peace  at  the 
expense  of  becoming  gay,  foolish,  and  careless,  as 
they  once  were.  They  can  find  a  sweetness  in  se- 
cret prayer,  reading  and  meditation,  which  even  un- 
der theje  disadvantageous  circumstances  is  better 
to  them  than  all  their  former  idle  mirth  and  vain 
laughter,  with  the  friendship  and  good  countenance 
of  the  family  to  reward  it. 

These  evidences  in  proof  of  the  reasonableness 
and  certainty  of  the  joy  of  believers  are  sufficient  to 
satisfy  all,  I'trust,  who  will  submit  to  the  authority 
of  Scripture,  and  to  deductions  clearly  drawn  from 
it.  I  shall  add  therefore  nothing  more,  but  only  cau- 
tion against  the  wrong  use  of  this  doctrine,  and  ex- 
hort all  persons,  as  they  love  their  own  happiness, 
to  seek  in  the  first  placed  the  enjoyment  of  the  bless- 
ings of  the  gospel. 


THE     END. 


TRAVELS 


ON   THE 


CONTINENT     OF    EUROPE; 


THROUGH   PARTS   OF 


THE  NETHERLANDS,  SWITZERLAND,  NORTHERN 
ITALY,  AND  FRANCE, 


IN    THE    SUMMER  OF   1823. 


BY    DANIEL    WILSOX, 

BISHOP   OF   CALCUTTA. 


FEOM    THE   FOURTH   LONDON    EDITION. 


PREFACE. 


The  author,  ventures  to  hope  that  no  objections 
will  be  raised  against  the  importance  which  he  at- 
taches to  the  principles  of  religion  in  themselves,  or 
against  the  frequency  and  warmth  with  which  he 
commends  them  on  various  occasions  to  others. 
To  make  such  objections  is  quite  another  thing  from 
condemning  the  harshness  of  a  transition,  or  ar- 
raigning a  fault  in  matters  of  taste.  We  need  only 
refer  to  the  constant  tenor  of  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  the  deliberate  judgment  of  the  best  Christians 
in  all  ages,  in  order  to  show  that  religion  should  fill 
and  possess  the  whole  heart.  Surely  if  any  tiling 
distinguishes  a  merely  cold  accuracy  of  sentiment 
from  spiritual  and  vital  Christianity,  it  is  this  very 
point.  It  is  easy  to  admit  the  truth  of  every  doc- 
trine of  Scripture,  and  yet  follow  the  world,  give 
our  affections  to  the  tilings  of  time,  be  supremely 
desirous  of  the  applause  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
and  shun  reproach  for  the  name  and  doctrine  of 
Christ.  A  religion  which  seldom  appears  but  on 
public  and  fixed  occasions,  and  which  mixes  but 
little  with  the  habitual  actions  of  the  life,  is  far  from 
resembling  that  holy,  animating  principle  which 
the  Scriptures  are  designed  to  implant,  and  of 
which  they  furnish  such  splendid  examples. 

A  mind  penetrated  with  the  astonishing  truths 
of  revelation,  and  grateful  for  the  inestimable  bles- 
sings of  pardon  and  grace,  cannot  be  indifferent. 
Lukewarmness  in  such  a  case  is  treachery.  The 
world  asks  notliing  more  of  us  than  to  be  tame  and 
heartless  in  our  religion.  Gratitude  and  love  to 
God,  if  genuine,  must  and  will  appear  hi  their  na- 
tural fruits.  Nor  can  even  a  sincere  regard  to  our 
Mlow-creatures  consist  with  the  silence  on  the 
things  of  eternity  and  the  soul,  which  is  now  so 
much  extolled  as  a  dictate  of  prudence.  The 
heart  which  is  at  all  moulded  to  devotion,  cannot 
but  be  recalled  to  its  great  object  by  the  diversified 
scenes  which  arise  around  it.  And  the  new  situ- 
ations and  circumstances  of  a  foreign  tour  will 
necessarily  excite,  in  an  uuusual  degree  some  of 
these  better  feelings  of  piety  and  thankfulness. 

The  author  is  deeply  convinced,  that  our  danger 
in  the  present  day,  is  not  that  of  regarding  God 
too  much,  in  our  travels  and  our  various  other 
concerns,  but  too  little.  If  we  are  to  "  love  God 
with  all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength," 
the  first  and  spontaneous  associations  of  our  ideas 
will  connect  us  with  Him  ;  and  our  most  familiar 
trains  of  thought  will  involuntarily  lead  us  to  some- 
thing relating  to  his  providence,  lus  commands, 
his  mercy,  his  wrath,  his  holiness,  his  glory. 
That  is,  the  governing  affection  will  in  this,  as  in 
every  other  case,  draw  after  it  all  the  rest.  The 
conversation  with  individuals,  whether  at  home  or 
abroad,  will  accordingly  assume  the  same  tone ; 
and  the  free  and  unpremeditated  Letters  written 
under  the  influence  of  such  a  principle,  will,  and 
must,  and  ought,  to  partake  of  a  like  character. 
54—4 


All  this  is  so  indisputable  in  the  view  of  every 
thoughtful  Christian,  that  the  author  is  almost 
ashamed  to  dwell  on  such  a  point,  lie  is  persuad- 
ed, that  no  one  admitting  the  truth  of  revelation, 
would  have  ever  objected  to  religion's  occupying 
all  our  best  time  and  thoughts,  if  there  were  not 
in  the  minds  of  men  that  secret  alienation  from  the 
love  of  God,  which  the  Scriptures  lay  down  as  a 
primary  fact  in  the  liistory  of  our  fallen  nature,  and 
which  is  the  source  of  so  many  other  fatal  incon- 
sistencies. 

It  is  very  possible,  indeed,  to  err  by  submitting  to 
the  public  eye  hasty  effusions  in  which  religious 
topics  are  introduced  injudiciously  and  feebly ;  and 
the  author  is  far  from  saying  that  he  may  not  have 
been  guilty  of  this  fault  in  the  present  publication. 
But  without  including  his  own  small  work  in  the 
vindication,  he  would  beg  leave  to  say,  that  mis- 
takes in  judgment  of  this  nature  ought  not  to  be 
too  severely  visited.  Men  make  similar  mistakes 
on  all  other  subjects,  without  incurring  contempt. 
Each  one  speaks  and  writes  according  to  his  mea- 
sure of  natural  talents,  and  acquired  faculties  and 
powers.  Piety  does  not  confer  these  adventitious 
endowments,  nor  exempt  from  the  ordinary  con- 
sequences of  defects  in  them.  The  paramount  duty 
of  connecting  the  great  Author  of  our  being  with 
the  perpetual  blessings  of  his  bounty,  is  not  to  be 
lightly  sacrificed  to  inferior  and  doubful  questions. 
The  heart  which  overflows  with  love  to  God  and 
man,  though  it  may  incur  some  reproach  for  minor 
errors,  is  infinitely  more  pleasing  to  God,  than  a 
judgment,  however  refined,  if  employed  to  disguise 
irreligious  principles. 

But  the  author  has  insensibly  advanced  towards 
a  grave  and  important  question,  and  he  almost 
shrinks  from  the  consideration  which  it  seems  to 
demand.  The  truth  is,  that  his  small  work  has 
excited  anew  those  objections  against  what  is 
termed  in  reproach,  Evangelical  Religion,  which 
have  in  all  ages  followed  the  sincere  profession  of 
the  Gospel.  Such  objections  rest  on  the  funda- 
mental distinction  between  vital  Christianity  and 
the  mere  external  forms  of  it.  They  have  been 
answered  a  thousand  tunes — they  answer  them- 
selves, when  the  mind  is  once  duly  in  earnest  in 
the  humble  study  of  the  Bible.  As,  however,  the 
author  lias  proceeded  so  far,  he  will  go  on  to  offer 
some  suggestions  on  the  great  topic  which  he  is 
quite  aware  is  virtually  involved  in  what  he  has 
been  stating. 

It  is  objected,  then,  that  by  this  warmth  in  re- 
ligion, and  the  habitual  language  which  we  hold 
concerning  it,  we  claim  an  immediate  and  peculiar 
protection  of  the  Deity,  and  place  the  proof  of  the 
correctness  of  our  doctrines  and  practice,  not  on 
their  conformity  to  the  Holy  Scriptures',  but  on 
abstractions,  imaginations,  and  feelings  ;  that  we 
presume  to  invest  ourselves  with  a  sort  of  infal- 

3 


PREFACE. 


libifity,  and  neglect  the  common  means  of  moral 
culture  and  improvement :  and  are  thus  steeled 
against  the  force  of  those  reasonings  which  might 
reduce  us  to  a  more  sober  habit  of  thought — that, 
in  short,  we  are  actuated  by  a  spirit  of  party  which 
has  its  own  terms,  insignia,  and  objects,  distinct 
from  those  winch  necessarily  accompany  genuine 
Christianity. 

To  these  vague  accusations  it  might  be  suffi- 
cient to  reply  generally,  that  every  one  of  them 
rests  on  misapprehension  or  prejudice.  No  such 
things  are  done.  No  such  undue  heat  is  excited. 
No  such  claims  are  asserted.  No  such  party  is 
formed. 

The  views  of  those  ministers  and  private  Chris- 
tians, whom  the  author  supposes  to  be  attacked 
in  these  accusations,  are  precisely  the  same,  as  to 
all  substantial  truths,  with  those  taken  by  the 
Universal  Church  of  Christ, — with  those  which 
Augustine  vindicated  in  the  fifth  century,  and  the 
noble  army  of  Reformers  in  the  sixteenth.  Call 
them  by  what  name  you  please,  they  are  the  old 
verities  of  the  Bible,  and  the  foundation  of  the 
Reformed  churches.  The  utter  fall  and  corrup- 
tion of  man  by  sin — his  reasonable  and  accounta- 
ble nature — his  impotency  of  himself  to  what  is 
spiritually  good — the  doctrine  of  the  ever-blessed 
Trinity — the  meritorious  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ 
— the  gracious  operations  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in 
regenerating  and  sanctifying  the  heart — the  duty 
and  necessity  of  real  repentance — justification  by 
faitli  only — the  indispensable  obligation  of  good 
works  and  of  a  hfe  of  prayer,  watchfulness,  and 
separation  from  the  evils  of  the  world — the  as- 
cription of  our  salvation  entirely  to  the  merciful 
will  of  God — the  authority  and  sufficiency  of  Holy 
Scripture — the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  eter- 
nal judgment — these  are  the  commanding  features 
of  Christianity. 

But  the  objection  is  not  commonly  urged  against 
these  doctrines  thus  largely  stated,  but  to  the  ap- 
plication of  them,  to  the  urgent  manner  in  which 
they  are  enforced,  and  the  commanding  influence 
they  are  required  to  have  over  the  heart  and  con- 
duct. This  is  only  in  other  words  to  maintain, 
that  for  men  to  act  fully  on  the  great  principles 
of  religion  as  those  who  solemnly  believe  them  to 
be  true,  and  know  they  must  be  judged  according 
to  them  at  the  last  day,  is  an  extravagant  course 
of  conduct ;  a  position  which  common  sense  and 
the  very  first  dictates  of  conscience  may  refute. — 
The  doctrines  of  Christianity  are  not  a  specula- 
tion, but  deep  practical  principles — they  are  to  be 
felt  as  well  as  understood — and  when  they  are 
felt,  they  produce  a  corresponding  effect  on  the 
character — they  place  eternity  full  before  the  con- 
science— they  lay  man  prostrate  in  penitent  con- 
trition— they  raise  him  with  the  hope  of  pardon 
and  salvation  through  a  Redeemer — they  require, 
they  encourage,  they  produce  new  and  holy  views 
and  pursuits,  pains  and  pleasures,  fears  and  joys. 
Till  they  do  this,  they  do  nothing  ;  and  that  they 
may  do  this,  the  Holy  Spirit  sheds  his  grace  like 
dew  upon  the  church,  to  soften,  and  fertilize,  and 
bless  it.  And  the  sincerity  and  ardor  with  which 
the  ministers  of  religion  press  these  truths  on  the 
attention  of  mankind,  is  one  of  the  chief  means 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  employs  in  his  sacred  ope- 
rations. 


But  the  doctrine  of  the  particular  providence  of 
God  is  accused  as  enthusiastic,  and  we  are  said 
to  claim  an  immediate  and  peculiar  protection  of 
the  Deity.  Undoubtedly  we  hold  the  Scriptural 
doctrine  of  an  over-ruling  Providence.  We  be- 
lieve that  "  God  is  about  our  path,  and  about  our 
bed,  and  spieth  out  all  our  ways" — that  "  the  way 
of  man  is  not  in  himself,  that  it  is  not  in  man  that 
walketh  to  direct  his  steps" — that  "the  Lord  or- 
dereth  a  good  man's  goings,  and  maketh  his  way 
acceptable  to  himself " — that  "  not  a  sparrow  fall- 
eth  to  the  ground  without  cur  Father" — that  "  the 
hairs  of  our  head  are  all  numbered'" — and  that 
"  his  angels  are  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  to  them  that  are  heirs  of  salvation," — 
Undoubtedly  we  not  only  admit  these  encourag- 
ing truths,  but  believe,  embrace,  rely  on  them 
under  all  the  sorrows  of  life.  Undoubtedly  we 
endeavor  to  give  full  hfe  and  efficacy  to  them, 
and  bring  them  into  the  habitual  tenor  of  the  spirit 
and  conduct.  But  then  the  whole  Bible  proceeds 
on  this  doctrine  of  a  particular  providence.  One 
essential  difference  between  Scripture  history  and 
every  other,  is,  that  the  history  of  Scripture  re- 
presents the  world  as  God's  world,  to  use  Bishop 
Butler's  expression — where  God  is  the  author  of 
every  tiling,  and  all  the  hearts  of  men  are  con- 
trolled by  Him  according  to  his  supreme  pleasure. 
The  Bible  lifts  up  the  veil  which  shrouds  human 
affairs,  and  shows  us  God's  hand  at  work  where 
we  are  accustomed  to  see  only  the  conflict  and 
confusion  of  human  passions.  The  histories  of 
Abraham,  of  Jacob,  of  David,  assign  ail  events, 
even  the  smallest,  to  the  divine  will :  and  the  de- 
votional and  prophetical  parts  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment are  comments  on  the  historical  in  the  same 
view ;  whilst  the  New  Testament  joins  on  upon 
the  Old,  and  exhibits  the  same  providence  as  di- 
recting all  the  various  and  most  minute  occur- 
rences in  the  fives  of  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles. 

The  same  providence  overrules  all  things  in 
every  age — or  the  promises  of  God  to  the  church 
have  failed.  We  have  not  indeed  now  the  in- 
spired comment  on  the  designs  of  this  providence, 
we  have  no  miraculous  directions  of  the  Spirit  in 
concurrence  with  it,  we  have  no  assurance  of  the 
results  of  each  particular  undertaking.  And  here- 
in lies  much  of  the  distinction  between  Patriarchs 
and  Apostles,  and  the  ordinary  Christian.  The 
scrutiny  of  the  Divine  Providence  is  as  minute 
and  penetrating  now  as  in  former  times ;  but  in 
the  interpretation  of  its  purposes,  we  have  no 
longer  an  extraordinary  guidance — nor  do  we 
claim  any.  We  follow  the  rule  of  the  moral  law 
of  God,  and  the  apparent  duty  resulting  from  the 
combination  and  comparison  of  all  our  circum- 
stances. We  act  under  the  direction  of  ordinary 
Christian  prudence  in  the  choice  of  our  measures. 
We  wait  for  the  long  event  of  things  in  order  to  in- 
fer the  will  of  God.  We  diligently  notice  all  the 
numerous  incidental  points  which  concur  to  a  law- 
ful end,  in  order  to  warrant  even  any  probable 
conclusion  as  to  the  divine  purposes  therein. 

But  this  is  no  more  than  to  say,  that  the  Chris- 
tian now  fives  in  an  ordinary  period  of  the  church. 
Still  the  doctrine  of  a  particular  providence  is  not 
less  his  comfort  and  stay.  He  is  not  less  sure 
that  nothing  escapes  the  vigilance,  nothing  eludes 
the  power,  notlung  defeats  the  designs  of  liis  Al- 


PREFACE, 


mighty  Father  and  Friend.  He  is  not  less  per- 1 
suaded  that  the  great  God  sits,  as  a  moral  Go- 
vernor, on  "  the  circle  of  the  heavens,"  and  ruleth 
by  an  ever  wakeful  providence  all  the  affairs  of 
men — that  he  stoops  to  the  smallest  and  most  in- 
considerable matters,  as  well  as  regulates  and 
comprehends  the  greatest — that  he  provides  for 
the  growth  of  the  lily,  whilst  he  orders  and  mar- 
the  star? — that  he  guards  the  humblest  in- 
dividual Christian  as  "the  apple  of  an  eye  ;"  and 
at  the  same  time  stills,  in  his  general  and  univer- 
sal government  "  the  noise  of  the  seas,  the  noise 
of  their  waves,  and  the  tumult  of  the  people" — 
that  to  Him  nothing  is  great,  nothing  is  little — 
that  all  space  is  one  undivided  point,  and  all  time, 
one  eternal  now. 

In  contemplating  this  stupendous  agency  of  the 
Divine  hand,  we  have  only  to  avoid  the  dangers 
before  alluded  to.  The  infirmity  of  man  may 
mistake  or  abuse  the  purest  truths.  We  must 
check  every  appearance  of  presumption.  We 
must  not  allow  any  concurrence  of  circumstances 
to  induce  us  to  depart  from  duties  of  primary  obli- 
gation, arising  from  the  revealed  will  of  God. 
Notliing  in  itself  morally  wrong,  can  become  right, 
because  Providence  may  seem  to  us  to  favor  it. 
We  mast  also  guard  against  hastily  interpreting 
the  designs  of  God  as  favoring  our  own  projects 
in  the  course  of  our  affairs,  however  just  and  good 
in  themselves. 

We  must  likewise  be  particularly  cautious,  in 
applying  the  doctrine  of  God's  providence  in  a 
marked  and  express  manner,  to  those  slight,  and 
comparatively  trifling  occasions,  which  are  of  per- 
petual occurrence  in  human  life.  The  reason  is, 
that  if  we  act  so,  we  give  them  a  disproportionate 
importance,  and  distort  our  view,  by  an  attention 
to  small  things,  from  a  due  regard  to  much  greater 
ones.  A  general  feeling  of  dependence  and  gra- 
titude, in  this  respect,  is  all  that,  with  our  con- 
tracted minds,  we  seem  capable  of  exercising 
aright.  We  shoidd  also  abstain  from  those  terms 
and  expressions  in  speaking  of  the  providence  of 
God,  which  may  reasonably  endanger  the  solem- 
nity of  religion,  and  expose  it  to  contempt  and  ri- 
dicule. But  these  are  merely  suggestions  as  to 
the  proportion  and  manner  of  bestowing  our 
thoughts  on  the  proceedings  of  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence, and  are  designed  to  strengthen,  not  dimi- 
nish, the  faith  with  which  we  hold  the  truth  itself, 
and  apply  it  wisely  and  habitually  to  all  the  course 
of  human  events.  Such  cautions  are  constantly 
given  by  the  ministers  of  religion,  not  only  as  to 
this,  but  also  as  to  every  other  great  doctrine  of 
the  Bible ;  they  clearly  prove  that  we  do  not  abuse 
these  doctrines  in  the  manner  objected ;  and  there- 
fore they  confirm  what  we  assert  as  to  the  purity 
of  our  general  principles. 

But  I  pass  on  to  another  class  of  objections.  It 
is  said  that  we  place  the  proof  of  the  correctness 
of  what  we  believe  and  practice  on  feelings,  and 
imaginations,  and  abstractions,  and  not  on  their 
conformity  to  the  holy  Scriptures.  A  charge  ut- 
terly groundles.  The  contrary  is  so  entirely  the 
case,  that  there  is  notliing  on  which  we  more  in- 
sist, than  on  the  danger  of  relying  on  affections 
and  feelings,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  written  word 
of  God.  The  proof  of  the  correctness  of  what  we 
believe  and  practice  is  the  holy  Scriptures,  and 


the  holy  Scriptures  only.  We  have  no  other  cri- 
terion, no  other  standard — "  To  the  law  and  to  the 
testimony  ;  if  they  speak  not  according  to  this 
rule,  it  is  because  they  have  no  light  in  them." 
Nor  is  it  easy  to  divine  from  what  mistake  this 
singular  charge  lias  arisen,  unless  it  be  from  con- 
founding the  due  use  of  the  affections  in  subser- 
viency to  holy,  enlightened  reason  and  faith,  with 
the  wild  dominion  of  those  affections  when  left 
without  guidance  or  restraint — two  things  about 
as  distinct  as  any  that  can  be  named  in  the  com- 
pass of  practical  theology.  Certainly  we  maintain 
that  the  affections,  that  all  the  affections  of  the 
soul,  must  be  engaged  in  religion,  as  well  as  the 
understanding  and  will.  We  maintain  that  we 
are  to  love  God  as  well  as  obey  him ;  and  in  order 
that  we  may  obey  him,  we  maintain  that  the  in- 
finite benefits  of  Clirist  warrant,  demand,  excite, 
enkindle  correspondent  acts  of  acknowledgment, 
gratitude,  love  ;  we  maintain  that  religion  is  a 
spiritual  thing,  the  offspring  of  grace,  implanted 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  rising  far  above  morals, 
and  nature,  and  philosophy,  and  the  unassisted 
powers  of  man. 

But  then  we  constantly  appeal  to  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures as  the  authority,  and  standard,  and  rule,  to 
which  all  these  affections  are  to  be  referred,  and 
by  which  they  are  to  be  judged.  And  the  proof 
of"  the  correctness  of  this  judgment  we  ultimately 
place,  as  the  Bible  does,  in  the  proper  fruits  of 
holy  tempers,  obedient  conduct,  watchful  self-de- 
nial, every  good  word  and  work.  We  esteem  the 
affections  and  require  the  exercise  of  them,  in  pro- 
portion as  they  produce,  and  because  they  were 
designed  by  our  Creator  to  produce,  the  vigorous 
efforts  of  a  righteous  and  benevolent  life.  We 
only  transfer  them  from  the  service  of  sin  to  the 
obedience  of  God — that  is,  we  do  not  spike  the 
cannon  and  dismantle  the  walls  of  the  subdued 
fortress ;  but  make  them  available  to  new  uses, 
and  direct  them  against  the  common  enemy. 

The  charge  of  assuming  a  species  of  infallibility 
may  be  refuted  in  a  sentence.  For  who  ever 
claimed  any  thing  like  an  infallible  accuracy  of 
judgment  in  the  things  of  religion  1  Where  and 
when  were  these  presumptuous  rights  asserted? 
What !  is  all  the  humility  of  the  true  Christian, 
all  his  self-abasement,  all  his  distrust  and  meek- 
ness, all  his  fear  of  God  and  man,  come  to  this  ? 
that  he  vindicates  to  himself  unerring  prudence, 
and  stands  on  an  equality  with  prophets  and  apos- 
tles !  No ;  we  are  not  so  vain  nor  so  wicked. 
We  presume  not  on  any  extraordinary,  miraculous, 
plenary  inspiration  of  the  Spirit.  We  presume 
not  to  found  a  new  religion,  or  abrogate  an  old  ; 
to  plant  a  novel  church,  or  prescribe  fresh  rules 
of  truth  and  duty.  We  claim  only  that  ordinary 
and  sanctifying  influence  of  the  blessed  Spirit, 
which  our  Lord  promised  as  the  abiding  consola- 
tion of  his  fohowers,  and  which  accompanies  and 
distinguishes  his  church  in  every  age.  We  claim 
only  those  secret,  imperceptible,  gentle  influences 
of  grace,  which,  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  our 
reasonable  nature,  enable  us  to  understand  the 
Scriptures,  perceive  and  know  our  danger,  flee 
from  impending  wrath,  lay  hold  on  Jesus  Christ 
for  salvation,  and  honor  and  obey  him  from  a  prin- 
ciple of  gratitude  and  love.  The  mistake  lias 
possibly  arisen  from  confounding  that  assurance 


0 


PREFACE. 


of  these  great  truths,  which  faith  communicates, 
with  a  claim  of  personal  infallibility.  For  cer- 
tainly we  have  an  assurance  of  the  main  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel,  which  rises  far  above  the  confidence 
of  speculative  deduction,  and  which  gives  a  per- 
suasion that  cold  reasoning  cannot  produce.  Cer- 
tainly we  apprehend  the  vast  discoveries  of  Christ, 
not  by  rational  conclusions  merely,  but  by  a  lively 
faith,  which  gives  a  demonstration  and  substance 
to  things  unseen,  and  renders  near  and  palpable 
the  distant  objects  of  hope.  Certainly  we  have 
a  full  satisfaction  of  mind  in  the  verities  of  the 
Gospel,  which  is  above  and  beyond,  though  never 
contrary  to,  reason,  and  which  sheds  forth  a  light 
and  glory  which  reason  cannot  bestow,  and  knows 
not  how  to  appreciate. 

These  observations  prepare  an  answer  to  the 
fourth  objection,  that  we  neglect  the  means  of 
moral  culture  and  improvement,  and  are  steeled 
against  the  force  of  the  soundest  reasoning  and 
argument.  For  the  truth  is,  we  honor  reason, 
and  cherish  it  by  the  most  careful  education  and 
discipline.  We  cultivate  all  the  means  of  moral 
improvement.  We  train,  we  instruct,  we  warn, 
we  exhort,  we  persuade.  We  strengthen  the 
opening  faculties,  and  form  them  to  investigation 
and  argument.  We  check  all  the  luxuriance  of  a 
young,  and  all  wildness  of  a  hasty  and  vagrant 
imagination.  We  consider  that  God  makes  use 
of  means,  both  in  moving  the  affections,  and  in 
informing  the  understanding.  We  endeavor, 
therefore,  to  invest  religion  with  all  that  is  vene- 
rable, and  attractive,  and  generous,  and  engaging. 
We  seat  her  in  the  noblest  powers  of  the  sold. 
We  surround  her  with  the  rational  evidences  and 
credentials  which  become  a  divine  religion,  and 
by  which  it  claims  the  obedience  of  man.  We 
deduce  with  solicitude  all  her  tenets  from  the  holy 
records.  We  weigh,  we  compare,  we  receive, 
we  embrace,  all  the  various  parts  of  the  inspired 
volume.  We  give  to  every  new  suggestion,  as  to 
the  import  of  its  instructions,  all  the  attention 
which  it  can  demand.  We  listen  to  the  remon- 
strances even  of  an  adversary,  and  deduce  from 
them,  if  it  be  possible,  some  practical  directions 
for  our  future  conduct.  We  allot  to  reason  and 
moral  culture  all  that  wide  province  which  they 
are  capable  of  occupying.  But,  after  all,  we  rely 
for  the  efficacy  which  is  to  sanctify  and  save,  on 
what  they  cannot  give,  an  influence  from  above, 
the  grace  of  the  Blessed  Spirit.  We  do  not  for- 
get the  doctrine  of  original  corruption  on  the  one 
hand,  nor  of  the  divine  grace  on  the  other.  And 
we  so  attend  to  the  means  of  moral  improvement 
and  the  force  of  reasoning,  as  to  recollect  their  in- 
efficiency, under  the  actual  circumstances  of  man, 
except  as  subordinate  to  the  illumination  of  the 
primary  teacher.  In  human  literature  and 
matters  of  outward  decorum  and  discipline,  we 
assign  them  a  transcendent  office ;  in  divine 
learning  and  the  renewal  of  the  heart,  a  minis- 
terial only.  This,  this  is  the  dictate  of  the  best 
reason ;  this,  this  is  Christian  Phflosophy ;  to 
honor,  but  not  to  deify,  the  powers  of  the  under- 
standing ;  to  use,  but  not  to  rely  on,  moral  suasion 
to  raise  and  strengthen,  in  short,  the  efforts  of 
man  by  a  simple  recurrence  to  the  grace  of  God ; 
to  add  illumination  to  reasoning,  and  sanctifying 
influence  to  morals ;  and  never  to  rest  till  the  one 


is  transformed  into  faith,  and  the  other  elevated 
and  purified  into  holiness. 

But  we  have  not  yet  removed  the  whole  of  the 
objections  against  spiritual  religion.  We  are  ac- 
cused of  cherishing  a  spirit  of  party — we  are  said 
to  have  our  petty  marks,  and  terms,  and  o'bjects, 
distinct  from  the  accompaniments  of  genuine 
Christianity — an  accusation  plausible,  perhaps,  to 
a  hasty  or  inaccurate  reasoner,  because  it  may  be 
readdy  alleged  against  any  body  of  persons  who 
think  alike,  and  who  therefore  will  commonly  act 
together ; — plausible,  because,  when  every  fair 
objection  is  sdenced  and  all  solid  grounds  of  rea- 
son taken  away,  it  is  the  cheap  resource  of  an 
exhausted  mind,  and  serves  to  cover  the  disgrace 
of  discomfiture — plausible,  because  when  a  revival 
of  pure  religion  commences,  and  the  number  of 
truly  holy  and  active  Christians  in  any  church 
has  been  for  a  time  small,  a  broad,  fundamental  dis- 
tinction of  character  is  unavoidable  and  praise- 
worthy, is  the  result  and  proof  of  a  divine  opera- 
tion, and  the  test  of  a  sincere  return  to  God — 
plausible,  because  when  the  minds  of  men  are 
prejudiced  by  the  secret  love  of  the  world,  and  do 
not  discern  the  infinite  moment  of  evangelical 
truth  and  evangelical  practice,  they  naturally  as- 
cribe that  to  the  effect  of  party-spirit  which  flows 
from  contrition  of  heart,  love  to  Christ,  and  cha- 
rity towards  those  who  obey  his  Gospel :  not  to 
say  that  the  objector  thus  eludes  the  force  of  con- 
viction, and  turns  aside  the  shafts  of  exhortation 
and  rebuke.  But  to  resolve  all  that  is  peculiar  to 
vital  Christianity  into  a  spirit  of  party,  is  pre- 
cisely to  beg  the  question  in  dispute — to  shut  out 
the  entrance  of  repentance,  and  to  bar  up  the 
mind  against  the  light  of  truth. 

But  plausible  as  this  objection  may  be,  to  some, 
how  weak  is  it  when  attentively  considered ! 
What  is  there  of  the  culpable  spirit  of  party  in 
the  clergy  or  the  private  Christians  who  are  the 
objects  of  the  imputation  1  Do  they  insist  on  any 
certain  terms  and  expressions  as  supplying  the 
place  of  conversion  ?  Do  they  excuse  or  palli- 
ate moral  evils  when  committed  by  those  who 
side  with  them  ?  Do  they  push  any  truths  and 
doctrines  to  such  an  extent  as  to  exclude  others  ? 
Do  they  prefer  their  petty  interests  to  the  public 
good  of  the  church  or  the  community  ]  Do  they 
connive  at  popular  mistakes  or  excesses  in  order 
to  subserve  their  cause  ?  Do  they  place  the 
proofs  of  piety  and  love,  in  inferior,  doubtful,  iso- 
lated matters  1  Do  they  condemn  indiscrimi- 
nately and  harshly  those  who  differ  from  them  ? 
Do  they  aim  at  the  persons,  not  the  errors,  of  their 
opponents  !  Do  they  exclude  from  their  love  and 
esteem  those  who  are  not  within  a  certain  pale, 
however  excellent  ?  Do  they  cherish  a  narrow, 
selfish,  personal  feeling,  in  opposition  to  the  ex- 
panded, disinterested  charity  of  true  religion  ? 
Have  they  any  peculiar  and  unworthy  pursuits, 
and  dishonorable  and  hidden  schemes  which  they 
endeavor  to  compass — any  thing  distinct  from  the 
discharge  of  their^high  duties  to  God  and  their 
neighbors  ? 

But  why  do  I  pursue  these  inquiries  ]  For  how 
contrary  is  the  spirit  of  every  pious  Christian  to 
the  conduct  which  is  implied  in  such  questions  ? 
We  appeal  to  all  who  know  us.  We  appeal  to 
our  lives  and  conversation,  to  our  parishes  and 


PREFACE. 


neighborhoods,  to  our  sermons  and  writings. 
No  :  it  is  not  a  spirit  of  party  which  animates  us. 
We  delight  in  charity  and  peace.  We  rejoice  in 
opening  wide  our  arms  to  all  who  love  and  serve 
our  Saviour.  We  labour  continually  to  break 
down  all  separating  walls,  to  remove  obstacles,  to 
lessen  differences  of  opinion,  and  promote  good- 
will and  amity.  It  is  our  aim  to  place  religion  on 
the  broad,  catholic,  intelligible  ground,  where 
Apostles  and  Prophets  left  it,  and  from  which  con- 
troversialists have  too  often  dislodged  it.  If  any 
thing  of  a  party-spirit  appears,  we  discourage  and 
repress  the  evd  with  more  diligence  than  almost 
any  other.  And  on  this  and  every  other  subject 
we  keep  our  minds  open  to  conviction,  and  correct 
continually  whatever  is  found  to  be  doubtful  or  in- 
expedient. We  abstain  from  many  things  on  the 
principle  of  not  giving  offence — we  endeavor  to 
become,  in  matters  indifferent,  "  all  things  to  all 
men,  that  by  all  means  we  may  gain  some." 

What  gives  occasion,  perhaps,  to  the  charge  is 
a  matter  high  and  spiritual,  and  touching  on  the 
deepest  mysteries  of  redemption.  For  there  is 
undoubtedly  in  every  age  a  mystical  "  body  of 
Christ,"  "  an  assembly  and  church  of  the  first- 
born," "a  people  of  God,"  a  "chosen  heritage," 
who  are  distinct  from  the  merely  visible  and  ex- 
ternal communities  professing  the  Christian  name. 
These  form  the  spiritual  and  invisible  church  of 
Christ,  extending  over  all  the  earth,  animated  by 
grace,  glorying  in  the  cross  of  their  Lord,  and 
known  by  their  spirit  of  penitence,  love,  separa- 
tion from  the  world,  benevolence,  zeal,  holiness, 
joy.  These  constitute,  not  a  party,  contracted 
and  jealous,  sunk  in  some  inferior  interests,  and 
bound  together  by  prejudice  or  passion,  but  the 
faithful  servants  of  God,  who  love  and  serve  him 
in  truth,  who  share  his  favor,  and  are  heirs  of  his 
kingdom.  They  have  the  closest  communion 
with  each  other — they  are  united  by  the  holiest 
ties — they  pursue  the  greatest  and  noblest  ends — 
they  confer  on  all  around  them  the  most  substan- 
tial benefits — they  give  every  proof  of  sincerity 
by  their  constant  labors,  and,  if  called  to  it,  by 
their  patient  sufferings.  To  belong  to  their  fel- 
lowship, is  to  be  a  Christian.  The  entrance  to  it 
is  by  penitence  and  faith.  The  clue  to  all  its 
secrets  is  holy  love.  The  insignia  which  it  bears, 
is  the  mysterious  doctrine  of  the  cross.  The  lan- 
guage it  speaks,  is  the  soft  learning  of  benevolence 
and  meekness.  The  fruit  it  produces,  is  "  righte- 
ousness and  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

And  this,  in  fact,  brings  us  to  the  true  spring  of 
all  the  objections  against  the  zeal  and  warmth 
with  which  we  propagate  truth,  as  well  as  against 
the  particular  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  with  which 
they  are  connected,  and  on  which  they  rest. 
There  is  an  opposition  in  the  human  heart  to  the 
humiliating  yoke  of  Christ.  The  pride  of  man 
resists  the  doctrines,  and  the  sensuality  of  man 
the  precepts  and  restraints  of  revelation.  "The 
carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God ;  for  it  is 
not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed 
can  be."  And  this  resistance,  disguised  under 
the  mask  of  objections,  more  or  less  plausible,  is 
the  hidden  source  of  the  opposition  raised  against 
what  is  now  termed  in  scorn,  evangelical  religion. 
In  every  age  this  has  been  the  case.  Truth 
has  made  its  way  but  slowly,  and  amidst  reluctant 


disciples.  In  a  Protestant  country,  indeed,  and  in 
a  church  whose  principles  are  purely  scriptural, 
much  is  conceded.  A  national  creed  is  defended. 
The  great  outlines  of  redemption  are  espoused. 
But  still  men  deny  these  very  truths  in  the  real 
extent  and  application  of  them  as  laid  down  in 
holy  Scripture.  They  deny  the  full  plain  state- 
ment of  the  fall  and  corruption  and  impotency  of 
man.  They  refine  and  dispute  against  the  real 
truth  of  our  justification  by  faith  only  in  the  merits 
of  Christ.  They  plainly  resist  the  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  as  the  author  of  spiritual  life,  and  the 
source  of  all  light  and  gr^.ce.  They  exclaim 
against  those  imperative  calls  to  separation  from 
the  follies  of  the  world,  and  to  a  holy,  devout, 
watchful,  self-denying  life,  which  the  Gospel  ad- 
dresses to  us.  They  spurn  at  the  idea  of  loving 
God  and  holding  communion  with  him  by  medita- 
tion and  prayer.  They  know  nothing  of  the  en- 
tire dedication  of  all  and  every  faculty,  and  power, 
and  talent,  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of 
mankind,  as  the  element  and  happiness  of  the 
renewed  soul.  The  consequence  is,  that  these 
various  truths  are  curtaded,  weakened,  omitted, 
denied,  as  occasions  serve,  and  the  current  of 
public  sentiment  allows.  A  standard  of  orthodoxy 
is  raised  which  suits  well  with  a  tame  religion, 
and  passes  as  reputable  amongst  men  ;  but  which 
leaves  out  or  despises  spiritual  and  fervent  piety. 
Names  of  reproach  are  invented  to  designate 
what  is  termed  excessive  devotion ;  and  men  in 
general  learn  to  join  in  the  cry,  and  satisfy  them- 
selves with  a  cold  external  Christianity,  correct 
perhaps  in  its  tenets,  but  lifeless  and  uninfluential 
in  its  spirit ;  whilst  they  mask  the  real  hatred 
they  bear  to  truth,  by  representing  it  to  be  a  mass 
of  extravagant  or  weak  opinions. 

Just  in  proportion  as  religion  is  made  practical, 
and  is  exhibited  in  the  conduct  and  life,  is  it  dis- 
tasteful to  mankind.  The  doctrine  of  a  particular 
Providence — the  exercise  of  the  affections  on  the 
Divine  Saviour — the  humble  assurance  of  faith — 
the  expressions  and  fruits  of  holy  love — active 
zeal  for  propagating  the  Gospel  around  us — the 
consistency  of  a  Christian  behaviour  in  all  the 
details  of  life — are  beyond  measure  offensive,  for 
the  plain  reason  that  they  disturb  men  in  their 
indifference,  place  God  and  eternity  full  before 
them,  and  remind  them  of  the  judgment  which  we 
all  must  so  soon  undergo. 

Such  being  the  case,  let  me  entreat  any  reader 
who  has  been  listening  to  the  misrepresentations 
which  spring  from  these  sources,  and  of  which  the 
objections  current,  in  the  present  day,  and  already 
considered,  arc  only  one  unavoidable  effect,  to 
pause  before  he  ventures  to  dismiss  so  momentous 
a  subject.  Let  me  entreat  him  to  enter  himself 
seriously  on  the  business  of  religion.  I  do  not 
want  now  to  combat  his  particular  objections,  but 
to  gain  his  attention  generally  to  the  first  simple 
commands  of  Christianity.  Let  him  place  himself 
as  before  that  throne  where  we  must  quickly  ap- 
pear. Let  him  begin  the  great  work  of  repentance 
for  himself.  Let  him  study  the  rule  of  God's  law, 
that  he  may  attain  the  knowledge  of  his  sins.  Let 
him  try  to  affect  his  heart  with  that  sense  of  them 
which  the  Scripture  requires.  He  will  soon  dis- 
cern his  difficulties — the  reluctance  of  his  nature — 
the  perverseness  of  his  will — the  rebellion  of  his 


PREFACE 


passions — the  feebleness  of  his  purposes — his  own 
impotency  to  what  is  spiritually  good.  He  will 
find  that  his  prayers,  his  efforts,  his  resolutions, 
will  he  insufficient  to  overcome  his  sins  and  form 
his  habits  to  holiness.  In  tins  painful  extremity, 
let  him  read  the  declarations  of  Scripture  as  to 
the  grace  and  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  will 
perceive  that  this  is  precisely  what  he  needs. 
Here  is  a  promise  of  bestowing  a  tender  heart,  a 
divine  principle,  a  superinduced  and  holy  bias,  a 
new  framing  of  the  soul,  a  heavenly  birth.  Let 
him  then  go  on  to  implore  these  blessings  for  him- 
self: and  in  the  diligent  use  of  all  moral  culture, 
and  the  various  means  of  grace,  he  will  obtain  the 
proffered  aid.  He  will  gradually  be  "  a  new  crea- 
ture in  Christ  Jesus ;  old  tilings  will  pass  away, 
behold  all  tilings  will  become  new."  Nature  will 
be  melted  down,  as  it  were,  and  recoined.  The 
strong  man  armed,  will  be  bound  and  cast  out  of 
the  fortress,  and  the  Saviour  enter  and  reign  there. 
The  penitent  is  thus  brought,  so  to  speak,  into  a 
new  world ;  he  discerns  and  appreciates  spiritual 
things,  and  rises  as  far  above  mere  reason,  as 
reason  is  elevated  above  the  animal  powers. 
What  is  the  result  1  A  new  and  holy  character 
is  gradually  created — new  habits,  new  pursuits, 
new  affections,  a  new  course  of  conduct. 

Whilst  the  convert  is  learning  these  practical 
lessons  as  to  the  necessity  of  grace,  he  will  also 
acquire  a  correspondent  knowledge  of  his  need  of 
the  atoning  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God.  His 
tender  conscience  compares  all  his  actions  and 
pursuits  with  the  holy  law  which  demands  perfect 
and  uninterrupted  obedience.  He  discerns  his 
guilt.  He  finds  that  one  sin  exposes  him  to  tne 
just  anger  of  Almighty  God.  What  then  must 
his  innumerable  daily  offences  of  thought,  word, 
and  deed,  deserve  ?  These  considerations  pre- 
pare him  for  welcoming  the  glad  tidings  of  pardon 
and  acceptance  in  the  propitiatory  death  of  the 
Divine  Redeemer.  Christ  now  arises  as  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness  upon  his  view.  The  incarnation 
of  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God,  his  life,  his  suf- 
ferings, his  resurrection,  his  glory,  become  the 
object  of  all  his  trust.  He  understands  the  great 
mystery  of  God  being  "  just  and  the  justifier  of 
him  that  believeth  in  Jesus."  He  "  counts  all 
things  but  loss,  that  he  may  win  Christ."  Thus 
does  his  religion  assume  a  totally  different  charac- 
ter. He  actually  reposes  on  the  merits  and  death 
of  his  Saviour  for  justification,  and  implores  fer- 
vently and  constantly  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
for  strength  to  obey  God.  He  renounces  his  own 
righteousness  as  to  the  one,  and  his  own  power 
as  to  the  other ;  and  the  consequence  is,  a  new 
ardor  and  purity  of  life  and  devotedness  to  God's 
service.  All  the  springs  of  gratitude  and  love  are 
touched.  The  heart  is  gained.  Christ  is  en- 
throned in  the  affections.  That  love  of  God  with 
which  man  was  filled  at  his  first  creation,  and 
which  was  extinguished  at  the  fall,  is  now  rekin- 
dled. Christianity  has  produced  a  surprising  re- 
covery. The  fallen  creature  is  restored.  God 
becomes  his  Lord,  his  Sovereign,  his  Master,  his 
end  by  a  new  and  willing  choice.  Henceforth 
"  he  lives,  not"  as  he  formerly  did,  and  as  all  men 
by  nature  do,  "unto  himself,"  but  "unto  Him 
that  died  for  him  and  rose  again" — and  he  does 
this,  "  constrained  by  the  love  of  Christ ;"  that  is, 


actuated  by  the  efficacious  motives  of  the  Gospel, 
and  elevated  and  purified  by  its  grace  and  be- 
nefits. 

The  degree  of  activity  and  self-denial  which 
we  have  above  insisted  on  as  essential  to  real 
Christianity,  now  appears  to  him  natural,  obliga- 
tory, practicable,  delightful.  All  is  in  its  place. 
The  superstructure  suits  and  becomes  the  founda- 
tion. The  edifice  rises  grand  and  proportionate 
in  all  its  parts.  The  duties  and  affections  which 
appeared  to  him  extravagant  and  impossible, 
whilst  he  was  far  from  God  and  immured  in  the 
pursuits  of  the  world,  now  seem  necessary  and 
easy.  They  agree  with  his  acquired  habits,  they 
are  the  spontaneous  actings  of  his  new  principles, 
they  are  produced  by  lively  faith,  they  are  soften- 
ed and  lightened  by  holy  love,  they  are  maintained 
by  the  supply  of  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ,  they 
conform  him  in  his  life  to  the  example  of  his  Sa- 
viour, and  they  prepare  him  in  his  hopes  and  ex- 
pectations for  the  eternal  purity  and  joy  of  heaven. 
He  has  received  not  a  new  creed,  but  a  new  life. 
All  the  parts  of  Christianity  hang  together.  The 
doctrines  prepare  for  the  temper  and  spirit.  Holy 
obedience  flows  from  this  temper.  The  effectual 
grace  of  God  produces  and  unites  both.  Good 
works  attest  the  sincerity  of  the  change.  The 
blessed  fruits  of  peace  of  conscience  and  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost  form  the  best  comment  on  the  whole. 
The  solid  experience  of  God's  gracious  aid  by  his 
providence,  the  stable  tranquillity  of  a  mind  puri- 
fied by  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  the  actual  happiness 
inseparable  from  the  love  of  God,  the  large  mea- 
sure of  holy  "bedience  attained  by  the  principle  of 
faith,  the  cairn  patience  under  the  trials  of  life, 
and  the  joyful  anticipation  of  death  and  judgment 
communicated  by  the  promises  of  God — all  con- 
firm the  truth  and  reality  of  this  scheme  of  Scrip- 
ture doctrine,  and  show  also  the  inadequacy  of 
every  other.  In  the  meantime,  the  numerous 
imperfections  which  the  Christian  discovers  in  his 
best  efforts,  the  temptations  to  which  he  feels 
himself  exposed,  and  the  daily  defects,  errors,  and 
follies  of  which  he  is  conscious,  tend  to  produce 
hi  him  that  genuine  humility  and  contrition  of 
spirit  which  is  the  last  finish  of  the  character, 
which  keeps  him  always  dependant  on  grace,  and 
grace  only,  for  every  hope  of  present  succor  and 
future  salvation,  and  which  renders  the  gospel  the 
potent,  and  suitable,  and  most  welcome  remedy 
for  all  his  moral  maladies  and  disorders. 

Here  is,  then,  the  easy  solution  of  all  the  com- 
plicated difficulties  and  objections  which  may  at 
one  time  have  perplexed  his  mind.  A  sincere 
trial  of  what  religion  is,  affords  the  effectual  an- 
swer to  theoretic  mistakes.  Let  the  reader  make 
the  experiment  only,  and  he  shall  be  an  example 
of  my  remarks.  "  If  any  man  will  do  God's  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine."  Let  him,  with 
his  Bible  in  his  hand,  pursue  the  great  object  of 
his  own  salvation,  and  lie  shall  soon  see  the  clouds 
and  mists  of  prejudice  dissipated  from  his  mind. 
Nay,  the  very  points  in  Christianity  which  he 
once  viewed  as  difficulties,  shall  appear  the  chief 
helps  and  glories  of  the  discovery ;  and  he  shall 
learn  to  "count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  ex- 
cellency of  that  knowledge  of  Christ"  which 
formerly  he  thought  "  foolishness."  But  he 
shall  at  the  same  time  find,  that  he  is  becoming 


PREFACE, 


9 


to  others  the  occasion  of  the  very  objections  and 
remarks  which  he  at  one  time  entertained  liim- 
self.  In  short,  he  will  see  that  it  is  not  any  mi- 
nute mistake,  any  charge  of  a  party-spirit,  any 
trifling  abuse  of  terms,  any  subordinate  misunder- 
standing of  a  doctrine  or  a  precept,  that  can  ac- 
count for  the  wide  differences  of  judgment  and 
conduct  between  the  Christian  and  the  worldly 
person.  The  causes  lie  deeper,  and  are  more 
firmly  fixed.  The  question  involved  is  the  funda- 
mental distinction  between  the  service  of  God  and 
the  service  of  sin — between  the  love  and  faith  of 
Christ,  and  barren  morality — between  the  obe- 
dience of  the  whole  heart  to  religion,  and  an  exter- 
nal form — between  the  being  ah've  as  to  God  and 
eternity  and  the  soul,  and  the  being  dead — be- 
tween the  walking  in  the  narrow  path  which  con- 
ducts to  life,  and  in  the  broad  which  leads  to  de- 
struction— in  a  word,  between  the  rising  up  to  the 
high  vocation  and  transcendent  ends  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  entering  info  its  stupendous  mysteries 
and  designs ;  and  the  sinking  down  to  the  low 
standard  of  unaided  nature,  and  the  doubtful,  in- 
efficient canons  of  prejudice  and  fashion. 

But  the  author  will  not  proceed  further.  He 
has  been  drawn  on  thus  almost  insensibly  by  the 
earnest  desire  of  removing  some  of  those  extra- 
neous hindrances  to  a  sincere  conversion  to  God 
which  the  industry  of  polemical  writers,  and  the 
indisposition  of  man  to  spiritual  religion,  have  ac- 
cumulated. He  appeals  for  the  truth  of  all  these 
statements,  to  the  unerring  standard  of  Holy 
Scriptures,  to  the  united  testimony  of  all  good 
men  in  every  age,  to  the  effects  of  divine  teach- 


ing and  grace  in  each  individual  heart,  and  to  the 
solid  fruits  of  godliness  which  evangelical  truth 
produces — he  appeals,  finally,  and  above  all,  to 
the  omniscient  eye  of  God,  and  to  the  expected 
decision  of  that  last  great  day,  when  the  secrets 
of  all  hearts  shall  be  disclosed. 

It  is  little  for  the  writer  of  these  pages  to  say, 
in  conclusion,  that  the  following  Letters  convey 
but  very  imperfectly  his  views  of  these  Scriptural 
truths,  and  exhibit  still  more  feebly  his  ideas  of 
Scriptural  holiness.  Such,  however,  as  they  are, 
they  may  serve  perhaps  in  some  measure  to  show 
the  sort  of  feeling  with  which  the  Christian  tra- 
veller should,  as  the  author  thinks,  habitually  en- 
deavor to  acknowledge  the  hand  and  providence 
of  God  during  a  foreign  tour ;  and  the  spirit  and 
manner  in  which  he  should  aim  to  conduct  him- 
self, as  the  servant  of  God,  on  the  various  occa- 
sions which  such  a  tour  continually  presents,  to 
try  the  force  of  his  principles,  and  put  to  the  test 
the  meekness  and  fortitude  of  his  character.  It 
is  only  for  the  sincerity  of  his  attempt  at  doing 
this,  that  the  author  presumes  to  answer.  How 
far  he  succeeded,  and  whether  his  representations 
may  be  beneficial  on  the  whole  to  others,  he  leaves 
to  the  opinion  of  the  candid  reader — or,  rather,  he 
refers  it  to  the  sentence  of  that  God,  who  accepts 
the  weakest  effort  to  trace  and  adore  the  proceed- 
ings  of  his  providence,  and  who  has  condescended 
to  say,  "  Trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  thine  heart, 
and  lean  not  to  thine  own  understanding  ;  in  all 
thy  ways  acknowledge  him,  and  he  shall  direct 
thy  pathg." 

Islington,  July,  1825. 


TRAVELS  ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


LETTER  I. 

Calais,  June  2d. — Gand,  June  23,  1823. 

Dover — Dunkirk — Pave — Mount  Cassel — General 
Vaudamme  — Lille  —  Duke  of  Marlborough  — 
Courtray — Pulpits — Sunday  at  Gand — Popery — 
Foreign  Travel — King  of  England. 

Ghent,  Saturday,  June  21s/,  1823. 

We  are  now  fixed,  my  dear  sister,  for  the  Sun- 
day; and,  therefore,  I  have  leisure  to  give  my 
beloved  mother  and  you  some  account  of  our 
movements.  We  arrived  this  morning  at  Gand, 
or  Ghent,  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Netherlands, 
about  eighteen  leagues  from  Ostend.  We  had  a 
delightful  drive  to  Dover  on  Monday,  and  found 
good  accommodations  at  the  Union  Hotel.  Our 
passage  to  Calais  in  the  steam  vessel  on  Tuesday 
was  calm  and  favorable.  We  almost  all  suffered 
from  sea-sickness  ;  but  by  four  o'clock  we  sat 
down  to  dinner  in  excellent  spirits  at  the  Bourbon 
Hotel  at  Calais,  and  began  to  forget  our  troubles. 
It  was  late  on  Tuesday  evening  before  we  had 
hired  two  carriages  for  our  tour ;  for  we  found 
that  one  would  be  inconvenient  and  unsafe. 
About  eleven  o'clock  on  Wednesday,  we  were  on 
our  way  to  the  Rhine.  The  road  annoyed  us  a 
good  deal,  being  paved  with  large  rough  stones ; 
and  the  wind  was  not  less  unpleasant,  blowing 
fresh  from  the  sea.  ■  We  passed  Gravelines,  a 
place  of  considerable  strength,  with  five  lines  of 
fortification.  We  started  involuntarily  at  driving, 
for  the  first  time  in  our  lives,  through  the  formi- 
dable works,  and  hearing  the  rattling  of  the  iron 
draw-bridges  under  the  wheels  of  the  carriages, 
and  hardly  believed  ourselves  safe. 

About  five  we  reached  Dunkirk,  formerly  the 
object  of  so  much  prevarication  and  perfidy  on  the 
part  of  the  court  of  France.  It  is  a  large,  noble 
town,  with  a  fine  port,  a  handsome  church,  streets 
spacious  and  clean,  and  the  appearance  of  a  good 
deal  of  trade.  There  is  a  great  air  of  comfort 
and  neatness  about  this  part  of  French  Flanders  ; 
but  the  most  deplorable  superstitions  are  preva- 
lent every  where.  Enormous,  ill-formed  crucifixes 
stare  you  in  the  face  on  the  public  roads :  the 
figure  of  our  blessed  Lord  being  exhibited  in  the 
most  forbidding,  and  even  disgusting  forms  ima- 
ginable. And  the  moment  you  enter  into  conver- 
sation with  the  people,  you  are  surprised  and  af- 
fected at  the  degree  of  ignorance  and  superstition 
which  they  betray.  At  this  town,  some  of  the 
peasants  we  tallied  with  actually  called  the  Pro- 
testants Jews,  confounding  them  indiscriminately 
with  all  who  reject  the  Roman  Catholic  faith. 
The  adoration  paid  to  the  image  of  the  Virgin 
10 


Mary  quite  appals  the  mind ;  the  worship  of  our 
Saviour  is  comparatively  forgotten.  In  fact,  the 
Virgin  seems  almost  to  engross  the  veneration  of 
the  Papist,  and  to  supersede  every  thing  else. 

On  Thursday  we  set  off  for  Mount  Cassel,  a 
beautiful  spot,  seven  leagues  from  Dunkirk,  from 
the  lofty  summit  of  which  thirty-two  towns  and 
four  hundred  villages  are  said  to  be  visible,  though 
I  could  not  discern  near  so  many.  The  view, 
however,  was  magnificent.  A  vast  panorama 
stretched  all  around.  Nature  was  arrayed  in  her 
most  beautiful  attire,  and  the  eye  was  delighted 
in  attempting  to  trace  out  the  variegated  wonders 
of  the  spectacle.  On  one  side  of  the  hill,  to- 
wards its  foot,  General  Vaudamme  has  erected  a 
noble  edifice,  and  laid  out  a  considerable  space  of 
ground  in  gardens  and  pleasure  walks.  The 
spoils  of  war  are  displayed  in  different  parts  with 
much  taste  ;  but  I  confess  the  reflections  they 
awakened  in  my  mind,  very  much  lessened  my 
admiration  of  them :  I  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  injustice  and  cruelty  with  which  most  of  them 
were  acquired.  No  glory  is  solid  which  violates 
the  first  principles  of  morals. 

We  reached  the  celebrated  town  of  Lille  about 
nine  in  the  evening.  It  was  almost  dark,  and  we 
were  afraid  the  gates  would  have  been  shut.  It 
contains  sixty-two  thousand  inhabitants ;  its 
works  render  it  a  fortress  of  the  first  rank,  and  its 
citadel  is  second  to  none  in  Europe.  The  Duke 
of  Marlborough's  siege  is  perhaps  the  best  enco- 
mium on  these  works.  Indeed,  what  mingled  re- 
collections are  excited  in  the  mind,  when  travel- 
ling over  these  scenes  of  former  conflict  and  glory ! 
An  English  family  driving  peacefully  and  undis- 
turbed through  Dunkirk  or  Lille,  is  quite  an  im- 
portant event,  when  one  remembers  the  history  of 
the  two  last  centuries ;  and  the  indignation  or 
alarm  which  the  very  names  of  these  towns 
kindled  in  the  breasts  of  our  forefathers.  Thank 
God  for  those  national  mercies  which  are  con- 
nected with  the  annals,  however  mournful  in 
themselves,  of  past  warfare  !  The  preservation 
of  the  Protestant  religion  in  Europe,  and  the 
establishment  of  that  religion,  and  of  all  the  other 
blessings  of  our  glorious  revolution  of  1688,  in 
England,  where  the  effects  of  the  hard-fought 
fields  of  the  incomparable  British  commander — I 
said  incomparable,  but  I  check  myself,  for  the 
splendid  triumphs  of  Wellington,  place  him  on 
a  level  with  England's  greatest  captains. 

I  called  on  the  Protestant  minister  at  Lille — 
only  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  Protestants — 
feeble,  alarmed,  dejected — Popery  surrounding 
and  watching  them  with  a  jealous  eye — the 
French  government  contracting  their  privileges — 
the  spirit  of  the  Reformation  almost  fled.  Still 
there  is  a  Bible  Society,  which  is  always  a  seed 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


11 


of  future  blessings.  The  place  is  famous  for  its 
manufactures.  The  men  gain  three  or  four  francs 
a  day  (the  franc  is  now  worth  ninepence  or  nine- 
pence  halfpenny  English,)  the  women  one  franc, 
and  the  children  nearly  the  same.  Food  is  about 
a  third  part  cheaper  than  in  London.  The  wo- 
men are  without  bonnets  ;  a  sort  of  high  cap  sup- 
plies the  place  of  them ;  the  wooden  shoe  is 
common. 

We  came  on  Friday  to  Courtray,  a  beautifully 
neat  town ;  but,  alas !  the  whole  place  seemed 
given  up  to  superstition.  Lamps  arc  suspended 
throughout  the  streets  before  the  images  of  the 
Virgin,  as  if  she  were  a  guardian  deity.  In  Eng- 
land we  have  little  idea  of  the  state  of  things  in 
Catholic  Europe,  or  of  our  own  blessings. 

Here,  as  well  as  at  Gand  and  a  village  lying 
between  them,  we  have  seen  some  of  those  fine 
pulpits  which  are  so  much  admired,  and  so  justly, 
in  the  Netherlands.  You  see  I  am  adverting  to  a 
professional  topic — every  one  understands  best 
what  relates  to  his  own  calling.  One  pulpit  re- 
sembled a  palm  tree,  the  trunk  concealing  within 
it  the  stairs  ;  the  foliage  forming  the  sounding- 
board,  and  an  immense  sort  of  pumpkin  the  pulpit 
itself,  which  an  angel  supported  underneath.  The 
next  was  sustained  by  four  female  figures  as  large 
as  hfe  ;  the  sounding-board  was  surmounted  by  a 


This  accident  detained  us  two  hours  on  the  road, 
and  will  keep  us  here,  perhaps,  over  Sunday : 
otherwise  we  should  have  reached  Antwerp  to- 
night. The  post  does  not  go  out  till  Tuesday,  so 
that  I  may  add  a  word  or  two  to-morrow,  or  Mon- 
day. 

Gand,  Sunday  Night,  June  22d. — We  found 
to-day  an  English  service  at  the  Protestant  church. 
The  prayers  were  well  read,  and  the  sermon  was 
tolerable.  The  clergyman  dined  with  us  after 
church,  and  gave  us  a  great  deal  of  useful  infor- 
mation. He  was  a  pleasant,  and,  I  hope,  a  pious 
man.  As  there  was  no  Protestant  service  in  the 
afternoon,  I  went  to  one  of  the  Catholic  churches. 
It  was  the  first  tune  I  had  ever  witnessed  the  full 
display  of  Popish  ceremonies.  Really  the  proces- 
sions, prostrations,  bells,  incense,  music,  chaunt- 
ings,  &c.  made  up  a  sort  of  stage-effect,  of  which 
I  had  had  no  conception.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  just 
calculated  to  deceive  mankind.  Animal  emotion 
and  bodily  services  were  put  for  faith  and  the 
obedien.ee  of  the  heart.  The  senses  were  charmed 
and  seduced,  instead  of  the  understanding  being 
informed,  and  the  passions  subdued.  Every  thing- 
was  not  merely  unfavorable  to  spiritual  worship, 
but  almost  irreconcilable  with  it.  Still  the  dili- 
gent attention  t>f  these  poor  people  to  their  cere- 
monies, and  their  apparent  devotion  and  serious- 


cherub  raising  the  cross  ;  angels  stooping  around  ness  in  the  performance  of  their  religious  duties, 
to  admire.  The  third  was  almost  entirely  of  the  are  examples  to  those  who  boast  a  purer  creed, 
finest  white  marble ;  an  angel  underneath  opened  |  We  never  entered  a  town,  but  many  were  at. 


the  Bible  to  an  old  man,  at  these  striking  words, 
"  Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the 
dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  life."  Another 
angel  at  the  sounding-board  was  blowing  the 
trumpet  of  the  Gospel ;  whilst  a  third  was  sus- 
taining the  cross. 

If  any  thing  like  pure  doctrine  were  delivered 


prayers.  Yesterday  evening  the  churches  were 
filled.  To-day  you  can  scarcely  enter  them  for 
the  crowd.  The  Catholics  have  no  idea  of  being 
called  Christians,  and  yet  neglecting  the  public 
worship  which  Christianity  enjoins.  The  com- 
mon people,  at  least,  are  sincere  and  in  earnest. 
Their  principles  are  obscure  and  superstitious,  but 


from  these  p  jlpits,  all  would  be  well.     But  what  a    they  are  firmly  fixed  in  their  minds,  and  they  act 

upon  them. 

It  is  difficult  for  a  Protestant  traveller  to  recover 
from  the  surprise  excited  by  these  degenerate 
forms  of  religion,  and  to  divest  himself  so  far  of  his 
habitual  associations  as  calmly  to  weigh  all  the 
effects  and  circumstances  of  the  system  which  he 
is  contemplating.  Unquestionably,  large  allow- 
ances are  to  be  made  for  individual  piety,  under 
the  disadvantages  of  early  habit  and  education, 
in  a  Catholic  country.  But  I  must  say,  that  Pope- 
ry, as  a  whole,  disgusts  me  more  now  I  see  it  in 
act,  than  when  I  had  merely  read  of  it.  Undoubt- 
edly, its  worst  and  most  prominent  feature  is,  the 
idolatry  of  the  Virgin  Mary ;  an  immediate  con- 


contrast  is  there  between  the  magnificent  pulpits 
and  the  mean  and  unworthy  tenets  inculcated 
from  them  .'  We  are  really  quite  melancholy  at 
witnessing  the  scenes  around  us.  It  seems 
wholly  unaccountable,  how  men,  with  the  New 
Testament  in  their  hands,  should  be  deluded  and 
bound  down  by  so  gross  an  imposture  as  Popery. 
But  I  forget  myself;  the  New  Testament  is  not 
in  their  hands.  The  Pope  first  shuts  that  sacred 
book,  and  then  imposes  his  own  traditions.  And 
besides,  the  Seriptures  represent  Popery  as  the 
"  power  of  error,"  as  "  a  strong  delusion,"  as 
"the  dcceivablencss  of  unrighteousness,"  as  "the 
working  of  Satan  with  signs  and  lying  wonders,' 


as  a  judicial  blindness  for  the  neglect  and  abuse  of  I  sequence  of  this  is,  the  indirect  or  open  denial  of 


light  and  knowledge,  "  because  men  loved  not  the 
truth,  but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness." 
There  is  accordingly  a  fixed,  unalterable  attach- 
ment to  Popery  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  a  kind 
of  devoted,  unsuspecting  allegiance,  "a  bowing 


all  the  chief  doctrines  of  the  Gospel ;  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  rule  of  Christian  morals*  follows  al- 


*  As  to  the  denial  of  Christian  doctrine,  hear 

.  :  the  language  of  Luther:  "  In  confession,  the  Papists 
down  of  the   soul,"  that  their   spiritual   tyrants    make  no  mention  of  faith,  or  the  merits  of  Christ 


"  may  go  over." 

But  I  must  bid  you  farewell  for  to-night.  We 
have  come  forty-five  leagues,  about  one  hundred 
and  forty-four  English  mfles  from  Calais.  One  of 
our  carriages  gave  way  at  Vive  St.  Eloi,  about 
seven  miles  from  Courtray,  a  bar  of  iron  behind 
being  broken  through  by  the  pave.  We  paid  four 
francs  for  some  cords  to  repair  it,  which  were 
worth  five  sous — about  sixteen  tunes  their  value. 
54—5 


but  only  enjoin  human  satisfactions  and  merits; 
may  be  seen  in  the  following  form  of  absolution, 
which  the  monks  use,  and  those  the  most  devout 
amongst  them,  and  which  1  willingly  copy  out,  that 
posterity  may  understand  the  infinite  and  inefiable 
abominations  of  Popery. 
"  May  God  spare  thee,  Brother, 

"The  merit  of  the  passion  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  of  the  blessed  Mary,  always  a  virgin, 
and  of  all  the  saint.?,  the  merit  of  your  order,  the 


12 


TRAVELS   ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


most  of  course :  and  the  effect  of  all  this  is,  the  down  constantly ;  sometimes  the  first  day ;  and 
tacit  but  certain  encouragement  which  is  given  !  generally  before  the  cud  of  the  week.  We  were 
to  skepticism  and  infidelity.   I  leave  out  a  hundred  [  informed^  at    Lille,  that  when    his   majesty  the 


otiier  topics  —  indulgences — transuhstantiation — 
infallibility — traditions  —  persecution — exclusion 
from  salvation  of  all  not  within  its  pale,  &c.  &c. 
Thank  God  for  the  Reformation  ! 

In  the  evening  we  had  service  in  our  family — 
the  evening  prayers  of  our  church,  and  a  sermon. 
I  was  much  inclined  to  offer  to  preach  this  morn- 
ing at  the  English  service;  but  I  abstained  from 
a  sense  of  duty — my  health  is  now  my  first  object. 
My  heart  and  thoughts  have  been  continually  at 
St.  John's.* 

Gand,  June  2?xl.  Monday  morning. — We  have 
had  an  excellent  night — all  well  to-day.  We  are 
now  going  to  visit  the  principal  curiosities  of  this 
ancient  town ;  and  shall  probably  set  off  for  Ant- 
werp in  the  afternoon.  To-morrow  we  hope  to 
be  at  Brussels,  and  on  Wednesday  to  be  pressing 
on  towards  the  Rhine,  the  magnificent  scenery  of 
which  river  is  a  great  attraction  to  us.  We  mean 
to  enter  Switzerland  by  Schaff  hausen.  Our  move- 
ments are  too  rapid  to  derive  any  thing  like  the  full 
advantages  of  what  is  called  foreign  travel.  We 
are  come  out  only  for  our  health.  Still  we  make 
all  the  observations  we  are  able,  on  the  habits  and 
customs,  the  language  and  government,  the  poli- 
cies and  religion  of  different  people.  We  try  to 
study  and  contemplate  men,  as  Bishop  Kurd,  I 
think,  expresses  it,  as  they  present  themselves  on 
the  great  stage  of  the  world,  in  various  forms,  and 
under  different  appearances;  and  we  compare 
every  thing  with  what  we  have  seen  or  read  at 
home.  All  this  will  enlarge,  as  I  hope,  our  minds, 
without  too  much  dissipating  the  attention.  It 
will  a'so  tend  to  lessen  undue  national  prejudices. 
It  will  teach  us  to  appreciate  the  blessings  of  a 
free  government  and  a  pure  religion,  and  will  send 
us  home  better  fitted  to  discharge  our  ordinary 
duties,  and  more  eager  to  communicate  spiritual 
benefit  to  others. 

I  should  tell  you  that  the  roads  are  shocking. 
Indeed,  I  need  not  say  this,  after  having  mention- 
ed the  pave  ;  for  this  forms  all  the  middle  part  of 
the  roads,  and  is  beyond  measure  worse  than  the 
stones  of  London  streets,  or  those  on  our  Cheshire 
and  Lancashire  roads,  whilst  on  each  side  you 
have  commonly  a  deep  sand.     Carriages  break 


king  of  England  passed  through,  the  year  before 
last,  on  his  way  to  Hanover,  the  royal  carriage 
broke  down  just  at  the  entrance  of  the  town,  and 
that  the  king  was  glad  to  accept  the  offer  of  a 
French  nobleman,  who  made  a  tender  of  his  own. 
Farewell. 

Believe  me  your  affectionate  Brother, 

D.  W. 


weight  of  your  religious  duties,  the  humility  of  your 
confession,  the  contrition  of  your  heart,  the  good 
works  which  you  have  done  and  will  do  for  the  love 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  obtain  for  thee  the  remis- 
sion of  thy  sins,  the  increase  of  merit  and  grace,  and 
the  reward  of  eternal  life.     Amen. 

Cornm.  in  Gal.  p.  117.     Ed.  Witenberg,  1535. 

Of  the  corruption  of  the  rule  of  duty,  let  the  Je- 
suits stand  as  witnesses.  Who  can  have  read  Pas- 
cal's Provincial  Letters  without  having  been  asto- 
nished at  the  profligacy  of  their  code  of  morals,  or 
rather  at  the  virtual  overthrow  of  uprightness,  pu- 
rity, and  truth  amongst  men,  which  that  code  occa- 
sions and  patronizes  ;  and  on  which  their  conduct, 
as  an  order,  for  nearly  three  hundred  years,  has  been 
too  frequently  the  comment  1 

I  say  nothing  of  the  worship  of  the  Virgin,  or  the 
secret  prevalence  of  infidelity,  because  these  evils 
are  acknowledged. 

*  St.  John's,  Bedford  Row,  London,  at  that  time 
the  author's  chapel. 


LETTER  II. 

Brussels,  June  27. — Liege,  July  1,  1823. 

Gand — Nunnery — Chrysostom — Louis  XVIII . — 
Lord  Gambier — Antwerp — Bonaparte — Schelcl 
Brussels— St.  Gudule— Popery— The  Martyr 
Tyndale— Nannir— Village  of  Waterloo— King 
of  England— Coster— Battle  of  Wateiloo— Huy  - 
Liege. 

Brussels,  Friday,  June  27,  1823. 

My  dear  sister — I  sent  off  my  first  letter  from 
Ghent,  on  Monday,  June  23.  I  begin  a  second 
letter  against  the  next  post-day.  We  took  our 
view  of  the  city  of  Ghent  on  Monday  morning. — 
It  stands  upon  twenty-six  islands,  connected  by 
three  hundred  small  wooden  bridges.  It  has  above 
sixty  thousand  inhabitants.  A  nunnery,  where 
six  or  seven  hundred  females  maintain  themselves 
by  spinning,  and  other  like  works,  much  gratified 
us.  There  is  less  of  superstition  in  this  establish- 
ment, and  more  of  obvious  usefulness,  than  in  any 
I  have  yet  seen.  Charity  and  diligence  seem 
united,  as  they  ought  to  be.  The  nuns  are  the 
nurses  of  the  whole  town,  making  it  their  busi- 
ness to  visit  and  assist  the  sick.  The  public  li- 
brary is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  Europe  ;  en- 
tirely of  black  and  white  marble.  An  inscription, 
taken  from  St.  Chrysostom,  very  much  pleased 
me,  Lectio  Scripturarum  munitio  est  adversus 
peccatum  ;  "  The  reading  of  the  Scriptures  is  the 
defence  against  sin" — no  obscure  testimony  a- 
gainst  the  present  practice  of  the  church  of  Rome. 
The  Cathedral  is  sumptuous  and  superstitious 
beyond  all  imagination.  We  ascended  the  tower 
by  four  hundred  and  sixty-four  steps,  and  thence 
obtained  a  rich  coup-d'ceil  of  the  whole  city.  It 
has  all  the  marks  of  departed  grandeur.  It  was 
once  the  rival  of  Paris,  and  the  capital  of  the  Bel- 
gic  provinces.  It  boasted  of  being  the  birth-place 
of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  of  containing  the  largest 
area  of  any  city  on  the  Continent.*  It  has  now 
a  dull  and  deserted  appearance.  Its  power  and 
glory  are  gone.  Other  cities  eclipse  its  fame,  it 
is  thus  that  all  earthly  distinctions  fade  away,  and 
that  legislators  are  taught  that  the  proudest  emi- 
nence of  national  prosperity  may  be  undermined 
and  destroyed.  Gand  has  acquired  a  temporary 
interest  of  late,  from  Louis  XVIII.  having  fled  to 
it  during  the  usurpation  of  the  hundred  days  :  and 
from  our  brave  Admiral  Lord  Gambier  having 

*  The  circuit  of  the  walls  is  little  less  than  fifteen 
miles. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT, 


13 


The  royal  palaces  at  Brussels  and  at  Lacken, 
three  miles  from  the  town,  are  pleasing.  The 
chief  church  of  St.  Gudule  is,  like  all  the  other 
Catholic  churches,  loaded  with  images  of  saints 
and  the  Virgin.  It  lias  sixteen  chapels.  A  priest 
showed  us  the  chief  curiosities,  and  told  us,  with 
perfect  sangfroid,  that  some  Jews  having,  four 
centuries  ago,  stolen  the  host  from  the  church 
and  stabbed  it,  blood  miraculously  issued  from  it 
and  destroyed  them!  The  pulpit  here  again  is 
exquisite  ;  "it  is  supported  by  figures  of  Adam  and 
Eve  driven  out  of  Eden  by  an  angel,  with  Death 
As  we  walked  up  to  the  inn,  gaudy  images  of  triumphing  over  their  ruin.     The  stairs  and  back 

of  the  pulpit  represent  the  garden  of  Eden,  with 


here  met  the  American  Commissioners,  and  con- 
cluded the  late  treaty  of  peace. 

At  two,  our  carriages  being  repaired,  we  set  off 
for  Antwerp  ;  eleven  leagres,  thirty  miles  English. 
As  we  approached  it,  t'  ;  magnificent  tower  of 
the  Cathedral  appeared  irectly  in  our  view — '166 
feet  high,  of  the  most  .  plicate  architecture,  and 
rising  at  the  top  to  the  finest  point  imaginable — 
one  of  the  most  splendid  things  of  the  kind  in  Eu- 
rope. The  Scheld  river,  however,  flowing  be- 
tween us  and  the  city,  we  had  to  pass  a  quarter 
of  a  league  in  a  furry-boat  before  we  could  reach 
it. 

the  Virgin  offended  us  at  the  corner  of  almost 
every  street ;  forty  or  fifty  of  these,  with  lamps 
suspended  before  them,  are  scattered  over  the 
city,  and  priests  and  friars  meet  you  at  every  turn. 
The  town  is  most  handsome  and  noble,  like  the 
former  capital  of  European  commerce.  The  har- 
bor can  contain  a  thousand  vessels.  The  Scheld 
here  seemed  to  me  broader  than  our  Thames  at 
London  ;  it  flows  close  up  to  the  place.  We  saw 
a  beautiful  pulpit,  in  the  church  of  St.  James,  sup- 
ported by  female  figures  as  large  as  life,  repre- 
senting Truth,  Faith,  Theology,  and  Learning ; 
an  union  excellent  and  comely.  It  requires  only 
that  these  should  be  practically  embodied  in  the 
doctrine  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  to  pro- 
duce a  second  Reformation. 

But  what  most  interested  us  were  the  exten- 
sive docks  and  naval  storehouses  begun  by  Bona-    . 
parte  in  1803,  and  carried  on  till  the  perio'd  of  his   occasion,  which  will  fail  him,  as  ours  have  done, 


the  different  animals  around.  The  sounding  board 
represents  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  is 
surmounted  by  our  Saviour,  and  what  always  ac- 
companies him,  the  Virgin.  The  museum  and  li- 
brary are  fine  ;  one  hundred  thousand  volumes, 
and  many  exquisite  pictures  of  Rubens.  We  here 
saw  the  first  book  printed  at  Brussels,  in  the  year 
1476,  entitled  Speculum  Conscienlicc . 

We  have  been  introduced  to  a  very  pious  Pro- 
testant gentleman,  who  has  shown  us  the  great- 
est kindness.  To  him  we  owe  the  obligation  of 
examining  our  carriages,  and  recommending  us  to 
a  respectable  coachmaker.  We  have  been  sadly 
imposed  upon.  An  Englishman  should,  if  possi- 
ble obtain  an  introduction  to  some  merchant  at 
Calais  or  Brussels,  or  he  will  probably  be  put  off 
with  miserable,  ruined  vehicles,  decked  up  for  the 


fall.  These  were  to  surpass  all  that  Europe  could 
produce,  and  were  to  contribute  to  the  overthrow 
of  British  commerce  and  British  power.  It  is  with 
a  mixture  of  surprise  and  triumph  that  English- 
men survey  the  defeated  schemes  and  half-accom- 
plished projects  of  that  extraordinary  man,  and 
most  bitter  enemy  of  their  country. 

At  three  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  June  24,  we 
drove  off  to  Brussels,  where  we  arrived  at  nine  in 
the  evening.  On  our  way  we  passed  through 
Villefortc,  where  our  English  Reformer,  Tyndale, 
is  said  to  have  been  imprisoned.  He  was  after- 
wards burnt  by  the  procurator  of  the  emperor's 
court  at  Brussels,  in  1536.  His  crime  was  the 
translation  of  the  New  Testament  into  English! 
This  is  the  first  trace  we  have  seen  of  that  noble 
army  of  martyrs  to  whose  labors  and  sufferings 
we  owe  the  blessings  of  the  Reformation.  We 
have  been  now  detained  at  Brussels  three  days 
for  repairing  a  second  time  the  carriages — dislo- 
cated, weakened,  shattered  almost,  with  these 
paves.  The  city  is  beautifully  situated,  partly  on 
a  hill  and  partly  in  the  valley ;  it  has  one  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants,  with  boulevards  encircling 
it,  wnich  will,  when  finished,  be  about  six  miles 
in  extent.     The  chamber  of  the  Etats  Generaux, 


the  very  first  day  or  two  of  his  journey.  This 
gentleman  talked  to  us  much  on  the  state  of  reli- 
gion. He  loves  England.  He  considers  that 
things  are  rather  improving  upon  the  whole  here ; 
still  the  gross,  heavy  superstition  of  Popery  weighs 
down  the  consciences  of  men,  and  darkens  the 
fair  front  of  Christianity.  Bonaparte  is  the  idol,  and 
the  present  government  unpopular  ;  but  Popery, 
after  all,  is  the  permanent  obstacle  to  religious 
improvement.  My  friend  ardently  hopes,  as  I  am 
sure  I  do,  that  the  pure  truth  of  the  Gospel  will 
once  more  spread  through  Europe;  and  silently, 
but  effectually,  dissipate  all  anti-christian  errors, 
whether  on  the  side  of  infidelity  or  superstition. 

Narnur,  Sunday,  June  29.— A  city  almost  en- 
tirely Roman  Catholic  !  Twenty  thousand  souls, 
and  scarcely  a  Protestant  family  !  Not  so  much 
as  a  single  sermon  that  I  could  hear  of,  in  any  of 
the  parish  churches  throughout  the  day,  for  the 
people  of  the  town !  Thank  God,  the  military 
from  Holland  and  Switzerland  have  Protestant 
chaplains  and  services  in  a  chapel  built  for  them 
by  the  present  King  of  the  Netherlands,  who  is 
himself,  as  you  know,  of  the  Protestant  religion. 
As  Boon  as 'breakfast  was  over,  we  had  the  morn- 
ing prayers  of  our  own  church  and  a  sermon  ;  our 


or  States  General,  is  really  quite  charming,  much  [  little  congregation  was  seven  as  usual.  At  twelve, 
more  elegant  and  commodious  than  our  English  I  went  to  the  Military  Chapel,  to  hear  the  Ger- 
house  of  commons.  The  only  misfortune  is,  that,  j  man  sermon,  of  which  I  found  I  could  not  under- 
with  all  this  exterior  beauty,  the  life  of  political  stand  a  word— I  have  lost  my  German.  Icon- 
institutions  is  wanting— that  spirit  of  regulated  |  versed  afterwards  with  the  chaplain,  who  spoke 
freedom — that  happy  balance  of  the  different  pow- 


ers of  the  state — that  independence  and  liberty  of 
discussion — that  influence  on  public  opinion,  which 


pretty  good  French;  he  was  a  sensible  and  pious 
young  man.  I  said  all  I  could  to  encourage  him 
in  a  bold  and  manly  profession  of  the  gospel 


In 


render  the  British  parliament  the  glory  of  the  !  the  afternoon,  we  went  to  the  Cathedral- 
world.     Catholics  and  Protestants  sit  indiscrimi-   service — building  fine— pulpit  of  beautiful,  tl 
nately  in  the  chamber  of  deputies.  1  unadorned,  marble.     We  are  now  about  to  have 


14 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


our  second  domestic  service.  How  I  pity  these 
Catholics,  brought  up  to  worship,  not  the  God 
and  Father  of  all,  but  the  Virgin  Mary  and  the 
Saints ! — Farewell. 

Namur,  Monday  mom  ing. — We  are  now  going 
off' for  Liege  ;  we  hope  to  be  at  Spa  on  Wednes- 
day ;  at  Aix  la  Chapelle,  Thursday ;  Cologne  on 
the  Rhine  (where  the  pave  ends,)  Saturday.  At 
Brussels,  we  engaged  with  a  Swiss  voiturier,  who 
had  come  here  with  four  horses  from  Rome,  to 
conduct  us  to  Berne.  We  left  Brussels  at  nine 
on  Saturday,  and  at  eleven  were  on  the  field  of 
Waterloo.  The  small  village  church  contains 
twenty-two  monuments  of  English  officers  who 
fell  on  that  memorable  spot,  with  suitable  inscrip- 
tions— a  most  affecting  sight.  In  an  adjoining 
plot  is  the  burial  ground  of  four  hundred  of  our 
brave  soldiers.  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Eng- 
land was  most  minute  in  his  inquiries,  when  he 
was  here  two  years  back.  He  even  visited  the 
garden  where  Lord  Anglesey's  leg  was  interred. 
The  field  of  Waterloo  itself  is  covered  with  corn  ; 
but  the  hedge  leading  to  Ohain,  the  farm  of  Haie 
Sainte,  Huguemont,  Planchenoir,  &c.  remain. — 
The  spot  where  the  last  attack  was  made  on  the 
English  by  the  Imperial  Guard,  is  marked  by  a 
pillar,  and  also  that  whel-e  General  Gordon  fell. 
The  Wellington  tree  was  brought  to  England  two 
years  ago,  and  is  at  the  British  Museum. 

Jean  Baptiste  de  Coster,  Bonaparte's  guide, 
was  ours.  We  took  great  pains  in  distinguishing 
him  from  a  multitude  of  impostors  who  deceive  the 
unwary,  by  claiming  his  name.  He  is  an  elderly 
man,  full  of  enthusiasm  in  his  description  of  the 
battle.  We  spent  an  hour  with  him  on  this  fear- 
ful scene  of  England's  glory.  He  led  us  to  the 
very  spot  where  the  hottest  part  of  the  battle  took 
place.  It  is  impossible  to  give  you  any  idea  of 
the  horrors  which  he  described.  The  mind  shud- 
ders at  the  thoughts  of  the  sufferings  of  our  brave 
men,  and  of  the  wide-spread  desolations  of  that 
terriric  day.  Even  now  the  corn  displays  a  rank 
luxuriance  on  the  ensanguined  field.  The  bones 
of  the  dead  are  dug  up  by  the  rude  hand  of  the 
laborer.*  The  marks  of  the  balls  may  still  be 
traced  on  many  of  the  trees,  and  relics  of  the 
spoils  are  offered  you  at  every  turn.  What  a  de- 
liverance for  Europe  was  wrought  on  those  plains ! 
What  praises  do  we  owe  to  God  for  the  security, 
happiness,  and  power  which  were  all  achieved  or 
confirmed  to  Britain  by  that  mighty  conquest. 

Really,  when  one  reflects  on  the  character  of 
Bonaparte,  on  his  prodigious  successes,  on  his 
confessed  skill  as  a  general,  on  his  prodigality  of 
human  life,  on  the  efforts  which  he  then  made, 
and  on  the  possible  consequences  of  his  gaming 
the  field,  one's  heart  swells  with  gratitude  and 
thanksgiving  to  the  God  of  battles,  who  fortified 
the  breast  of  our  noble  commander  during  the 
fearful  struggle,  and  crowned  him  with  the  most 
important  victory  which  the  annals  of  history,  an- 
cient or  modern,  can  boast.      It  is  a  curious  cir- 


*  Scilicet  et  tempus  veniet,  cum  finibus  illis 
Agricola,  incurvo  terrain  molitus  aratro, 
Exe.sa  inveniet  scabra  rubigine  pila, 
Aut  gravibus  rastris  galeas  pulsabit  inanes, 
Grandiaque  effossis  mirabitur  ossa  sepulchris. 
Virg.  Georg.  I.  493. 


cumstance,  that  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  a  hun 
dred  years  before,  had  fixed  on  the  same  plains 
for  giving  battle  to  the  French  army,  and  was  only 
withheld  from  engaging  by  the  timidity  of  the 
Dutch  Deputies. 

We  reached  Namur  at  nine,  after  a  journey  on 
pave  of  forty-four  miles.  It  is  a  strongly  fortified 
place,  celebrated  for  the  long  sieges  which  it  sus- 
tained at  the  close  of  the  last  century  but  one ; 
and,  like  all  frontier  towns,  has  been  the  perpetual 
scene  of  bloodshed  and  misery.  Forty  thousand 
soldiers  were  quartered  here  in  1815  under  Grou- 
chy. It  stands  on  the  confluence  of  the  Sambre 
and  the  Meuse  or  Maese  ;  behind  it  a  fine  moun- 
tain rises  adorned  with  hanging  wood,  and  crown- 
ed with  tremendous  fortifications.  It  forms  the 
back  ground  of  the  picture.  The  walk  by  the 
river  side  is  exquisite. 

Huy,  Twelve  o'clock,  Monday,  June  30. — We 
have  been  four  hours  and  a  half  coming  to  this 
beautiful  town.  The  road  has  been  by  the  side 
of  the  Meuse,  seventeen  miles.  The  hanging 
woods,  the  rocks,  the  villages,  the  windings  of  the 
river,  the  ruined  castles,  and  a  road  of  fine  smooth 
earth,  not  pave,  formed  one  of  the  most  striking 
and  beautiful  drives  I  have  ever  taken.  The 
cliffs  and  woods,  in  some  places,  were  sublime. — 
The  rain  of  yesterday  had  laid  the  dust,  and  bright 
ened  the  verdure  on  the  face  of  nature.  The  pe- 
culiar feature  was  the  trees  and  woods,  inter- 
spersed amongst  the  rude  rocks  in  the  most  pic- 
turesque manner.  At  this  place  we  ascended  the 
fortress,  which  Lord  Wellington,  as  we  were  told, 
has  been  six  years  directing  several  thousand  men 
to  construct,  and  which  is  considered  to  be  im- 
pregnable. The  walls  are  in  some  places  ten  or 
eleven  feet  thick. 

Liege,  Tuesday,  July  1. — We  arrived  here  last 
night,  the  road  continuing  equally  beautiful ;  but 
the  heat  of  the  day,  especially  in  the  morning, 
was  very  great,  and  we  find  ourselves  a  good  deal 
fatigued.  To-day  is  the  post,  and  therefore  I 
close  this  letter.  I  found  no  letters  from  England 
at  Brussels,  but  hope  to  receive  some  at  Cologne. 
We  are  all  well. 

I  am,  &c. 

D.  W. 

P.  S.  We  have  underrated  the  distance  we 
have  travelled  ;  the  leagues  are  two  miles  and 
three  quarters  English  ;  so  that  we  have  now 
gone  about  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles 
from  Calais.  We  have  two  coachmen,  and  two 
beautiful  white  horses  to  each  carriage.  Liege 
contains  nothing  very  remarkable.  It  stands  in  a 
picturesque  spot  on  the  side  of  a  hill ;  a  rmall 
river  banked  with  stone  walls,  runs  through  it ; 
and  the  gardens  coming  down  to  the  river,  are 
beautiful ;  a  promenade,  'with  trees,  affords  a  de- 
lightful walk  all  around.  In  coming  here  we  saw 
the  sides  of  the  mountains,  for  the  first  time,  co- 
vered with  vineyards.  We  had  occasion  to  call 
on  a  clockmaker  in  the  Great  Square.  He  seem- 
ed an  acute,  sensible  man.  A  deeply  fixed  dis- 
content was  apparent,  notwithstanding  his  at- 
tempts to  conceal  it.  The  recollection  of  Bona- 
parte was  vivid  in  his  mind.  So  we  find  it  every 
where  almost. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


15 


LETTER  III. 
Spa,  July  l.—Coblentz,  July  10,  1823. 

Road  to  Spa — Verviers — Aix  la  Chapelle — Charle- 
magne— Relics — King  of  England — Juliers — St. 
Austin — Sunday  at  Bergheim — Cologne— St.  Ur- 
sula— Tomb  of  Magi — Bonn — University  of  Ca- 
tholics and  Protestants — The  Rhine — Drachens- 
fels — Remagm —  Andernach — Coblentz — Tim- 
ber-float— Spy. 

Spa,  Tuesday,  July  1,  1823. 

My  dear  sister — We  have  safely  arrived  at 
this  beautiful  spot — a  romantic  watering  place,  well 
known  by  fame  to  you  and  every  one  else,  for  its  min- 
eral springs.  The  road  from  Liege  is  mountainous, 
and  in  many  places  highly  picturesque ;  and  as  we 
approached  Spa,  we  travelled  along  a  deep  hollow 
with  lofty  cliffs  on  each  side  of  us  covered  with 
hanging  woods.  Below  the  road  ran  a  small  but 
rapid  river,  winding  along  the  valley,  which  hav- 
ing been  swollen  by  the  recent  rains,  was  inimita- 
bly beautiful.  On  our  road,  we  stopped  an  hour 
at  a  small  inn,  hi  the  chamber  of  which  I  found  a 
sort  of  chapel,  dressed  up  with  a  crucifix,  and 
many  superstitious  ornaments  :  underneath,  how- 
ever, was  a  copy  of  verses  so  pious,  that  I  tran- 
scribed them,  and  send  them  for  your  benefit.  I 
think  them  admirable :  possibly  they  may  be  an 
extract  from  Corneille's  Translation  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis. 

La  Sainte  Vulonle  de  Dicu;  la  Folic  de  la  Croix ; 
ou,  Maximes  de  la  Sagesse  Evangelique. 

Domptez  vos  passions,  faites-vous  violence  : 
Mortifiz  vos  desirs,  cherissez  le  silence. 
Croyez  sincerement  chacun  meilleur  que  vous; 
Jugez  de  tous  au  bien,  soyez  affable  a  tous; 
Ne  vous  prevalez  pas  du  mal  que  font  les  autres ; 
Excusez  leur  defauts,  humiliez  vous  des  votres. 
Detournez  votre  esprit  des  objets  curieux; 
i\K-nagez  vos  momens,  car  ils  sont  precieux. 
Evitez  avec  soin  l'amitie  trop  humaine  ; 
Elle  trouble  le  cceur,  et  ne  produit  que  peine. 
Obeissez  gaiment,  ne  murmurez  jamais ; 
Votre  ame  jouira  d'une  solide  paix. 
Que  cette  paix  seroit  durable  et  salutaire  ; 
Si  Ton  n'avoit  le  cceur  qu'a  son  unique  affaire. 
Et  si  Ton  savoit  bien  graver  dans  l'esprit ; 
Que  le  monde  n'est  rien,  si  Ton  n'a  Jesus  Christ. 

Heureux  qui  prend  le  temps  comme  Dieu  le  lui 
donne ; 

Des  biens,  des  maux  presens,  sait  faire  son  profit ; 
Et  qui  pour  l'avenir  au  Seigneur  s'abandonne, 

Disant,  content  de  tout,  Dieu  le  veut,  il  soffit. 

Spa,  Wedmsday,  July  2. — We  have  had  a 
beautiful  day.  This  village  is  surrounded  witli 
the  finest  rides  and  walks  imaginable.  The  wa- 
ters were  known  to  the  Romans,  and  are  men- 
tioned by  Pliny.  They  were  in  repute  through- 
out Europe,  as  early  as  the  fourteenth  century. 
They  spring  from  the  adjacent  hills,  wliich  are 
said  to  be  formed  of  calcareous  earth,  mixed  with 
sdicious  substances.  They  are  all  a  strong  cha- 
lybeate ;  and  some  of  them  are  impregnated  with 


sulphur.  Their  flavor  very  little  differs  from  that 
of  common  water,  except  that  they  have  a  taste 
of  iron.  The  water  from  the  Poulion  spring  is 
the  strongest,  and  is  exported  to  almost  every 
part  of  the  world.  The  place  has  fallen  off  since 
the  last  war,  and  is  now  apparently  going  to  decay. 
The  German  bathing-towns  are  superseding  it. 
We  shall  stay  here  over  to-morrow  probably. 

Little  did  I  think  I  should  ever  spend  a  birth- 
day at  Spa ;  but  so  it  is.  I  am  forty-five  to-day. 
With  how  many  mercies  surrounded  ;  with  how 
much  to  lament  in  myself!  Time  how  swift! 
This  world  how  rain,  how  unsatisfying  !  May  the 
salutary  springs  of  this  place  lead  me  to  recollect 
and  to  thirst  more  ardently  for  that  fountain  of 
"  living  waters,  which  springeth  up  unto  everlast- 
ing life  !  " 

Aix  La  Chapelle,  Saturday,  July  5. — We  left 
Spa  on  Thursday  after  dinner,  and  came  by  a  de- 
lightful road  to  Verviers,  a  town,  eleven  miles  dis- 
tant, remarkable  for  a  small  river,  the  waters  of 
which  are  used  in  dying  clothes.  The  town  is 
situated  in  a  valley ;  a  promenade  made  half  way 
up  on  one  side  of  a  hill  commands  the  place,  and 
affords  an  exquisite  prospect.  The  town  is  be- 
fore you,  overtopped  by  the  green  hills  behind  it ; 
between  the  town  and  the  foot  of  the  hill  are  the 
gardens  of  the  houses  in  the  main  street,  running 
down  to  the  river,  over  which  bridges  are  thrown, 
that  add  much  to  the  whole  effect.  The  number 
of  inhabitants  is  about  ten  thousand.  We  saw  a 
multitude  of  persons  in  the  evening  kneeling  down 
on  the  outside  of  one  of  the  church  doors,  uttering 
miserable  cries  before  the  image  of  a  saint.  We 
are  now  come  to  German  servants,  and  find  our 
French  of  little  use  to  us. 

On  Friday  morning,  at  seven  o'clock,  we  came 
to  Aix,  twenty-five  miles  ;  here  we  enter  the  do- 
minions of  the  king  of  Prussia.  This  city  is  as- 
sociated with  every  thing  grand  in  modern  Eu- 
rope. The  peace  of  1748  was  signed  here  ;  and 
at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  is  an  immense  picture  of  all 
the  ambassadors  who  were  present  on  that  occa- 
sion :  unfortunately  they  are  not  portraits.  A 
tower  of  this  building  was  erected  by  the  Romans. 
The  baths  of  hot  sulphureous  water,  of  the  heat 
of  one  hundred  and  forty-three  degrees  of  Fahren- 
heit, gave  the  town  the  name  of  Aix,  a  corruption 
from  aqua-,  waters.  The  cathedral  was  built  by 
Charlemagne  in  804,  and  yet  preserves  his  throne 
of  white  marble,  in  wliich  thirty-six  emperors  of 
Germany  have  been  crowned.  Over  his  tomb  is 
a  plain  stone  with  this  simple  inscription,  Carolo 
Magno. 

The  pulpit  is  not  remarkable  for  its  architecture ; 
but  around  the  sounding-board  are  these  words, 
"  But  we  preach  Christ."  Alas  !  the  fact  is,  they 
now  preach  the  Virgin  Mary  ;  before  whose  im- 
age we  saw,  what  may  be  seen  every  day,  a  per- 
son kneeling  with  uplifted  hands  in  prayer.  The 
relics  of  this  church  are  enchased  in  immense 
shrines  of  silver  gilt,  set  with  precious  stones.  A 
priest  gravely  showed  us  a  nail  and  several  pieces 
of  the  wood  of  the  cross  ;  the  sponge,  in  wliich 
the  vinegar  was  offered  to  our  Saviour ;  a  part  of 
the  girdle  of  our  Lord ;  a  link  of  the  chain  witli 
which  St.  Peter  was  martyred  ;  an  arm  and  some 
of  the  hair  of  John  the  Baptist ;  a  tooth  of  St. 
Thomas ;  some  bones  of  Simeon,  &c.     It  was 


16 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


with  the  utmost  difficulty  I  could  keep  my  counte- 
nance. I  asked  the  priest  if  all  these  things  were 
matters  of  faith.  He  replied,  "No,  but  they  rest 
on  the  most  undoubted  histor'.cal  evidence" — 
which,  for  my  part,  I  always  thought  was  the  pro- 
per ground  of  faith  as  to  a  matter  of  fact.  These 
relics  are  publicly  exhibited  for  fifteen  days  once 
in  seven  years.  About  40,000  persons  daily  crowd 
to  see  them  during  that  time.  In  1545  more  than 
100,000  came  every  day  for  this  purpose.  How 
gross  are  the  impositions  of  this  corrupt  church  ! 
May  the  blessed  Spirit  of  Grace  hasten  the  time 
when  truth  shall  once  more  triumph  over  its  Papal, 
as  it  did  over  its  Pagan  fees  ! 

Aix  is  surrounded  with  beautiful  boulevards  ; 
and  the  adjoining  hill  of  Louisbourg  commands  a 
fine  view  of  the  city.  The  allied  monarchs  were 
here  for  three  months,  four  years  back ;  and  our 
own  beloved  king  the  year  before  last.  His  affa- 
bility and  generosity  won  every  heart.  English 
newspapers  are,  I  am  told,  prohibited  throughout 
most  of  the  Prussian  states — we  could  find  none. 
Every  creature  is  brim-full  of  discontent ;  and 
much  beyond  the  occasion,  I  should  think. 

Bergheim,  Saturday  evening,  July  5. — We  have 
finished  our  journey  for  the  week.  We  left  Aix 
this  morning  for  Juliers,  eighteen  miles.  Here  we 
were  shown  an  ancient  portrait  of  the  greatest  of 
the  Christian  fathers,  St.  Austin,  with  this  inscrip- 
tion, "  Saint  Aurelius  Augustinus,  the  pillar  and 
teacher  of  the  church,  the  abyss  of  wisdom,  the 
terror  of  heretics,  the  restorer  of  the  apostolical 
life."  If  the  doctrine  of  Austin  had  but  been  pre- 
served uncorrupted  in  the  church,  there  would 
have  been  no  need  of  a  Reformation,  eleven  cen- 
turies after  his  death,  to  revive  the  evangelical 
truth  which  he  taught.  After  dinner,  (which  now 
costs  us  twenty-pence  a  head,)  we  set  off  for  this 
village,  where  are  six  hundred  and  fifty  souls,  and 
scarcely  a  Protestant.  It  is  a  sweet,  calm  place ; 
the  hotel  clean,  people  attentive,  beds  comfortable. 
Our  host  was  a  fine  young  man,  one  of  Bonaparte's 
soldiers,  and  not  at  all  disguising  his  hatred  of  the 
Prussian  government.  In  the  house  opposite,  the 
royal  family  of  France  received  the  news  of  the 
detention  of  Louis  XVI.,  at  Varennes,  in  1792. 
Farewell,  for  to-night. 

Monday  morning,  July  8. — Yesterday  we  had 
our  English  service  twice,  as  usual.  My  college 
friend,  whom  I  shall  often  have  occasion  to  speak 
of,  preached  to  us  most  excellently.  A  Protestant 
sermon  is  doubly  delightful  now  v/e  are  annoyed 
and  disgusted  with  Popish  doctrines  and  corrup- 
tions on  all  hands.  The  church  here  is  filled  with 
superstitions  ;  a  procession  of  two  hundred  persons 
came  eighteen  miles,  yesterday,  to  sing  hymns  in 
honor  of  the  Virgin.  Still  the  attention  of  the 
people  at  church  was  very  great ;  their  prayer- 
books  are  in  Latin  and  German.  Under  an  image 
of  our  Lord,  we  found  these  words,  "  Thou  who 
passest  by,  honour  always  the  image  of  Christ ; 
but  adore  not  the  image,  but  him  whom  it  repre- 
sents." It  is  thus  precisely  that  a  heathen  priest 
would  have  excused  his  idolatry.  We  inquire  all 
we  can  as  to  the  state  of  the  people.  The  chil- 
dren in  the  Prussian  states  are  forced  to  go  to 
school ;  all  read  and  write  ;  the  men  are  husband- 
men, and  get  sLx  or  seven  francs  a  week,  and 
their  food ;  the  women  three  francs.     The  people 


are  discontented.  They  conceive  themselves  de- 
graded by  being  taken  from  France,  a  leading 
power  in  Europe,  and  made  an  appendage  on 
Prussia.  Their  trade  and  wealth  have  sensibly 
diminished. 

Bonn  on  the  Rhine,  Tuesday,  July  9. — We  left 
Bergheim  yesterday  at  seven,  and  came  to  Co- 
logne by  ten,  fourteen  miles — for  we  never  go 
more  than  about  four  miles  an  hour.  We  spent 
seven  hours  in  visiting  this  most  ancient  and  cu- 
rious city,  Cologne.  The  Rhine  here  first  burst 
upon  us  ;  a  noble,  broad,  rich  flood,  rushing  from 
the  Lake  of  Constance,  and  flowing  on  with  a 
gradually  retarded  stream,  to  Holland,  more  than 
seven  hundred  miles — I  should  rather  say,  rush 
ing  from  the  Grisons  through  the  lakes  of  Con-, 
stance.  Cologne  was  a  city  built  by  the  Romans, 
of  whom  many  memorials  remain.  A  large  room 
in  the  old  Jesuits'  College  is  filled  with  Roman 
sarcophagi,  altars,  bas-reliefs,  and  inscriptions 
found  in  the  town  and  neighborhood.  The 
venerable  Professor  Walraf,  after  fifty-five  years 
spent  in  the  collection  of  antiquities  and  speci- 
mens of  the  fine  arts,  still  lives  to  enjoy  his  repu- 
tation. On  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  profes- 
sorship— which  is  soon  approaching — a  fete  is  to 
be  given  him  by  all  the  authorities  of  the  town. 

The  churches,  convents,  &c.  are  numerous : 
amounting,  it  is  said,  to  one  hundred  and  eighty- 
five  in  number.  The  Cathedral  is  a  stupendous 
unfinished  edifice,  which  was  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  in  building.  Here  we  were  shown — 
can  you  imagine  it? — the  tomb  of  the  three  wise 
men  who  visited  our  Lord.  Actually  so !  The 
front  of  the  tomb  in  which  their  pretended  sculls 
are  placed,  is  of  gold,  enriched  with  oriental  to- 
paz. Their  names,  Caspar,  Melchior,  Balthasar, 
are  fixed  beneath  in  letters  of  rubies,  their  bodies 
are  enshrined  in  massy  silver  gilt,  adorned  with 
precious  stones.  Yet  three  centuries  back  this 
city  was  all  but  Protestant.  The  Archbishop, 
Herman  Count  de  Wied,.had  actually  espoused 
the  Reformation.  But  the  Popish  party  prevailed ; 
the  pious  archbishop  was  deprived  of  his  see,  and 
the  dawning  light  was  smothered  or  extinguished. 
What  guilt  is  incurred  by  those  who  trifle  away 
the  "time  of  their  visitation  !"* 

We  visited  the  church  where  Rubens  was  bap- 
tized, and  that  where  St.  Ursula  and  her  eleven 
thousand  virgins  were  interred.f  The  town  is 
strongly  fortified,  has  fifty  thousand  souls,  and  one 
thousand  three  hundred  Protestants ;  amongst 
whom,  I  am  told,  there  are  many  most  excellent 
and  spiritually-minded  persons.     The  city  is  an- 


*  lean  refer  now  with  great  pleasure  to  the  inte- 
resting details  on  this  subject  in  the  Rev.  J.  Scott's 
able  continuation  of  Milner's  Church  History,  1826. 

1  "  The  hugest  fraud  of  this  kind  (as  to  relics) 
that  ever  was  practised,  was  when  the  contents  of  a 
whole  cemetery  were  brought  forth  as  the  bones  of 
eleven  thousand  British  virgins,  all  bound  from 
Cornwall,  to  be  married  in  Armorica,  carried  by 
tempests  up  the  Rhine  to  the  city  of  Cologne,  and 
there  martyred  by  an  army  of  Huns  under  Attila. 
Even  this  legend  obtained  credit ;  all  parts  of 
Christendom  were  eager  to  acquire  a  portion  of  the 
relics,  and  at  this  day  a  church  may  be  seen  at  Co- 
logne, literally  lined  with  the  bones."—  Southey's 
Book  of  the  Church,  vol.  i.  p.  293. 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


x7 


nexed  to  Prussia.  We  noticed  a  most  magnifi- 
cent organ  in  one  of  the  churches — the  gallery 
composed  entirely  of  marble,  with  statues  of  the 
apostles  and  patriarchs  in  the  front  of  it — the 
whole  supported  by  marble  pillars,  and  filling  up 
mi  entire  corner  of  the  church.  It  is  splendid 
beyond  conception. 

Remagen  on  the  Rhine,  Tuesday  evening. — We 
have  had  a  most  charming  day.  *  At  Bonn,  I  en- 
quired after  a  Lutheran  clergyman  with  whom  I 
iiad  made  some  acquaintance  in  England,  a  most 
pious  and  sensible  man.  The  person  whom  I 
addressed,  immediately  said  he  knew  him,  and 
that  he  had  just  sent  around  his  letter  to  announce 
lus  approaching  marriage — for  I  found  that  it  is 
tiie  custom  of  all  respectable  persons  here  to  write 
circular  notes  to  their  friends,  to  inform  them  of 
the  day  of  their  intended  marriage — in  England 
we  rather  conceal  such  an  intention.  I  soon  met 
with  my  friend,  and  he  conducted  us  over  the 
University  of  Bonn,  founded,  in  1819,  by  the  king 
of  Prussia — five  hundred  and  twenty  students, 
half  Protestant  and  half  Catholic — eighteen  pro- 
les sois — library,  fifty-five  thousand  volumes. — 
The  college,  a  former  palace  of  the  Elector  of 
Cologne,  of  immense  extent.  There  is  said  to  be 
a  considerable  revival  of  piety  among  Catholics 
and  Protestants  here.  The  estimate  of  real 
Christianity  rises,  its  vital  truths  are  better  appre- 
ciated, and  circumstantials  less  vehemently  in- 
sisted on.  There  is  an  excellent  Bible  Society  ; 
and  in  consequence  the  nature  of  spiritual  reli- 
gion, as  well  as  its  obligation,  is  understood.  The 
leading  Catholics  are  sensible  men,  and  their 
churches  here  are  almost  entirely  free  from  altars 
and  images. 

Still  Popery  in  itself  is  the  same  ;  and  as  soon 
as  a  Catholic  priest  preaches  the  Gospel  purely, 
lie  is,  somehow  or  other,  removed  or  banished  by 
his  superiors  :  though  he  cannot  be  further  perse- 
cuted, as  the  king  is  a  Protestant.  I  hear  that 
one  priest  in  Alsace  has  been  the  means  of  con- 
verting forty  fanfilies  in  his  parish.  The  kings  of 
Prussia  and  the  Netherlands  are  Protestants. 
This  is  a  great  point,  and  is  working  considcr- 
-ood,  and  would  work  more,  if  Protestant 
princes  understood  better  the  great  principles  of 
the  reformed  faith,  and  felt  more  deeply  the  obli- 
gation of  acting  upon  them.  At  the  period  of  the 
Reformation,  religion  actuated  the  counsels  of 
kings,  and  entered  into  the  policy  of  alliances  ; 
and  ministers  of  state  took  into  account  their  re- 
sponsibility to  God  for  the  cause  of  the  pure  faith 
of  Christ  committed  to  their  care. 

Our  drive  from  Bonn  to  this  place,  Remagen, 
by  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  was  exquisite  ;  words 
can  give  you  no  idea  of  it.  A  fine  river,  five  or 
six  hundred  feet  broad,  with  continual  windings, 
opening  into  bays;  on  each  side  villages,  with 
beautiful  spires;  vineyards,  crags,  corn-fields,  in- 
terspersed: the  scenery  now  rising  with  magnifi- 
cence, now  sinking  into  softer  beauty  ;  distant 
mountains  bounding  the  prospect ;  nothing  can  be 
conceived  more  splendid  and  lovely.  We  alighted 
at  Mehlem,  and  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Koenigs- 
wi nter,  to  ascend  the  lofty  mountains  of  Dra- 
:  Js,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  river,  aiM  commanding  an  asto- 
nishing view.    A  monument  is  here  erected  in 


remembrance  of  the  passage  of  the  Rhine  by  the 
German  troops  near  tliis  place  in  1814.  As  soon 
as  the  guide  reached  the  summit,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest" — Gloria  Deo  in 
excelsis — a  pleasing  remnant  of  ancient  piety. 

As  I  walked  down  the  hill,  I  asked  our  guide  it- 
he  had  a  Bible.  He  told  me  he  had,  and  that  he 
read  it  constantly. — I  asked  him  a  few  questions 
about  the  Old  and  New  Testament  history ;  when 
I  discovered  that  his  Bible  was  a  pamphlet  of  18 
or  19  pages,  drawn  up  by  the  priests.  He  had  no 
idea  that  there  was  any  book  such  as  we  mean  by 
the  Bible — so  sad  is  the  ignorance  of  these  poor 
people.  The  corn  harvest  is  begun.  The  vintage 
is  not  till  the  middle  of  October.  Every  thing 
here  depends  on  the  vine  :  the  landlords  let  por- 
tions of  land  to  tenants  for  half  the  crop  of  grapes 
of  each  year ;  the  punishment  for  eating  any  grapes 
is  five  francs  the  first  offence,  and  four  days'  im- 
prisonment the  second.  The  wine  is  thirteen 
pence  the  bottle.  Luring  the  brief  time  of  the 
vintage,  the  people  employed  eat  as  many  grapes 
as  they  like. 

Coblentz,  July  10,  Wednesday. — We  have  just 
arrived  at  tins  town,  which,  from  its  immense  for- 
tifications seems  to  be  the  key  of  Germany.  We 
left  Remagen  at  nine  this  morning,  and  dined  at 
Andernach,  near  which  place  it  is  thought  that 
Julius  Cassar  crossed  the  Rhine.  The  dinners 
here  annoy  us ;  nothing  is  simple  and  plain ;  hashes, 
stews,  oils,  dirt.  Andernach  is  a  curious  town — 
I  very  old — full  of  remains  of  Roman  antiquity — a 
gate  built  by  Augustus.  But  it  is  the  road  along 
the  Rhine  which  is  most  interesting  ;  for  ten  or 
I  twelve  miles  the  diversified  scenes,  and  beauty  of 
the  views,  exceeded  all  the  conceptions  which  I 
had  previously  formed  :  vineyards,  rocks,  moun- 
tains, every  thing  that  can  enchant  the  ey  e,  and 
fill  it  with  gratitude  to  the  Author  of  every  blessing. 
Here  we  intend  sleeping.  We  are  four  hundred 
and  forty  miles  from  Calais,  and  all  well,  and  sur- 
rounded with  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God  ! 

We  have  now  smooth  roads,  without  pave,  and 
the  weather  is  charming.  Coblentz  is  beautifully 
situated  on  the  confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Moselle.  A  bridge  of  boats  crosses  the  Rhine. 
The  view  on  each  side  is  exquisite.  The  river 
flows  with  a  strong  current,  and  is,  I  should  think, 
about  one  thousand  feet  wide  at  this  part.  We 
here  saw  some  of  those  timber  floats,  for  which 
the  Rhine  is  so  celebrated.  When  the  various 
smaller  floats  are  united,  they  form  an  immense 
raft,  about  1000  feet  long,  and  90  broad,  which  is 
managed  and  piloted  in  its  course  by  400  men, 
and  when  sold  in  Holland  produces  about  10,000/. 
sterling.  The  vast  pieces  of  timber  are  firmly 
joined  to  each  other,  and  temporary  wooden 
houses  are  built  on  them  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  men.  We  hope  to  be  at  Franckfort  on 
Saturday,  and  at  Basle  sometime  about  Tuesday 
week,  July  22. 

I  am  yours,  D.  W. 

P.  S.  After  dinner,  as  we  were  sitting  in  a  cafe 
here  in  Coblentz  reading  the  journals,  a  gentle- 
manly-looking man,  seeing  us  to  be  strangers,  ad- 
dressed us.  He  began  by  asking  me  some  com- 
mon questions;  but  soon  turned  the  conversation 
to  politics,  and  inveighed  warmly   against  the 


'8 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT, 


existing  Prussian  government,  and  the  want  of 
freedom  amongst  the  continental  nations.  He 
went  on  to  extol  the  liberty  and  riches  of  England. 
His  manner  surprised  me  ;  and  having  heard  that 
spies  were  often  employed  to  induce  strangers  to 
disclose  their  sentiments,  I  was  very  reserved. 
Upon  this  he  plainly  asked  me  what  I  thought 
about  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  the  invasion  of  Spain 
by  the  French.  I  replied,  that  I  was  a  minister 
of  religion  :  that  my  information  was  far  too  slight 
to  enable  me  to  give  a  correct  opinion ;  that  as 
a  stranger  I  took  no  part  in  the  politics  of  the 
countries  through  which  I  travelled ;  but  cultivat- 
ed a  spirit  of  good-will  towards  all  nations.  He 
was  evidently  chagrined,  and  rudeiy  turned  away 
from  me.  I  thus  escaped,  as  I  imagine,  the  sur- 
veillance of  the  police,  or  perhaps  a  summary  order 
to  leave  the  country.  Sir  Henry  Wotton  recom- 
mended our  great  poet,  Milton,  when  about  to 
travel  on  the  continent  in  1638,  "to  keep  his 
thoughts  close  and  his  countenance  open  " — advice 
not  inappropriate  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  two  cen- 
turies. 


LETTER  IV. 

St.  Goar,  July  11. —  Carlsruh,  July  19,  1823. 

Scenery  of  Rhine — Ehrenbreitstein — French  Monu- 
ment of  Campaign  in  Russia— Discontent — Hirt- 
zenach—  Jew — Bingen  —  Vineyard — Wekbaden 
-Violation  of  Sabbath  —  Mentz  —  Franckfort  — 
English  Newspapers — Conversion  of  Priest — Go- 
the — RevivaJ  of  Religion  —  Darmstadt — Leander 
Van  Ess —  Oppenheim  —  Storks'-nesls — Heidel- 
berg— Martin  Luther — Professor — Castle — Man- 
heim — Flying  Bridge — Schwetzingen — Carlsruh 
— Floods. 

St.  Goar,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Rhine,  460  miles 
from  Calais,  Friday,  June  11,  1823. 

We  are  now,  my  dear  sister,  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  Rhine.  From 
Bonn  to  Mentz,  ninety-seven  miles,  the  route  is  by 
the  side  of  this  majestic  flood.  Magnificence  and 
beauty  are  united  in  the  highest  imaginable  degree. 
The  loftiest  rocks,  craggy,  crowned  with  ancient 
and  ddapi  dated  towers,  rise  before  you,  so  as  some- 
times to  darken  the  scene,  and  are  then  joined  and 
softened  by  a  perpetual  garden.  The  profusion  of 
vegetation  all  around,  especially  the  luxuriant 
vines,  carried  up  every  chink  and  crevice  where 
the  sun  can  reach  ;  the  beauty  and  freshness  now 
shed  over  them,  together  with  their  fragrant  smell 
as  they  are  flowering,  compose  a  scene  quite  in- 
conceivable to  those  who  have  not  witnessed  it. 
Hundreds  of  small  villages  also,  with  spires  tower- 
ing above  them,  and  perhaps  an  old  fortification 
and  gates,  or  a  ruined  chateau,  are  scattered  on 
the  banks  on  each  side,  whilst  the  ever-flowing 
Rhine,  deep  and  rich,  expands  itself  into  a  lake,  or 
presses  on  between  abrupt  rocks,  or  embraces, 
every  now  and  then,  an  island  filled  with  fruit- 
trees  and  vines  ; — conceive  of  all  this,  and  you  will 
allow  me,  without  blame,  to  be  a  little  enthusiastic. 
The  noble  road  which  the  French  have  raised  by 
the  margin  of  the  stream,  and  without  pave,  in- 
creases the  pleasure  of  this  part  of  our  journey. 
I  think  I  never  felt  such  warm  emotions  of  grati- 


tude to  the  Almighty  Giver  of  all  good,  as  since 
I  have  been  passing  through  this  scene  of  won- 
ders. 

The  spot  where  we  now  are,  (St.  Goar)  for 
example,  is  enclosed  on  all  hands  by  the  most 
variegated  mountain  scenery.  The  ruins  of  Reich- 
enfels  are  above  the  town ;  at  our  feet  is  the  Rhine ; 
on  the  opposite  shore  is  Goarhausen,  crowned  with 
a  Roman  fortification.  The  sun  is  shedding  its 
glories  on  all  sides,  whilst  the  broken  rocks  and 
valleys  receive  or  reject  his  rays,  and  create  the 
most  grateful  alternations  of  light  and  shade.  Last 
night  we  hired  a  boat,  and  ascended  the  river  to 
witness  the  setting  sun  and  observe  the  two 
shores  in  unbroken  luxuriance.  Every  reach  forms 
in  fact  a  superb  lake :  we  passed  from  one  to  an- 
other, comparing  the  different  beauties  which 
each  presented  to  us  with  a  lavish  hand.  The 
scene  was  majestic  indeed ;  and  the  last  rays  of 
the  orb  of  day  tinging  the  mountain  tops,  and 
throwing  a  glow  over  the  waters,  completed,  so  to 
speak,  the  picture. 

But  I  must,  absolutely,  tear  myself  from  this 
topic  to  tell  you,  that  at  Coblentz  we  ascended 
the  heights  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  an  impregnable 
fortress,  commanding  a  prospect  beyond  measure 
extensive.  The  point  of  greatest  beauty  was  the 
junction  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Moselle.  The  Mo- 
selle, with  its  deep  red  stream,  meets  the  yellow 
waters  of  the  Rhine  ;  and  the  combat  between  the 
two  is  most  surprising.  They  do  not  mix.  At 
the  mouth  of  the  Moselle,  the  division  of  the  two 
waters  is  so  strongly  marked,  that  you  would 
think  a  dam  had  been  interposed  ;  but  the  Rhine 
forms,  with  its  larger  current,  an  overpowering 
barrier  against  its  weaker  neighbor,  whose  waters 
creep  along  the  shore  till  they  are  gradually  lost 
in  their  course.  We  visited  only  one  church  at 
Coblentz,  St.  Castor — for  the  beauties  and  simple 
majesty  of  the  divine  works  in  creation,  gave  us 
no  great  taste  for  the  superstitions  of  a  church 
which  has  been  employed  so  many  hundred  years 
in  deforming  the  greatest  of  all  the  works  of  God, 

REDEMPTION. 

A  noble  fountain,  however,  attracted  our  at- 
tention ;  it  was  built  by  the  French  in  1812,  and 
bears  this  inscription  :  "  1812,  Memorable  pour  la 
Campagne  contre  les  Russes." — Beneath  this,  the 
Russians,  in  1814,  added  these  words  :  "  Sous  le 
prefecture  ile  Jules  Doazan,  vu  et  approuve  par 
nous,  Commandant  Russe  de  la  ville  de  Coblentz, 
1st  January,  1814."  A  mixture  of  great  good  and 
great  evil  seems  to  have  followed  the  rule  of 
France  for  twenty-three  years  over  the  Pays  Bas, 
and  the  countries  on  the  Rhine.  The  convents 
are  abolished  ;  the  Protestants  have  churches  ; 
the  cities  and  roads  are  improved  and  beautified  ; 
education  is  promoted  ;  knowledge  and  truth  have 
entrance  ;  Popery  has  received  a  deadly  blow  ; 
commerce,  art,  industry,  property,  are  revived  and 
quickened.  But,  what  a  painful  catalogue  of 
miseries,  injustice,  ruin,  infidelity,  vice,  must  be 
drawn  up  on  the  contrary  side  !  On  the  whole, 
it  must  be  admitted,  that  the  population  is  still  fa- 
vorable to  the  French,  and  would  wish  to  return 
to  them  as  masters.  The  memory  of  Bonaparte 
is  too  much  cherished,  loved,  adored  every  where. 
May  God,  the  Sovereign  Ruler  and  Saviour  of 
mankind,  educe  good  from  the  confusion  and  tu- 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


19 


mult  of  human  passions  and  conflicts  !  The  peace- 
ful Gospel  of  Christ  is  the  only  remedy  for  a  dis- 
tracted sinful  world. 

At  Ilirtzenach,  a  village  near  St.  Goar,  we 
halted  at  a  small  inn,  where  the  master  was  a  Jew, 
who  refused  to  give  us  plates  and  knives,  &c.  be- 
cause we  were  Christians  ;  and  looked  anxiously 
into  our  tin  boxes,  to  see  what  food  we  had  with 
us.  The  first  article  was  part  of  a  ham.  How- 
ever, with  unaccountable  inconsistency,  he  went 
to  a  neighboring  house,  fetched  all  we  wanted, 
and  placed  them  before  us.  I  read  to  him  from 
his  Hebrew  Bible  some  prophecies  of  the  Messiah, 
which  he  seemed  very  little  to  understand,  and 
still  less  to  take  any  mterest  in.  Last  night  our 
supper  here  (St.  Goar)  was  curious  ;  first,  soup, 
something  worse  than  water-gruel ;  next,  boiled 
veal ;  then  chicken,  stuffed  with  bread  pudding, 
and  accompanied  with  cherry  sauce  and  salad  ; 
then  cold  salmon,  cut  in  slices  ;  next,  roast  mut- 
ton ;  lastly,  cakes  and  cherries.  We  are  now  hi 
the  heart  of  the  wine  country.  The  finest  white 
wine  is  here  exactly  thirteen  pence  (twenty-six 
sous)  the  bottle  ;  and  for  large  bottles,  twenty 
pence  (forty  sous). 

Bingen,  Friday  evening,  July  11. — We  have 
now  quitted  Prussian  Germany,  and  entered  the 
Grand  Duchy  of  Hesse  Darmstadt.  We  are  four 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  miles  from  Calais. — 
We  spent  this  morning  in  taking  a  second  excur- 
sion on  the  Rhine,  at  St.  Goar,  for  three  hours, 
where  new  beauties  continually  presented  them- 
selves. At  half-past  twelve  we  dined  at  the  Ta- 
ble d'Hote,  and  at  two  came  on  seventeen  miles 
to  this  town,  Bingen,  of  four  thousand  souls.  It 
stands  on  the  confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Nahe.  The  waters  of  the  Rhine,  being  here  con- 
fined by  shelving  rocks,  form  a  narrow  strait. — 
The  road  to  it  was  actually  one  garden  for  sweet- 
ness, whilst  its  rude,  magnificent  scenery  sustain- 
ed an  awful  grandeur  all  around.  We  arrived  at 
six,  and  have  been  taking,  for  the  first  time,  a 
walk  in  a  vineyard  ;  it  belongs  to  a  gentleman  of 
Bingen,  and  covers  about  five  acres,  on  a  lovely 
hill,  commanding  beautiful  views  of  the  Nahe  and 
the  Rhine  ;  and  on  the  summit  presenting  the 
ruins  of  a  Roman  castle.  These  five  acres  yield 
nearly  seven  pipes  of  wine,  of  one  thousand  two 
hundred  bottles  each,  selling  in  retad  at  about 
thirteen  pence  the  bottle.  As  we  returned  to  our 
inn,  at  half-past  eight,  we  stepped  into  the  church, 
the  religious  gloom  of  which,  just  as  the  evening 
was  coming  on,  was  inimitably  fine.     Adieu. 

Weisbaden,  in  the  Duchy  of  Nassau,  Sunday, 
July  13,  1823. — This  is  our  fourth  Sunday  since 
we  left  London.  We  hoped  to  have  reached 
Franckfort  yesterday,  but  the  horses  could  take 
us  no  farther  than  this  German  watering-place, 
so  celebrated  for  its  hot  baths.  We  have  had  our 
private  service  twice,  but  could  find  only  German 
Protestants  for  public  worship.  We  are  now  in 
the  dominions  of  a  Protestant  prince;  but  what  a 
state  of  things  for  a  Sunday  !  The  shops  all  open 
— a  ball  at  our  inn  this  evening — music  at  dinner 
— public  places  crowded — the  whole  village  in 
disorder — not  an  appearance  of  devotion  !  This 
blotting  out,  as  it  were,  of  the  Sabbath  from  the 
days  of  the  week,  is  quite  frightful — it  is  like  the 
blotting  out  of  the  covenant  of  mercy  between 
54—6 


God  and  man.     I  have  liitherto  had  chiefly  to  tell 
you  of  Catholic  superstitions — but,  alas !  the  name 
of  Protestantism,  what  is  it  !     All  is  here  as  bad, 
or  worse  than  in  Popish  towns,  with  a  criminality 
infinitely  deeper.     I  speak  of  the  impression  made 
on  a  traveller.      Doubtless  there  are  many  ser- 
vants of  God  who  are  keeping  holy  the  sacred  day 
in  the  retirement  of  their  families.      But  Gand, 
Namur,  and  Bergheim — Catholic  towns — had  a 
far  more  devout  aspect  than  Protestant  Weisbaden. 
Monday,  July  14. — At  Mentz,  where  we  spent 
some  hours  on  Saturday,  we  observed  a  visible 
1  decay  hi  the  cathedral ;  it  was  nearly  burnt  down 
'  in  the  revolution,  and  the  riches  plundered  ;  the 
marks  of  the  bombs  are  stdl  apparent  on  many 
i  parts.     Indeed,  generally  we  remark,  that  Popery, 
though  still  formidable  in  so  many  respects,  is  on 
i  the  decline  where  the  French  have  ruled,  as  to  its 
power,   wealth,   tyranny,   and    influence.       The 
j  Archbishopric  of  Mentz  was  suppressed  in  1802. 
It  is  still  a  Bishop's  see ;    but  has  long  been  va- 
cant.    Perhaps  all  is  preparing  for  the  revival  and 
;  prevalence  of  pure  Christianity  once  more.     The 
I  city  of  Mentz  is  a  fine  one,  with  astonishing  forti- 
ifications;    but  the  churches  were  much  injured 
during  the  war,  and  the  marks  of  the  shells  thrown 
into  it  at  the  siege,  remain.     We  were  in  the 
same  room  at  the  Three  Crowns,  as  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  and  all  our  Princes  occupied,  in  pass- 
ing through  the  town.     It  has  thirty  thousand 
inhabitants,  and  a  fine  bridge  of  boats  over  the 
Rhine. 

I  should  have  told  you  that  we  were  much  an- 
noyed at  Weisbaden  with  a  loquacious,  forward 
I  young  man,  who  happened  to  sit  near  us  at  the 
Table  d'Hote.     His  officiousness  quite  perplexed 
us.     We  had  the  utmost  difficulty  to  elude  Ins  pry- 
ing questions.     He  talked  too  much  to  be  a  spy  ; 
but  his  pertinacious  recommendation  of  an  inn  at 
!  Franckfort  betrayed  his  secret.      He  must  have 
i  been  a  man  sent  round  to  the  watering-places  to 
collect  guests  for  particular  hotels.     Really  one 
;  cannot  be  too  much  on  one's  guard  abroad. 

Franckfort  on  the  Maine,  522  miles  from  Calais, 
!  Monday  evening. — We  arrived  here  to-day  at  one 
I  o'clock.      Many  things  concur  to  render  this  one 
!  of  the  most  interesting  places  we  have  visited. — 
i  It  is  a  free  city,  with  its  own  domain,  burgomaster, 
!  senate,  and  laws — fifty  thousand  souls — perhaps 
,  the  first  commercial  city  in  Germany — fine  wide 
[.streets — large  and  noble  private  and  public  build- 
I  ings  all  about — every  appearance  of  wealth  and 
I  activity.     We  had  here  the  pleasure  of  meeting, 
for  the  first  time  since  we  left  home,  with  English 
!  papers,  a  sure  indication  of  a  free  state.     Indeed, 
every   thing  breathes   that  spirit  of  liberty,  that 
j  cheerfulness,  and  that  prosperity,  which  make  this 
town  one  of  the  most  noble  spots  on  the  Continent. 
French,  Swiss,  Italians,   Turks,  English,  all  as- 
semble in  it  for  the  purposes  of  commerce.     It  is 
a   Protestant  city;  at  least  three-fourths  of  the 
inhabitants  are  Protestants.     An  entire  equality  is 
afforded  to  all  the  different  confessions  of  Chris- 
tians.    It  has  seven  thousand  Jews,  and  many  of 
them  very  opulent.     The  French  Protestant  Mi- 
nister is  a  delightful  man — pious,  discreet,  amia- 
ble, well  informed.     He  has  been  with  us  several 
hours  this  afternoon.     The  police  is  excellently 
managed.     Vice  and  wickedness  arc  discounte- 


20 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT, 


nanced.  The  public  places  of  amusement  are 
few,  and  no  suspicious  females  permitted  to  fre- 
quent them.  What  a  contrast  does  this  last  point 
form  with  the  disgusting  indecency  of  our  London 
theatres  !  There  is  here  a  Bible  Society,  and  a 
Jews'  Conversion  Society. 

In  the  public  library  is  a  copy  of  the  edition  of 
the  Latin  Vulgate  Bible,  printed  upon  vellum  in 
1462,  by  Fust  and  Schoiffher  at  Mentz.  It  is  the 
first  edition  of  the  Bible  with  a  printed  date,  and 
is  an  extraordinary  effort  of  the  art  in  its  earliest 
day.  The  first  Bible  indeed  ever  printed,  was 
begun  at  Mentz  in  1450,  and  published  in  1455  or 
1456.  It  is  called  the  Mazarine  Bible,  from  hav- 
ing been  in  the  library  of  the  celebrated  cardinal 
of  that  name  ;  and  is  not  only  the  first  edition  of 
the  sacred  text  in  any  language,  but  the  very  first 
book  printed  with  metal  types.  The  beauty  and  re- 
gularity of  the  press-work  are  highly  extolled  by  Mr. 
Dibdin,  who  speaks  of  it  as  a  master-piece  of  skill. 
I  cannot  but  dwell  with  delight  on  the  first  suc- 
cesses of  the  noble  invention  of  printing,  in  circu- 
lating the  Bible,  and  thus  paving  the  way  for  the 
Reformation  in  the  following  century. 

There  are  no  foreign  troops  at  Franckfort.  I 
should  tell  you,  that  at  Mentz  there  are  seven 
thousand  troops,  half  Prussian  and  half  Austrian  ; 
whilst  the  duke  of  Hesse  Darmstadt,  to  whom  the 
town  belongs,  has  only  one  hundred  men  to  keep 
the  police.  1  learnt  here  some  particulars  of  the 
conversion  of  the  Catholic  priest  whom  I  men- 
tioned in  my  last  letter.*  He  lived  near  Pforz- 
heim, and  became  impressed  with  the  truths  of 
real  Christianity  by  reading  the  Scriptures.  He 
then  began  to  "preach  Christ  crucified."  The  lard 
of  the  village  and  forty-four  families,  containing  be- 
tween two  hundred  and  three  hundred  souls,  were 
gradually  awakened  by  God's  mercy.  The  priest 
was  summoned  before  his  superiors  for  preaching 
against  the  Popish  ceremonies.  At  length  he  and 
ail  his  flock  publicly  renounced  the  church  of 
Rome.  The  duke  of  Baden  heard  of  him,  and 
went  to  one  of  his  sermons.  He  was  so  much 
affected,  that  he  declared  he  had  seldom  heard  so 
edifying  a  discourse.  He  invited  the  priest  to 
Carlsruh.  There  is  another  priest,  I  am  told,  near 
Valenciennes,  who  has  followed  the  same  course. 
May  God  multiply  the  number,  and  a  second  re- 
formation will  soon  begin. 

Qjtpenheim,  between  Darmstadt  and  Heidelberg, 
Wednesday  evening,  July  16. — I  had  much  con-, 
versation  with  my  friend  the  French  minister,  be- 
fore we  left  Franckfort  this  morning.  I  was  also 
introduced  to  one  of  the  senators,  an  excellent 
man,  president  of  the  Bible  Society.  A  human 
philosophy  applied  rashly  and  presumptuously  to 
religion,  is  the  poison  of  German  divinity  among 
the  Protestants  : — endless  refinements,  imagina- 
tions, corruptions  of  faith,  tending  to  skepticism  or 
atheism.  Things  are  mending,  but  it  is  incredible 
what  daring  impieties  are  currently  received.  The 
first  genius  of  their  country,  Gothe,  a  native  of 
Franckfort,  is  an  absolute,  idolater  of  what  he  calls 
le  beau,  in  Christianity,  in  Mahomedanism,  in  in- 
fidelity, in  every  thing.  Thus  unbelief  stands  more 
I  i  ally  opposed  to  the  faith  of  Christ  than  even 
superstition.    The  calamities,  however,  of  the  late 


*  Page  48,  supra. 


long  war  have  been  the  means  of  checking  this 
incursion  of  infidel  principles,  and  of  bringing  men 
back  to  that  pure  doctrine  of  the  Gospel  which 
only  can  give  peace  and  consolation.  It  is  a  re- 
markable fact,  that  such  has  been  the  decay  of 
all  Scriptural  truth  amongst  the  Protestants,  that 
many  of  the  Roman  Catholics  have  surpassed  them 
in  real  piety.  The  light  has  shone  brightest  in 
the  Catholic  parishes.  Those  who  were  concern- 
ed for  their  souls,  and  panted  for  the  doctrine  of 
pardon,  found  some  relief  at  least,  in  the  dis- 
courses of  the  priests.  So  true  is  it  that  super- 
stition, bad  as  it  is,  may  consist  with  the  life  of 
God  in  the  heart,  but  that  proud  infidel  plnloso- 
phy  cannot.  The  one  overloads  and  encumbers 
the  foundation  ;  the  other  digs  it  up,  and  destroys 
it  altogether. 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative.  We  arrived 
safely  at  Darmstadt,  the  capital  of  the  grand  duchy 
of  that  name,  at  twelve  to-day.  1  hastened  to  the 
house  of  Leander  Van  Ess,  with  whom  I  had 
been  sometime  in  correspondence  in  England;  he 
had  left  the  town  in  the  morning  early  to  go  to 
Cologne,  and  would  not  return  for  a  week  !  A 
gz-eater  disappointment  I  scarcely  ever  felt.  I  saw, 
however,  the  study  of  this  excellent  man ;  I  sat 
in  his  chair ;  I  visited  his  collection  of  Bibles  ;  I 
conversed  with  his  secretary.  Leander  Van  Ess 
was  fifty-one  the  eighteenth  of  last  month.  He 
has  left  the  University  of  Marburg,  where  he  was 
professor,  and  lives  now  under  the  Protestant 
grand  duke  of  Hesse  Darmstadt.  He  has  had  a 
spitting  of  blood  for  four  years,  which  prevents  his 
preaching ;  but  he  gives  himself  up  to  the  propa- 
gation of  the  Gospel,  though  he  remains  a  Catho- 
lic priest.  He  has  printed  fourteen  editions  of  his 
New  Testament ;  each  of  an  immense  number  of 
copies.  He  lias  circulated  altogether  four  hun- 
dred and  ninety-four  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
sixty.  No  funds  but  those  of  an  institution  like 
the  noble  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  could 
have  supported  the  expense  of  printing  such  an 
incredible  number :  and  the  liberality  and  wisdom 
with  which  that  society  assists  in  publishing 
Catholic  translations  of  the  Scriptures,  cannot  be 
too  highly  praised.  Versions  by  far  inferior  were 
the  chief  means  of  effecting  the  glorious  Refor- 
mation. I  do  not  speak  of  the  Apocryphal  books, 
because  the  reading  of  them  is  admitted  to  be 
useful  by  Protestants.  The  desire  for  the  Scrip- 
tures among  the  Catholics  at  the  present  time, 
priests  as  well  as  laity,  is  greater  and  greater. 
Sometimes  Van  Ess  circulates  seven  thousand  in 
a  single  month.  Lately,  a  priest  in  one  parish 
sent  for  two  thousand  New  Testaments — the  par- 
ish is  in  the  Schwarzwald,  or  Black  Forest. 

The  secretary  presented  me  with  his  picture, 
and  a  copy  of  his  New  Testament.  What  a 
blessing  is  such  a  person  !  what  cannot  the  grace 
of  God  do  in  the  most  corrupt  church  !  how  chari- 
table should  we  be  in  our  judgment  of  individuals ! 
This  admirable  man,  though  he  calls  himself  a 
Catholic,  has  almost  the  spirit  of  a  Reformer.  He 
dwells  on  nothing  but  the  great  and  necessary 
doctrines  of  Christianity.  It  is  impossible  to  read 
his  correspondence  without  perceiving  a  strength 
and  clearness  of  judgment,  an  independence  of 
principle,  a  love  of  truth,  a  superiority  to  the  pre- 
judices of  education,  a  zeal  in  the  diffusion  of  the 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


21 


Gospel,  a  disregard  of  personal  sufferings,  a  hardy 
appeal  to  the  first  fathers  of  the  church)  and  a 
readiness  to  act  with  Protestant  societies,  which 
are  quite  surprising.  Above  all,  there  is  a  firm- 
ness and  undauntedness  in  all  he  does,  which  re- 
minds us  at  times  of  Martin  Luther.  Let  us  pray- 
that  many,  many  such  Catholic  professors  maybe 
raised  up  in  every  part  of  the  continent,  and  "the 
traditions  of  men"  will  fall  of  themselves. 

I  can  hardly  persuade  myself  to  turn  from  this 
subject  to  say,  that  Darmstadt,  is  a  flourishing 
town  ;  witli  all  the  marks  of  that  activity  and 
prosperity  which,  as  at  Franckfort,  distinguishes 
a  free  from  an  oppressed  population.  We  came 
on  to  Oppenlieim,  twenty  miles,  (live  hundred  and 
sixty  from  Calais,)  this  afternoon.  The  village  is 
obscure,  though  populous.  The  country  is  pleas- 
ing. The  peasants  are  without  shoes  and  stock- 
ings. The  men  wear  large  hats  like  our  English 
dignitaries — what  we  call  shovel-hats  ;  the  asso- 
ciation in  our  mind  is  very  humorous.  But  the 
storks'-nests  are  most  c  urious ;  these  enormous 
birds  are  in  almost  every  village ;  they  build  on 
the  steeples  of  churches,  or  the  top  of  a  chimney, 
with  a  large  nest  like  a  basket,  stretching  over  on 
all  fides.  They  are  never  disturbed,  much  less 
killed.  They  are  superstitiously  reverenced.  The 
people  think  the  house  will  never  be  burnt  where 
a  stork  builds.  The  stork  feeds  on  insects,  frogs, 
mice,  &c,  and  never  injures  the  corn.  To  see 
these  enormous  birds,  half  as  tall  as  a  man,  strut- 
ting about  on  the  top  of  a  house,  as  if  on  stilts,  is 
very  strange  to  us. 

Heidelberg,  in  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  Fri- 
day morning,  July  18. — We  arrived  here  yester- 
day, at  eleven  o'clock.  The  town  is  beautifully 
situated  on  the  Neckar,  fifteen  miles  from  Oppen- 
lieim. The  chief  attraction  is  the  ancient  elec- 
toral castle,  which  Louis  XIV.  laid  in  rums  at  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  in  his  ambitious 
war  against  the  Palatinate.  The  remaining  walls 
were  much  injured  by  lightning  sixty  years  back. 
It  is  still  perhaps  the  most  magnificent  ruin  in 
Germany.  The  keep  and  outward  wall  of  the 
platform  are  entire ;  and  a  beautiful  semicircular 
walk  runs  through  a  plantation  adjoining.  It  is 
situated  on  the  side  of  a  fine  mountain,  the  base 
and  summit  of  which  are  ornamented  with  hang- 
ing woods.  Before  it,  the  Neckar,  tho  bridge, 
the  town,  the  adjoining  hill  covered  with  vines, 
the  distant  Rhine,  and  the  Vosges  mountains,  are 
stretched  as  in  perspective.  The  extreme  steep- 
ness of  the  mountain  on  which  it  stands,  allows 
of  those  sudden  turns  of  scenery  in  the  gardens 
and  pleasure-grounds  surrounding  the  castle,  of 
which  nothing  else  can  admit.  In  short,  the 
whole  thing  is  the  noblest  of  the  kind  we  ever 
saw  ;  we  spent  five  hours  in  admiring  it. 

A  venerable  professor  of  the  university  con- 
ducted us  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  common 
language  was  extreme.  We  attempted  a  mixture 
of  French,  English,  and  Latin  ;  but  at  last  Latin 
was  our  only  language.  It  would  have  amused 
you  to  see  my  college  friend  and  myself  brushing 
up  our  old  Latin,  and  adapting  our  pronunciation 
as  well  as  we  could  to  the  German — and  this 
after  dinner — overcome  with  heat — and  mounl  ing 
up  a  tremendous  hill.  The  sentiments  of  the  pro- 
fessor were  evangelical,  and  his  temper  and  spirit 


most  charitable.  It  was  delightful  to  converse 
with  a  man  so  well  instructed  in  the  great  truths 
of  salvation.  1  called  on  him  at  his  own  house  in 
the  evening.  He  was  very  diligent  in  inquiring 
after  the  real  state  of  spiritual  religion  in  Eng- 
land. I  see  plainly  that  my  beloved  country  is 
looked  up  to  as  the  glory  of  the  Reformation,  and 
the  hope  of  the  nations  of  the  continent.  The 
university  is  open  to  Catholics  and  Protestants — 
six  hundred  and  fifty  members.  It  is  the  oldest 
university  in  Germany,  having  been  founded  in 
1382.  The  valuable  library  which  had  been  pre- 
sented to  the  Pope,  when  the  town  was  taken  by 
the  Bavarians  in  1022,  and  deposited  in  the  Va- 
tican, was  restored  in  1815.  The  grand  duke  is 
a  Protestant ;  and  full  liberty  of  worship  is  en- 
joyed. There  is  here  a  Bible  Society  ;  and  reli- 
gion seems,  on  the  whole,  flourishing. 

It  was  in  this  place  that  Melancthon  began  hi;; 
studies  ;  that  Luther  came  on  foot  from  Worms, 
and  disputed  with  the  Augustins,  in   1518  '  and 
)  that  the  famous  Heidelberg  catechism  wf.o  after- 
!  wards  published.     I  speak  of  this  catechism  with 
\  a  peculiar  pleasure,  because  it  has  been  familiar 
to  me  from  early  youth.     It  was  reprinted  about 
twenty  years  back  by  the  university  of  Oxford  in 
the  Sylloge  Confessionum.     I  confess  my  mind 
lingers  on  these  continental  towns,  where  the  no- 
ble army  of  reformers  laid  the  foundation  of  ah 
the  religious  blessings  which  we  now  enjoy. 

Manheim,  Friday,  July  18. — This  is  a  beauti- 
ful city,  first  founded  in  160G,  as  a  refuge  for  the 
j  persecuted  Protestants  of  the  Netherlands.  It  was 
entirely  destroyed   by  Louis  XIV.  in  1689  ;  so 
that  the   present  city  is  a  new  one,  of  twenty 
thousand  souls,  half  Protestants  and  half  Catho- 
lics;  the   streets  are  regularly  laid   out  in  one 
hundred  and  twelve  squares.     It  is  situated  on 
'  the  confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Necitar,  and 
1  is  considered  the  finest  town  in  Germany.     The 
old  palace  of  the  grand  duke  of  Baden  is  very 
sp  toous,  but  dilapidated  :  it  is  something  like  our 
palace  at  Hampton  Court.     One  of  the  most  cu- 
rious things   at   Manheim   is   the   flying  b 
\  across  the  Rhine.     It  is  difficult  to  give  a  clear 
\  idea  of  it.     But  it  seems  formed  of  six  or  s even 
\  boats  fastened  together  at  such  a  distance  from 
I  each  other,  as  to  extend  in  a  slanting  direction 
'  over  half  of  the  river.     The  extreme  boat  at  one 
end  of  this  series  is  fixed  firm  in  the  middle  of 
the  river  by  an  anchor  :  the  extreme  boat  at  the 
!  other  end  reaches  the  shore,  and  is  fastened  to  it. 
When  any  one  wishes  to  cross  the  river,  he  en- 
ters this  last  boat,  which  is  then  loosened  and 
carried  by  the  stream  to  the  opposite  shore  ;  the 
fixed  boat  preserving  it  from  being  carried  down 
the  current.      The    direction   which  the    flying 
bridge  takes,  is  like  that  of  the  pendulum  of  a 
clock.- 

We  slept  last  night  at  Schwetzingen,  cele- 
brated for  a  pleasure  garden  of  the  duke  of  Baden, 
of  one  hundred  and  eighty  acres,  laid  out  in  the 
French  and  English  manner.  The  mosl  sump- 
tuous building  in  it  was  a  mosque,  resembling  that 
at  Mecca,  the  walls  of  which  have  inscriptions 
from  the  Koran,  with  translations  in  German; 
the  whole  must  have  cost  an  immense  sum.  Not- 
withstanding this  magnificence,  the  approach 
from  the  village  is  shabby,  from  the  utter  neglect 


22 


TRAVELS  ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


of  cleanliness  in  the  court  of  the  chateau  itself, 
by  which  you  enter ;  grass  grows  on  the  pave- 
ments, and  the  chateau  is  much  dilapidated.  In- 
deed, an  unseemly  union  of  finery  and  untidiness 
marks  many  of  these  foreign  palaces.  The  pa- 
lace at  Manheim  is  larger  than  any  English  one, 
but  almost  in  ruins  from  inattention  :  kings  and 
dukes  aim  here  at  more  than  they  can  support. 
The  real  dignity  of  a  prince  is  the  prosperity  of 
his  subjects.  A  free  state,  where  education  and 
morals  are  duly  cultivated,  and  the  pure  Gospel  of 
Christ  is  preached,  needs  no  gaudy  and  half-finish- 
ed trappings  to  adorn  it. 

Carlsruh,  Saturday,  July  19. — We  arrived  here 
to-day,  after  a  journey  of  thirty-one  miles.  We 
are  now  624  from  Calais.  This  is  a  beautiful 
town,  which  has  sprung  up  about  the  ducal  pa- 
lace of  Baden,  around  which  all  the  streets  unite 
like  rays  of  the  sun.  The  weather  is  fine,  and 
sometimes  rather  cold  ;  the  Toads  generally  ex- 
cellent ;  the  inns  vary  in  accommodations.  The 
diet  is  .'trange  to  us,  and  unfavorable  to  health  ; 
the  bread  often  sour,  and  the  meat  indifferent. 
But  still,  we  are  all  well ;  and  can  we  be  grateful 
enough  to  the  divine  hand  which  sustains  us  con- 
tinually and  scatters  so  many  blessings  upon  our 
path  !  During  a  foreign  tour,  the  recollections  of 
what  we  owe  to  our  heavenly  Father  daily,  are 
much  more  lively  and  affecting  than  they  are  at 
home.  We  perceive  more  his  constant  care  in 
the  new  and  untried  scenes  through  which  we 
pass.  The  reflections  also  which  are  suggested 
by  the  comparison  of  our  institutions  and  habits 
in  England  with  those  of  other  countries,  would 
touch  °our  hearts  even  more  than  they  do,  if  we 
were  more  under  the  teaching  and  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  A  Saturday  evening  abroad  brings 
a  crowd  of  thoughts  into  the  mind — but  I  must 
conclude.* 

Your  affectionate 

D.  W. 


*  I  cannot  but  add  here  an  expression  of  regret 
upon  a  subject  alluded  to  in  the  above  letter.  The 
Apocryphal  question,  by  the  heat  and  irritation  at- 
tendant upon  it,  has  gone  further  to  chill  the  spirit  of 
unity  and  love  at  home,  and  the  zeal  and  success  of 
such  distinguished  individuals  as  Leander  Van 
Ess  abroad,  than  any  thing  that  has  occurred  during 
the  last  30  years.  Thank  God,  the  public  mind  is 
returning  to  a  sounder  state  on  a  point,  which,  con- 
sidering the  avowed  non-inspiration  of  the  Apocry- 
phal books,  on  the  part  of  the  Protestant  bodies,  and 
the  implied  admission  of  the  same  fact  by  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  writers  of  all  classes,  has  been  exag- 
gerated beyond  all  reasonable  limits,  and  has  in 
truth  created  more  of  evil  in  a  few  months,  by  call- 
ing public  attention  to  those  neglected  books,  than 
the  books  themselves  had  probably  occasioned  in 
three  centuries.  As  the  Reformers  directed  these 
ancient,  and  in  some  parts  instructive  writings,  to 
be  publicly  read  in  churches,  there  surely  was  no 
reason  for  the  clamor  raised  against  the  Bible  So- 
ciety for  allowing  them  to  occupy  the  same  position 
— or,  if  the  utter  removal  of  the.se  works  was  judged 
desirable,  there  was  still  less  reason  for  accompany- 
ing the  act  with  severity  and  suspicions.  If  the 
Apocrypha  was  injurious,  the  whole  Protestant 
church,  with  Luther  at.  its  head,  and  not  the  British 
and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  were  to  blame. — March, 
1827. 


LETTER  V. 

Rasiadt,  July  20.— Shaffhausen,  July  27, 1823. 

Union  of  Lutherans  and  Calvinists — Pastor  Ken- 
hofer  —  Importance  of  Gospel —  Rastadt — Ulm — 
Kehl — Strasburg — Cathedral— Letters  of  Reform- 
ers—  Emmendingen  —  Manner  of  Travelling — 
Food — Hoellenthal  —  Bad  Inn  —  Black  Forest — 
Donaueschingen — Danube — Mr.  Canning — Swit- 
zerland —  Schaffhausen  —  Innkeeper  —  Fall  of 
Rhine — Swiss  Sunday. 

Caelsruh,  July  20,  1823, 
Sunday  afternoon. 

This  is  the  fifth  silent  Sunday,  my  dearest  sister, 
which  we  have  spent  since  we  left  England.  The 
town  is  chiefly  Protestant,  but  German  is  the  only 
language.  I  went  this  morning  and  spoke  to  the 
Lutheran  minister,  after  church,  but  it  was  with 
the  utmost  difficulty  we  could  understand  each 
other,  as  he  spoke  neither  French  nor  Latin ;  the 
church  was  well  attended,  and  is  a  most  beautiful 
edifice,  built  by  the  grand  Duke  of  Baden,  and  is 
some  evidence,  I  hope  of  the  increased  regard  paid 
to  religion  here.  I  could  neither  understand  the 
prayers  nor  the  sermon — a  good  luiowledge  of 
German  and  Italian  is  almost  as  essential  as  that 
of  French,  to  a  tour  on  the  continent. 

The  Lutheran  and  Calvinistic  churches,  after 
three  centuries  of  division,  have  at  length  begun 
to  unite.  I  hope  this  is  another  token  for  good. 
The  dispute  about  consubstantiation  will  now  no 
longer  be  the  reproach  of  the  Protestant  commu- 
nities. Few  things  did  more  harm  to  the  infant 
cause  of  the  Reformation  than  this  sacramentarian 
controversy — ther.e  was  so  much  of  heat,  asperity, 
violence,  mingled  with  it — and  this  upon  a  point 
where  most  of  the  parties  meant  nearly  the  same ; 
and  which,  after  all,  was  not  a  fundamental  one. 
On  no  occasion,  perhaps,  did  the  great  Luther  so 
far  forget  himself.  The  warmth  of  controversialists 
is  generally  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  the  real  import- 
ance of  the  question  in  debate.  Love  is  the  key 
to  truth  as  well  as  holiness. 

I  learn  here,  that  the  name  of  the  converted 
priest  whom  I  have  mentioned  to  you  before,  is 
Henhofer,  and  the  place  where  he  now  lives, 
Graben,  near  this  town  ;  his  former  abode  was 
Muhlhausen.  We  observe  that  the  Catholic  church- 
es in  Protestant  towns,  are  far  more  simple,  and 
less  superstitious,  than  in  other  places.  Here  and 
at  Franckfort,  there  are  scarcely  any  altars  or 
images — in  fact,  the  Catholic  church  in  this  town 
is  less  ornamented  than  the  Lutheran — but  this  is 
an  inferior  point — I  perceive  more  and  more  that 
the  main  blessing  wanted  in  every  place  is  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God.  I  am  sure  we 
have  little  idea  in  England  of  the  state  of  things 
abroad.  We  amazingly  overstate  the  comparative 
amount  of  good  effected  by  our  societies ; — the 
world  is  still  "dead  in  trespasses  and  sins," — vast 
tracts  of  barren  Protestantism,  or  untdled  and  fruit- 
less Popery,  stretch  all  around  us.  May  that  hea- 
venly dew  descend  which  only  can  soften,  penetrate, 
and  sanctify  the  sod  !  The  value  of  our  religious 
advantages  in  England  is  more  than  ever  impressed 
on  my  mind.  A  Sunday  at  home,  what  a  blessing ! 
The  importance  also  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
of  dwelluig  on  the  plain,  practical,  necessary  truths 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


23 


of  the  Gospel,  strikes  me  in  a  most  forcible  manner. 
1  see  that  all  languishes  and  fades  as  the  Gospel 
is  forgotten  or  unknown.  This  is  God's  great  re- 
medy for  fallen  man  ;  and  nothing  else  will  touch 
and  change  the  heart.  Men's  devices,  controversy, 
cold  statements  of  truth,  superstition,  enthusiasm, 
have  no  efficacy  to  save  man.  The  doctrine  of  a 
crucified  Saviour,  delivered  in  simple  dependence 
on  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  "  the  power  of 
God  and  the  wisdom  of  God  unto  salvation"  now, 
as  it  has  been  in  every  age. 

Rastadt,  17  miles  from  Carlsrvh,  Monday  July 
21,  eleven  o'clock. — We  have  just  arrived  here  for 
our  morning  stage.  The  heat  has  been  intense  ; 
20  degrees,  I  should  think,  higher  than  on  Satur- 
day. Carlsruh,  which  we  have  just  left,  is  a  neat, 
beautiful  town  of  fourteen  thousand  souls,  founded 
as  late  as  1715.  From  the  palace  as  a  centre, 
thirty-two  lines  are  drawn  on  all  sides  ;  twenty  or 
more  of  these  are  walks  in  the  forest,  and  gardens 
behind  it ;  and  the  rest  streets,  composing  the  town ; 
so  that  from  the  tower  of  the  palace  you  command 
the  whole  circle.  Dukes  here  do  as  they  please; 
towns  must  be  built  as  objects ;  but  I  prefer  our 
English  freedom,  though  our  cities  are  somewhat 
irregular.  Rastadt,  where  we  dine,  is  a  town  of 
three  thousand  souls,  on  the  river  Murg,  celebrated 
for  the  congress  between  France  and  the  empire 
in  1798 ;  when  two  of  the  French  envoys  were 
murdered  on  their  journey  to  Strasburg.  There 
is  a  magnificent  old  chateau,  in  which  we  saw  a 
most  interesting  portrait  of  Melancthon,  and  a 
large  engraved  head  of  the  first  William  Pitt  in 
L766. 

The  people  in  tius  part  of  the  duchy  are  poor — 
lew  manufactures — little  public  spirit ;  in  other 
words,  little  liberty.  The  Duke  takes  more  care 
of  his  palace  than  of  his  people.  The  duchess- 
dowager  is  an  adopted  child,  or  a  niece,  of  Bona- 
parte. Presents  from  Bonaparte  abound  in  the 
palace ;  especially,  we  noticed  a  tea-service  of 
superb  china,  with  coffee-run,  &c.  of  soild  gold. 
The  dress  of  the  peasants  here  continues  the  same, 
except  that  the  women  wear  amazingly  large  straw 
bonnets,  flapping  down  before  and  behind — chil- 
dren of  four  years  old,  and  women  reaping,  have 
these  enormous  umbrella  bonnets.  The  houses 
here  are  built  with  two  or  three  jutting  shades  or 
roofs  over  each  row  of  windows,  formed  of  tiles, 
and  bare  a  very  singular  appearance. 

Ulm,  thirteen  miles  from  Rastadt,  Monday  even- 
ing.— Tins  is  a  small  village  on  our  way  to  Kelil. 
The  thermometer,  at  six  this  afternoon,  was  83°  in 
the  shade  ;  on  Saturday,  it  was  55  or  thereabouts ; 
for  we  were  glad  to  put  on  cloaks  and  great  coats. 
We  have  come  thirty  miles  to-day,  and  travelled 
seven  hours.  Ulm  is  only  a  mile  from  the  Rhine. 
The  Black  Forest  stretches  like  an  amphitheatre 
behind  us,  from  Heidelberg  to  Basle.  The  coun- 
try is  flat,  and  without  vines  ;  but  abounds  in 
corn  and  fruits.  It  produces  a  good  deal  of  to- 
bacco. 

Kehl,  on  the  Rhine,  T-uesd  ,  July  "i'.V. 

— We  came  here  this  morning,  seventeen  miles, 
in  order  to  pass  the  Rhine,  and  visit  Strasburg, 
We  crossed  by  a  bridge  of  boats  of  the  extraordi- 
nary length  of  3900  feet.  The  old  wooden  bridge 
is  half  destroyed.  We  did  not  take  the  carriages, 
because  of  duties,  searcliings,  &c.  on   entering 


France.  We  spent  about  six  hours  there.  It  is  a 
city  of  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  souls,  half  Protestants 
and  half  Catholics.  It  has  been  part  of  France 
since  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century ;  but 
the  manners  of  the  people,  their  dress,  their  food, 
their  employments,  their  taste,  all  are  German. 
The  difference  between  them  and  the  inhabitants 
of  France  is  quite  striking.  The  fortifications  have 
been  newly  increased  and  strengthened.  It  was 
the  Argentoratnm  of  the  Romans,  and  abounds 
with  Roman  antiquities ;  for  instance,  there  is  a 
mile  stone  and  other  memorials  of  the  reign  of  the 
emperor  Trajan. 

The  cathedral  is  one  of  the  very  finest  in  Chris- 
tendom :  it  was  founded  in  510.  The  tower  is  four 
hundred  and  seventy  feet ;  forty-six  feet  higher 
than  St.  Peter's  at  Rome;*  it  is  said  to  be  the 
loftiest  building  in  the  world  after  the  pyramids 
of  Egypt.  It  is  a  masterpiece  of  architecture, 
being  built  of  hewn  stone,  cut  with  such  delicacy 
as  to  give  it  some  resemblance  to  lace.  As  you 
ascend,  one  half  of  what,  in  other  towers,  are 
walls,  is  here  open  work,  with  single  iron  cross- 
bars ;  the  ascent  is  rather  fearful :  but  the  view 
of  the  Rhine,  of  the  111,  and  the  Brensch,  (rivers 
here  falling  into  it,)  of  the  city,  and  all  the  sur- 
rounding country,  is  most  beautiful.  The  day  was 
very  wet,  so  that  we  could  not  reach  the  extreme 
summit.  The  entrances  of  the  cathedral  are  par- 
ticularly fine  from  the  excellent  preservation  of 
the  rich  stone-work  with  which  they  are  adorned ; 
the  figures  ornamenting  in  groups  every  part, 
are  still  perfect,  and  have  a  striking  effect—in 
short,  we  could  not  satisfy  ourselves  in  beholding 
this  monument  of  the  arts,  which  combines  the 
most  elegant  symmetry  of  parts  with  the  most  en- 
tire solidity  and  the  greatest  magnificence. 

We  visited  St.  Thomas's,  a  noble  Protestant 
church,  fine,  simple,  majestic.  A  monument  in 
white  marble,  to  the  memory  of  Marshal  Saxc, 
adorns  one  end  of  the  nave.  We  saw  two  bodies 
of  the  families  of  the  counts  of  Nassau,  preserved 
many  centuries,  and  placed  in  coffins  with  gloss 
at  the  top ;  one  female,  one  man ;  each  in  full 
dress,  the  woman  most  gayly  attired ;  the  rings  of 
pearl  too  large  for  the  withered  fingers  ;  the  face 
all  in  powder,  falling  on  the  bones  of  the  skull ; 
the  whole  an  affecting  lesson  of  mortality,  and  of 
the  inefficacy  of  all  attempts  to  hide  the  deformity 
of  death  by  a  splendor,  which  only  increases  it  by 
contrast.  Nature  shudders  at  dissolution;  the 
real  victory  over  death  is  by  faith  in  the  triumph- 
ant and  risen  Saviour. 

There  are  ten  other  churches  in  the  city.  We 
visited  the  royal  palace,  the  cabinet  of  natural 
liistory,  tin;  museum,  and  the  library.  This  last 
pleased  me  exceedingly — one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  volumes  ;  MSS.  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  of  the  classics,  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centu- 
ries ;  early  editions,  &c.  What  most  gratified 
in  ■  «  as  a  collection  of  MS.  letters  of  Luther,  Me- 
lancthon, Bucer,  and  the  other  Reformers.  I 
could  not  but  gaze  with  veneration  on  the  very 
hand-writing  of  these  holy  men,  into  whose  labors 
we  have  entered.  The  hand-writing  of  our  queen 
Elizabeth  was  not  half  so  interesting  to  me.     In 

*  St.  Peter's  is  421  feet  high  j  St.  Paul's  at  Lon- 
don 3 10. 


24 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


the  same  library  we  noticed  with  pleasure  forty- 
three  volumes  of  Bibles,  presented  by  the  British 
and  Foreign  Bible  Society ;  great  care  was  appa- 
rently taken  of  them.  I  called  afterwards  on  the 
secretary  of  the  Bible  Society  here,  to  try  to  en- 
courage him  a  little  in  that  sacred  work ;  the  im- 
portance of  which  strikes  me  more  and  more,  as  I 
observe  every  where  the  fatal  effects  of  the  ne- 
glect of  the  Scriptures.  The  secretary  was  evi- 
dently gratified,  and  wished  much  to  engage  me 
to  attend  a  special  meeting  of  the  committee.  We 


The  town  we  are  now  at  is  just  below  an  im- 
mense mountain,  the  Kandelberg,  three  thousand 
nine  hundred  and  three  feet  high,  with  the  Vosges 
on  the  right,  which  divide  Germany  from  France. 
The  Rhine  is  seven  leagues  off.  The  cultivation 
here  is  not  well  managed  ;  there  are  no  hedges  : 
and  patches  of  corn,  hemp,  hops,  potatoes,  vineF, 
seem  all  intermixed  in  one  spot. 

It  would  be  amusing  to  you  to  see  our  cavalcade 
as  we  go  on.  We  are  nine  in  all,  in  two  landau- 
lets  ;  Mrs.  W.,  my  little  daughter  Eliza,  and  my- 


also  saw  here  the  Bible  printed  at  Strasburg  in  self,  in  one,  and  the  servant  on  the  box  with  the 
J  460,  supposed  to  be  the  first  ever  printed  in  Ger-  I  coachman  ;  our  friend  and  fellow-traveller  with 
many ;  which  is  undoubted'/  a  mistake.  j  my  two  sons  in  the  other.    My  boys  change  about 

The  university  of  Strasburg  contains  thirty  pro-  j  with  me  from  time  to  time.  We  have  three  horses 
fessors,  and  nine  hundred  students,  Catholics  and  j  in  one  carriage,  and  two  in  the  other.  Our  chief 
Protestants.  This  union  throughout  the  parts  of  I  coachman  is  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud ;  a  civil,  oblig- 
Germany  we  have  visited,  is  one  of  which  I  am  I  ing,  sensible,  clever  man,  thoroughly  acquainted 
anxious  to  ascertain  the  real  tendency.  When  I  j  with  Ins  business.  He  talks  French,  German,  and 
ask,  I  am  uniformly  told,  that  no  jealousy,  no  de-  l  Italian.  We  pay  him  forty-eight  francs  (about 
bates  follow,  between  the  professors  and  students ;  \  two  pounds)  a  day  when  he  works,  and  twenty- 
but  moderation  and  peace,  though  without  inti-   four  francs  when  he  rests.     We  generally  rise  in 


macy.  It  seems  an  extraordinary  thing  how  mo- 
destand  reasonable,  comparatively  speaking,  Pope- 
ry can  become,  when  stripped  of  its  temporal  power 
and  divested  of  a  party  spirit.    It  never  has  stood, 


the  morning  at  five,  and  start  at  seven,  and  go  a 
stage  of  four  or  five  hours,  sixteen  or  eighteen 
miles  ;  dine  at  twelve,  or  half-past,  staying  three 
hours  ;  and  then  take  our  second  stage  of  four  or 


„  cannot  stand  before" the  Holy  Scriptures.  The  !  five  hours,  till  seven  or  eight ;  then  we  drink  tea 
New  Testament  contains  nothing  of  the  peculiar  !  or  sup,  as  we  like,  and  retire  to  our  rooms  at  nine, 
dogmas  of  Popery.     Those  who  read  that  sacred  j  We  generally  find_  one  person  in  the  inn  who 


book  learn  a  totally  different  doctrine.  The  cir 
culation  of  the  Bible  seems  to  me  the  most  inof- 
fensive, and  yet  efficacious,  means  of  sapping  su- 
perstition and  idolatry  now,  as  it  was  in  the  six- 
teenth century. 

Our  host  to-night  has  given  us  a  melancholy 
account  of  this  village,  Kehl.  It  is  on  this  side  of 
the  Rhine,  as  Strasburg  is  on  the  other ;  three 
times  it  was  burnt  down  in  the  last  war ;  there 
were  formerly  two  thousand  inhabitants,  there  are 
now  six  hundred.     It  was  pillaged  whenever  the 


speaks  a  kind  of  French,  and  then  all  goes  on 
smootldy  ;  but  sometimes  you  would  laugh  at  the 
figure  we  all  make  in  a  German  inn,  without  a 
soul  to  understand  us  :  I,  with  my  dictionary,  en- 
deavoring to  recall  my  old  forgotten  German,  as 
well  as  I  can  ;  till  at  last,  Mrs.  W.,  our  friend,  the 
boys,  the  inn-keeper,  the  chamber-maids,  and  the 
coachman,  are  all  in  the  room  together,  before  we 
can  make  out  what  we  want. 

Then  the  kind  of  beds  we  meet  witli — some- 
times not  a  blanket  in  the  house  ;  sometimes  an 


armies  passed.     It  is  a  place  of  great  importance,  j  unpleasant  odor  pervading  the  chambers  ;  often 


in  a  military  sense,  for  the  defence  of  Strasburg, 
and  for  operations  on  the  Rhine.  What  a  bless- 
ing is  peace  !  Commerce  is  not  active  here ;  the 
people  say  the  taxes  overburden  them  at  home, 
and  the  English  undersell  them  abroad. 

Wednesday  morning. — We  were  awoke  this 
morning  at  five  with  the  noise  of  cannon.  The 
whole  house  shook  :  it  was  only  the  soldiers  exer- 


floors  grimed  with  dirt,  no  curtains,  no  window- 
shutters,  no  carpets  ;  small,  hard,  narrow  beds,  on 
an  inclined  plane,  so  that  we  have  to  manoeuvre 
almost  all  night  to  keep  ourselves  from  rolling  out. 
But  our  greatest  annoyance  is  the  food  loaded 
with  sauce  and  grease ;  meagre  meat,  without 
nourishment ;  fowls  like  pigeons  :  we  had  some 
yesterday,  with  a  sort  of  custard  sauce.     I  really 


rising ;  but  I  cannot  describe  how  frightful  it  was    believe  our  health  suffers  from  want  of  good,  sub 


to  peaceful  and  unpractised  travellers  ;  what  must, 
then,  the  horrors  of  war  itself  be  ! 

Emmendingen,  33  miles  from  KpIiI,  Wednesday 
evening,  July  23. — We  have  had  a  delightful  drive 
to-day,  through  nineteen  towns  and  villages,  near 
the  Rhine  still,  though  not  within  sight  of  it.  In 
some  places  the  prospect  was  magnificent ;  the 
loftiest  mountains  in  varied  outline  before  us,  and 
a  sweet  fore-ground  of  villages,  spires,  and  woods. 
Occasionally  we  have  vineyards  ;  but  hemp  and 
hops  abound.  The  houses  are  sometimes  painted 
in  front  with  various  devices  of  flowers,  balustrades, 
and  other  ornaments.     The  sio;ns  at  the  inns  are 


stantial,  plain  diet.  I  give  orders  myself  for  mut- 
ton chops,  without  butter,  gravy,  sauce,  pepper, 
&c. ;  they  bring  up  veal  cutlets  as  hard  as  a  board, 
and  covered  with  onions  and  Cayenne.  Those 
who  travel  for  their  health,  would  do  well  to  re- 
member how  large  a  deduction  must  be  made  on 
the  score  of  change  of  food.  We  should  have 
done  infinitely  better,  if,  instead  of  our  Swiss  maid, 
we  had  brought  one  cf  our  English  servants  with 
us,  who  understood  something  of  our  mode  of  liv- 
ing at  home.  At  Franckfort,  however,  we  really 
met  with  excellent  meat.  We  hope  soon  now  lo 
be  at  Bern,  fixed  for  a  time ;  and  then  my  first 


of  cut  or  cast  iron  figures,  with  gilded  ornaments,  care  will  be  to  get  good  food  for  my  dear  family, 
Some  of  the  women  wear  long  hair,  plaited,  reach-  who  are  really  wonderfully  well,  considering  we 
ing  behind  almost  to  the  feet,  or  else  two  long  rib-  have  now  come  seven  hundred  and  eleven  miles, 
bons  in  a  similar  way.  As  we  enter  the  villages,  and  travelled  near  six  weeks.  The  roads  are 
sometimes  a  whole  band  of  peasants  take  off  their  |  very  smooth,  and  without  pave. 
hats  and  salute  us,  with  the  utmost  complaisance.  !     HoellerUhal,  or  the.  Infernal  Valley,  between  Frcy. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


25 


burg  and  Neustadt,  Thursday  night,  July  24. — 
We  sot  off  this  morning,  from  Emmendingen, 
and  came  eight  miles  to  Freyburg,  a  town  of 
eleven  thousand  souls,  on  the  entrance  of  the 
Black  Forest.  We  were  much  delighted  with  the 
cathedral,  which,  though  smaller  than  that  of 
Strasburg,  is  more  beautiful.  The  open-work  of 
the  tower  is  really  surprising  ;  I  observed,  as  we 
mounted  its  five  hundred  and  thirteen  steps,  that 
five  open  spaces  in  the  walls  occurred  for  every 
closed  part ;  the  tower  being  supported  by  these 
closed  parts,  and  the  stone  staircase  which  runs 
up  within  it.  It  is  just  as  if  the  Monument  in 
London  were  built,  not  with  closed  walls,  but  with 
five-sixths  of  them  in  open-work  ;  it  really  is  quite 
incredible.  After  dining,  at  half-past  twelve,  we 
came,  in  five  hours,  fifteen  miles,  to  this  valley, 
from  which  I  am  writing. 

I  was  not  prepared  to  expect  any  thing  beyond 
a  common  drive  ;  but  the  extraordinary  magniii- 
cence  of  the  scenery  was  such  as  to  dispute  with 
the  finest  parts  of  the  Rhine.  For  ten  or  twelve 
miles  the  road  followed  the  windings  of  a  lovely 
stream,  the  Treisam,  through  a  valley  adorned  on 
each  side  with  craggy  mountains  of  stupendous 
height ;  on  the  sides  of  which,  the  hanging  woods 
of  dark  fir  were  beyond  measure  grand  and  sub- 
lime. The  views  on  the  Rhine  had  indeed  more 
of  softness  joined  with  grandeur — the  noble  river 
and  vineyards  were  peculiar  to  them — but  the 
scenes  to-day  had  something  more  of  wild  and 
rude  nature  in  her  most  majestic  forms.  Our 
hotel  to-night  is  a  deduction  from  the  varied  plea- 
sures of  the  day  ;  we  are  crowded  into  a  close, 
low,  miserable  bed-room,  where  we  had  to  eat  our 
supper.  For  a  tea-urn  we  had  a  common  open 
sauce-pan  and  ladle  ;  in  fact,  the  inn  is  the  end 
of  a  large  building  like  a  barn,  and  the  rooms  are 
so  low,  we  can  hardly  stand  upright  in  them  ;  all 
is  a  contrast  to  the  beautiful  scene  stretched  be- 
fore our  view  by  the  hand  of  Nature. 

The  houses  here  are  curious  :  a  large  roof 
stretches  beyond  the  walls,  on  all  hands,  ten  or 
twelve  feet ;  under  this  projecting  roof  a  gallery 
runs  along  on  the  outside  of  the  first  story,  and 
sometimes  a  second  gallery  at  the  second  story. 
The  rooms  are  so  allotted,  as  to  provide  stable, 
wood-house,  carpenter's  shop,  &c.  &c.  under  the 
same  roof.  The  houses  are  entirely  of  wood, 
which  exudes  a  gum  with  which  they  are  stained  ; 
the  galleries  are  for  entrance  when  the  winter 
snow  blocks  up  the  ground  floor.  The  women 
now  begin  to  appear  in  stockings,  but  these  are 
of  a  deep  red  ;  they  have  no  gowns,  but  their 
under-dress  is  turned  up  like  a  pudding-sleeve 
gown,  short  round  the  arm  ;  they  wear  large 
hats  of  an  immense  circumference,  with  the  rims 
stretched  out  in  an  immovable  circle.  All  is  Ger- 
man still ;  so  that  I  can  obtain  little  moral  or  reli- 
gious information.  We  had  our  coachman  up 
into  the  chamber  this  afternoon,  as  our  interpre- 
ter.    It  was  impossible  to  do  without  him. 

Friday  morning. — Our  meeting  this  morning 
at  breakfast  was  most  curious.  My  friend  report- 
ed that  he  had  been  thrust  into  a  miserable  hole 
of  a  room,  into  which  people  were  continually  en- 
tering— his  bed  intolerable — scarcely  any  sleep. 
My  boys  were  almost  suffocated,  and  had  little 
rest.     Ann  and  I  had  beds  with  double  inclined 


planes  and  ridges.  Eliza's  account  was  the  most 
satisfactory ;  she  did  not  know  how  she  passed 
(he  night,  for  she  had  not  awoke  once.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  servant  girls  were  clearing  out  the 
hoys'  room,  to  get  the  breakfast  ready  for  us. — 
We  started  between  seven  and  eight,  and  came 
eight  miles  to  Neustadt,  where  I  am  now  writing, 
a  small  town  on  the  Black  Forest.  A  tremendous 
hill,  called  Iloellenstcig,  or  the  Infernal  Hill,  led 
to  a  more  open  country,  on  the  bosom  of  winch 
cottages  were  sprinkled,  with  here  and  there  a 
chapel  entirely  of  wood,  about  four  yards  square  ; 
we  entered  one — the  cross,  an  altar,  and  vude 
offerings,  were  within.  We  soon  passed  one  or 
two  comfortable  hotels.  We  ought  to  have  press- 
ed on  to  one  of  them  last  night,  and  not  to  have 
implicitly  followed  the  advice  of  our  voiturier,  who 
has  full  as  much  regard  for  lhs  horses  as  for  us. — 
In  fact,  with  a  large  party  like  ours,  and  two  car- 
riages, it  would  be  far  better  to  divide,  when  we 
have  to  spend  the  night  in  small  villages,  than  to 
crowd  into  one  miserable  inn. 

This  Black  Forest  covers  fifty  leagues  of  coun- 
try ;  it  was  the  cradle  of  those  formidable  Ger- 
mans who  annihilated  the  Roman  Empire.  Six- 
teen thousand  souls  live  in  it,  in  insulated  cabins ; 
these  cabins  have  long  roofs  covering  the  galle- 
ries, and  reaching  down  to  the  earth  behind  the 
dwelling-house  ;  the  barn  is  over  the  house  ;  the 
whole  is  built  of  beams  crossed  and  tied  together, 
without  bricklayer's  work  ;  and  the  ceilings  of  the 
rooms  are  wainscot,  and  they  use  slips  of  fir  for 
candles  :  they  trade  in  wood-work,  which  finds  its 
way  even  to  America. 

Donaueschingen,  21  miles  from  Hoellensteig,  13 
from  Neustadt,  Friday  night. — This  is  a  small 
town,  consisting;  of  two  thousand  souls,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Duchy  of  Baden.  It  is  beautifully 
situate'd  on  elevated  ground.  Near  to  it  rises  the 
Danube,  the  noblest  river  in  Europe,  which  washes 
in  its  course  fifteen  hundred  miles  of  the  territo- 
ries of  Bavaria,  Austria,  and  Hungary,  till  it  emp- 
ties itself  in  the  Black  Sea.  Some  of  its  springs 
are  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Chateau,  in  an  en- 
closed basin  of  thirty  feet  square  ;  whence  a  rivu- 
let flows,  which  joins  the  Brigach  and  the  Breg 
(two  far  more  considerable  streams,)  and  is  called 
the  Danube.  We  jumped  over  it  with  ease. — 
From  what  obscure  causes  do  the  mightiest  effects 
flow  !  A  river  celebrated  throughout  the  world, 
and  rolling  by  some  of  the  noblest  cities,  is  here 
feeble  and  inconsiderable  !  It  is  thus  the  current 
of  evil  from  a  single  individual,  small  at  first,  some- 
times swells  as  it  flows,  till  distant  regions  are 
desolated  with  its  waves.  The  sources  of  the 
widest  blessings  to  mankind  have  also  their  first 
rise  in  small  and  unnoticed  beginnings.  Nay,  the 
first  bursting  forth  of  that  "  well  of  water  which 
springeth  up  into  everlasting  life"  is  small  and 
inconsiderable.  No  wise  man  undervalues  the 
beginnings  of  things. 

We  have  now  pursued  the  Rhine  three  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  in  its  majestic  and  fruitful  course, 
and  have  visited  the  Danube  in  its  first  feeble  and 
unperceived  struggles.  Thus  the  two  noblest 
and  most  celebrated  rivers  in  Europe  are  asso- 
ciated in  our  minds  in  their  origin  or  their  pro- 
gress, and  will  be  connected  with  the  numerous 
events  of  ancient  and  modern  history,  which  our 


26 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


reading  may  furnish.  It  is  a  pleasing  and  instruc- 
tive part  of  foreign  travel,  to  visit  the  scenes  fa- 
miliar to  us  from  our  earliest  reading.  It  fur- 
nishes fresh  materials  of  thought.  It  gives  a  life 
and  locality,  as  it  were,  to  our  knowledge.  It 
embodies  and  realizes  history. 

We  have  now  left  the  Black  Forest,  the  moun- 
tains, the  cabins,  and  all  the  magical  scene.  Our 
inn  to-night  is  excellent.  Mr.  Canning  was  here 
two  years  ago  ;  and  our  host  seemed  never  satis- 
fied in  telling  us  of  the  dignity  of  his  manner,  the 
acuteness  of  his  questions,  and,  above  all,  the  cor- 
rectness of  his  French — in  which,  however,  our 
informer  was  no  great  proficient  himself.  Our 
friend  slept  in  the  room  which  this  distinguished 
statesman  occupied.     Adieu. 

SchaJ/hausen,  778  miles  from  Calais,  Saturday 
evening,  July  26. — Thank  God  we  have  entered 
Switzerland,  in  health  and  peace  !  The  road 
from  Donaueschingen,  twenty-two  miles,  is  ex- 
tremely beautiful ;  rich  valleys  crowned  with  ver- 
dure, mountains  rising  in  noble  boldness  on  each 
side,  the  road  winding  with  continual  change  of 
scenery,  brought  us  to  the  first  of  the  Swiss  can- 
tons. As  we  passed  beyond  the  Baden  frontier, 
the  improvement  in  agriculture,  and  genera]  ap- 
pearance of  the  villages,  was  striking.  Hedges, 
well-cultivated  fields,  neat  farms,  met  our  eyes 
for  the  first  time  since  we  left  England ;  every 
spot  of  land  is  now  emp'oyed  to  the  best  purpose, 
and  with  neatness  and  cleverness. 

As  we  entered  this  land  of  freedom,  the  asso- 
ciations awakened  in  our  minds  were  most  pleas- 
ing. An  inconsiderable  country — rude  and  bar- 
ren— apparently  doomed  to  bondage  and  obscu- 
rity— has  raised  itself  by  valor  and  conduct  to  be 
the  admiration  of  the  world.  It  preceded  England 
by  two  or  three  centuries  in  the  march  of  liberty  ; 
and,  except  during  the  twenty  years  of  the  French 
domination,  has  been  acquiring  for  more  than  five 
hundred  years  an  almcst  unparalleled  measure  of 
national  glory — from  education,  industry,  com- 
merce, a  free  government,  public  spirit,  virtue, 
and,  since  the  Reformation,  from  the  light  of  pure 
Christianity.  There  is  something  so  noble  in  all 
this,  that  it  fills  the  imagination,  and  imparts  an 
additional  charm  to  the  natural  beauties  of  the 
country  itself. 

Schaffhausen  contains  about  seven  thousand 
souls.  Many  of  the  fronts  of  the  houses  are  co- 
vered from  the  top  to  the  bottom  with  the  devices 
which  I  ha^e  before  mentioned.  Several  statues 
of  Swiss  heroes  adorn  the  public  places.  The  son 
of  the  principal  innkeeper  talks  very  good  English. 
He  spent  six  months  in  England  for  the  purpose  of 
learning  the  language.  He  spoke  to  me  with  great 
feeling  of  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Steinkopff ;  and 
there  evidently  appeared  to  be  a  strong  religious 
impression  remaining  on  his  mind,  from  what  he 
had  seen  of  the  zeal  of  our  societies  for  the  propa- 
gation of  the  Gospel  and  of  the  high  tone  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine  and  practice  in  our  happy  country. 
We  have  an  introduction  to  a  professor  of  theo- 
logy here,  who  is  an  example  of  primitive  kindness. 

Soon  after  our  arrival,  we  took  a  cabriolet,  and 
drove  three  miles,  to  see  the  celebrated  fall  of  the 
Rhine.  The  road  leading  to  it  is  exquisite ;  vine- 
yards stretch  over  all  the  sides  of  the  mountains, 
and  the  country  is  open  and  variegated.     The 


road  leads  along  by  the  Rhine,  which  is  here  of  a 
deep  green  color.  I  am  not  sure  if  I  was  not  a 
little  disappointed  at  the  first  coup-d'ced  of  the  fall 
itself.  My  imagination  had  been  heated  by  de- 
scriptions, and  I  thought  the  descent  would  have 
been  greater.  But  as  soon  as  I  had  time  to  re- 
cover myself,  and  recollect  how  much  the  width 
of  the  river  took  away  from  the  apparent  depth  of 
the  fall,  I  was  better  prepared  to  view  the  wonder- 
ful sight.     It  is  truly  astonishing. 

A  multitude  of  rocks  first  impede  the  flow  of  the 
river ;  through  these  it  makes  its  way,  til],  having 
overcome  them  all,  it  rushes  down  about  eighty 
feet,  with  an  impetuosity,  a  rage,  a  boiling  foam, 
which  literally  darken  the  air,  and  create  a  con- 
stant mist  and  shower.  The  body  of  water  which 
falls,  and  the  fury,  the  incredible  fur}7,  of  the  de- 
scent, make  this  a  wonder  of  nature.  The  thun- 
der of  the  cataract  is  so  loud,  that  it  absolutely 
drowns  the  voice — you  cannot  hear  yourself  speak. 
Immediately  above  the  fall,  four  immense,  ragged, 
overhanging  rocks  stretch  at  considerable  inter- 
vals quite  across  the  flood.  These  divide  the  tor- 
rent for  a  moment  into  five  parts,  without  lessen- 
ing its  fury.  Ages  back  they  doubtless  formed  a 
complete  barrier  which  the  stream  had  to  sur- 
mount, and  which  made  the  depth  of  the  fall  dou- 
ble what  it  is  at  present. 

Many  falls  in  Switzerland  are  more  picturesque, 
but  none  so  terribly  majestic  as  this.  It  impress- 
es quite  an  awful  conviction  of  the  power  of  God, 
and  how  soon  all  nature  would  be  dissolved,  if  he 
were  to  permit.  We  observed  the  fall,  first  from 
a  gallery  overhanging  the  side  of  it,  and  watered 
with  its  dashing  stream ;  then  in  a  boat  from  the 
middle  of  the  river ;  next,  from  a  window  of  a 
house  on  the  opposite  side ;  lastly,  from  a  sum- 
mer-house commanding  the  height  of  the  river 
just  before  its  fall.  We  had  likewise  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  it  in  a  camera  obscura.  It  added  greatly 
to  the  delight  of  this  excursion,  that  my  dear  Mrs. 
W.  was  well  enough  to  accompany  us ;  indeed, 
the  real  beauties  of  our  tour  have  lam  open  to  her 
inspection  as  much  as  if  she  had  been  ever  so 
strong.  It  is  chiefly  the  interior  of  buildings, 
which  she  has  been  unable  to  visit. 

Sunday,  July  27. — "  My  soul  is  athirst  for  God, 
yea,  for  the  living  God ;  when  shall  I  come  and 
appear  before  the  presence  of  God  ?  "  says  the  in- 
spired Psalmist ;  and  such  would  I  wish  to  be  my 
feelings  on  this  my  sixth  silent  Sunday.  I  have 
been  to  the  Protestant  German  service,  (all  the 
canton  is  Protestant;)  a  venerable  clergyman, 
seventy  or  eighty  years  of  age,  preached.  I  would 
have  given  any  thing  to  have  understood  him  ;  his 
manner  was  so  earnest,  so  impressive,  so  affec- 
tionate, so  impassioned ;  his  voice  majestic,  and 
yet  sweet.  The  service  began  with  singing, 
(which  was  vociferation  rather  than  singing ;) 
then  a  prayer  by  the  minister,  who  came  from  the 
gallery  into  a  sort  of  tribune  opening  from  it ;  after 
this  a  sermon  and  prayer ;  singing  concluded. 
The  service  began  at  eight  in  the  morning.  Se- 
veral persons  in  the  congregation  sat  with  their 
hats  on.  During  the  sermon,  two  officers  were 
going  round  collecting  money,  in  bags  hung  at 
the  end  of  long  poles.  There  was  a  large  con- 
gregation, and  all  seemed  very  attentive.  After 
breakfast  we  had  our  English  liturgy,  and  a  Per- 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


27 


mon.  At  twelve,  we  went  to  the  catechising  at 
the  cathedral ;  it  was  very  pleasing  to  see  one 
or  two  hundred  children  seated  in  order,  whilst  a 
minister  heard  them  a  portion  of  the  Heidelberg- 
Catechism,  one  of  the  most  excellent  of  ah  the 
Protestant  formularies.  After  the  children  had 
answered,  the  minister  began  to  put  questions  to 
one  of  them  ;  and  then,  apparently,  to  explain  the 
portion  to  the  whole  body  of  children — I  was  de- 
lighted— this  is  the  reasonable,  intelligent  worship 
of  God  ;  but  it  is  late,  and  I  must  wish  you  adieu 
for  to-night. 

I  am  yours  affectionately, 

D.  W. 


LETTER    VI. 

Zurich,  July  18. — Bask,  August  1,  1823. 

Bridge— Swiss  customs— State  of  Religion— Profes- 
sor—Fall of  Rhine— Eglisau— First  view  of  Alps 
— Zurich  —  Reformers —  Inn  L'Epee  —  Antistes 
Hess— Mr.  Wilberforce  — Zuingle—  Documents 
of  Reformation — Clergy— Bible  Society — Lava- 
ter's  Forgiveness  of  his  Murderer— Aarau — Good 
done  by  an  English  Clergyman  —  Basle— M. 
Blumhardt  —  Stoves —  Fountains  —  A  Divine  — 
Tombs  of  Erasmus  and  Ecolampadius  —  Holy 
Alliance — Council  of  Basle — Likeness  of  Eras- 


Zukich,  Monday  evening,  July  28,  1823. 

My  dear  sister — Before  I  quit  the  subject  of 
Schalf  hausen,  I  must  tell  you,  that  this  morning 
we  examined  a  curious  model  of  the  bridge  over 
the  Rhine  here,  burnt  by  the  French  in  1799.  It 
was  built  by  a  common  carpenter,  with  only  one 
pier,  over  a  space  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-four 
feet,  all  of  wood  ;  the  pathway  being  suspended 
under,  not  placed  over,  the  arches,  so  that  it  qui- 
vered with  the  slightest  movement  of  a  passenger. 
I  may  as  well  mention  also,  a  few  other  tilings 
which  struck  us  by  their  novelty  during  our  stay 
there.  We  observed  a  funeral,  where  the  proces- 
sion consisted  of  several  hundred  persons  ;  every 
friend  of  a  deceased  person  attending  in  a  mourn- 
ing robe.  The  churches,  though  noble,  majestic 
buddings,  are  absolutely  devoid  of  ornament,  hav- 
ing been  stripped  to  the  bare  walls.  There  was 
a  nakedness  about  them  which  offended  the  eye. 
r  the  wisdom  and  moderation  of  our  English 
Reformers  in  this,  as  well  as  other  respects ;  but 
the  Protestants  here  are  of  the  Calvinistic,  not 
Lutheran,  persuasion.  The  Catholic  pilgrims  who 
visit  Einsiedeln  and  other  celebrated  places  of  pil- 
grimage, walk  hand  in  hand,  with  bouquets  in 
hats,  singing  as  they  pass  the  streets:  on 
Satu;  -two  passed  in  this  way  through 

the  town.     The  Swiss  keep  unusually  good  time  ; 
beginning  the  day  in  summer  at  three,  dining  at 
!  shutting  up  their  shops  at  seven  ;  and 
their  clocks  happen  now  to  be  an  hour  and  ten 
minutes  faster  than  those  at  Paris.     Every  youth 
who  chooses  may  become  a  soldier  to  defend  the 
state.    We  saw  a  number  of  little  lads  exercising 
t  his  morning.  So  far  as  to  the  customs  of  the  place. 
Its  moral  and  religious  state  I  endeavored  to 
ascertain  from  the   professor.      The   Protestant 
cantons  arc  very  strict  and  firm  in  their  peculi- 
5-1—7 


arities,  more  so  than  I  have  hitherto  observed  in 
other  parts.  There  are  thirty  or  forty  clergy  in 
the  small  canton  of  Schaffliauscri.  The  atten- 
tion paid  to  the  catechising  of  the  children,  and 
the  preparing  them  for  the  Holy  Communion,  is 
excellent.  We  might  learn  much  from  the  Swiss 
on  this  subject.  All  the  chddren  of  the  canton 
are  obliged  to  attend  and  learn  their  catechism  ; 
and  there  are  ministers  especially  appointed  for 
their  instructors.  They  seem  to  have  no  idea  of 
leaving  the  young,  as  we  too  much  do  in  Eng- 
land, m  ignorance  of  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity. Religious  education  is,  in  their  view,  the 
very  first  duty  they  owe  their  children ;  and  the 
only  foundation  of  a  tranquil,  well-ordered,  vir- 
tuous community.  The  laws  are  strict,  and  the 
magistrates  also  exercise  a  salutary  influence  over 
public  morals  ;  but  I  doubt  whether  spiritual  reli- 
gion, with  its  holy  fruits,  is  now  actually  nourish- 
ing. The  Sacraments  are,  however,  well  at- 
tended. In  a  town  of  seven  thousand  souls,  there 
are  four  or  five  hundred  communicants,  at  two  or 
three  churches  (perhaps  one  thousand  five  hun- 
dred or  two  thousand  in  all,)  communicating  once 
or  twice  a  year.  Still  I  fear  that  all  this  is  too 
much  of  a  mere  form,  and  that  the  chilling  theo- 
logy of  Germany  has  infected  the  canton.  May 
God  raise  up  a  new  spirit  of  faith  and  love  among 
them ! 

I  did  all  I  could  to  make  the  professor  under- 
stand our  views  of  religion  in  England ;  and  to 
encourage  him  in  openly  following  the  doctrines 
of  the  Reformation,  as  the  only  hope  of  a  revival 
of  true  Christianity.  It  is  a  delightful  thing  to  be 
able  in  any  measure  to  strengthen  the  hands  of  a 
brother  in  the  Gospel.  I  can  do  but  little  ;  but 
what  I  can  do,  I  feel  bound  not  to  omit.  He 
spoke  to  me  about  the  Reglement  at  Geneva. 
He  expressed  himself  with  great  reserve,  but  evi- 
dently regretted  that  measure.  He  was  very 
curious  to  know  something  about  our  English 
universities,  and  the  plan  of  literary  and  religious 
education  in  them.  I  satisfied  liis  inquiries,  and 
really  felt  gratified  that  I  should  happen  to  have 
about  me  a  list  of  the  officers  and  heads  of  col- 
leges in  Oxford  and  Cambridge  to  present  to  him. 
You  cannot  imagine  with  what  pleasure  lie  re- 
ceived it. 

We  left  Schafi'hausen  at  eight  this  morning, 
for  Zurich,  twenty-live  miles.  Oil  our  road,  we 
stopped  again  at  "the  fall  of  the  Rhine,  and  once 
more  admired  its  unequalled  terrors.  The  Rhino 
is  a  continued  flood — a  torrent,from  the  dissolved 
snows,  where  it  springs,  till  it  loses  itself  in  Hoi- 
land,  after  a  course  of  seven  hundred  miles — so 
that  a  vessel,  when  first  going  down  the  stream 
from  Switzerland,  shoots  like  an  arrow.  The 
width  of  the  fall  is  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  , 
the  least  depth  sixty  feet,  the  greatest  eighty.  It 
differs  from  the  Niagara  in  two  respects;  in  vo- 
lume of  water  it  is  inferior;  in  majesty  it  sur- 
passes it.  The  Niagara  is  two  thousand  seven 
hundred  feet  wide,  and  one  hundred  and  lifty-six 
feet  high  ;  but  it  merely  turns  suddenly  down  the 
fall  in  a  continued  stream,  as  from  a  lock  ;  whe 
as  the  Rhine,  with  unparalleled  fury,  dashes  fr 
rock  to  rock,  till  the  spray  and  foam  obscure 
view. 

At  Eglisau,  a  lovely  village  on  our  way, 


28 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


we  dined,  we  saw,  for  the  first  time,  a  covered 
bridge,  erected  in  1811,  over  the  Rhine  (the 
French  having  burnt  the  former  one ;)  you  walk 
ever  under  rafters  and  beams,  windows  on  each 
side  opening  upon  the  river.  It  is  entirely  co- 
vered at  the  top  with  a  roof,  and  enclosed  on  the 
sides,  so  that  you  are,  as  it  were,  in  a  house  ; 
whilst  the  rafters,  <Scc.  make  you  think  it  is  the 
roof  a  country  church.  These  covered  bridges 
abound  in  Switzerland. 

As  we  approached  Zurich,  we  caught  a  first 
view  of  the  distant  Alps,  about  Zug  and  Schwitz. 
The  hills  first  in  view  were  shaded  by  the  after- 
noon sun  ;  over  these,  brilliant  volumes  of  clouds 
were  discernible  ;  and  from  amidst  the  clouds,  the 
peaks  of  the  Alps  were  easily  distinguished  by 
their  defined  outlines,  sharp  summits,  and  the 
bright  whiteness  of  the  eternal  snows  with  which 
they  are  covered.  We  entered  Zurich,  the  capi- 
tal of  the  canton,  about  five  o'clock.  I  could  not 
but  be  sensibly  affected.  This  is  the  first  town 
in  Switzerland  that  separated  from  the  church  of 
Rome  three  centuries  back — it  was  the  favorite 
asylum  of  our  English  Reformers  during  the  va- 
cillating and  tyrannical  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
and  the  bloody  persecution  of  queen  Mary.  It  is 
supposed  to  have  been  the  place  where  our  great 
Cranmer,  soon  after  he  had  been  raised  to  the 
primacy,  caused  the  first  complete  edition  of  the 
English  Bible,  Miles  Coverdale's,  to  be  printed,  in 
the  year  1535.*  The  town  contains  eleven  thou- 
sand souls ;  the  canton  one  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  thousand ;  nearly  all  Protestant.  It  is 
amongst  the  most  thickly  peopled  tracks  of  the 
continent  of  Europe ;  which  is  owing  chiefly  to 
the  long-continued  enjoyment  of  good  govern- 
ment, and  to  consequent  habits  of  virtuous  in- 
dustry. 

The  beauty  of  the  country  accords  with  its  re- 
putation. We  are  at  the  inn  called  L'Epee.  Ima- 
gine a  room  fifty  feet  by  thirty,  of  which  two 
sides  are  a  continued  window,  overhanging  the 
broad  deep-blue  torrent  of  the  Limmat,  which, 
rushing  like  an  arrow  from  the  lake  of  Zurich, 
seems  hurrying  to  pour  itself  into  the  Rhine. 
The  old  wooden  bridge  which  leads  across  it  is 
immediately  before  me,  and  is  wide  enough  for  the 
market,  which  is  just  now  in  amusing  confusion, 
and  presents  a  most  characteristic  scene  of  Swiss 
costume  and  manners.  The  noble  churches, 
quays,  and  public  buildings  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  diversify  the  prospect.  In  the  distance  on 
my  right  a  second  bridge  appears,  with  a  tower 
built  in  the  midst  of  the  torrent  for  state-prisoners 
— whilst  still  further  on,  my  eye  is  lost  in  follow- 
ing the  beautiful  lake  itself,  till  I  discern  at  length 
the  Alps  rearing  their  majestic  heads  beyond  it  hi 
the  utmost  horizon. — Such  is  the  room  where  I 
am  writing  this  letter ;  I  suppose  it  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  It  is  curious,  that  in 
order  to  reach  this  splendid  chamber  you  have  to 


*  The  New  Testament  had  first  been  published  by 
Tyndale  about  1526 :  the  Pentateuch  appeared  in 
1530;  Miles  Coverdale  completed  the  arduous  task 
under  the  auspices  of  Cranmer,  in  1535.  This  Bible 
is  in  a  folio  volume,  printed  in  double  columns,  in 
what  Mr.  Dibdin  terms,  a  foreign  sccretary-gothic 
iype.  It  was  executed,  as  it  is  generally  thought,  at 
ihe  presi  of  a  Zurich  printer. 


defile  through  stables,  voitures,  horsemen,  voitu- 
riers,  ostlers,  post-boys,  and  smells  of  all  kinds,  by 
a  dark,  narrow  passage ;  for  the  entire  ground 
floors  of  the  Swiss  inns  are  occupied  by  tins  sort 
of  miseries  ;  partly,  I  suppose,  on  account  of  the 
frequent  inundations  from  melted  snow,  or  over- 
flowing rivers. 

Last  night  we  ascended  a  bastion,  near  the  town, 
and  beheld  the  magnificent  scene  of  the  range  of 
Alps  illuminated,  or  rather  gdded,  by  the  setting  t 
sun ;  it  was,  really,  as  if  all  the  snows  were  sud- 
denly set  on  a  blaze,  the  fiery  meteor  was  so  bright 
and  so  extensive.  As  the  sun  further  declined, 
the  magic  scene  lost  its  enchantment.  It  is  sin- 
gular, that  this  is  the  first  night  this  summer  that 
the  Alps  have  been  thus  visible.  My  fi-iend  tra- 
velled four  years  ago  in  Switzerland,  and  never 
saw  any  thing  like  it.  Indeed,  we  have  been  fa- 
vored all  our  journey.  The  weather  has  been  un- 
usually cool,  with  the  exception  of  a  day  or  two, 
and  we  are  all  now  in  comfortable  health.  May 
we  have  the  additional  blessing  of  a  thankful, 
humble,  holy,  theachable  heart,  to  see  God  in 
every  thing,  to  love  God  because  of  every  thing, 
and  to  be  led  up  towards  him  by  every  thing  I  I 
should  just  mention,  that  on  our  road  to  Zurich  we 
crossed  a  part  of  Baden,  when  the  same  appearance 
of  negligence  and  misery  returned  which  I  before 
noticed.  As  soon  as  we  regained  the  Swiss  ter- 
ritory, all  was  again  neat,  convenient,  industrious, 
and  happy :  such  is  the  difference  between  the 
effects  of  civd  and  religious  freedom,  and  of  an 
arbitrary  government. 

Zurich,  Tuesday,  July  29. — I  have  been  intro- 
duced, to-day,  to  the  celebrated  Antistes  Hess ; 
he  is  eighty-two  years  old,  a  venerable,  pious,  holy 
man,  on  the  verge  of  heaven ;  with  a  heart  full  of 
love  to  the  Saviour,  and  to  the  souls  of  men.  I 
took  my  three  children  to  him,  that  he  might  bless 
them.  The  Antistes  spoke  to  me  much  of  Mr. 
Wilberforce,  whose  book  he  had  read  with  delight : 
he  begged  me  to  convey  to  him  his  Christian  re- 
gards :  it  was  delightful  to  me  to  see  this  aged 
disciple.  He  is  one  of  the  persons  whom  I  was 
most  anxious  to  know.  You  are  perhaps  aware, 
that  Antistes  is  a  Latin  word,  meaning  nearly 
the  same  as  President.  It  is  a  title  often  given  in 
ecclesiastical  writers  to  bishops,  though  sometimes 
to  simple  priests.  In  the  Swiss  Reformed  churches, 
it  is  applied  to  the  ecclesiastical  head  of  a  canton. 
The  government  of  these  churches,  though  not 
episcopal,  differs  considerably  from  what  is  called 
Presbyterianism.  I  met  at  the  house  of  the  An- 
tistes, an  aged  magistrate  of  tins  place,  who  com- 
mended to  me  the  cause  of  Switzerland,  and  beg- 
ged of  me  again  and  again  to  represent  to  my  coun- 
trymen the  state  of  his  canton;  pressing  on  me 
that  Switzerland  had  been  the  cradle  of  the  Refor- 
mation. 

We  next  visited,  with  much  pleasure,  the  city 
library,  abounding  in  original  unpublished  letters 
of  our  Reformers.  The  history  of  that  interesting 
period,  after  all  Burnet  has  done,  might,  undoubted- 
ly, be  much  enriched  from  these  stores.  Such  an 
undertaking  would  require  great  zeal,  discretion, 
knowledge  of  ecclesiastical  history,  and,  above  all,  a 
commanding  and  pious  mind ;  but  its  success  would 
be  sure.  We  saw  the  three  well-known  Letters 
i  of  Lady  Jane  Gray,  written  to  Bullinger,  in  155*1 . 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


29 


The  Epistles  of  St.  Paul  in  Greek,  transcribed 
entire  in  the  hand  of  Zuinglius  in  1517,  just  as  he 
was  first  discerning  the  chief  corruptions  of  the 
church  of  Re  me,  were  niost  interesting  to  me,  not 
only  as  an  ancient  manuscript,  but  as  tracing  the 
Reformation  to  its  true  source,  a  deep  study  of  the 
New  Testament. 

Zuingle,  amongst  all  the  noble  body  of  Reform- 
ers, seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  able 
and  acute.  He  was  born  Jan.  1st,  1487.  He  soon 
began  to  discover  the  real  force  of  the  cliief  doc- 
trines of  Scripture.  He  not  only  copied  out  the  text 
of  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  but  also  committed  them  all 
to  memory,  and  earnestly  sought  by  prayer  the 
teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  comparing  Scripture 
with  Scripture,  and  explaining  the  obscure  pas- 
sages by  the  more  clear.  In  1531  he  was  elected 
by  the  chapter  to  the  office  of  preacher ;  and  on 
Jan.  1, 1519,  he  delivered  his  first  discourse  hi  the 
cathedral  of  Zurich  before  an  immense  auditory. 
His  wisdom  and  penetration  were  so  remarkable, 
and  the  influence  which  he  acquired  over  the  coun- 
ed  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  Zurich  was  so  great, 
that  he  was  soon  able  to  carry  the  canton  along 
with  him  in  a  firm  but  gradual  profession  of  the 
evangelical  doctrines.  It  is  remarkable,  that  he 
had  laboured  his  way  out  of  most  of  the  errors  of 
Popery,  and  had  attained  to  the  light  of  Reformed 
truth  in  Zurich,  at  the  very  time  that  Luther, 
without  design  or  concert  with  him,  had  been  car- 
rying on  the  same  holy  work  in  Germany. 

'1  lie  present  pious  and  holy  Antistes  lives  in  the 
same  house  where  this  great,  Reformer  dwelt ;  in 
the  garden  of  which  is  a  room  literally  filled  with 
unpublished  archives  of  the  Reformation.  The 
honor  in  which  Zuingle  is  held  here  is  remarkable. 
I  observe,  that  God  has  often  brought  about  the 
greatest  works  of  mercy  by  a  few  distinguished 
individuals  in  a  town  or  country,  raised  up  by  his 
Spirit,  embued  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  armed  with  zeal,  fortitude,  wisdom, 
and  love;  Zuingle  at  Zurich,  Ecolampadius  at 
,  Bucer  at  Strasburg,  Calvin  and  Beza  in 
France  and  Geneva,  Luther  and  Melancthon  in 
Germany,  Cranmer  and  his  noble  associates  in 
ind.  May  men  of  a  like  spirit  be  raised  up 
, !  May  divines  and  professors  transcribe  and 
study,  like  Zuingle,  St.  Paul's  Epistles  !  Soon 
v.- ouid  Protestantism  revive,  and  Popery  fade  away 
before  it !  It  is  known  that  our  English  Reformer, 
Ridley,  committed  to  memory  early  in  life,  almost 
ail  St.  Pauls  Epistles,  as  well  as  the  Catholic  ones; 
benefit  derived  from  which  he  acknowledged 
gratitude,  just  before  his  martyrdom. 
In  the  afternoon  we  took  a  sail  on  the  lake, 
delicious  beyond  description.  The  evening  how- 
ever, was  not  so  favorable  for  viewing  the  setting 
sun,  as  last  night.  I  am  much  grieved  to  say,  that 
my  impression  of  the  present  state  of  real  religion 
in  some  parts  of  tins  canton  is  not  so  favorable  as 
its  former  celebrity  would  lead  one  to  expect — in 
one  parish,  St.  Peter's,  four  or  five  hundred  only 
attend  at  church,  out  of  five  thousand  inhabitants, 
for  forty-eight  Sundays  in  the  year;  and  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  tor  the  four  remaining  Sundays, 
the  sacrament  days,  which  seem  almost  supersti- 
tious!)' reverenced — many  of  the  clergy  of  Zurich 
meet  the  magistrates  and  gentlemen  at  a  club, 
once  a  week,  to  smoke  and  talk  politics;  these 


are  not  promising  symptoms.  I  do  not  pretend,  as  a 
stranger,  to  judge.  I  take  my  account  from  the 
confession  of  one  of  the  clergy,  who  told  me  these 
things  without  the  slightest  idea  of  their  improprie- 
ty. 1  am  quite  distressed  that  Mr.  Gessner,  the  son- 
in-law  of  Lavater,  is  not  in  Zurich.  The  superior 
talents  and  eminent  piety  of  this  excellent  minister 
make  me  exceedingly  regret  that  I  am  unable  to 
see  him.  He  forms  a  bright  exception  to  the.  me- 
lancholy statement  just  given.  1  trust  thpre  are 
many  others.  O  how  different  a  tiling  is  real  spi- 
rituality of  heart  from  the  name  of  religion,  whet  her 
Reformed  or  Catholic ! 

Zurich,  July  30,  Wednesday. — My  dearest  Ann 
accompanied  me  to-day  to  the  benevolent  and 
pious  Antistes.  His  amiable  and  truly  Christian 
temper  appears  in  all  he  does  and  says.  When  he 
took  leave  of  my  wife,  he  presented  her  with  one 
of  Ins  smaller  works,  and  prayed  that  peace  and 
grace  might  be  with  her,  and  that  her  sons  and  her 
daughter  might  be  her  comfort  and  support.  He 
then  added,  "  We  shall  never  meet  again  in  this 
world,  but  we  shad  meet  in  another,  to  be  with 
Jesus :  that  is  our  proper  country ;  there  is  peace, 
holiness,  and  joy."  The  institution  for  the  blind  in 
this  city,  and  that  for  orphans,  much  interested  us. 
It  was  affecting  to  see  the  blind  write,  and  do 
sums  in  arithmetic  by  letters  and  figures  impress- 
ed on  the  paper  with  an  iron  pen ;  so  that  they 
knew  them  by  the  touch.  The  singing  of  the  or- 
phan chddren  was  very  beautiful.  1  called  on  the 
bookseller  of  the  Bible  Society  ;  that  noble  insti- 
tution, though  less  flourisliing  now,  has  accomplish- 
ed  much  good,  considering  the  limited  resources 
of  a  single  canton.  We  visited  the  arsenal,  and 
several  other  objects  of  curiosity.  The  people 
marry  very  young  in  Zurich,  and  are  betrothed 
yet  earlier.  The  taxes  are  light:  their  largest 
bookseller  pays  four  Napoleons  a  year  (about  SI. 
3s.)  for  every  thing.  * 

The  tomb  of  Lavater  in  St.  Peter's |  church 
much  affected  me  ;  he  was  wounded  by  the  hand 
of  a  common  soldier  during  Massena's  invasion 
in  1799,  and  died  after  fifteen  months  of  extreme 
suffering.  His  benevolence  and  tenderness  of 
heart  had  been  remarkable  amidst  all  the  eccen- 
tricities of  his  opinions  through  life  ;  and  they  ap- 
peared conspicuously  on  this  trying  occasion,  lie 
not  only  did  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  the  crimi- 
nal from  being  discovered;  but  left  him  at  his 
death  the  following  affecting  testimony  of  his  for- 
giveness :  "Memorandum  to  be  given  after  my 
death,  with  an  affectionate  letter,  if  it  bn  possible, 
to  the  grenadier  (D'Elsass,  as  I  think,)  who  shot 
at  me,  Sept.  26,  1799— but  care  must  be  taken 
that  his  name  be  concealed.  May  God  pardon 
thee,  as  I  from  my  heart  pardon  thee  !  O,  may 
you  never  sutler  what  I  suffer  through  you !  I 
embrace  you,  my  friend ;  you  have  done  me  a 
kindness  without  knowing  it.  If  you  see  these 
lines,  may  they  be  a  seal  to  you  of  the  grace  of 

*  There  are  several  print-sellers  here  who  have 
most  extensive  and  beautiful  collections  of  Swiss 
engravings.  I  bought  what  are  called  the  One  Hun- 
dred Views,  and  also  the  Fifty  Views.  I  gave  thirty 
or  forty  shillings  for  the  two  sets.  I  may  as  well  add, 
that  the  duty  on  colored  prints  at  Dover  is  reduced 
from  two  shillings  each  to  two  pence. 


30 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


the  Lord,  who  forgives  penitent  sinners  ;  who  de- 
livers them,  and  makes  them  happy !  May  God 
enable  me  earnestly  to  pray  for  you,  so  that  I 
may  never  doubt  that  we  shall  one  day  embrace 
each  other  before  the  presence  of  the  Lord  !" — 
Surely  this  paper  breathes  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  martyr  Stephen.  The  murderer  is  said  to 
have  previously  received  favors  from  Lavater. 

Aarau,  Thursday  night,  July  31. — We  left 
Zurich  with  regret  this  morning,  and  came  twen- 
ty-eight miles  to  this  town,  the  capital  of  the  can- 
ton of  Argovie.  It  has  three  thousand  inhabitants, 
chiefly  reformed.  It  stands  pleasantly  on  a  hill 
on  the  Aar  river,  the  two  banks  of  which  are 
united  by  a  covered  bridge.  We  were  surprised 
to  find  that  the  same  church  is  used  here  for 
Catholics  and  Protestants  :  we  entered  it ;  there 
were  no  superstitious  ornaments.  The  Protes- 
tants meet  at  eight,  the  Catholics  at  half-past  nine, 
on  the  Sunday.  We  dined  at  Baden,  where 
there  is  a  most  beautiful  village  on  the  banks  of 
the  Limmat.  At  the  table-d'hote  I  met  two 
strangers  from  Basle.  After  a  good  deal  of  con- 
versation, the  lady  turned  out  to  be  a  friend  of  an 
English  clergyman  of  my  acquaintance,  and  beg- 
ged me  most  earnestly  to  remember  her  to  him, 
and  to  assure  him  that  she  had  not  forgotten  his 
advice,  but  read  every  Sunday  one  of  the  sermons 
he  gave  her  :  it  was  delightful  to  me  thus  to  trace 
some  fruit  of  the  advice  given  by  my  dear  friend. 
What  good  might  not  be  effected,  if  English  tra- 
vellers were  studious  to  lose  no  opportunity  of 
honoring  God  their  Saviour,  on  the  occasions, 
however  slight,  which  continually  present  them- 
selves. An  impression  may  often  be  left  on  the 
mind  of  a  foreigner  by  a  kind  and  appropriate  re- 
mark, which  nothing  can  efface.  An  English- 
man has  peculiar  advantages  for  this,  from  the 
weight  attached  to  his  country  all  over  the  Con- 
tinent. 

Basle,  28  miles  from  Aarau,  Friday  evening, 
August  1. — We  have  had  a  charming  ride  to-day ; 
the  road  from  Aarau  to  Stein  (a  lovely  village  on 
the  Rhine)  lay  through  a  noble  picturesque  coun- 
try. Some  of  the  villages  were  more  character- 
istic than  any  we  have  yet  seen.  From  Stein  the 
road  ran  by  the  Rhine  ;  and  when  we  had  come 
within  nine  miles  of  Basle,  we  sent  on  the  car- 
riages and  came  down,  or  rather  were  flooded 
down,  the  Rhine,  in  a  boat;  the  stream  carried 
us  the  nine  miles  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter — a 
rather  hazardous  voyage,  as  our  friends  at  Basle 
told  us.  Basle  is  a  very  ancient  city,  situated  at 
the  angle  where  the  Rhine  turns  northward  for 
Germany.  It  contains  sixteen  thousand  souls, 
almost  all  Protestants.  The  same  liberty  prevails 
here  as  at  Zurich,  the  same  habits.  Bread  is 
three  half-pence  the  pound — meat,  two-pence 
three  farthings  the  pound — wages,  two  shillings 
a  day.  There  are  eight  churches.  Mr.  Blum- 
hardt,  of  the  Missionary  Institution,  called  upon 
me  this  morning — a  most  devout,  delightful  man. 
How  refreshing  to  the  mind,  to  meet  with  a  Chris- 
tian brother  in  a  foreign  land,  whom  one  can  un- 
derstand :  for  Mr.  B.  speaks  French  and  English 
well. 

Travelling  from  canton  to  canton,  it  is  curious 
to  see  the  changes  in  the  villages — some  Popish, 
some  Protestant :  the  latter  are  always  the  more 


comfortable,  neat,  industrious  ;  but  they  all  seem 
to  live  together  in  peace ;  and  a  reasonable  liber- 
ty appears  equally  dear  to  all.  The  dress  of  the 
women  varies  in  each  canton :  the  hair  of  the 
Zurich  women  is  neatly  combed  and  parted  :  they 
have  no  gowns,  but  their  underdress  expands  over 
the  shoulders,  something  like  a  surplice  ;  they 
have  a  stomacher  of  cloth,  with  braids  of  scarlet 
crosswise  ;  they  seem  of  a  strong,  fine  race,  com- 
pared with  the  French  and  German  women. 

At  Aarau,  yesterday,  we  observed  the  houses, 
all  along  the  main  streets,  with  jutting  roofs,  only 
not  shelving  to  the  ground  ;  each  house  has  its 
own  roof  advancing  perhaps  ten  or  twelve  feet ; 
so  that  we  walked  under  them  during  the  rain 
quite  defended  ;  the  roofs  differ  in  height,  shape, 
color,  &c.  so  as  to  make  a  most  singular  appear- 
ance. 1  believe  I  have  not  mentioned  the  Ger- 
man and  Swiss  stoves,  with  which  almost  every 
room  is  furnished ;  these  are  sometimes  of  iron, 
of  a  moderate  size  ;  but  oftener  of  tiles,  stone,  or 
Clanaware,  and  then  they  are  eight  or  ten  feet 
square,  standing  on  thick  legs,  which  raise  them 
a  few  inches  from  the  ground,  and  reaching  in  a 
turret  form  to  the  ceiling.  The  fire  is  placed  in 
them  from  the  passage,  through  an  opening  in  the 
partition-wall  of  the  room  :  there  is  no  grate  nor 
flame  seen,  but  the  warmth  is  produced  by  the 
whole  mass  of  the  tower  being  thoroughly  heated ; 
the  China  stoves  are  of  green,  blue,  or  yellow. — 
The  fountains  also  in  this  country  are  curious  ob- 
jects ;  every  town  and  village,  however  small,  has 
its  fountain.  The  Catholic  adorns  his  with  saints, 
the  Protestant  with  heroes  :  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  water  conducted  to  each  house,  as  with  us  ;  all 
depends  on  the  fountains,  which  are  commonly 
large  stone  enclosures,  from  twenty  to  fifty  feet 
round,  with  two,  four,  or  six  jetsd'eau,  which  fall 
so  as  to  meet  conveniently  the  tubes,  &c.  placed 
on  the  margin  of  the  basin.  Around  these  basins 
are  collected  women,  washing  garden-stuff  or 
clothes,  horses  drinking,  servants  extending  jugs, 
&c.  At  Stein  we  were  at  the  singular  hotel, 
looking  full  on  the  Rhine,  of  which  M.  Simond 
speaks  in  his  Voyage  with  warm  commendation. 
We  showed  the  landlord  the  book  in  which  men- 
tion is  made  of  him  :  he  was  not  a  little  astonished 
that  his  solitary  house  should  be  thus  celebrated. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  singular  persons  we 
have  seen  since  we  have  been  abroad,  was  a  Pro- 
testant clergyman  of  one  of  the  towns  we  have 
lately  passed  through  ;  pompous,  good-tempered, 
officious,  confused  ;  with  a  mixture  of  pride  from 
his  station  and  family,  and  of  familiarity  from  an 
affected  condescension  towards  others  ;  the  high 
priest,  and  yet  the  friendly,  kind,  obliging  man  ; 
tedious  withal ;  dawdling,  never  seeing  the  good 
sense  of  a  thing,  and  having  no  tact  in  discover- 
ing the  inconveniences  which  his  conduct  occa- 
sions ;  a  worthy,  bustling,  unintelligible  personage. 
But  all  this  would  have  been  nothing,  if  it  were 
not  that  this  same  person  is  a  divine,  nay,  the  di- 
vine, the  great  man  in  theology,  whose  reputation 
spreads  through  the  neighborhood,  who  talks  per- 
petually of  the  Reformation,  and  whose  opinions 
gain  credence.  I  really  was  quite  nervous  in  his 
company  :  after  many  trials  I  could  get  no  one 
good  sentiment  out  of  him  ;  he  did  nothing  but 
talk  to  me  of  his  church,  his  parish,  his  house,  and 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


31 


four  or  five  portraits  of  himself.  A  negative  cha- 
racter is  not  enough  for  a  clergyman  in  a  dying, 
guilty  world.  The  minister  of  J esue  Christ  has  a 
high  message  to  deliver,  a  weighty  stewardship  to 
discharge,  a  soierun  trust  to  guard.  He  has  to 
teach  by  his  doctrine  and  his  conversation.  He 
is  not  to  sink  down  to  the  standard  of  the  world, 
but  to  rouse  that  world  from  its  torpor,  and 
awaken  it  to  the  unseen  interests  of  the  soul  and 
eternity. 

Basle,  Saturday  evening,  August  2. — The  ca- 
thedral here  interested  us  greatly  this  morning. 
It  is  one  of  the  noblest  Protestant  churches  of  the 
Continent.  It  is  built  of  a  fine  red  stone  ;  simple, 
yet  majestic  in  its  ornaments,  with  numerous 
aisles  and  monuments,  and  a  remarkably  curious 
cloister.  The  tombs  of  Erasmus,  and  of  Eco- 
lampadius,  the  Basle  Reformer,  much  delighted 
us.  The  town  is  neat,  and  seemingly  full  of  bu- 
siness. The  public  library  contains  thirty-two 
thousand  volumes,  and  manuscript  letters  of  most 
of  the  Reformers.  In  the  afternoon  we  spent  two 
or  three  hours  with  the  excellent  Mr.  B.  The 
first  Foreign  Bible  Society  was  formed  here  in 
1804,  the  very  year  when  the  original  institution 
began  in  London.  At  the  third  centenary  of  the 
Reformation,  New  Testaments  were  given  from 
the  altar  of  the  cathedral  to  all  the  children  of 
the  town — above  two  thousand  were  distributed. 
What  an  appropriate  gift!  The  missionary  insti- 
tution contains  thirty-tour  students,  and  is  about 
to  be  enlarged.  The  lecture  rooms  and  cham- 
bers are  simple  and  unadorned. 

The  state  of  true  religion  is,  on  the  whole,  im- 
proving in  Switzerland  and  some  parts  of  Ger- 
many. Truth,  holiness,  and  unity  increase,  hun- 
dreds of  Catholics  receive  Bibles  and  attend  Pro- 
testant churches.  The  Lutherans  and  Reformed 
have  begun  to  unite  in  the  common  term  evan- 
gelical. The  Antistes  and  most  of  the  clergy 
preach  and  live  according  to  the  Gospel.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  court  of  Rome  threatens,  the 
Pope  is  aroused;  he  thinks  the  Protestants  have 
begun  to  propagate  their  views  by  Bible  and  mis- 
sionary institutions  ;  and  lie  is  determined  to  op- 
pose them.  The  Jesuits  are  the  Pope's  house- 
hold troops  ;  they  are  spreading  every  where,  and 
resisting,  in  the  most  open  manner,  every  attempt 
at  Scriptural  education.  The  holy  alliance  is 
thought  to  favor  the  Pope  and  the  Jesuits,  by  act- 
ing on  the  idea  that  all  societies  arc  dangerous.* 
In  the  mean  time,  the  friends  of  the  truth  are  ac- 
tive  and  humble,  leaving  events  with  God.  Mr. 
B.  was  exceedingly  struck  with  London  when  he 
visited  it  for  the  first  time  last  year.  He  says  it 
took  him  six  months,  on  his  return,  to  cool  and 
collect,  his  scattered  and  astonished  ideas,  and 


*I  find  from  friends  who  have  returned  from 
R.ome  since  the  publication  of  the  second  edition  of 
this  work,  that  nothing  can  exceed  the  present  bold- 
ness of  the  Catholic  hierarchy  there — except  their 
lolly.  Open  claims  of  infallibility  are  made,  indul- 
gences placarded,  the  Bible  and  education  spurned, 
ilie  certain  perdition  of  heretics  avowed,  the  autho- 
rity of  human  traditions  asserted  and  vindicated  as 
strongly  as  ever.  In  short,  all  the  comparative 
mildness  of  Pius  VII.  and  Gonsalvi  is  forgotten, 
and  a  new  reign  of  intolerance  commenced. — The 
Jesuits  direct  every  thing. 


digest  what  he  had  observed.  He  thinks  Paris  is 
only  a  village  compared  with  London.  He  com- 
plained, however,  of  London  fogs,  London  water, 
and  London  cookery — the  fine  mountain  air,  the 
Rhine,  and  the  ordinary  food  of  Switzerland  ; 
these  are  what  he  wanted  to  complete  his  happi- 
ness— he  scarcely  once  saw  the  sun  the  first  six 
weeks  he  was  in  London.  But  he  forgot  all  this 
in  the  intellectual  and  religious  festivals  in  which 
he  participated. 

I  omitted  to  say,  that  we  saw  at  the  cathedral 
to-day  the  very  hall  where  the  council  of  1431-47 
held  its  sittings  ;  the  self-same  seats  and  other 
furniture  remain.  That  council  was  convoked  to 
prevent  the  Reformation  ;  but  the  scandal  raised 
by  the  vices  of  the  bishops,  who  composed  it,  had 
the  effect  of  convincing  men  of  its  necessity,  and 
of  hastening  its  approach.  It  happened  curi- 
ously, that  on  the  very  benches  where  the  Pope's 
legate  and  the  other  members  of  the  council  sat 
four  centuries  back,  the  trophies  of  the  Reforma- 
tion were  placed,  which  had  just  been  displayed 
at  the  celebration  of  the  third  centenary  of  that 
great  event. 

Yours  affectionately, 

"  .    D.  W. 

P.  S.  Before  I  shut  up  my  letter,  I  must  add, 
that,  in  the  old  divinity  school  of  the  cathedral, 
we  saw  a  likeness  of  the  celebrated  Erasmus, 
scratched  apparently  by  an  idle  student  with  the 
rough  point  of  an  iron  nail,  on  the  common 
wooden  desk  which  was  before  him,  during  lec- 
ture. Three  centuries  have  rendered  this  roguish 
trick  a  great  curiosity.  The  lines  are  beginning 
to  be  faint ;  but  the  likeness  is  still  strong.  You 
will  please  however  to  observe,  that  Erasmus  is 
not  one  of  my  prime  favorites.  He  had  talents, 
wit,  and  learning  in  abundance;  but  he  wanted 
the  heart  of  a  Reformer.  The  important  aid 
which  he  at  first  rendered  to  Luther,  was  more 
than  neutralized  by  the  bitter  opposition  to  the 
Gospel,  in  which  he  at  length  openly  joined. 


LETTER    VII. 

Moutiers,  August  4. — Bern,  August  11,  1823. 

Sunday  at  Basic — View  from  table-d'hote  Room — 
Valley  of  Moutiers  —  Anabaptists  —  Soyhier — 
Court — Cormoret — Rock  Pierre  Pertuis — Obser- 
vations on  Swiss  Government — Neufchatel — Re- 
former Farel — Bienne — Island  of  St.  Pierre — J. 
J.  Rousseau  —  Seedorf —  Bern  —  Voiturier — M. 
Wyttenbaeh — The  great  Haller — Swiss  Diet — 
Sunday  at  Bern — Pastor  Henhofer. 

Basle,  ahout  963  miles  from  London, 
Sunday,  August  3,  1823. 

My  dearest  sistee — We  are  now  closing 
our  seventh  absent  Sunday  ;  and  have,  for  the 
first  time,  met  with  French  service.  We  at- 
tended twice ;  at  nine  o'clock  and  at  three. 
I  endeavored  to  hear  the  sermons  with  that 
candor  and  sincere  desire  to  derive  instruction 
and  comfort,  which  become  a  Christian,  and 
especially  a   foreigner ;   but    really    they    wore 


32 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


so  indifferent,  or  rather  so  unscriptural,  that  I  was 
grieved  at  my  very  heart.  Man  is  the  same  every 
where.  It  is  not  a  mere  freedom  from  supersti- 
tion and  infidelity  which  is  enough.  It  is  spiritual 
life  which  is  wanting — that  sensibility  and  per- 
ception which  is  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
without  which  a  moral  death  pervades  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul — no  due  sense  of  sin,  no  real 
penitence,  no  faith  in  Christ  for  justification,  no 
holy  love,  no  communion  with  God,  no  dedication 
to  his  service,  no  separation  from  the  world,  no 
true  obedience.  I  hope  the  strong  impression  I 
receive  abroad  of  the  necessity  of  the  Gospel  in 
its  simplicity,  will  never  be  effaced  from  my  mind. 
What  is  Protestantism,  without  the  truth  on  which 
it  rests,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  by  whom  alone  that 
truth  can  be  taught  or  blessed  1  I  cannot  but 
mourn  over  the  decay  and  desolations  of  the  Pro- 
testant churches,  as  I  pass  from  place  to  place. 
At  Basle  it  is  the  French  churches  of  which  I 
speak ;  for  the  German  here,  thank  God,  are 
prosperous.  The  sixteen  Lutheran  ministers,  with 
scarcely  an  exception,  truly  preach  the  Gospel. 
The  Sabbath,  therefore,  generally,  is  much  better 
observed  than  in  Germany ;  the  shops  shut ;  no 
amusements,;  great  order  and  decency. 

Monday  morning,  August  4. — Basle  was  cele- 
brated in  the  fourth  century  ;  it  is  capable  of  con- 
taming  a  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  but  it  has 
now  only  sixteen  thousand.  It  is  superbly  situ- 
ated on  the  Rhine,  which  here  becomes  naviga- 
ble. The  larger  houses  in  the  town  have  the 
front  doors  made  of  open  wire- work,  so  as  to  ad- 
mit the  air.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  have  a 
swollen  neck ;  arising,  as  Mr.  B.  informs  us,  from 
the  nature  of  the  water ;  but,  as  others  think, 
from  the  moist,  foggy  atmosphere.  In  the  Valais, 
this  disease  becomes  a  protuberance,  and  is  often 
accompanied  with  idiotcy.  On  the  whole,  Basle 
much  delights  us.  The  table-d'hote  room  over- 
hangs the  Rhine  ;  with  the  noble  bridge  over  it, 
connecting  great  and  little  Basle,  on  our  right, 
full  in  view.  The  prospect  from  one  of  the  bas- 
tions surprised  us  quite  unexpectedly  one  evening, 
as  we  were  walking  on  the  fortifications.  At  a 
sudden  turn  of  the  path,  the  most  picturesque 
view  burst  upon  us  as  by  magic — The  Rhine — the 
bridge — a  part  of  the  town — the  tower  of  an  old 
church — a  beautiful  well-wooded  country — a  thou- 
sand various  objects  interspersed — the  whole  ex- 
quisite. It  is,  in  short,  the  simplicity,  industry, 
piety,  and  happiness  of  the  people,  together  with 
the  "liberty  of  their  country,  and  its  uncommon 
magnificence  and  beauty,  which  endear  it  to  Eng- 
lishmen. Switzerland  is  the  land  of  moral  and 
intellectual  freedom,  and  one  of  the  chief  glories 
of  Reformed  Europe. 

Court,  between  Basle  and  Neufchatel,  Monday 
night,  August  4. — We  have  come  to-day  thirty- 
two  miles.  This  is  the  third  time  I  have  been  sur- 
prised with  a  richness  of  scenery  wholly  unex- 
pected. Nothing  is  so  difficult  to  describe.  Lan- 
guage— at  least  my  language — is  unable  to  follow 
the  inexhaustible  variety  and  profusion  of  beau- 
ties in  Switzerland.  For  nine  hours  to-day  our 
attention  and  admiration  were  excited  so  perpe- 
tually, that  we  were  fatigued  under  the  continued 
effort.  It  was  not  the  Rhine,  it  was  not  the  Ho- 
ellenthal, — the  former,  with  its  majestic  flood  and 


exuberant  vines,  is  unequalled  in  its  way,  «*»<* 
latter  in  wild  and  awful  scenery  appeared  to  us  at 
the  time  incomparable — but  the  valley  of  Mou- 
tiers,  where  we  now  are,  is  of  so  new  and  grand 
a  character,  so  considerable  in  extent  (twenty- 
two  miles,)  so  varied  at  every  turn  throughout  its 
course,  that,  though  different  from  all  the  prece- 
ding scenery,  we  must  allow  it  to  be  one  of  the 
very  finest  things  we  have  yet  seen.     We  are 
indebted  to  our  good  friend  who  has  travelled  in 
Switzerland  before,  for  the  excellent  choice  of  our 
road  on  this  and  other  occasions.     Few  English- 
men ever  think  of  Hoellenthal,  or  the  valley  of 
Moutiers.     If  a  traveller  has  not  time  to  study 
well  the  best  books  before  he  leaves  home,  he 
should  by   all  means  obtain  the  company  of  a 
friend  who  has  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try, and  judgment  and  taste  to  direct  his  attention 
to  the  most  deserving  objects.     Otherwise  he  will 
infallibly  lose  some  of  the  most  interesting  points. 
The  valley  of  Moutiers  is  a  sort  of  fissure  or 
chasm  in  the  immense  chain  of  the  Jura  moun- 
tains.    The  river  Birse  flows  through  it  in  a  ra- 
ther small,  but  clear,  impetuous,  and  diversified 
stream  ;  its  numerous  cascades,  its  various  bridges, 
and   endless   windings,   create  an   inexhaustible 
fund  of  pleasure.     The  rocks  of  immense  height 
— vertical — parallel — answering  to  each  other  on 
the  opposite  sides  of  the  chasm,  sometimes  like 
leaves  of  a  book,  and  bearing  on  every  side  smal- 
ler or  larger  trees,  apparently  without  any  super- 
incumbent earth — vast  ravines  in  these  masses, 
down  which  the  torrents  at  tunes  roll — overhang- 
ing  fragments,  threatening,  as   it  were,  to   fall 
every  moment,  together  with  the  sinuosities  of  the 
valley,  formed  a  scene  of  wonder  and  delight. 
The  foliage  also,  now  of  dark  fir,  now  of  lighter 
underwood  ;  at  one  time  filling  up  the  valley,  and 
liiding  the  bursting  river ;  at  other  times  rising 
up  the  mountains  ;  and  almost  always  spreading 
out  on  the  rent  masses  of  granite,  added  continued 
beauties, — whilst  the  enormous   bodies  of  rock 
here  and  there  forced  down  by  the  winter  tem- 
pests, or  loosened  by  the  thaws  and  floods,  almost 
closed  the  road,  and  blocked  up  the  river.    Along 
this  valley  the   Romans  formed  a  road,  which, 
after  having  been  more  than  once  obstructed  by 
the  falling  rocks,  was  opened  again  for  the  last 
time  in  1752.     The  following  inscription,  in  Latin, 
is  engraved  on  a  stone  on  the  side  of  the  road : 
"  Joseph   William,  of  Rincius,  prince  bishop   of 
Baldenstein  Basiliensium,  opened  this  road,  which 
had  been  shut  for  a  long  time,  by  breaking  through 
the  rocks  and  opposing  mountains,  and  casting 
bridges  over  the  Birse,  with  a  labour  worthy  cf 
the  Romans."     This  boasting  inscription,  like  too 
many  others  of  the  same  class,  is  far  from  being 
true.     The  bishop  took  no  other  part  in  this  en- 
terprise, but  that  of  claiming  the  honor  of  it. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  valley  raised,  the  money, 
and  effected  the  laborious  task. 

The  road  now  is  excellent.  We  met  as  we 
drove  along  some  venerable  old  men  in  great  sim- 
plicity of  attire,  and  with  long  flowing  beards. 
They  were  part  of  the  community  of  Anabap- 
tists, who  were  banished  from  Berne  in  1708,  be- 
cause they  refused  to  take  oaths  and  to  bear 
arms.  What  an  odious  thing  is  persecution,  es- 
pecially in  free  states,  and  most  of  all  where  the 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


Protestant  religion  is  professed  !  There  .ire  about 
1000  of  these  good  people  here — industrious, 
meek,  and  religious — capable  of  being  a  blessing 
to  any  nation.  They  have  no  similarity  of  sen- 
timent with  the  German  Anabaptists  of  the  six- 
teenth century. 

I  have  been  naturally  led  to  reflect  to-day  on  that 
awful  disruption  of  the  deluge,  which  was  doubt- 
less the  origin  of  the  amazing  scenes  through  which 
we  passed — the  face  of  the  creation  bears  marks 
of  that  signal  judgment  of  Almighty  God  on  a 
sinful  world.  I  endeavored  also  to  meditate  on 
the  goodness  of  God  in  furnishing  man  with 
sources  of  pleasure  in  the  wonders  of  creation,  and 
spreading  over  the  wrecks  of  the  world  the  sweet 
foliage  and  fertility,  which  are  more  delightful 
from  these  contrasts.  When  the  last  breaking 
up  of  nature  shall  come,  and  the  rocks  and  moun- 
tains depart,  may  we  inherit  a  new  and  brighter 
world  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness  ! 

The  people  now  speak  French.  We  are  in 
the  canton  of  Berne,  containing  two  hundred  and 
fifteen  thousand  souls,  chiefly  Protestants.  We 
dined  at  Soyhier,  a  small  Catholic  village,  where 
ail  the  tombstones  have  cups  or  basins  hanging 
by  them,  I  suppose  for  holy  water.  In  the  corner 
of  the  churchyard  is  a  small  building  filled  with 
the  bones  of  the  dead,  with  an  aperture  or  win- 
dow, open  to  the  air,  by  which  you  may  see  them, 
and  touch  them,  if  you  please.  The  villages  in 
tins  valley  are  curious,  from  the  very  low  cottages 
of  only  one  story,  very  wide,  with  roofs  of  wood, 
and  large  stones  placed  here  and  there  upon  the 
roof,  to  prevent  its  being  blown  away. 

Cormoret,  Tuesday  morning,  eleven  o'clock. — 
We  left  Court  this  morning  at  seven,  and  came  on 
here,  sixteen  miles,  through  a  fine  open  country, 
bordered  by  mountains.  At  a  place  called  Pierre 
Pertuis,  we  stopped  to  see  the  source  of  the  Birse, 
whose  stream  had  afforded  us  such  extraordinary 
pleasure  yesterday  :  it  gushes  from  the  side  of  a 
rock  with  such  force  as  to  turn  three  mills  almost 
immediately.  Above  this  source  a  lofty  rock  is 
pierced  to  admit  the  road  :  the  opening,  of  about 
ibrty-five  feet  by  fifteen,  was  known  to  the  Ro- 
mans, as  an  inscription  cut  in  the  rock,*  and  al- 
most obliterated  by  time,  testifies.  It  is  situated 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  Vion.  We  were  over- 
taken by  a  most  violent  storm  as  we  approached 
this  village,  Cormoret,  and  here  discovered  the 
advantage  of  Swiss  architecture  ;  for  the  host  of 
a  small  auberge  no  sooner  saw  us,  than  he  opened 
the  door  of  the  barn,  and  we  drove  in  under  co- 
ver, first  one  carriage,  then  another  ;  a  door  in 
the  side  opened  into  the  house,  and  stairs,  steep 
as  a  ladder,  conducted  us  to  the  salle-a-mangcr, 
or  dining  hall,  over  the  said  barn,  where  we  now 
are.     The  ceiling,  walls,  floor,  are  all  of  the  same 


*  The  inscription  is  as  follow?  : 
Numini  Augus- 

torum 
Via  facta  per  Titum 
Dunimium  Paternum 
11  Virum  Col.  Helvet. 
*To  the  divine  Augustus,  this  road,  made  by 
/mis  Dummius  Paternus,  Duovil  of  the  colony  of 
itelvetia,  is  dedicated." 


materials,  unpainted  wood.  Our  cold 
brought  out,  which  we  put  into  our  tin  boxes 
Basle.  We  have  also  Kirchinwasscr  (eau  de  ce- 
rise,) together  with  fresh  eggs,  warm  nulk,  bread, 
all  set  out  on  an  immense  table,  which  surrounds 
three  sides  of  the  hall,  and  has  no  particular  ap- 
pearance of  having  been  lately  cleaned.  In  this 
style  we  are  now  about  to  dine,  at  half-past  eleven, 
Swiss  time. 

Twelve  o'clock. — As  the  storm  continues,  and 
we  have  finished  our  frugal  meal,  I  will  now  go 
on  with  such  remarks  as  occur  to  me.  Switzer- 
land formeriy  contained  thirteen  cantons,  but  at 
present  twenty-two,  confederated  together  by  an 
act  of  congress,  1814  ;  by  which  the  actual  limits 
and  rights  of  the  different  states  were  as  nearly 
as  possible  preserved.  The  Swiss  date  their  free- 
dom from  the  first  efforts  of  the  canton  of  Uri, 
Switz,  and  Underwald,  to  throw  oft'  the  Austrian 
yoke  in  1308,  under  the  heroic  guidance  of  Wil- 
liam Tell ;  of  whom  I  must  tell  you  something,  if 
possible,  when  we  come  to  the  scenes  of  his  ex- 
ploits. Though  a  republic,  Switzerland  has  never, 
like  Rome  or  Athens,  formed  one  great  commu- 
nity ;  but  has  remained  a  confederacy  of  small 
states,  managed  by  a  general  diet  of  deputies  from 
each  canton.  It  is  by  far  the  most  mountainous 
country  hi  Europe,  having  in  fact  only  one  large 
tract  of  level  ground  towards  Basle,  Zurich,  and 
Bern.  If  you  are  travelling  in  some  parts,  you 
may  eat  on  the  same  day  the  fruits  of  the  coldest 
and  of  the  warmest  climates — the  apple  and  pear, 
with  the  grape,  almond,  and  fig.  Switzerland 
contains  one  million  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand souls,  of  whom  above  a  million  are  Protes- 
tants. Basle  is  the  largest  city,  Geneva  the  most 
populous,  and  Bern  the  most  beautiful.  The  can- 
tons differ  from  each  other  materially  in  religion 
and  in  form  of  government ;  but  a  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence, activity,  industry,  pervades  the  whole, 
and  makes  them  the  freest  and  happiest  country 
in  Europe,  after  Great  Britain. 

Nevfchdtel,  Wednesday  morning,  August  6. — 
The  storm  clearing  up  yesterday,  we  set  off  at 
half-past  one.  We  soon  came  to  a  hill  very  steep, 
but  apparently  moderate  in  length ;  the  two  coach- 
men, with  all  our  party,  except  Mrs.  W.  and  Eliza, 
walked  up.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  genuine  Swiss 
mountain,  at  least  three  miles  long,  and  three 
thousand  feet  in  height.  We  were  more  than  an 
hour  ascending,  and  as  the  boys  and  I  followed  a 
countryman  by  what  he  called  a  shorter  route,  we 
had  the  happiness  to  clamber  up  a  side  so  preci- 
pitous, that  we  were  obliged  to  cling  to  the  roots 
of  trees  to  prevent  our  falling  backwards.  At  the 
top  we  saw  a  small  auberge ;  we  entered  it  by  the 
barn,  and  from  that  turned  into  the  kitchen,  where 
a  moderate  fire  was  burning,  not  on  the  hearth, 
but  in  the  open  raised  sort  of  oven,  which  is  usual 
in  this  country.  We  sat  down  to  dry  our  feet 
whilst  they  prepared  us  some  coffee  ;  happening 
to  look  up,  we  saw  that  the  whole  fire-place,  ten 
feet  by  fifteen,  gradually  formed  the  chimney, 
which  was  all  of  wood,  forty  feet  high,  ending  in 
a  square  at  top,  on  which  was  a  board  raised  on 
one  side  to  allow  the  smoke  to  escape,  by  a  pole 
which  descended  the  whole  length,  and  was  hung 


34 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


b)  jords  at  the  side  of  the  oven.  As  we  were 
sitSuur,  trie  door  opened,  and  in  came  our  good 
friend,  who  had  followed  the  main  road,  allured 
by  the  same  hope  of  relief  as  ourselves.  Eliza 
arrived  soon  after,  and  then  Ann.  We  had  a  re- 
freshing cup  of  coffee,  in  the  salle-a-manger — 
which,  by  the  bye,  was  all  of  wainscot,  and  with 
double  windows ;  a  defence  against  the  winter 
storms  ;  five  months'  snow  falling  most  years. 

We  arrived  at  the  capital  of  the  canton  of  Neuf- 
chatel  at  eight,  after  thirteen  hours'  journey,  and 
forty-four  miles.  The  weather  was  rainy  in  the 
afternoon ;  so  that  we  could  see  little  as  we 
descended  to  the  town,  except  the  fine  lake  ex- 
panding its  deep-blue  waves  on  all  sides.  Had 
the  weather  been  fine,  the  Alps  would  have  crown- 
ed the  horizon.  We  observed  the  villages  had  still 
the  low  cottages,  with  wooden  shingles  for  tiles. 
The  water-pipes  were  not  placed  against  the 
houses,  but  led  off  about  twenty  feet,  so  as  to  carry 
off  the  water  beyond  the  front  gardens  into  the 
road.  We  noticed  also  extraordinary  large  dung- 
hills caked  with  much  care,  cut  all  around,  appa- 
rently ten  years  old  each,  and  placed  in  the  gar- 
den precisely  under  the  bed-room  windows,  I 
suppose,  from  the  value  attached  to  them  by  this 
frugal  people.  We  had  excellent  beds  after  our 
fatigue  last  night,  the  best  since  we  left  England  : 
my  own  chamber  seems  a  6ort  of  ball-room,  thirty 
feet  by  twenty-five — these  measures  are,  of  course, 
in  the  way  of  conjecture  ;  as  all  my  remarks  on 
Switzerland,  in  some  degree,  are.  I  am  no  pro- 
fessed traveller. 

Bienne,  on  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  Wednes- 
day evening,  August  6. — We  left  Neufchatel  at 
eleven  this  morning,  after  seeing  the  cathedra], 
fountains,  and  vineyards — it  has  three  thousand 
souls.  The  sepulchral  stone  of  the  Reformer  Farel 
is  in  the  church  yard.  The  Alps,  which  on  a  fine 
day  are  seen  stretching  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  lake  and  bounding  the  view,  we  could  not  dis- 
cern. We  came  on  to  Cerlier,  twelve  miles,  to 
dinner  ;  and  then  leaving  the  carriages,  embarked 
in  a  boat  on  the  lake  of  Bienne.  We  soon  landed 
at  the  small  island  of  St.  Pierre,  about  a  mile  in 
circuit.  It  abounds  in  beautiful  scenery.  The 
single  house  on  the  island  is  an  auberge,  formerly 
a  monastery,  and  of  late  years  celebrated  as  the 
refuge  of  J.  J.  Rousseau  for  space  of  two  months 
in  1765.  The  walls  of  his  room  are  actually  co- 
vered with  inscriptions.  A  trap-door  in  the  floor 
remains,  by  which  he  escaped  from  unwelcome 
visitors.  A  book  for  entering  the  names  of  stran- 
gers is  kept.  I  was  determined  to  accompany  my 
signature  with  some  token  of  disagreement  from 
the  sentiments  of  this  pernicious  writer.  I  there- 
fore wrote,  "  D.  W.  qui,  tout  en  admirant  le  genie 
de  Rousseau,  en  deplore  les  erreurs,  et  les  suites 
si  funestes  au  Christianisme,  et  a.  la  morale." 

It  is  quite  impossible  that  true  religion  should 
revive  in  France  and  Switzerland  till  the  undis- 
cerning  encomiums  of  mere  talent  be  superseded 
by  a  just  and  manly  estimate  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual excellency.  Brilbancy  of  wit  only  aug- 
ments the  guilt  of  those  who  employ  it  to  the  cor- 
ruption of  mankind.  In  the  case  of  Rousseau,  not 
only  do  we  see  the  finest  powers  of  mind  uncon- 
trolled by  religion,  but  positively  left  wild  to  the 


impulses  of  vanity,  selfishness,  and  impurity,  with- 
out one  redeeming  quality.  Yet  men  are  intoxi- 
cated with  the  enthusiasm  of  his  powers,  utterly 
forgetful  of  the  infinite  mischiefs  which  he  spent 
his  whole  life  with  a  malicious  diligence  in  scat- 
tering around  him.  The  consequence  of  this  sickly 
admiration  of  his  genius  is,  that  thousands  of 
youth  read  his  sophistical  writings — catch  hold  of 
some  specious  objections  to  Christianity  or  to  mo- 
rals— allow  their  faith  to  be  weakened  or  over- 
thrown— take  no  pains  to  re-invigorate  it  by  care- 
ful study  and  practical  obedience  to  truth — insen- 
sibly commence  infidels — and  are  lost  at  length 
in  the  vortex  of  sensuality  and  skepticism. 

But  to  return.  There  are  fine  vineyards  on  the 
island,  which  are  let  to  fifty  families,  who  have 
half  the  grapes  for  their  labor  :  last  year,  this  lit- 
tle island,  or  rather  a  third  part  of  it,  yielded  one 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  bottles  of  wine ;  some 
years  it  yields  only  twenty-four  thousand.  Such 
is  the  uncertainty  of  the  vintages  in  this  country. 
We  re-embarked,  after  a  slight  refreshment,  and 
sailed  to  the  town  of  Bienne.  The  wind  was  fa- 
vorable, and  the  prospects  on  each  side  of  the  lake 
were  charming  ;  but  the  agitation  of  the  vessel 
produced  in  some  of  us  a  qualmishness  which  in- 
terrupted our  pleasure. 

Bienne  is  a  small  town  of  two  thousand  five 
hundred  souls,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Jura.  The 
fosse  or  moat  of  the  fortifications  is  turned  into 
gardens — a  circumstance  which  we  have  often 
seen,  and  which  always  fills  me  with  an  indescri- 
bable pleasure.  I  remember  as  we  drove  out  of 
Lille,  it  was  delightful  to  me,  after  passing  four  or 
five  fines  of  frightful  fortifications,  to  turn  my  eye 
down  and  see  a  number  of  gardeners  and  hay- 
makers at  their  peaceful  occupations  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  fosse.  Bienne  abounds  with  fountains ; 
the  stone  figure  of  one  of  which  represents  a  good 
and  evil  angel  struggling  for  the  soul  of  man : 
Satan  has  horns  and  an  enormous  tail.  Over 
another  is  a  Swiss  patriot,  immovable  as  the  pe- 
destal on  which  he  stands.  The  gate-way  has  an 
extremely  old  bas-relief  of  two  heroes,  the  pecu- 
liar undauntedness  of  whose  countenances  and 
attitudes  bespeaks  the  Swiss  bravery.  The  chief 
manufactory  in  this  neighborhood  is  watches  :  a 
good  workman  can  gain  about  eight  francs  a  day, 
an  ordinary  one  three  or  four.  Bread  is  three 
halfpence  a  pound,  meat  threepence.  Out  of 
forty-nine  thousand  souls  in  the  canton  of  Neuf- 
chatel, there  are  only  two  prisoners  now  confined 
in  jail,  and  these  for  robbery.  The  punishment  of 
death  is  scarcely  ever  inflicted.  We  hope  to  be 
at  Bern  to-morrow,  where  letters  from  England 
await  us ;  I  cannot  but  feel  anxious,  after  a  total 
silence  of  nearly  eight  weeks,  to  hear  of  my  belov- 
ed family,  and  beloved  congregation ;  the  duties 
also  before  me  may  materially  vary  in  conse- 
quence :  may  God  grant  us  all  needful  direction, 
and  vouchsafe  us  the  grace  which  sanctifies  and 
saves  ! 

Bern,  Friday  morning,  August  8. — We  arrived 
here  yesterday  afternoon,  after  a  delightful  jour- 
ney of  twenty-four  miles  from  Bienne.  We  are 
now  about  nine  hundred  and  eighty-seven  miles 
from  Calais,  and  one  thousand  and  eighty-seven 
from  London  ;  and  having  reached  what  may  be 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


35 


called  the  capital  of  Switzerland,  and  our  resting- 
place  in  this  enchanting  country  (for  Geneva,  if 
we  go  much  there,  is  hut  two  or  three  days'  jour- 
ney), I  would  raise,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  make 
the  allusion,  my  memorial,  and  call  it  "  Eben- 
ezer ;"  and  say,  "Hitherto  hath  God  helped  us:" 
we  have  travelled  all  this  way  without  a  single 
accident,  properly  speaking  ;  and  with  only  those 
variations  in  health  which  occasional  heat  and 
over-fatigue  have  brought  on.  The  weather  has 
been,  on  the  whole,  more  favorable  to  us  than  it 
would  have  been  during  any  other  summer  for 
several  years.  Here  we  intend  first  to  wait,  and 
entirely  rest  ourselves,  and  then  form  the  best 
plan  we  can  for  our  health,  comfort,  and  instruc- 
tion during  our  remaining  tour.  Thank  God,  I 
found  letters  from  England  at  the  post,  with  no- 
thing but  good  news.  I  received  six  letters  alto- 
gether. 

We  dined  yesterday  at  Seedorf,  a  lovely  village, 
commanding  one  of  the  finest  views  we  have  yet 
seen.  The  road  from  Bienne  was  ahnost  one  con- 
tinued succession  of  mountains ;  which  you  will 
readily  believe,  when  I  tell  you  that  Bern  is  situ- 
ated one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  eight  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  It  is  indisputably  the 
finest  city  we  have  seen,  from  the  beauty  of  its 
site,  from  the  nobleness  and  regularity  of  its  main 
streets,  from  the  fine  white  free-stone  of  which  it 
is  built,  and  from  the  arcades  or  piazzas,  which 
adorn  not  merely  a  market-place,  like  our  Covent 
Garden,  but  absolutely  all  the  chief  avenues 
throughout  the  city;  added  to  this,  a  beautiful 
stream  of  water  flows  through  the  streets,  with 
fountains  at  convenient  distances.  It  more  re- 
sembles Bath  than  any  place  I  have  seen  abroad. 
It  stands  on  a  lofty  hill,  surrounded  almost  entire- 
ly by  the  Aar ;  about  five  degrees  more  south 
than  London.  It  is  one  of  the  most  modern  cities 
in  Switzerland ;  for  though  it  was  rebuilt  entirely 
after  the  destructive  conflagration  of  1405,  the 
chief  buildings  are  not  older  than  the  middle  of 
the  last  century. 

Friday  evening. — We  have  been  settling  to-day 
with  our  voiturier,  who  here  leaves  us.  We  have 
paid  him  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  four 
francs  for  forty-one  days,  at  the  rate  of  forty-eight 
francs  for  thirty  days'  travelling,  and  twenty-four 
for  eleven  days  of  rest.  The  distance  he  has 
brought  us  is  seven  hundred  and  ninety-two  miles ; 
which  is  about  one  shilling  and  ninepence  half- 
penny a  mile,  for  five  horses  and  two  carriages — 
but  then  we  have  the  hire  of  the  carriages,  two 
hundred  francs  a  month  each,  to  pay  when  we  re- 
turn to  Calais  ;  so  that  the  rate  of  travelling  is, 
on  the  whole,  sufficiently  expensive. 

I  have  been  to-day  introduced  to  the  Rev.  M. 
Wittenbach,  cousin  of  the  celebrated  editor  of  the 
Plutarcli,  published  some  years  since  by  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford.  He  has  been  fifty-two  years  a 
pastor  in  this  town — a  truly  delightful  person — full 
of  good  sense,  piety,  kindness,  playful  numor,  cour- 
teousness,  and  anecdote.  I  am  not  sure  I  ever 
met  with  such  a  man.  He  reminded  me  very 
much  of  the  late  Rev  John  Newton,  the  friend  of 
Cowper — so  sensible,  affectionate,  entertaining, 
and  venerable.  He  travelled  to  the  Alps  every 
luinmer  for  thirty-two  years,  till  the  French  revo- 
54—8 


lution  closed  the  series.  He  was  known  to  our 
Coxe,  who  was  here  in  1776.  He  founded  a  Bi- 
ble and  Tract  Society  in  Bern  in  1792,  and  is  the 
father  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Institution 
in  Bern.  He  took  us  over  the  library  and  the 
museum  this  afternoon.  The  cathedral  stands  on 
the  summit  of  the  hill  on  which  the  town  is  built, 
overlooking  the  Aar  ;  on  the  side  next  the  river 
a  terrace  has  been  erected,  with  immense  but- 
tresses to  support  the  wall,  which  is  above  one 
hundred  feet  high,  and  which  a  Swiss  writer,  in 
the  wrarmth  of  his  patriotism,  has  compared  to  the 
walls  of  ancient  Babylon.  The  promenade  is  as 
delicious  as  the  prospect  is  magnificent.  I  doubt 
if  Europe  can  match  the  scene.  The  female  pea- 
santry here  have  a  costume  extremely  peculiar. 
They  have  ornaments  of  black  lace  fixed  on  the 
back  of  the  head  by  a  sort  of  close  cap,  from  all 
sides  of  which  an  enormously  deep  black  frill  sticks 
upright  like  sails ;  the  higher  this  rises,  and  the 
more  stiffly  it  rears  itself,  the  more  fashionable  is 
the  dame  who  wears  it.  The  weather  to-day  has 
been  wet  and  cold. 

Saturday  morning. — I  must  preserve  a  saying 
of  the  great  Haller.  M.  Wittenbach  had  been 
speaking  to  him  of  the  difficulty  and  importance  of 
finding  the  middle  line,  the  line  of  true  wisdom, 
amidst  the  conflicts  of  mankind.  The  venerable 
Haller  replied — La  ligne  de  milieu,  la  ligne  de  sa- 
gesse,  c'esl  une  ligne  mathematique  qui  n'a  pas  de 
largeur — "  The  middle  hue,  the  fine  of  wisdom,  is 
a  mathematical  line  which  has  no  breadth."  This 
excellent  man  was  a  native  of  this  city,  and  a  de- 
scendant of  Haller  the  Reformer.  He  died  here  in 
1778  ;  and  is  deservedly  called  the  great  Haller, 
on  account  of  his  surprising  talents,  his  success  in 
every  kind  of  study,  his  love  to  his  country,  and, 
above  all,  his  piety  towards  God.  A  monument 
was  erected  to  liim  in  the  Botanical  Garden  in 
1808. 

The  Diet  of  Switzerland,  composed  of  deputies 
from  the  twenty-two  cantons,  is  now  sitting. — 
When  one  recollects  the  amazingly  small  weight 
which  this  Diet  has  in  the  affairs  of  Europe,  one 
cannot  but  smile  to  see  the  members  walking  in 
state  every  morning  to  the  Diet  in  bag-wigs,  cock- 
ed hats,  and  dressed  in  black  ;  each  preceded  by 
two  marshals  in  black,  with  their  swords,  and  their 
hats  off,  adorned  with  cloaks  of  rich  variegated 
cloth.  In  contrast  with  all  this,  it  is  painful  to 
think  that  the  ancient  independence  of  the  Swiss 
Diet  is  supposed  to  be  sinking  before  the  influence 
of  the  Holy  Alliance,  which  dictates  to  it  the  poli- 
tical measures  to  be  adopted,  and  will  hear  of  no 
remonstrance.  Switzerland  will  soon  begin  to  de- 
cay, if  its  noble  spirit  of  liberty  be  fled.  It  has 
just  suspended  the  liberty  of  the  press  for  a  year, 
and  enacted  laws  for  banishing  foreigners — steps 
which  a  century  back  no  power  in  Europe  could 
have  induced  the  Swiss  patriots  to  take.  These 
false  steps  will  infallibly  lead  on  to  worse  ones. — 
To-day  the  Diet  has  suspended  its  sittings  to  at- 
tend a  national  festival  for  wrestling ;  a  relic,  and 
the  only  one  in  Europe,  I  suppose,  of  the  wrestlers 
in  republican  Rome.  In  the  cathedral  choir  are 
displayed,  during  their  sessions,  the  trophies  gain- 
ed in  the  fifteenth  century,  over  Charles  duke  of 
Burgundy.     The  cathedral  is  a  plain,  but  noble 


30 


TRAVELS  ON  THE  CONTINENT. 


building.  Bern  is  so  healthy,  that  from  the  year 
1663  to  1700,  out  of  4225  deaths,  there  were  29 
persons  who  died  between  90  and  100,  and  1081 
between  70  and  90,  years  of  age.  Out  of  four  in- 
fants born,  one  commonly  attains  the  age  of  70. 

Sunday  evening,  August  10. — I  have  this  day 
had  the  most  delightful  Sunday  since  I  left  home. 
The  French  Protestant  service  began  at  ten.  The 
church  was  crowded.  The  minister  preached  a 
most  excellent  sermon  on  sanctification  as  flow- 
ing from  our  justification  before  God.  At  two 
o'clock  there  was  a  baptism  of  his  child  :  the  ser- 
vice was  public.  A  liturgical  office  was  read  ; 
godfathers  and  godmothers  named  ;  vows  under- 
taken ;  and  excellent  prayers  offered  up.  The  in- 
fant was  dressed  in  white,  in  a  sort  of  bag  closed 
at  the  feet.  The  water  was  poured  by  the  clerk 
from  a  silver  ewer  into  the  hand  of  the  minister ; 
a  sermon  admirably  good  was  then  preached  by 
a  second  minister.  There  is  no  solemn  reading 
of  the  Scriptures  in  these  French  churches,  which 
I  think  an  essential  defect,  There  is  also  very 
little  public  confession  of  sin,  or  prayer. 

Indeed  all  I  see  abroad  raises  my  esteem  of 
our  English  liturgy.  The  foreign  churches,  in 
their  ardor  to  recede  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
church  of  Rome,  seem  to  me  to  have  too  little 
consulted  the  interests  of  devotion,  and  to  have 
attended  too  exclusively  to  public  preaching.  We 
are  always  in  danger  of  extremes.  The  primitive 
church  was  in  nothing  more  remarkable  than  in 
the  spirit  of  contrition,  meekness,  and  humility 
which  pervaded  it.  The  hidden  life  of  the  Chris- 
tian was  the  main  source  of  divine  prii  siples  and 
practice.  The  church  of  England,  whe  her  true 
spirit  is  imbibed — her  doctrines  and  her  .  evotional 
forms — her  evangelical  instructions,  and  her  pray- 
ers— perhaps  comes  the  nearest  of  all  the  reform- 
ed communities  to  the  practice  of  the  first  Chris- 
tians ;  and  is  best  adapted  to  such  a  creature  as 
man. 

After  the  morning  sermon,  a  curtain,  which  se- 
parated an  entire  portion  of  the  church  opposite 
to  the  pulpit,  was  withdrawn,  and  lo,  a  popish  al- 
tar, with  two  chapels,  and  a  pulpit !  For,  the 
established  religion  being  Lutheran,  the  Calvinists 
and  Catholics  use  the  same  church.  At  half-past 
four,  our  fellow-traveller  preached  us  an  excellent 
sermon  in  our  chamber.  Thus  the  day  has  been 
refreshing  to  my  mind.  What  a  tender  plant  is 
religion  in  the  human  heart !  how  soon  does  it 
wither  !  what  constant  need  of  the  heavenly  dew ! 
Lord,  be  thou,  by  thy  grace  and  Spirit,  as  the  dew 
unto  us  ;  renew,  penetrate,  soften,  fructify,  bless  ! 
— I  introduced  myself  to  the  two  ministers  here, 
and  found  them  charming  persons :  they  lent  me 
the  work  of  the  converted  priest ;  the  title  is, 
"  The  Christian  Confession  of  Faith,  of  the  Pastor 
Henhofer,  of  Muhlhausen,  who,  with  forty  families, 
his  former  hearers,  turned  from  the  Catholic  to 
the  Evangelical  Lutheran  Church:  Spire,  1823." 
Muhlhausen  is  a  village  belonging  to  the  Baron 
Gemmingen,  two  miles  from  the  Baron's  chateau 
at  Steineyg,  which  is  situated  near  Pforzheim,  be- 
tween Carlsruh  and  Stutgard. 

Monday  morning. — The  weather  has  now  be- 
come beautifully  fine ;  and  my  friend,  and  the  lads 


and  I,  are  going  off  to  Thun  and  Lucerne,  for 
what  is  called  the  Oberland  Mountain  Tour,  for 
about  ten  or  twelve  days.  We  leave  dear  Mrs. 
W.,  the  child,  and  our  Swiss  maid-servant  here 
till  we  return :  the  travelling  on  mules  over  moun- 
tains is  not  suitable  to  their  state  of  health ;  whilst 
I  am  assured  it  may  exceedingly  contribute  to  the 
further  re-establishment  of  mine.  Farewell ;  may 
God  preserve  us  all  to  his  heavenly  kingdom  ! 

I  am  yours  most  affectionately, 

D.  W. 

P.  S. — I  should  have  told  you,  that  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  views  of  Swiss  manners  I  have 
yet  beheld,  was  from  the  window  of  our  inn,  the 
Falcon,  on  the  mam  street  of  Bern.  It  was  mar- 
ket-day. The  crowds  of  persons,  each  in  the  cos- 
tume of  their  neighborhood ;  their  strange  ap- 
pearance and  language ;  the  variety  of  fruit  and 
flowers  exposed  to  sale  ;  the  constant  change  in 
the  groups  moving  before  you ;  the  strong,  heal- 
thy, robust  look  of  every  creature  ;  the  air  of  in- 
dependence and  freedom  in  then  countenances, 
struck  us  with  admiration. 

NOTICE  OF  THE  PASTOR  HENHOFER. 

I  here  subjoin  some  further  particulars  of  the 
conversion  of  the  pastor  Henhofer,  of  whom  I 
have  made  mention  in  another  letter.  I  extract 
them  from  the  "  Archives  du  Christianisme,"  for 
1824. 

M.  Aloyx  Henhofer  was  Catholic  cure  of  the 
communes  of  Muhlhausen  and  Steineyg.  In  pro- 
portion as  he  studied  the  sacred  Scriptures,  with 
a  conscientious  desire  to  fulfil  his  pastoral  duties, 
his  preaching  began  to  savor  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ ;  and  he  gradually  proclaimed  the  Gospel 
with  so  much  unction  and  force,  that  multitudes 
came  from  the  most  distant  villages  to  hear  him. 
He  was  soon  cited  to  appear  before  the  Ecclesias- 
tical Authorities  at  Bruchsal,  to  give  an  account 
of  his  doctrines.  It  was  on  this  occasion  he  pub- 
lished the  Confession  to  which  I  have  alluded. — 
In  this  he  declares,  that  all  the  time  he  was  cure 
of  Muhlhausen  he  never  said  a  word  contrary  to 
tho  principles  of  the  Catholic  church ;  and  when 
he  preached  against  the  abuse  of  ceremonies,  it 
was  only  to  combat  the  errors  of  some  of  his  pa- 
rishioners, who  thought  to  satisfy  their  consciences 
by  merely  observing  the  exterior  forms  of  religion. 
The  authorities  of  Bruchsal  deprived  him  of  his 
living ;  declaring,  that  by  his  "  Confession"  he 
had  pronounced  his  own  separation. 

The  Baron  de  Gemmingen,  lord  of  the  parish, 
with  all  his  household,  and  the  cure  Henhofer  at 
the  head  of  forty  families,  comprising  about  220 
persons,  soon  after  publicly  separated  themselves 
from  the  church  of  Rome.  They  made  a  pro- 
fession of  their  faith  in  the  evangelical  doctrines, 
in  the  Baronial  chapel  of  Steineyg ;  and  then,  as 
many  of  them  as  were  adults,  received  the  Holy 
Communion  according  to  the  rites  adopted  since 
the  reunion  of  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinistic 
churches.  This  affecting  ceremony  was  cele- 
brated in  a  Catholic  country,  in  the  midst  of  a 
crowd  assembled  from  all  the  neighboring  places, 
with  doors  and  windows  open,  without  the  slightest 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


37 


interruption  or  disturbance — a  proof  of  the  excel- 
lent temper  which  prevails  between  the  two  com- 
munions in  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden. 

As  about  half  the  parish  of  Mulilhausen  re- 
mained Catholics,  and  the  new  converts  had  of 
course  no  claim  to  the  revenues  of  the  living,  nor 
to  the  use  of  the  parish  church,  they  have  for  the 
present  joined  themselves  to  the  parisli  of  Urbain 
de  Pforzheim,  and  divine  service  is  celebrated  in 
the  chapel  of  the  castle  of  Steineyg.  M.  Henho- 
fer  has  not  at  present  thought  it  right  to  remain 
as  their  pastor,  on  account  of  the  umbrage  it 
would  give  the  Catholics.  Nevertheless  he  was 
examined  as  a  Protestant  candidate,  Aprd  11, 
1823,  and  was  ordained  the  following  day.  He 
is  a  pious,  calm,  amiable  man,  who  has  acquired 
surprising  influence  by  his  personal  character. — 
His  publication  has  created  a  lively  sensation  in 
Alsace,  and  the  Catholics  read  it  with  even  more 
eagerness  than  the  Protestants. 

The  Baron  de  Gemmingen  has  addressed  a  let- 
ter to  the  inhabitants  on  his  estate,  from  which  I 
give  an  extract  as  a  specimen  of  the  truly  evan- 
gelical principles  on  which  his  conversion  rests. 

"  Some  have  said,  that  the  motive  which  has 
determined  us  to  embrace  the  Evangelical  Reli- 
gion is,  that  it  is  more  convenient ;  and  that  we 
should  not  have  thought  of  it,  if  it  had  imposed 
more  difficult  duties.  Such  language  can  only 
proceed  from  the  most  profound  ignorance,  and 
has  no  need  of  refutation  with  men  of  understand- 
ing. Without  doubt  a  Catholic,  who  knows  no- 
thing but  his  own  church,  may  be  led  to  think,  in 
seeing  the  small  number  of  rites  practised  in  the 
evangelical  religion,  that  this  religion  is  more  easy, 
more  convenient,  according  to  the  judgment  of 
this  world,  than  that  of  the  church  of  Rome.  But, 
my  dear  friends,  the  man  who  attaches  himself 
only  to  the  exterior  of  religion,  who  follows  the 
usages  of  such  or  such  a  church,  without  possess- 
ing the  interior  life  of  grace,  without  having  re- 
ceived Christ  into  his  heart,  without  ever  seeing 
in  him,  his  Redeemer,  his  only  benefactor  ;  with- 
out being  penetrated  with  a  gratitude  towards 
him  which  inflames  his  whole  soul,  and  which  in- 
creases in  proportion  as  he  discovers  more  his 
own  corruption ;  this  man,  to  whatever  commu- 
nion he  belongs,  is  an  useless  member  of  the  body 
of  Jesus  Christ,  a  branch  dried  up,  which  cannot 
produce  any  abiding  fruit.  The  interior  life,  or 
the  new  birth  of  the  man,  is  the  essential  condi- 
tion, without  which  no  one  can  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Our  Lord  himself  has  explain- 
ed this  truth  with  great  force  in  his  conversation 
with  Nicodemus  by  night.  To  put  off  the  old 
man,  to  strive  against  one's  passions,  is  a  task 
more  difficult  than  the  observing  of  these  exterior 
practices,  from  which  interior  Christianity  has  but 
too  often  suffered." 

Such  are  some  of  the  circumstances  of  this  re- 
markable conversion.  The  Scriptures  studied 
With  humble  prayer,  seem,  under  the  influence  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  to  have  been  the  only  guide. — 
May  the  same  sacred  book,  in  the  hands  of  that 
Spirit,  lead  more  and  more,  both  of  Catholic  and 
Protestant  pastors,  to  the  true  knowledge  of 
Christ:  soon  would  the  wilderness  of  this  world 
blossom  and  flourish,  and  the  visible  church  regain 
ts  primitive  holiness  and  glory. 


LETTER  VIII. 
Lauterbrunnen,  Aug.  12. — Grbnsel,  Aug.  17, 1823. 

View  from  Inn  at  Lauterbrunnen — Lake  of  Thun — 
Interlacken — Ur.terseen  —  St.  Beal — Staubbach — 
Anecdote — Wengen  Alp— Chalets — Avalanches 
from  Jungfrau — Grindelwald — Anecdotes— Gla- 
ciers— Sheideck  Alp — Miserably  wet  Journey — 
Reichen-bach— Valley  of  Meyringen— Lake  of 
Brientz  —  Fall  of  Giessbach  —  Mud  Torrents — 
Handeck— Grimsel— Sunday  Reflections— Italian 
Nobleman — Lord  Byron. 

Lauterbrunnen  (Clear  Fountains)  in 
the  Oberland  of  Bern,  Tuesday,  August 
12,  1823,  44  miles  from  Bern. 

My  dear  sister — I  am  now  sitting  at  the 
window  of  the  salle-a-ma-nger  at  Lauterbrunnen. 
On  the  right  hand  of  the  view  which  is  before  me, 
the  celebrated  Staubbach,  a  fall  of  water  of  eight 
hundred  feet,  is  descending  in  foam  and  spray  ;  the 
perpendicular  rocks  present  no  jutting  shelves  to 
break  its  fall ;  it  is  a  soft,  gentle,  elegant  stream, 
the  sport  of  every  wind,  and,  as  it  reaches  the 
earth,  lost  in  vapor.  Immediately  beyond  the 
nearer  rocks  which  rise  all  around,  the  Breithorn 
Alp,  with  its  never-melting  snows,  rears  its  head ; 
it  seems  quite  close  to  me,  from  the  brightness  of 
the  snow,  illuminated  with  the  afternoon  sun ;  but 
it  is,  in  fact,  twenty  miles  off.  Next  in  the  pros- 
pect a  mountain  appears  with  a  streak  or  two  of 
snow  at  the  top ;  and  then  the  Jungfrau  Alp, 
which  is  twelve  thousand  eight  hundred  and  seven- 
ty-two feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  lifts  its  snowy 
top  above  the  masses  which  hide  my  view  of  the  rest 
of  its  vast  form.  In  the  nearer  ground  are  the  cotta- 
ges of  the  village,  creeping  up  the  habitable  parts  of 
the  hills,  and  interspersed  with  beautiful  meadows 
and  foliage ;  whilst  the  roaring  of  the  Lutschinen 
river,  which  rolls  through  the  valley,  alone  breaks 
the  deep  silence  which  reigns  all  around,  and  com- 
bines, with  its  noble  cascades,  just  under  my  eye  on 
my  left  hand,  to  complete  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  majestic  views  imaginable.  The  scenes  of 
Zurich  and  Basle  must  yield  in  attraction  and 
grandeur  to  this ;  for  here  the  rudest  and  most 
savage  mountain-prospect  is  united  with  the  eter- 
nal snows  of  the  Alps,  and  the  sweetest  picturesque 
home-scenery.  You  would  wonder  that  I  could 
write  thus  cheerfully,  or  even  write  at  all,  if  you 
knew  that  I  have  been  twenty  miles  or  more  in  a 
small  country  car  this  morning,  exploring  the  beau- 
ties of  the  valley,  of  a  single  point  of  which,  as 
seen  from  the  inn,  I  am  now  speaking ;  my  senses 
are  overpowered  with  wonders. 

My  friend,  the  two  boys,  and  I,  left  Bern  yester- 
day in  a  hired  car,  and  came  on  to  Thun,  fifteen 
miles,  where  we  embarked  on  the  lake  of  that  name, 
and  reached  Interlacken  at  seven.  The  lake  is 
itself  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  is  embosomed  in 
the  midst  of  the  Alps,  which  raise  their  lofty  sum- 
mits in  all  directions.  It  is  esteemed  one  of  the 
mosl  beautiful  in  this  romantic  country.  We  stop- 
ped in  our  voyage  to  ascend  to  the  cavern  of  St. 
Beat ;  a  dark  cave  which  lies  on  the  side  of  the 
lake,  and  is  said  to  go  a  league  under  the  earth. 
A  river  gushes  through  it.  The  popular  tradition 
is,  that  hi  the  first  century,  the  earliest  Christian 


38 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


missionary  to  Helvetia  finished  his  days  and  was 
buried  here.  We  landed  at  Neuhaus,  hired  ano- 
ther car,  and  passed  through  Unterseen,  one  of 
the  most  romantic  towns  we  have  visited.  We 
slept  at  Interlacken,  which  lies  between  the  lakes 
of  Thun  and  Brientz,  and  affords  a  view  of  a  pro- 
digious chain  of  Alps  from  the  Haslerberge  to  the 
Niesen.  The  situation  of  the  village  is  most  love- 
ly ;  but  the  place  has  much  fallen  off  during  the 
last  four  or  five  years — the  inn  bad — the  walks 
overgrown  with  weeds — every  thing  neglected. 
Even  the  walnut-trees,  once  the  finest  in  Switzer- 
land, seem  to  languish. 

We  set  off  to  Lauterbrunnen  this  morning  at 
seven  ;  and  on  entering  the  valley  were  astonish- 
ed at  every  step,  at  the  scenes  which  opened  be- 
fore us.  When  he  approached  the  Staubbach 
(dust-stream)  we  found  it  was  composed  of  an  im- 
mense mass  of  water  which  the  great  height  dis- 
perses as  it  falls.  After  proceeding  in  the  car  two 
leagues,  we  ascended  on  foot  an  enormous  rock, 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  to  see  the  cascade  of  Schilt- 
waldbach,  rushing  between  two  mountains  with  a 
surprising  force.  It  would  have  amused  you  to  see 
our  faint  and  weary  steps  toiling  up  the  rock  under 
a  burning  sun  ;  I  was  the  worst  of  the  party,  and 
leant  most  heavily  on  the  arm  of  the  guide.  When 
we  reached  the  top,  some  cold  chamois  and  beef, 
with  water  from  the  stream,  dashed  with  eau  de 
cerise,  served  to  recruit  our  strength.  We  lay 
along  on  the  grass  or  rocks,  under  the  shade  of  an 
overhanging  mountain,  for  more  than  an  hour,  con- 
templating the  new  scenes  before  us,  and  medita- 
ting on  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  our  heavenly 
Father  apparent  in  the  operations  of  his  hands — 
"  O  Lord,  how  wonderful  are  thy  works ;  in 
wisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all ;  the  earth  is  full 
of  thy  riches." 

On  our  return,  we  saw  another  cascade,  not 
equal  in  height  to  the  Staubbach,  but  surpassing 
it  in  other  respects.  An  immense  body  of  water 
pours,  or  rather  dashes,  out  of  an  aperture,  which 
it  seems  to  have  opened  in  the  side  of  the  rock  ; 
the  foam  is  so  great,  that  two  rainbows  are  formed 
by  its  spray  ;  one  near  the  ground,  the  other  at  its 
first  rushing  upon  the  edge  of  the  aperture,  per- 
haps one  hundred  feet  up  the  rock.  As  we  were 
coming  home,  our  guide,  who  speaks  English,  said 
to  us,  "Sirs,  do  you  see  the  row  of  firs  growing  on 
that  shelf  about  eight  hundred  feet  from  the  ground, 
just  below  the  summit  of  the  rock  over  against 
is  ] " — "  Yes." — "Last  winter,  a  cottager  hearing 
that  his  goats  were  on  that  ridge,  went  down  after 
them  ;  it  was  in  January,  and  snow  covered  all  its 
surface  ;  he  trod  on  a  stone  which  had  ice  under 
the  thin  snow ;  the  stone  gave  way  as  he  trod ; 
he  slipped,  fell,  and  was  literally  dashed  to  pieces." 
Such  are  the  tremendous  accidents  perpetually 
occurring  in  Switzerland.  We  were  petrified  with 
horror.  May  we  be  ever  ready  for  death,  whether 
it  meet  us  by  some  unexpected  calamity,  or  steal 
gradually  upon  us  !  Such  is  man's  self-flattery, 
that  in  point  of  fact,  death  comes  unawares  on 
most.* 


*  I  have  often  reflected  on  the  admission  of  Gib- 
bon that  the  possibility  of  unusual  and  sudden  modes 
of  death  should  not  be  without  its  influence  on  the 
mind. 

"  Mr.  Buffon,"  he  says,  "  from  our  disregard  of  the 


In  the  pairsh  of  Lauterbrunnen  (the  sweet  little 
church  is  just  below)  there  are  three  hamlets, 
Murron,  Grindelwald,  and  Wengen,  on  the  top  of 
the  mountain  ;  they  are  about  five  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  contain  thirty  houses  each, 
where  the  cattle  are  fed  during  the  summer.  The 
old  people  of  seventy  and  eighty  come  regularly  to 
church  every  Sunday,  three  or  four  leagues,  when 
the  weather  allows  ;  for  during  nearly  six  months, 
the  whole  parish  is  covered  with  snow,  and  tor- 
rents roll  down  every  path.  The  people  are  Pro- 
testants ;  but  there  is  an  air  of  untidiness  and 
roughness  about  them,  arising  from  their  manner 
of  life.  The  cottagers  gain  sevenpence  halfpenny 
a  day  and  their  food.  A  farm-house,  with  all  kinds 
of  rooms  and  offices,  can  be  built  for  about  six 
hundred  francs,  twenty-three  pounds ;  but  then  it 
is  all  of  wood.  The  river  here  is  a  cascade  of 
snow-water,  flowing  from  the  glaciers  above ;  a 
thick,  dirty,  foaming  stream.  The  people  eat  no 
bread,  but  live  on  potatoes,  milk,  and  cheese,  with 
meat  occasionally.  These  mountains  produce  nei- 
ther corn  nor  wine.  The  hay-harvest  is  now 
beginning,  August  12th.  The  inn  at  Lauterbrun- 
nen is  extremely  good :  far,  far  better  than  that 
at  Interlacken.  The  landlord  was  butler  to  the 
celebrated  Madame  de  Stael. 

Wednesday,  August  13th,  1823,  Grindelwald, 
5  afternoon. — Will  you  believe  that  we  have  actu- 
ally crossed  one  of  the  fearful  Alps  to-day  ]  By 
nine  o'clock  this  morning  we  had  travelled  three 
hours,  and  were  seated  on  the  roof  of  a  chalet  (a 
hut)  taking  our  early  dinner.  You  may  judge  of 
the  height  we  had  reached,  when  I  say,  that  for 
three  hours  we  mounted  almost  perpendicularly,  j 
as  fast  as  our  horses  and  mules  could  carry  us  ; 
we  had,  in  fact,  ascended  six  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Before  us  was  the  Jungfrau  k 
Alp,  with  only  one  unbroken  valley  between  us  ;  it 
is  of  the  enormous  height  just  mentioned  ;  *  but 
from  the  chalet  it  appeared  even  loftier  than  it  had 
done  at  Lauterbrunnen,  because  all  intervening 
objects  were  removed.  Our  view  from  the  roof  of 
the  chalet  was  most  magnificent.  On  our  extreme 
right  was  the  Silver  Horn  Alp,  with  an  unvaried 
cap  of  snow.  On  our  left  was  the  Monk  Alp ;  and 
last,  the  Eiger  Alp.  Before  us  was  the  Jung-frau 
or  Virgin  Alp,  so  called,  because  no  human  foot  has 
ascended  it.  It  appeared  in  inexpressible  dignity, 
and  seemed  to  command  proudly  all  the  neighbor- 
ing summits.  We  could  clearly  discern  on  it  the 
line  of  perpetual  snow ;  the  crags  and  shelves ;  the 
precipitous  sides  ;  the  glaciers  and  torrents. 

As  we  were  eating  quite  gaily  our  meat  and 
bread,  with  milk  which  the  herdsman  brought  us, 
and  were  admiring  the  sublime  scenery  around 


possibili  ty  of  death  wihtin  the  four-and-twenty  hours, 
concludes  that  a  chance  which  falls  below  or  rises 
above  ten  thousand  to  one,  will  never  affect  the  fears 
of  a  reasonable  man.  The  fact  is  true,  but  our  cou- 
rage is  the  effect  of  thoughtlessness,  rather  thanof  re- 
flection. If  a  public  lottery  were  drawn  for  the  choice 
of  an  immediate  victim,  and  if  our  name  were  in- 
scribed on  one  of  the  ten  thousand  tickets,  should  we 
be  perfectly  easy  1 " 

How  strikingly  is  this  applicable  to  the  subject  oi 
religion ;  and  how  much  does  it  illustrate  the  wisdom 
of  habitual  preparation  for  death ! 
*  12,872  feet. 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


39 


us,  which  the  superb  fineness  of  the  day  greatly 
augmented,  we  suddenly  heard  a  sound  like  dis- 
tant thunder — we  started — the  guide  told  us  it 
was  an  avalanche,  or  fall  of  a  body  of  snow,  from 
a  lofty,  precipitous  ridge  of  the  Jungfrau,  to  the 
next  projecting  cliff*  below.  We  turned  round, 
and  could  see  nothing — we  resumed  our  meal. 
Soon  the  guide  with  the  utmost  eagerness  bade 
us  look  towards  the  place  to  which  he  pointed — 
we  now  saw  an  immense  body  of  snow  rushing 
down  to  the  shelf  beneath — in  an  instant  we  again 
heard  a  noise  like  a  tremendous  clap  of  thunder — 
the  more  startling  from  the  perfect  stillness  on 
the  face  of  nature — our  food  involuntarily  quiver- 
ed in  our  hands — the  impression  for  the  moment 
was  alarming — a  kind  of  apprehension  seized  our 
minds  for  winch  we  could  scarcely  account.  The 
fact  is,  the  snow  which  we  beheld  in  its  fall  was 
an  amazing  mass ;  and  the  depth  of  its  descent 
was  at  least  a  thousand  feet ;  whilst  the  report  of 
the  concussion  was  greatly  increased  by  the  echo. 
We  saw,  after  two  or  three  great  avalanches, 
the  loaded  snow  on  the  lower  shelf  begin  to  flow 
down  like  a  river  into  the  valley  beneath.  These 
avalanches,  when  they  fall  near  the  public  roads, 
which  is  often  the  case,  are  most  destructive  and 
dangerous. 

But  it  is  time  for  me  to  tell  you  that  we  rose 
at  halt-past  four  this  morning,  and  at  six  were  in 
cavalcade  on  two  horses  and  two  mules,  with  a 
guide,  and  two  servants  to  bring  back  the  beasts  ; 
ail  hired  over-night  for  the  passage  of  the  Alps, 
the  guides  at  six  francs  a  day,  the  animals  nine — 
our  bags  were  tied  on  behind  us  ;  the  guides  car- 
ried our  staves,  umbrellas,  and  provisions.  My 
eldest  lad  went  first,  then  our  kind  fellow-traveller, 
each  on  a  mule  ;  my  younger  son  and  I  followed 
on  horses.  We  ascended  by  a  narrow  winding 
path,  sometimes  by  steps,  then  across  a  quag, 
rhen  over  a  little  champaign  country,  but  mostly 
over  loose  stones.  After  an  hour's  ride,  we  had 
ascended  three  thousand  four  hunched  and  fifty 
feet,  (Lauterbrunnen,  where  we  slept,  is  two  thou- 
sand four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea,) 
and  passed  a  village  of  about  forty  houses,  built 
of  wood,  occupied  by  small  proprietors  of  land,  and 
peasants.  After  two  hours'  further  ride,  we  reach- 
ed the  chalet  of  which  I  have  spoken  ;  we  were 
then  on  the  top  of  the  Wengen  Alp — for  every 
Alp  has  its  name. 

These  chalets  are  inhabited  for  three  months 
and  a  half  only  of  the  year,  by  farmers'  servants, 
who  first  drive  up  their  cattle  by  the  same  road  we 
came,  and  then  feed  them  there  during  the  sum- 
mer, and  make  cheese  of  the  mdk.     The  chalets 
are    wretched   sheds,   of  beams    uncut,    without 
chimneys,  the  roof  of  wood,  secured  by  rows  of 
large  rough  stones.     The  people  live  on  milk  and 
se,  and  have  a  sad,  unhealthy  look.     No  oc- 
lon  can  be  imagined  more  solitary  and  de- 
ble.     But  the  Swiss  peasant  can  read,  and 
Iible  can  cheer,  and,  I  trust,  in  many  instan- 
i ■-.-,   does  cheer,  his  lonely  hours.     We  stayed 
nearly  two  hours  at  the  place  to  rest  the  beasts, 
as  well  as  ourselves.   Soon  after  eleven,  we  began 
to  descend,  when  the  inconveniences  we  had  found 
in  our  ascent,  were  nothing  compared  with  what 
we  now  had  to  experience.     I  can  only  liken  it 
to  the  gouur  down  the  roof  of  a  house.     The  ter- 


ror was  increased  by  the  additional  feeling,  that 
bridles  were  useless,  and  that  you  must  give  your 
animal  his  head.  The  edges  of  precipices,  rivers, 
narrow  bridges  of  only  two  beams,  stones  yielding 
to  the  foot,  gaps  of  road  descending  by  steps — you 
could  not  help  yourself.  The  guide  told  you  it 
was  nothing ;  the  animals  went  on  at  the  rate  of 
three  miles  an  hour  unconcerned,  stopping  to  crop 
the  grass  and  flowers  as  they  passed;  and,  after 
three  hours  and  a  half  of  descent,  we  were  landed 
safely  at  the  valley  of  Grindelwald.  This  valley 
is  three  thousand  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above 
the  sea — about  the  height,  I  think,  of  Snowdon  in 
Wales.*  As  we  were  coming  down  to  it,  we  ob- 
served a  wide-spread  desolation  ;  trees  torn  up 
by  the  roots  and  stripped  ;  meadows  covered 
with  small  rock  or  dust;  the  road  obstructed; 
vast  masses  of  stone  between  us  and  the  nearest 
Alp,  the  Wetter-horn :  we  inquired  the  cause.  A 
dreadful  mass  had  burst  off  from  the  rock  last  win- 
ter, during  the  night,  and  had  literally  destroyed 
every  thing  which  it  met  in  its  course  ;  happily 
no  lives  were  lost. 

No  words  can  describe  the  scenes  of  this  day. 
How  great  must  that  God  be  who  formed  all  these 
wonders,  and  who  sustains  them  all !  "  Lord,  what 
is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  Son 
of  Man  that  thou  visitest  him  ] "  The  people  here 
are  Protestants,  and  each  parish  has  a  church.  As 
we  ascended  to  Wengen,  the  women  and  chil- 
dren came  out  and  sung  us  a  hymn  very  sweetly. 
The  beauty  and  magnificence  of  nature  could  not 
but  heighten  our  feelings  of  religious  awe,  grati- 
tude, and  love.  Devotion  seemed  to  be  aided  by 
the  majectic  temple  by  which  we  were  surrounded. 

The  inn  is  just  under  the  Mettenberg  Alp.  The 
weather  yesterday  and  to-day  has  been  the  finest 
since  we  left  England ;  not  a  cloud,  and  yet  not 
too  hot ;  twenty  parties  have  crossed  the  Wengen 
Alp  this  summer,  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen. 
The  snow  has  fallen,  so  lately  as  this  month,  about 
twenty-three  feet  deep.  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that 
two  of  our  beasts  were  named  Gabby  and  Manny ; 
for  a  long  time  we  supposed  these  were  the  real 
names ;  at  last  our  guide  rather  shocked  us  by 
saying,  that  the  first  was  called  Gabriel,  and  the 
second  Immanuel  !  Our  journey  to-day  was 
twenty-one  mdes,  in  eight  hours  and  a  half.  We 
have  now  a  simple  luxury  of  the  most  refreshing 
kind ;  ice  in  a  basin,  which  we  put  into  our  wine 
or  milk,  and  which  gives  a  coolness  quite  surpris- 
ing, now  that  the  thermometer  is  eighty.  The  ice 
comes  from  a  neighboring  glacier,  which  wo  visit- 
ed this  afternoon,  tired  as  we  were. 

It  was  the  first  glacier  we  had  seen,  and  a  most 
astonishing  sight — an  inclined  plane  of  a  league 
or  more,  covered  with  congealed  snow,  ice,  and 
water,  according  as  the  summer  sun,  the  heat  of 
the  earth,  the  storm?,  and  the  rush  of  superincum- 
bent matter,  have  been  more  or  less.  From  this 
plain,  the  glacier  descends  a  precipice  or  ravine, 
tilling  up  the  cavity,  with  the  same  combined  ma- 
terials of  snow,  ice,  and  water,  till  it  reaches  the 
valley  of  Grindelwald,  where  we  saw  it.  It  ap- 
peared to  us  an  enormous  rock  of  cleft  masses  of 
ice,  perhaps  one  hundred  feet  above  the  earth, 
with  caverns  worn  by  the  water  at  the  bottom. 

*  Mr.  Pennant  fixes  the  height  of  Snowdon  at 
3563  feet. 


40 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


From  this  sort  of  caverns  the  snow-rivers  rush 
from  which  the  Rhine,  Rhone,  &c.  are  supplied. 

A  Swiss  Protestant  minister  was  lost  here  a  few 
years  back,  by  incautiously  stooping  to  examine 
a  gaping  fissure.  He  lost  his  balance,  and  in  one 
instant  perished.  In  the  year  1790,  the  innkeeper 
at  Grindelwald,  named  Christian  Boren,  fell  into 
a  crevice,  as  he  was  conducting  his  flock  of  sheep 
from  Biiniseck.  Happily  he  sunk  near  the  great 
torrent  which  flows  within  the  glacier ;  and  fol- 
lowing its  bed  underneath  the  caverns  of  ice,  ar- 
rived at  length,  almost  by  a  miracle,  at  the  foot  of 
the  glacier,  with  only  one  arm  broken.  He  lived 
many  years  after.  Every  thing  in  Switzerland  is 
mixed  up  with  sudden  catastrophes. 

Thursday  evening,  August  14,  Meyringen,  chief 
■place  of  the  Valley  of  Hasli,  in  the  canton  of  Bern. 
We  have  had  a  completely  wet  morning ;  four 
hours'  ride  over  the  same  sort  of  unaccountable 
road  as  yesterday,  with  the  gratifying  accompani- 
ments of  behig  soaked  with  rain,  and  of  having 
the  beauties  of  the  journey  entirely  obscured  from 
our  view  by  the  clouds.  The  day  promised  to 
be  pretty  fine  when  we  started  at  six  this  morn- 
ing, and  continued  without  rain  as  we  ascended 
the  Sheideck  Alp,  (six  thousand  and  forty-five 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea ;)  but  when  we 
came  to  the  brow,  instead  of  enjoying  a  view  of 
the  beautiful  valley  of  Meyringen,  we  found  our- 
selves enveloped  in  thick  clouds  which  rose  in 
masses  from  below,  and  met  us  full  in  the  face. 
We  had  three  umbrellas  ;  but  these,  on  horseback, 
with  a  pelting  rain,  were  not  of  much  use ;  our 
great  coats  were,  however,  of  essential  service. 
We  rested  about  an  hour  at  a  wretched  hut,  only 
better  than  a  chalet.  The  eau  de  vie  de  Cognac, 
with  which  our  guide  was  furnished,  was  a  real 
benefit  to  us  in  this  emergency,  as  well  as  the  hot 
milk  we  obtained  here.  We  mounted  again  in 
woful  plight,  for  three  hours  more  of  rain,  fog, 
clouds,  swolen  rivers.  As  we  approached  Meyrin- 
gen, our  guide,  without  saying  a  word,  directed 
us  across  a  meadow  to  visit  some  cascades,  as 
calmly  as  if  nothing  had  happened !  They  were 
grand  enough  ;  but  my  sad  state  of  wet  and  fatigue 
deprived  me  of  all  pleasure  in  the  sight.  The 
fact,  however,  is,  that  the  Reichen-bach,  rolling 
with  a  fine  stream,  pours  into  the  valley  of  Mey- 
ringen by  five  cascades  of  eighty  or  one  hundred 
feet  each,  and  then  joins  the  Aar,  which  flows 
through  Meyringen. 

I  must  tell  you,  disconsolate  as  I  am,  that  soon 
after  we  left  Grindelwald  we  came  to  the  second 
or  upper  glacier;  for  there  are  two  at  that 
place.  We  alighted  and  went  on  the  enormous 
flakes  of  ice  :  the  water  was  dropping  all  around ; 
and  when  we  came  off  them,  we  could  see  the 
hollows  which  the  water  had  scooped  out  under- 
neath. As  we  went  on  our  way,  we  had  a  still 
better  view  of  these  moutnains  of  ice  from  above. 
They  are  the  most  remarkable  things  we  have 
seen ;  the  upper  one  has  advanced,  that  is,  in- 
vaded the  land,  two  thousand  feet  in  the  last 
twenty  years.  The  tradition  of  Grindelwald  is, 
that  there  were  formerly  fertile  valleys  in  the  spot 
now  choked  up  with  these  masses  of  ice.  Gla- 
ciers, says  M.  Ebel,  are,  in  the  first  instance,  vast 
beds  of  ice  formed  above  the  limits  of  perpetual 
snow,  and  which  are  sometimes  enclosed  in  the 


valleys  of  the  high  mountains,  and  there  held  im- 
movably ;  and  sometimes,  when  they  are  not  held 
there,  descend  by  the  sides  of  the  valleys.  This 
motion  is  produced,  in  part,  by  the  weight  of  the 
ice,  which  draws  it  on  when  it  loses  its  equili- 
brium ;  but  chiefly,  by  the  melting  and  diminution 
of  the  ice  beneath,  and  on  the  sides,  where  the 
glacier  (or  body  of  ice)  touches  the  earth  or  rocks. 
The  glacier,  thus  losing  its  centre  of  gravity, 
bursts  asunder  with  a  dreadfid  noise,  and  glides 
down  the  declivity  till  it  finds  a  new  support. 
There  are  about  400  in  the  chain  of  Alps  from 
Mount  Blanc  to  the  Tyrol ;  covering  a  space  of 
about  1000  square  miles  :  the  depth  of  which 
varies  from  100  to  600  feet. 

Meyringen,  Friday,  August  15. — This  morning, 
instead  of  the  guide  calling  us  at  four  o'clock,  he 
did  not  come  to  our  rooms  till  half-past  seven. 
The  clouds  and  heavy  rain  had  gained  us  this 
prolonged  repose.  Ten  hours'  sleep  was  by  no 
means  disagreeable  to  us.  After  breakfast,  the 
day  cleared  up  a  little,  and  we  hired  a  car,  and 
drove  nine  miles,  to  the  lake  of  Brientz. 

The  valley  of  Meyringen,  through  which  we 
passed,  is  esteemed  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  the  Swiss  valleys  ;  the  rocks  on  each  side  are 
so  lofty,  the  intervening  vale  so  lovely  (about  one 
or  two  miles  broad,)  the  outline  so  variegated — 
but  the  special  beauty  is  the  number  of  cascades 
descending  the  sides  of  the  overhanging  cliffs?, 
and  divided  into  separate  falls.  At  one  spot,  we 
had  in  view  at  the  same  time  four  or  five  cascades, 
each  falling  one  or  two  hundred  feet.  The  vil- 
lage of  Brientz  is  romantically  situated  on  the 
lake,  with  one  thousand  five  hundred  inhabitants  ; 
two  good  inns,  and  a  third  unfinished.  In  fact, 
the  visitors  to  Switzerland,  since  the  peace,  are 
multiplying,  and  improving  the  inns  every  where. 
We  took  a  boat  to  cross  the  lake,  and  visit  the 
fall  of  the  Giessbach,  about  two  miles.  We  were 
rowed  by  an  old  woman  near  seventy,  her  daugh- 
ter, and  her  little  grand-daughter,  about  eight  or 
ten  years  old  ;  one  man  steering.  The  Giees- 
bach  descends  from  the  Schwarzhorn  Alp,  and  is 
one  of  the  finest  cataracts  we  have  seen ;  it  has 
ten  separate  descents,  the  beauty  of  which  is 
heightened  by  scenery  the  most  varied  and  ro- 
mantic. At  two  or  three  points  of  view,  we  had 
the  impetuous  torrents  on  our  left,  relieved  by  a 
foreground  of  the  most  picturesque  foliage,  and 
contrasted  with  the  soft  tranquillity  of  the  lake  on 
our  right ;  whde  the  head  of  the  fall  was  con- 
cealed by  lofty  firs.  As  we  returned,  the  owner 
of  the  adjoining  land,  with  his  children,  enter- 
tained us  with  some  delightful  music.  A  New 
Testament  was  in  the  room.  It  is,  indeed,  most 
pleasing  to  find,  throughout  this  country,  Bibles 
and  books  of  devotion  :  I  saw  in  a  miserable  cha- 
let on  the  mountain,  yesterday,  Arndt's  excellent 
work  on  True  Christianity.  All  places  are  alike 
to  the  God  and  Father  of  all ;  and  some  of  these 
simple  peasants,  perhaps,  who  know  nothing  but 
their  Bibles  and  their  mountains,  may  be  happier 
than  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Paris  or  London. 
Christianity  is  a  universal  blessing  for  ruined 
man  ;  and  to  trace  its  effects  and  encourage  in 
some  degree,  however  small,  its  professed  fol- 
lowers in  obeying  it,  is  one  of  the  noblest  duties 
of  an  Englishman  on  a  foreign  tour. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


41 


I  should  tell  you,  that  it  is  on  the  borders  of  the 
lake  of  Brientz  that  some  of  those  tremendous 
torrents  of  moistened  clay  rush  from  the  Alps, 
and  carry  every  thing  before  them.  They  are 
formed  by  the  pools  of  water  collected  in  the 
clayey  portions  of  the  rocks,  which  accumulate 
till  they  burst  their  barriers.  In  1797,  thirty- 
seven  houses  and  a  great  number  of  gardens  and 
meadows  were  literally  buried  under  one  of  these 
turbid  muddy  streams.  The  villagers  of  Schwen- 
di  and  Hochstetten  escaped  only  by  going  up  on 
the  most  elevated  part  of  the  roofs  of  their  houses. 
The  lake  was  several  months  in  recovering  its 
usual  purity. 

Saturday,  August  16,  three  o'clock,  afternoon. — 
We  are  just  arrived  on  the  wildest  of  all  the 
Swiss  mountains,  the  Grimsel,  six  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea  ;  twenty-four  miles  from  Meyringen. 
We  are  at  a  lone  house,  called  the  Hospice,  and 
the  only  one  for  ten  more  long  mountainous 
leagues.  The  danger  of  not  meeting  beds  was, 
therefore,  so  alarming,  that  we  sent  on  a  courier 
this  morning  at  three  o'clock  to  engage  rooms. 
The  man  had  gone  the  eight  leagues  on  foot,  and 
had  returned  about  three  of  them,  when  we  met 
him,  at  one  o'clock  ;  that  is,  he  had  run,  or  walk- 
ed, thirty-three  miles  in  ten  hours,  over  a  road, 
winch  if  you  had  seen,  you  would  have  thought 
that  none  but  goats  could  pass.  We  have  been 
nine  hours  and  a  quarter  going,  on  horses  and 
mules,  the  twenty-four  miles.  Notliing  more  sur- 
prises me  than  the  inexhaustible  variety  of  grand 
outline  and  beautiful  scenery  in  this  wonderful 
Switzerland.  But  I  find  it  is  one  thing  to  have 
some  relish  for  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  another 
to  be  able  to  describe  them.  I  am  altogether  in- 
capable of  the  task. 

We  have,  in  fact,  passed  to-day,  a  country  quite 
as  deserving  to  be  seen  as  any  thing  we  have 
already  visited,  and  yet  utterly  different.  The 
character  of  the  valley  of  the  Aar  is  wild  and  sa- 
vage grandeur ;  desolation  upon  desolation ;  a 
road,  or  rather  crag,  which  all  the  sagacity  of  our 
mules  could  scarcely  overcome  ;  sometimes,  rude 
stone  steps  ;  then,  the  smooth  slippery  back  of  a 
rock  ;  then,  loose  pebbles  ;  then,  quagmire  ;  then, 
enormous  sharp  stones,  from  which  the  winter 
torrents  had  worn  away  all  the  earth,  and  left  only 
holes  for  the  beasts  to  tread  in.  Still  upon  this 
road,  the  mules  passed  with  perfect  safety.  We 
followed  the  course  of  the  Aar  the  whole  of  the 
way,  which  forms  continual  cascades,  foaming 
furiously  over  rocks  which  frequently  almost  fill 
up  its  bed.  By  the  bye,  I  found  that  our  mules 
had  been  this  road  thirty  or  forty  times  already, 
and  this  encouraged  us  to  set  off;  and  most  am- 
ply have  we  been  rewarded.  The  fall  of  the  Aar, 
called  the  Handeck,  is  magnificent  indeed.  The 
body  of  water  is  immense,  another  river  uniting 
witli  it  at  the  fall ;  and  the  peculiarity  is,  that  a 
scooped  rock,  or  rather  a  narrow  basin,  or  chasm 
of  rocks,  opens  an  abyss  of  two  hundred  feet  to 
receive  the  torrent.  To  look  down  it  made  me 
quite  giddy.  We  are  now  so  high,  that  it  is  ex- 
cessively cold,  though  the  sun  shines,  and  we  left 
Meyringen  at  a  thermometer  about  seventy.  We 
had,  indeed,  passed  over  ground  as  high  both  on 
Wednesday  and  Thursday ;  but  this  is  the  first 
time  we  have  stopt  at  such  an  elevation.     Our 


friend  has  not  accompanied  us,  as  he  passed  the 
Grimsel  four  years  ago,  and  he  wished  to  improve 
the  time,  by  visiting  some  places  new  to  him.  My 
dear  sons  and  I,  with  two  mules,  a  horse,  a  guide, 
and  a  servant  who  tends  the  mules,  are  now  the 
whole  party. 

I  must,  before  I  finish  to-day,  translate  for  you 
a  Latin  note  out  of  the  strangers'  book  here :  "We 
were  first  overcome  by  heat  and  fatigue  ;  then,  by 
rain,  wind,  cold,  and  the  badness  of  the  roads  ;  we 
came  here  without  having  seen  what  wre  travelled 
on  purpose  to  see  ;  and  all  hope  of  better  weather 
being  lost,  we  departed,  imprecating  every  thing 
evil  against  mount  Grimsel."  Such  is  the  angry 
record  of  two  gentlemen,  one  from  Petersburgh, 
the  other  from  Leipsic. 

Sunday,  August  17. — This  is  my  ninth  Sunday, 
and  we  are  in  a  situation  the  most  desolate  and 
gloomy,  as  to  outward  things,  possible — in  a  lone 
house,  twelve  mountain  miles  from  any  church — 
not  a  tree  nor  shrub  to  be  seen — nothing  but  bar- 
ren rocks  piled  one  upon  another — not  a  creature 
that  understands  English,  and  only  one  who  un- 
derstands French.  Still,  if  God  is  with  us,  it  is 
enough.  We  have  our  morning  service,  in  a  quiet, 
tranquil  room,  with  a  fire,  (for  it  is  just  like  a 
keen  December  day ;)  using  as  many  of  the  church 
prayers  as  I  could  remember — for  we  have  only  a 
pocket  bible  with  us — reading  some  psalms  and 
lessons,  and  closing  with  a  sermon,  or  rather  ex- 
position. We  then  went  to  take  a  little  turn  to 
warm  our  feet ;  and  now  my  dear  sons  are  em- 
ployed in  writing  on  a  subject  which  I  have  given 
them,  till  our  afternoon  service.  I  cannot  do  bet- 
ter than  follow  then  example. 

The  first  reflection  that  occurs  to  me,  whilst 
meditating  in  this  solitude,  is  the  greatness  and 
goodness  of  that  God  who  upholds  and  governs 
all  this  wild  and  stupendous  scene  around  us — 
that  God  who  "sits  on  the  circle  of  the  heavens," 
and  before  whom  "the  mountains  are  as  nothing." 
But  all  this  divine  glory  in  nature  is  accompanied 
with  marks  of  his  wrath  ;  the  effects  of  the  con- 
vulsions of  the  deluge  are  every  where  visible — 
the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  have  been  broken 
up,  the  mountains  have  been  rent  asunder,  the 
earth  has  been  shaken  out  of  its  place.  How 
good,  then,  is  our  heavenly  Father,  who  still 
spares  a  wicked  and  ungrateful  world,  which  he 
has  shown  that  he  could  instantly  destroy  ;  nay, 
farther,  how  much  more  gracious  is  He,  who,  in- 
stead of  destroying  the  world  as  it  deserves,  has 
given  his  only-begotten  Son,  to  offer  himself  up  as 
a  sacrifice  for  our  sins !  May  the  works  of  crea- 
tion ever  lead  up  our  minds  to  God  in  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord  !  It  is  thus  that  our  Saviour  teaches  us 
to  employ  all  the  objects  of  nature,  in  his  divine 
discourses. 

The  next  thought  that  strikes  my  mind  is,  the 
many  blessings  which  have  accompanied  my 
family  and  me  on  this  journey.  Every  thing  has 
turned  out  for  our  good  ;  the  weather  has  cooled 
the  season,  and  made  our  travelling  safe  and 
agreeable ;  delays  have  proved  benefits.  Ever 
since  we  set  off  we  have  had  blessing  upon  bless- 
ing. 

In  the  next  place,  how  unspeakable  is  the  com- 
fort of  prater!  Wherever  I  am,  my  family 
can  pray  for  me,  and  I  can  pray  for  my  family. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


The  "  throne  of  grace  "  is  accessible  at  all  times, 
and  in  all  places.  My  dear  Mrs.  W.  and  child 
now  at  Bern,  my  affectionate  mother  and  family 
at  London,  my  large  and  beloved  flock  at  St. 
John's,  are  united  to  me  by  the  bond  of  prayer ; 
all  may  confer  benefits  and  receive  them,  by  in- 
tercession to  that  God  who  is  every  where  present 
and  lias  all  things  in  his  hands. 

Again,  let  me  reflect  on  the  duty  of  content- 
ment and  gratitude  ;  I  see  nothing  abroad,  but 
what  makes  me  more  thankful  for  the  lot  Provi- 
dence has  appointed  me  at  home.  Switzerland  is 
beautiful  to  visit  in  a  summer  tour ;  but  England 
is  the  happier  land  in  all  respects,  if  she  knew  her 
privileges.  Consider  the  family  in  this  inn.  In 
July  last,  the  snow  was  twenty-three  feet  deep 
behind  the  house.  For  nine  months  hi  the  year, 
the  family  are  compelled  to  leave  it  to  a  man  and 
two  dogs,  and  go  down  to  the  plain  of  Meyringen ; 
and  when  they  are  here  hi  the  summer,  they  have 
to  pass  twenty-four  miles  of  steep  mountain  road, 
whenever  they  go  to  church. 

Once  more,  let  me  make  a  remark  on  the 
place  itself  where  I  am  writing.  It  is  called  an 
Hospice  or  Spital.  It  was  enlarged  last  year  with 
eleven  new  rooms  by  the  government  of  Bern ; 
and  the  innkeeper  is  obliged  to  entertain  stran- 
gers, to  receive  the  poor  gratis,  and  keep  the 
house  open  all  the  whiter,  for  fear  any  travellers 
should  be  passing.  May  not  this  remind  me  of 
that  true  hospice  and  refuge,  which  our  Saviour 
has  set  up  in  the  Gospel,  for  the  wandering  tra- 
veller 1  The  names  of  the  persons  who  enlarged 
this  house  are  pamted  in  great  characters  on  the 
wall  of  the  dining-room ;  should  not  this  teach  me 
to  engrave,  as  it  were,  the  Saviour's  name  on  the 
tablet  of  my  heart,  and  record  the  memory  of  his 
grace  there  1 

Further,  let  me  consider  the  charity  with 
which  we  should  regard  these  simple  people.  The 
poor  cottagers  come  from  Murren,  six  leagues, 
six  thousand  feet  of  descent  and  ascent,  to  Lau- 
terbrunnen  church,  even  when  seventy  or  eighty 
years  old.  Many  of  the  houses  have  not  only  the 
names  of  the  builder,  but  texts  of  Scripture,  writ- 
ten on  the  outside.  In  a  small  inn  at  Guttanen, 
four  leagues  off,  where  we  stopped  yesterday,  I 
found  inscriptions  on  each  side  of  the  door  of  the 
chamber ;  one  of  which  was  to  this  effect,  "  On 
God's  grace  and  good  blessing,  all  man's  success 
depends ;  and  without  his  help  and  mercy,  all  man's 
doings  are  vain."  I  find  in  this  inn,  the  Grimsel, 
a  very  excellent  book  of  prayers,  and  a  pious 
French  tract ;  given,  probably,  by  the  Basle  Tract 
Society.  There  are  a  man  and  his  wife  and  seven 
cliildren  here,  and  six  servants.  I  have  been  talk- 
ing to  the  only  daughter,  who  understands  French, 
and  have  given  her  a  Testament ;  she  was  very 
attentive  to  what  I  said,  and  asked  me  if  I  knew 
Dr.  Steinkopff,  whom  she  saw  some  years  ago. 
I  am  far  from  dwelling  on  such  small  circum- 
stances ;  but  surely  they  may  lead  us  to  hope,  that 
God  our  Saviour  has  many  true  disciples  in  these 
wild  deserts — many  who  love,  and  fear,  and  obey 
him  in  simplicity  of  heart.  The  most  enlarged 
charity  is  ever  the  duty  of  a  traveller. 

Lastly,  I  cannot  but  reflect  on  the  unspeakable 
importance  of  Englishmen  acting  consistently 
as  Christians,  when  abroad.     We  met  here  last 


night,  at  supper,  (at  five)  an  Italian  nobleman,  a 
Florentine,  and  two  English  gentlemen  of  family; 
to-day,  though  it  is  Sunday,  all  have  gone  on  their 
journey.  Now,  if  every  Englishman  would  but 
keep  holy  the  Sabbath,  and  show  what  the  Pro- 
testant religion  is,  in  his  conduct,  unnumbered 
blessings  might  follow.  The  Italian  nobleman 
seemed  a  man  of  reading  and  acuteness.  He 
spoke  rather  contemptuously  of  the  Pope,  and  the 
supposed  designs  of  the  see  of  Rome.  He  was 
acquainted  with  our  English  history,  and  did  not 
conceal  his  admiration  of  our  free  constitution,  on 
which  he  offered  some  comments  that  showed  an 
independent,  discriminating  mind.  In  short,  he 
discoursed  without  reserve  on  every  subject  that 
was  started.  Especially  he  joined  in  abhorrence 
of  the  principles  of  lord  Byron.  He  admitted  the 
charms  of  his  poetry  ;  but  there  seemed  to  he  a 
strong  impression  on  his  mind  that  such  a  man 
was  really  most  pernicious  and  despicable.  I  was 
glad  to  hear  him  say,  that  no  persons  of  character 
in  Italy  or  elsewhere  would  associate  with  him. 

It  is  impossible  to  foresee  what  good  might  be 
done  by  the  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  British  travel- 
lers who  are  scattered  over  Europe,  if  they  acted 
an  open,  kind,  consistent,  religious  part,  as  they 
ought ;  but  if  they  are  ashamed  of  their  principles, 
and  conform,  one  in  one  thing,  and  another  in  an- 
other, to  the  wrong  practices  of  the  Continent, 
they  share  in  its  guilt,  and,  indeed,  are  answerable 
for  all  the  evil  which  they  might  have  prevented, 
or  remedied,  by  the  manly  discharge  of  their  duty 
as  servants  of  Christ. 

I  am  yours  most  affectionately, 

D.  W. 


LETTER  IX. 

Furca  Alp,  August  18. — Bern,  August  24,  1823. 

Glacier  of  Rhone — Furca  Alp — Realp — Capuchin 
Friar — Hospital — Cold  — Valley  of  Reuss  —De- 
vil's Bridge — Amstag — New  Road — Altorf— "Wil- 
liam Tell — Fluellen — Lake  of  four  Cantons — 
Switz— Mount  Righi — Storm — Mount  Pilate — 
Ruin  of  Goldau — Stranger's  Book — King  of  Eng- 
land— Italians  and  Russians — Kusnacht — Lucern 
— William  Tell — Wooden  Bridges — Pere  Girard 
— Luther — Zofingen  —  Hei  zogenbuchs  —  Bern — 
Sunday — Fast — English  Service — Government  of 
Bern  and  England. 

Hospital  of  Hopendal,  (place  for  the  recep- 
tion of  strangers  and  travellers,)  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  St.  Gothard,  in  the  Canton 
of  Uri,  Monday,  Aug.  18, 1823. 

We  set  off,  my  dear  sister,  this  morning,  from 
the  Hospice  of  the  Grimsel,  at  a  quarter  before 
six :  the  morning  was  dull,  but  without  rain  for 
some  time.  As  we  ascended  the  remaining  part 
of  the  Grimsel  Alp,  we  looked  behind  us  and  saw 
a  thick  white  cloud  completely  filling  the  valley, 
and  rising  gradually  up  the  mountain.  We  had 
nearly  three  thousand  feet  to  go  before  we  reach- 
ed the  summit,  by  a  road  far  worse  than  any  we 
had  yet  passed.  We  had  continually  to  cross 
masses  of  snow,  quagmires,  and  torrents  without 
bridges.     We  had  stones  in  the  manner  of  6tairs 


TRAVELS   ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


43 


on  Saturday,  but  to-day  we  had  stones  in  the 
manner  of  falls  and  pits  ;  so  that  when  the  mules 
stepped  down,  it  was  with  a  plunge  :  we  had,  also, 
many  slippery  backs  of  rocks.  You  may  judge  of 
the  sort  of  difficulties  by  this  circumstance,  that 
as  soon  as  we  began  to  descend,  we  were  obliged 
to  alight,  and  walk  down  the  whole  of  this  fright- 
ful Alp. 

Immediately  in  the  valley  between  the  Grimsel 
and  the  Furca  Alps  is  the  glacier  of  the  Rhone, 
which  has  its  source  here.  Tins  glacier  far  sur- 
passes in  extent  and  grandeur  those  at  Grindel- 
wald — it  is  as  if  an  immense  sea,  when  rushing 
down  the  valley,  had  been  suddenly  turned  into 
ice,  with  all  its  agitations.  I  conjecture,  from  my 
eye,  that  it  may  be  about  eight  hundred  or  one 
thousand  feet  wide,  four  thousand  long,  and  five 
or  six  hundred  deep.  Imagine  yourself  only  at 
the  foot  of  such  a  sea  of  broken  ice,  from  beneath 
which  twenty  or  more  turbid  snow-streams  are 
bursting  out,  which  form  the  Rhone.  As  soon  as 
we  had  crossed  the  valley,  through  which  the 
Rhone  passes,  we  began  to  ascend  the  Furca  Alp, 
eight  thousand  eight  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  two  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  eighty  above  the  Hospice  where  we 
had  slept.  As  we  mounted  up,  another  glacier 
appeared  on  our  right.  The  cold  was  yet  more 
intense  than  on  the  Grimsel.  Our  limbs  were 
completely  benumbed.  The  rain  also  now  began 
to  fall,  so  that  we  lost  the  noble  view  of  the  distant 
Alps,  wliich  in  fine  weather  is  incomparably  grand. 
As  soon  as  we  had  reached  the  top,  we  were 
obliged  to  alight  and  descend,  not  a  mountain  of 
earth,  but  an  immense  mountain  of  snow,  over 
which  we  slid  and  walked  as  well  as  we  could. — 
I  can  quite  understand  now,  why  the  snow  is  per- 
petual on  the  higher  Alps  :  we  were  almost  frozen 
at  eight  thousand  feet ;  what,  then,  must  be  the 
intensity  of  cold,  at  twelve  or  thirteen  thousand 
feet? 

After  a  journey  of  five  hours  and  a  half  (four  of 
which  were  in  the  rain),  we  reached  the  first  inha- 
bited house,  the  hospice  of  Realp.     When  we 
came  to  the  door,  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  guide 
ring  the  bell,  and  then  humbly  take  off  his  hat, 
when  the  door  opened  ;  and  much  more  to  see  a 
venerable  Capuchin  friar  come  out  with  a  long 
beard,  a  brown  garment  of  the  coarsest  cloth, 
reaching  to  his  feet,  with  a  large  hood  hanging 
behind,  and  girded  round  his  waist  with  a  thick 
common  cord ;  whilst  a  deep  frill  of  coarse  linen 
good  way  down  Ids  breast.      He  wore  no 
stockings,  and  only  rough  sandals  on  his  feet. — 
He  came  gravely  up  to  us.     He  could  not  speak 
French ;  but  his  look  was  benignant,  and  lie  show-  j 
ed  us  into  his  room  with  much  courtesy,  brought ! 
us  a  bottle  of  a  light  sweet  Italian  wine,  spread  a  j 
cloth  for  us,  and  then  retired,  whilst  we  ate  the  ! 
provisions  we  had  brought  with  us.     As  we  were  | 
dripping  wet,  wo  begged  to  have  the  wine  made 
hot :  it  was  done  in  the  most  comfortable  manner  j 
possible.      We  had  time  dining  dinner  to  look ! 
round  the  room — furniture  old,  but  convenient —  ! 
figures  of  our  Saviour — a  printed  list,  several  feel 
of  the  abbots  of  his  order — holy  water — a  I 
— and  in  a  very  small  cupboard  his  library  ! 
bed,     I  tried  to  make  the  friar  understand  ine 
in  Latin,  but  without  success.     We  paid  for  our  ' 
55—1 


entertainment,  gave  something  for  the  poor,  set 
off  again  about  twelve,  and  came  on  here,  two 
leagues,  making  twenty-four  miles,  which,  with 
the  Alps  and  the  rain,  made  a  formidable  day's 
journey. 

We  are  now  at  a  comfortable  inn  at  the  small 
Catholic  village  of  Hospital,  in  the  canton  of  Uri, 
four  thousand  five  hundred  and  forty-nine  feet 
above  the  sea,  (therefore,  cold  enough,  I  assure 
you,)  with  thirty-four  houses,  a  churcli,  and  chapel. 
At  the  top  of  the  village  stands  a  half-ruined  castle, 
which  once  belonged  to  the  lords  of  the  Hospital, 
or  hospice  ;  for  all  the  villages  on  these  Alps  seem 
to  have  been  designed  as  refuges  for  travellers. — 
Through  the  village  flows  the  arm  of  the  Reuss 
river,  wliich  springs  from  the  Furca  glacier. — 
The  village  is  on  the  road  for  Mount  St.  Got  hard. 
The  weather  has  been  unfavorable  to-day,  but  we 
have  had  no  fogs  to  obscure  materially  our  pros- 
pect, either  of  the  glaciers,  or  of  the  wild  scenery 
through  which  we  have  passed  ;  only  we  lost  the 
view  of  the  distant  Alps. 

We  have  now  overcome  one  of  the  grand  diffi- 
culties of  the  Swiss  tourist,  the  passage  of  the 
Grimsel  and  the  Furca.  The  boy  who  went  with 
my  friend  to  Stanz  returned  to  us  last  night,  say- 
ing that  his  master  was  weary  of  the  passage  of 
the  mountains,  and  had  sent  him  and  the  horse 
back,  determined  to  make  his  way  to  Lucern  by 
cars  or  by  the  Lake.  In  these  mountainous 
places  the  weather  is  commonly  bad.  Hospital 
is  the  highest  public  inhabited  village  in  Switzer- 
land ;  and  the  inn-keeper's  brief  description  of 
the  weather  is,  that  they  have  frost  and  snow  for 
nine  months  in  the  year,  and  rain  for  the  remain- 
ing three.  There  are  no  trees  in  this  valley,  not 
even  the  hardy  fir  ;  all  is  one  wild  surface,  with- 
out foliage.  Every  stick  of  wood  for  domestic  use 
is  brought  up  some  leagues,  from  Amstag.  The 
cows  and  goats  feed  on  the  grass,  which  just  now 
looks  a  little  pleasant ;  but  even  these  animals 
have  a  wild,  rough  appearance,  especially  the 
cows.     The  lakes  here  are  too  cold  for  fish. 

The  poor  inhabitants  of  this,  and  other  villages 
around,  suffered  extremely  during  the  war.  The 
Austrians  and  French  fought  in  the  very  streets 
of  Hospital ;  our  innkeeper  tells  me  the  scenes 
were  dreadful  beyond  description.  How  frightful 
and  horrible  is  this  to  all  our  best  feelings  and  ha- 
bits !  How  implacable  is  the  ambition  of  man ! 
What  a  scene  must  it  have  been,  to  behold  the 
natural  terrors  of  the  Alps  aggravated  by  the  mi- 
series of  war  !  But  so  it  is.  There  is  hardly  a 
rock  or  precipice  in  Switzerland,  which  has  not 
been  the  spot  of  desperate  conflict.  Surely,  an 
English  traveller  cannot  hear  of  these  things,  and 
reflect  on  the  events  of  the  late  revolutionary  war, 
without  some  gratitude  to  God,  for  having  exempt- 
ed his  happy  country  from  such  calamities.  And 
the  gratitude  will  be  increased  by  comparing  the 
climate  and  general  circumstances  of  these  Alpine 
regions,  with  those  of  his  native  land. 

Hospital,  Tuesday  morning,  7  o'clock. — For  so 
long  the  weather  has  allowed  us  to  rest.  Wo 
have  had  an  excellent  night ;  we  were  in  bed 
about  half-past  eight.  These  dinners  at  eleven, 
and  suppers  at  five,  suit  us.  I  never  was  better 
in  my  life.  The  breakfast  is  now  coming  in,  and 
the  weather  has  suddenly  cleared  up  ;  so  that  the 


44 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT, 


sun  is  mounting  over  the  Alps  before  our  window, 
and  is  throwing  this  romantic  village  into  a  beau- 
tiful picture  of  light  and  shade — and  hurries  us 
off  for  our  day's  journey. 

Amstag,  one  o'clock,  Valley  of  the  Reuss,  sixteen 
miles  from  Hospital. — I  am  now  sitting,  faint  with 
heat,  at  one  of  the  windows  of  the  dining  hall  of 
the  inn,  with  a  burning  sun  full  on  the  four  open 
windows  of  the  room ; — such  is  the  effect  of  a  de- 
scent of  two  or  three  thousand  feet  in  this  marvel- 
lous country — yesterday  as  cold  as  Christmas,  to- 
day as  hot  as  Midsummer.  But  this  is  nothing;  I 
must  positively  employ  half  an  hour,  while  dinner 
is  preparing,  in  giving  you  some  idea,  if  I  can,  of  the 
extraordinary  valley  through  which  we  have  been 
passing.  It  is  called,  by  the  inhabitants,  Krachen- 
thal,  Roaring  Valley,  on  account  of  the  tremendous 
noise  with  which  the  Reuss  rushes  from  rock  to 
rock.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  wonders  of  Swit- 
zerland. 

We  rode  about  two  miles,  on  leaving  the  Hos- 
pital, in  the  wide  open  valley,  without  a  tree,  the 
Reuss  rolling  along  its  course ;  when  we  came  to  a 
mighty  rock,  which  seemed  quite  to  stop  the  road. 
As  we  approached,  we  found  a  tunnel  or  gallery  had 
been  bored  through  the  solid  granite,  fifteen  feet 
high,  twelve  broad,  and  two  hundred  and  twenty 
long.  This  is  better  than  the  bridge  hung  with 
chains,  and  dangling  on  the  outside  of  the  rock 
over  the  torrent,  which  was  the  old  road.  We 
now  descended  by  a  narrow  paved  way,  ten  feet 
wide,  to  what  it  called  the  Devil's  Bridge,  thrown 
over  the  fall  of  the  Reuss,  which  here  meets  with 
tremendous  precipices,  and  foams  as  it  rushes  down 
them.  The  bridge  seems  built  in  the  air,  from  its 
elevation  and  boldness ;  it  is  one  hundred  feet  above 
the  river.  Its  span  is  seventy-five  feet,  and  the 
fall  of  the  Reuss  under  it,  in  a  slanting  direction, 
is  at  least  three  hundred  feet.  The  architect  is 
not  known ;  and  the  extreme  frightfulness  of  the 
cataract  over  which  it  is  thrown,  has  probably  led 
the  common  people  to  ascribe  it  to  fairies  first, 
and  then  to  the  evil  spirit.  The  scene  is,  perhaps, 
unparalleled  for  sublimity  and  terror.  The  road 
after  this  continues  to  descend  the  valley,  like 
stairs  for  steepness.  It  is  built  against  the  perpen- 
dicular rock,  and  sustained  in  many  places  by 
arches  and  walls  on  the  side  of  frightful  gulfs.  For 
a  league  this  miraculous  sort  of  tract  extends. 
During  all  this  time  the  roaring  Reuss  continues 
to  roll  its  agitated  torrent.  I  think  this  is  the  most 
romantic  of  all  the  Swiss  rivers.  It  never  ceases 
its  rage.  From  rock  to  rock,  from  precipice  to  pre- 
cipice, it  dashes  forward,  with  a  succession  of  falls ; 
sometimes  lost  among  the  masses  of  stone,  then 
appearing  again  in  redoubled  force. 

We  soon  came  to  Goeschinen,  where  a  new 
road,  passable  for  carriages,  begins,  and  goes  on 
nearly  four  leagues,  to  Amstag,  the  place  where  I 
am  now  writing.  It  is  a  surprising  undertaking  for 
a  small  Swiss  canton,  (Uri)  to  have  formed  a  road, 
twenty-five  feet  wide,  by  the  labor  of  several  thou- 
sand hands  in  three  years ;  I  know  nothing  in 
England  like  it  for  hardy  and  dangerous  enterprise. 
It  is  as  smooth  as  our  Bath  road  ;  and  has  been 
formed  by  blowing  up  rocks,  dividing  places  dan- 
gerous to  travellers,  throwing  bridges  over  the 
torrents,  (there  are  seven  or  eight)  still  keeping 
the  inclination  so  gentle,  that  it  descends  only 


about  seven  feet  in  one  hundred.  Conceive  our 
delight  in  witnessing  this  bold  undertaking,  espe- 
cially when  you  consider  that  the  valley  itself  is 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  we  have  yet  seen  ; 
noble  mountains  ;  the  river  winding,  now  its  fright- 
ful, and  then  its  gentle,  course  ;  ravines  intersect- 
ing the  valley,  and  carrying  down  the  smaller  tor- 
rents ;  meadows  and  orchards  delighting  the  eye 
as  we  descended  lower ;  a  forest  of  firs,  varying 
the  scenery  for  a  mile  or  more ;  villages,  with  th  en- 
little  chapels,  now  and  then  appearing :  the  whole 
augmented  by  one  of  the  finest  days  nature  ever 
presented  to  man,  with  a  gentle  north  wind  to  mo- 
derate the  heat.  I  was  grieved  to  see  that  in  many 
places  the  new  road  was  already  injured  by  the 
torrents  and  falling  masses  of  rocks,  so  that  a  con- 
stant expense  will  be  incurred — but  dinner  inter- 
rupts my  story. 

I  resume  my  letter  at  Altorf,  the  capital  of  the 
canton  of  Uri,  half -past  seven,  Tuesday  evening, 
after  a  ride  of  three  hours  and  a  half.  I  was  speak- 
ing of  the  expense  and  labor  which  this  new  road 
will  require,  and  which  heighten  the  merit  of  the 
enterprise.  I  should  add,  that  it  very  much  protects 
passengers  from  the  danger  of  the  avalanches  from 
the  mountains,  Which  were  often  destructive.  Such 
was  the  terror  of  them,  that  formerly  travellers  were 
not  allowed  to  speak  in  certain  parts  of  the  road, 
lest  even  that  slight  agitation  of  the  air  should  occ  a- 
sion  a  fall  of  snow.*  It  further  facilitates  the  im- 
mense traffic  carried  on  between  Lucern,  Milan, 
and  Northern  Italy.  We  met  a  drove  of  noble  oxen, 
and  many  teams  of  mules  laden  with  casks.  Milan 
is  twelve  or  thirteen  days'  journey  from  Hospital. 
The  people  in  these  villages  seem  to  me  untidy 
and  poor.  The  meadows  are  rich ;  and  they  use 
a  high  wooden  frame  for  drying  hay,  which  raises 
the  grass  above  the  ground,  and  makes  it  in  twelve 
or  fourteen  hours. 

In  coming  on  to  Altorf,  we  stopped  at  Burglen 
to  visit  a  chapel  built  on  the  spot  where  William 
Tell  was  born.  It  is  decorated  with  pictures  re- 
lating to  the  events  of  his  life.  Altorf  is  a  small 
Catholic  town  of  one  thousand  six  hundred  souls. 
It  abounds  with  monuments  of  William  Tell.  The 
tower,  the  fountains, — every  thing  is  designed  to 
commemorate  him.  His  history  is  connected  with 
all  the  liberty  of  Switzerland. 

We  met  on  our  way  to-day  many  peasants  laden 
with  wood  for  the  valley  of  Ursern,  where  Hospital 
is.  As  no  trees  grow  there,  all  their  wood  (coals 
are  unknown)  is  brought  up  three  leagues.  On 
our  road,  also,  we  met  our  friend  and  companion, 
who,  after  spending  his  Sunday  at  Stantz,  came  to 
Altorf  last  night,  and  was  going  to  visit  the  Vale 
of  the  Reuss ;  we  are  now  at  the  same  hotel.  He 
reports  that  he  remained  at  Stantz  on  Saturday, 
not  because  he  was  weary  of  the  mountain  road, 
but  because  his  horse  and  boy  were  equally  bad, 
so  bad  that  he  despaired  of  reaching  Lucern  by 
their  means.  He  thinks  the  new  road  which  I 
have  so  much  commended,  takes  off  in  some  places, 
from  the  picturesque  beauty  of  the  scenery,  as  he 
beheld  it  four  years  since. 


*  I  am  sorry  to  see  from  the  Swiss  Journals  that 
the  devastation  occasioned  by  the  avalanches  this 
winter  (1824)  has  been  particularly  great.  The  val- 
leys of  Gauli,  Gadmen,  and  Guttanen,  are  stated  to 
have  suffered  severely. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


45 


Sicitz,  the.  capital  of  the  canton  of  that  nam?,  (and 
from  which  the  whole  of  the  country  is  called,)  Wed- 
nesday, quarter  before  10. — We  sot  off  this  morn- 
ing a  quarter  before  six,  and  saw  the  melancholy 
effects  of  a  6re  at  Altorf,  in  1799.  The  ruined 
nouses  remained  yet  unrepaired.  We  came  to 
Flilelen  in  an  hour,  and  there  embarked  on  the 
lake  of  Lucern  for  Brunnen.  The  passage  of  two 
hours  was  exquisite,  from  the  noble  and  grand 
character  of  the  scenery  of  the  lake.  We  stop- 
ped a  moment  at  the  spot  where  William  Tell 
escaped  from  the  boat  in  which  they  were  convey- 
ing him  to  prison,  and  where  a  chapel  is  now 
built. 

I  promised  to  tell  you  something  about  this  ex- 
traordinary man.  It  was  hi  November,  1307,  that 
the  Austrian  badiff  Gesler,  having  placed  his  hat 
upon  a  pole,  at  Altorf,  and  ordered  every  one  who 
passed  to  salute  it,  William  Tell  nobly  refused. 
He  was  condemned,  as  you  may  remember,  to 
shoot  at  an  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his  son. 
He  struck  olf  the  apple  ;  but  Gesler,  observing  a 
second  arrow  in  the  hand  of  Tell,  asked  him  what 
he  meant  to  do  with  it :  "  It  was  destined  for  you," 
replied  he,  "  if  I  had  killed  my  chUd."  He  was 
seized  instantly,  chained,  and  thrown  into  a  boat 
which  was  to  convey  the  governor  back  to  his 
castle  at  Kiissnacht.  A  storm  fell  on  the  lake.  In 
imminent  danger  of  perishing,  they  released  Tell 
from  his  chains,  and  suffered  him  to  take  the  gui- 
dance of  the  vessel.  The  hero  leaped  on  shore 
upon  the  rock  where  the  chapel  now  stands ;  out- 
stripped Gesler ;  waited  for  him  hi  a  hollow  path, 
and  transfixed  him  with  an  narrow.  The  Linden 
tree,  at  Altorf,  against  winch  the  clnld  stood,  re- 
mained till  1567,  two  hundred  years  after  the  death 
of  Tell,  which  happened  in  135G.  His  family  was 
not  extinct  until  the  year  1720.  A  chapel  stands 
on  the  spot,  at  Grutli,  where  the  confederation 
oath  was  taken,  in  January  1308.  Thus  was  the 
foundation  of  liberty  and  knowledge,  of  national 
virtue  and  piety,  laid  in  Switzerland.  The  Refor- 
mation two  centuries  after,  so  far  as  it  extended, 
completed  the  deliverance. 

We  landed  at  Brunnen  at  nine,  and  came  on  to 
Switz.  The  lake  we  have  crossed  is,  perhaps,  the 
I  in  Switzerland — eight  leagues  long,  four  and 
a  half  wide,  bordering  on  the  four  forest  cantons, 
Switz,  Uri,  Underwald,  and  Lucern.  Between 
Brunnen  and  Switz,  we  passed  the  bridge,  cover- 
usual,  of  Ibach,  where  the  battle  took  place 
between  Suwarrow  and  Massena,  in  1799. 

Twelve  o'clock. — I  never  dined  better  in  my  life 
sven  o'clock,  than  I  have  here :  we  are  now 
y  to  ascend  mount  Rigid.  This  town  of  Switz 
is  iu  a  garden  of  natural  beauties.    The  vast  rocks 
i  it  are  like  giant  sentinels  to  guard  it. 
\sday  evening,  top  of  Mount  Righi. — 1 
must  write  a  line  to  you  to-night,  though  in  a 
r-alle-u-manger   crowded  with  French,  German, 
5,  English,  all  talking  together,  in  a  hotel  on 
the  summit  of  the  Righi,  six  thousand  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six  feet  above  the  sea,  and  four 
thousand  five  hundred  above  Switz.    The  pecu- 
li  irity  of  this  mountain  is  not  so  much  its  great 
I,  as  the  accessible   and  yet  commanding 
point  in  which  it  terminates,  which  gives  it,  when 
her  is  clear,  one  of  the  noblest  and  most 
extensive  views  in  the  world  :  the  consequence  is, 


that  almost  every  traveller  ascends  it.  It  is  not 
the  road  to  any  town,  a8  the  other  Alps  I  have 
crossed  are,  but  an  insulated  spot,  which  lias  be- 
come celebrated  from  the  comparative  easiness  of 
the  approach.  The  moment  a  fine  day  appears 
all  the  world  hurry  forwards  to  the  only  inn  and 
oidy  house  on  the  extreme  summit  of  this  vast  ele- 
vation. 

The  scene  at  the  table-d'h6te  is  comic  beyond 
description.  We  were  between  five  and  six  hours 
coming  up  the  mountain,  in  many  parts  by  stairs 
so  steep,  that  we  ascended  at  a  rate  of  forty  feet 
in  a  hundred.  The  heat  added  to  the  fatigue , 
but  the  extraordinary  scene,  now  we  are  at  the 
top,  surpasses  all  my  conceptions,  even  of  what 
Switzerland  could  produce.  The  eye  has  an  un- 
impeded view  all  around.  It  is  a  sort  of  natura. 
panorama.  The  main  disadvantage  (which  yet 
adds,  perhaps,  to  the  interest  of  the  excursion)  is 
the  uncertainty  of  finding  a  bright,  unclouded  sky 
at  this  great  elevation :  either  the  valleys  or  the 
tops  of  the  mountains  are  commonly  obscured  with 
a  dark  mantle  of  clouds.  As  we  were  at  supper 
we  were  hurried  out  to  ascend  a  wooden  platform, 
forty  or  fifty  feet  high,  raised  on  the  edge  of  the 
precipice,  to  behold  a  gathering  storm.  We  were 
astonished  at  the  sublime  sight.  One  quarter  of 
the  horizon  was  illuminated  with  the  setting  sun 
in  the  softest  beauty,  whilst  in  another  quarter 
the  most  gloomy  storm  shrouded  with  all  its  hor- 
rors the  tops  of  the  adjoining  mountains,  and  was 
approacliing  the  Rigid — but  I  must  absolutely 
stop. 

Righi,  five  o'clock,  Thursday  morning. — I  was 
compelled  to  break  off  last  night  by  the  excessive 
noise  in  the  dining  hall :  I  had  half  a  dozen  peo- 
ple talking  to  me  at  once,  and  therefore  was  soon 
wearied  out,  and  retired  to  rest.  My  friend  and  1 
were  crowded  into  a  small  room,  the  feet  of  our 
beds  touching  each  other ;  presently  the  house 
became  more  noisy  than  ever  with  the  company 
going  to  their  chambers,  (for  these  wooden  houses 
shake  at  every  step,)  and  soon  after,  the  storm 
which  was  lowering  in  the  evening,  began  to  dc. 
scend — the  lightning,  thunder,  and  ram  were  tre- 
mendous ;  I  really  thought  the  house  would  have 
fallen.  It  is  now  five  in  the  morning,  and  the  rain 
and  the  brouillard  completely  obscure  the  whole 
scene ;  nevertheless  all  the  house  is  in  motion, 
and  families  are  going  down  the  hill.  Fifty-one 
persons  slept  here  last  night — twenty-four  gentry; 
twenty-seven  servants  and  guides  ;  in  the  course? 
of  yesterday,  there  had  been  fifty-two  gentry. — 
The  house  is  very  small.  I  find  a  New  Testa- 
ment of  the  Bible  Society  in  this  Catholic  solitude, 
with  an  inscription  to  state  that  it  was  left  by 
Messrs.  Treuttell  and  Wurtz,  "for  the  use  of 
Christians  whom  the  bad  weather  might  prevent 
from  seeing  and  admiring  the  great  work  of  the 
creation,  and  adoring  the  Creator,  by  mounting 
towards  him  by  the  help  of  his  works."  In  the 
strangers'  book  I  was  startled  to  see  the  name  of 
his  present  majesty,  George  IV.,  who  assuredly 
never  ascended  this  mountain. 

When  the  weather  is  fine,  fourteen  lakes  aro 
visible  here,  and  the  sun  rising  upon  the  range  of 
the  Alps  is  magnificent.  They  may  be  traced 
from  the  Glarnish  on  the  east,  to  the  Oberland 
Bernois  on  the  southwest ;  whilst  on  the  north. 


4fi 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


vnur  eye  may  range  from  the  lake  of  Constance 
»o  that  of  NeirfchateL  All  Switzerland,  to  the 
nast  and  north,  is  open  before  you ;  and  much 
further,  into  Suabia.  The  only  hill  we  could  dis- 
tinguish last  night  was  Mount  Pilate,  which  is 
called  properly  Mons  Pileatus,  or  Mountain  with 
a  Cap,  because  a  cloud  generally  rests  on  its  ex- 
treme top,  even  in  the  finest  weather.  The  com- 
mon people  say  that  Pontius  Pilate  came  here 
and  threw  himself  down  the  precipice  in  despair, 
for  having  condemned  our  Saviour. 

As  the  morning  is  so  unfavorable,  and  breakfast 
is  not  ready,  I  must  tell  you  a  sad  story. — As  we 
ascended  the  Righi  yesterday,  we  passed  over  the 
melancholy  ruins  of  the  village  of  Goldau.  In  1808 
an  immense  mass  of  earth  from  the  Rossberg,  gra- 
dually loosened  by  two  or  three  months'  rain,  fell 
down  with  scarcely  a  moment's  warning :  it  was 
the  2d  of  September  ;  four  villages,  of  which  Gol- 
dau was  the  chief,  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
All  was  buried  in  an  instant — two  churches,  one 
hundred  and  eleven  houses,  two  hundred  barns, 
&c,  and  four  hundred  persons,  with  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  head  of  cattle,  were  over- 
whelmed ;  and  a  new  ruinous  mountain,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  high,  was  formed  by  the  vast 
mass.  The  loss  was  estimated  at  three  million 
eight  hundred  and  forty  thousand  livres  of  France. 

Those  who  had  been  aware  of  the  dangerous 
state  of  the  mountain,  and  the  probability  of  some 
disaster,  were  not  warned  in  time.  Two  old  in- 
habitants who  had  predicted  the  calamity,  when 
some  one  rushed  into  their  cottage,  and  told  them 
the  rock  was  actually  falling,  disbelieved  the  mes- 
sage, and  were  lost.  A  party  of  ten  persons  had 
been  two  months  waiting  for  fine  weather  to  visit 
Mount  Righi.  They  set  off  for  Switz  the  day  of 
the  catastrophe  ;  five  of  them  staid  a  moment  be- 
hind the  rest,  to  take  some  provisions  ;  the  instant 
the  others  entered  Goldau,  the  enormous  ruin  car- 
ried them  away. 

A  physician  from  the  neighboring  village  of 
Arth,  Dr.  Zay,  has  published  an  account  of  the 
calamity.  During  the  whole  day  the  air  was 
darkened  with  clouds  of  rock  and  earth.  Entire 
forests,  and  large  blocks  of  the  mountain,  were 
borne  through  the  air  as  swiftly  as  an  arrow. — 
Houses,  cattle,  men,  all  were  dragged  along,  and 
seemed  to  fly  in  the  midst  of  the  heavens.  Seve- 
ral females  and  children  were  almost  miraculously 
preserved.  Two  women  were  forced  into  a  pit 
fifteen  feet  deep,  and  thus  escaped.  A  maid  ser- 
vant, Jeanne  Ulrich,  with  Marianne,  a  little  girl 
five  years  old,  were  overwhelmed.  The  maid 
was  torn  from  the  child,  and  hung  suspended 
among  beams  of  wood  and  ruins,  which  crushed 
her  on  all  sides.  Her  eyes  were  filled  with  blood. 
She  thought  the  last  day  was  come,  and  betook 
herself  to  prayer.  She  heard  the  cries  of  the  child. 
Two  hours  passed  ;  a  neighboring  church  clock 
struck,  but  no  help  arrived.  The  cries  of  the  child 
became  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  last  ceased. — 
The  girl,  thinking  she  was  dead,  made  desperate 
efforts  to  liberate  herself,  and  at  last  freed  her 
legs  from  the  mass  of  ruins.  Soon  the  little  Ma- 
rianne began  again  to  cry ;  she  had  fallen  asleep, 
and  on  waking  renewed  her  lamentations.  Two 
hours  more  elapsed,  when  the  child's  parent,  Vi- 
guet,  who  had  carried  Ins  two  sons  to  a  place  of 


safety,  returned  to  deliver  the  rest  of  his  family. 
He  searched  amongst  the  sad  remains  of  his 
house ;  a  foot  appeared  above  the  ruins ;  he  ap- 
proached, he  recognised  a  part  of  Ins  wife's  dress  ; 
he  uttered  the  most  piercing  lamentations,  which 
reached  the  ears  of  the  servant  and  Marianne,  who 
instantly  redoubled  their  cries.  The  father  knew 
his  child's  voice,  and  rescued  her  with  only  a 
broken  limb.  The  maid  was  afterwards  taken  out, 
scarcely  alive.     They  both  recovered. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  in  this  very  neighborhood, 
an  entire  street  of  Zug,  with  a  part  of  the  towers 
and  walls  »f  the  town,  sunk,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  into  the  lake,  in  the  year  1435.  Sixty 
persons  then  perished.  The  infant  son  of  the 
keeper  of  the  archives,  Adelrich  Wikard,  who  was 
found  floating  in  his  cradle  on  the  waters,  was 
rescued,  and  became  afterwards  the  father  of  a 
family  which  deserved  well  of  the  state. 

O  God,  how  unfathomable  are  thy  judgments  ! 
thus  is  it  that  thou  alarmest  a  sleeping  world,  and 
callest  man  to  prepare  for  sudden  death,  and  sud- 
den judgment ;  whilst  the  grace  of  thy  Gospel  sets 
before  them  a  dying  Saviour,  whose  redemption 
no  falling  rocks  nor  sudden  destruction  can  over- 
whelm ;  nay,  which  will  appear  most  glorious 
"  when  the  heavens  being  on  fire  shall  be  dissolv- 
ed, and  the  earth  shall  melt  with  fervsnt  heat  !" 

It  is  astonishing  and  terrific  as  you  ride  over 
the  place  where  Goldau  stood ;  the  ruins  are 
above  one  hundred  feet  deep  ;  the  adjoining  lake 
of  Lowertz  was  filled  up  for  fifty  feet.  Many  per- 
sons beheld  the  ruin  from  the  top  of  the  Righi : 
and  were  compelled  to  witness  the  destruction  of 
their  own  lands  and  houses,  without  the  possibili- 
ty of  giving  any  aid.  Only  a  few  bodies  and  man- 
gled limbs  have  been  dug:  up  after  seventeen  years. 
Such  was  the  tremendous  impetus  of  the  falling 
rock,  that  prodigious  masses  were  carried  by  the 
rebound  many  hundred  feet  up  the  opposite  liill, 
i.  e.  perhaps  three  or  four  leagues  from  the  sum- 
mit whence  they  fell.  Such  a  scene  I  never  wit- 
nessed. Still,  the  love  of  their  native  spot  is  so 
deeply  fixed  in  the  Swiss,  that  two  or  three  new- 
houses  are  beginning  to  rise  in  the  midst,  of  the 
ruins.  One  of  the  churches  has  been  rebuilt ;  the 
grass  is  now  hiding  by  degrees  the  frightful  spec- 
tacle, and  even  some  strips  of  meadows  are  form- 
ing here  and  there. 

Righi,  10  o'clock. — The  morning  is  actually 
clearing  up. 

Eleven  o'clock. — No  :  all  our  hopes  are  disap- 
pointed ;  the  valley  is  filled  with  clouds  ;  fogs  are 
rising  and  covering  every  thing  with  one  mantle 
of  deep  and  impenetrable  obscurity.  Thus  we 
shall  be  compelled  to  leave  this  queen  of  moun- 
tains without  seeing  all  its  magnificence  of  pros- 
pect. I  may  as  well  tell  you,  before  I  lay  by  my 
letter,  that  in  coming  up  yesterday,  we  visited  the 
convent  of  St.  Mary  in  the  Snow,  four  thousand 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  where  a  small 
convent  of  Capuchin  friars,  for  receiving  strangers. 
is  supported.  The  little  church  adjoining  is  cu- 
riously adorned  ;  and  in  the  small  village  two  inns 
have  been  built  within  three  years. 

In  the  strangers'  book  on  Mount  Rigid,  I  find 
so  many  fictions,  that  I  have  now  no  difficulty  in 
accounting  for  the  insertion  of  the  name  of  the 
king ;  but  I  have  called  in  all  the  people  of  ti:e 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


47 


house  and  examined  them,  and  they  stoutly  affirm 
that  our  king  was  here,  and  wrote  with  his  own 
hand  his  name  and  date,  October,  1816,  and  that 
he  came  with  three  ladies  and  four  gentlemen  in 
his  suite.    Such  is  the  vanity  of  these  good  people ! 

Perhaps  I  cannot  employ  myself  better  than  by 
going  on  to  say,  that  the  keeping  of  a  strangers' 
book  is  one  of  those  foreign  customs  which  one 
cannot  but  approve  of.  It  is,  perhaps,  a  little  gall- 
ing at  first  to  an  Englishman,  to  be  obliged  to  put 
down  his  name,  age,  country,  family,  time  of  ar- 
rival, place  of  destination,  motives  of  journey,  &lc, 
as  soon  as  he  drives  into  a  town.  But  the  plea- 
sure is  so  great  to  see  what  countrymen  or  friends 
ore  before  you  on  the  road,  and  to  look  back  and 
read  the  names  of  travellers  in  past  years,  that 
you  are  soon  delighted  with  the  plan.  In  frontier 
towns  the  book  is  often  under  the  regulation  of 
the  police  ;  but  in  small  towns  in  the  interior,  and 
places  of  fashionable  resort,  as  the  fall  of  the  Rhine, 
Mount  Righi,  &c.,  it  partakes  more  of  the  nature 
of  an  album,  in  which  travellers  write  down  any 
sentiments  they  please,  together  with  their  names. 
Sometimes  an  opinion  is  given  of  the  country  they 
have  passed  through,  or  advice  as  to  inns  and 
roads  ;  at  other  times  a  short  poetical  effusion  is 
inserted,  or  a  stroke  of  wit  and  drollery.  You 
meet  occasionally  with  very  admirable  thoughts, 
and  bursts  of  real  genius.  My  friend  transcribed 
a  striking  copy  of  verses.  It  is  curious  even  to 
look  over  the  hand-writing  of  celebrated  indivi- 
duals. The  strangers'  book,  further,  enables  you 
to  compare  the  number  of  travellers  from  different 
countries.  I  counted  once  or  twice,  and  found  the 
English  four  or  five  times  as  numerous  as  those 
of  any  other  nation.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted, 
that  the  unpardonable  license  of  a  i'ew  persons,  I 
am  afraid  chiefly  Englishmen,  is  rapidly  tending 
to  put.  an  end  to  this  innocent  and  gratifying  cus- 
tom, or  at  least  to  the  confining  of  it  to  the  dry  re- 
cord of  the  police  towns. 

Righi,  twelve  o'clock. — We  are  in  as  miserable 
a  plight  as  ever  poor  creatures  were  :  a  dreadful 
wet  day — shut  up  in  a  close  room,  as  in  a  prison 
— scarcely  able  to  breathe — five  or  six  leagues  to 
reach  Lucern — no  prospect — nothing  but  rain  and 
fog.  Some  of  the  party  are  endeavoring  to  throw 
a  ring,  suspended  by  a  cord  from  the  ceiling,  upon 
a  hook  fixed  at  a  suitable  distance  in  the  wall  of 
the  room — a  trait  of  genuine  ennui. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  been  amusing  myself 
with  talking  with  two  Italian  gentlemen — well 
informed  —  admirers  of  England  —  discontented 
with  their  existing  government — ready  for  change 
— with  no  great  attachment  to  Popery  ;  really  this 
is  the  case  witli  all  the  foreigners  we  meet.  Ty- 
ranny, in  a  day  of  general  information,  galls  the 
mind,  and  defeats,  and  must  defeat,  its  own  pur- 
pose. I  endeavor  to  give  the  best  advice  I  can ; 
dwelling  chiefly  on  the  importance  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  the  elevating  nature  of  true  Chris- 
tianity. I  have  been  deeply  interested  also,  with 
two  students  from  St.  Petcrsburgh — amiable, 
scholar-like  young  men  ;  they  spent  last  winter  in 
England.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  their  surprise, 
when  they  happened  to  discover  who  I  was. 
They  had  frequently  heard  me  preach  in  London. 
The  meeting  thus  with  occasional  auditors,  on  a 
sudden,  in  the  heart  of  Switzerland,  appals  me. 


I  feel,  as  it  were,  quite  uncomfortable,  lest.  I  should 
have  failed  in  giving  them  a  faithful  impression  of 
the  Gospel  of  Christ;  and  yet,  if  these  young 
Russians  have  heard  me,  so  may  others  from  other 
lands.  What  a  responsible  office  is  that  of  the 
sacred  ministry  !  What  diligence,  what  solici- 
tude, what  uprightness,  what  simplicity  in  follow- 
ing the  Holy  Scriptures,  what  humility  and  fer- 
vor in  imploring  the  grace  of  the  sacred  Com- 
forter, does  it,  require ! 

Lucern,  Friday  morning,  seven  o'clock. — We 
arrived  here  last  night ;  the  weather  a  little 
cleared  up  after  dinner  yesterday  at  the  Righi, 
and  at  two  we  mounted  our  beasts  to  descend ; 
three  hours  brought  us  to  Kiissnacht,  a  town  on 
the  lake  of  Lucern  ;  and  three  hours  more  to  this 
town.  The  weather  was  rainy,  but  still  tolerable. 
The  views  of  the  surrounding  country,  as  we 
came  down,  were  lovely:  we  had  the  lakes  of 
Lucern  and  Zug  full  before  us.  The  road  from  + 
Kiissnacht  was  positively  through  a  garden,  by 
the  side  of  the  lake,  with  just  those  gentle  rises 
which  gave  us  the  sweetest  views  imaginable. 

We  have  now  finished  our  Oberland  tour  of 
two  hundred  and  forty-nine  miles ;  only  it  hap- 
pens, that  we  are  landed  at  a  town  nearly  seventy 
miles  from  Bern,  and  have  thus  two  days'  journey 
to  reach  my  dear  family.  We  visited  yesterday 
a  third  chapel  of  William  Tell,  built  by  the  go- 
vernment, on  the  spot  where  he  slew  Gesler  the 
Austrian  governor.  So  that  there  is  a  tower,  as 
I  have  before  mentioned,  at  Altorf,  on  the  place 
wheie  William  Toll's  child  stood  with  the  apple 
on  his  head  ;  a  fountain  where  the  father  stood  ; 
a  chapel  on  the  site  of  his  house  at  Burglcn  ;  a 
second  where  he  escaped  from  the  boat  conduct- 
ing him  to  prison  ;  a  third  where  he  slew  the  op- 
pressor of  his  country  ;  and  another  where  the 
oath  of  confederation  was  taken  at  Grutli — at  this 
last  place,  an  English  wag  has  written  on  the 
wall,  "  Cfito  street  conspirators  !"  Thus  is  the 
love  of  liberty  nourished  in  the  breasts  of  this 
fine  people  :  Catholics  and  Protestants  seem  the 
same  in  this  respect.  There  is  a  public  spirit,  a 
hardy  courage,  a  patriotism,  an  independence  of 
mind,  about  the  Swiss,  connected  with  a  ready 
subjection  to  lawful  authority,  and  a  sense  •  -f  mo- 
ral and  religious  obligation,  which  are  the  true 
foundations  of  national  prosperity.  Their  adhe- 
rence to  all  their  ancient  usages,  even  in  their 
dress,  is  observable  ;  each  canton  has  its  costume. 
At  Switz,  the  women  have  caps  with  two  high 
white  frills,  plaited,  and  standing  nearly  erect  on 
their  heads,  like  two  butterfly's  wings ;  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  Bernois,  yet  equally  fantastical 
and  inconvenient. 

This  Oberland  country  has,  on  the  whole,  filled 
me  with  wonder,  astonishment,  and  gratitude. 
"How  glorious,  O  God,  are  thy  works,  and  thy 
thoughts  are  very  deep."  O  that,  in  this  glo- 
rious creation,  man  did  but  love  and  obey  Thee 
as  he  ought ! 

Lucern,  where  we  now  are,  is  the  capital  of  the 
canton,  and  romantically  situated  on  the  north- 
west banks  of  the  lake  of  four  cantons.  It  is  just 
in  the  heart  of  Switzerland.  It  is  one  thousand 
three  hundred  and  twenty  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  fine  river  Reuss  crosses  it,  over  which  there 
are  three  bridges.     The  name  is  probably  derived 


TRAVELS  ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


frrm  the  Latin  word,  Lucerna,  a  lamp  or  light- 
house ;  as  the  most  ancient  building  is  the  great 
tower  where  the  light  was  formerly  suspended  ; 
possibly  in  the  time  of  the  Romans.  It  contains  six 
thousand  souls.  It  is  the  great  mart  of  commerce 
between  Switzerland  and  northern  Italy,  the  road 
over  St.  Gothard  beginning  at  Altorf,  the  other 
side  the  lake.  The  Catholic  religion  is  here  pre- 
valent ;  so  that  all  up  mount  Righi  we  found  sta- 
tions and  crucifixes  for  pilgrims.  Many  of  the 
priests  are  said  to  be  men  of  piety  and  informa- 
tion, and  to  have  been  on  the  point  of  embracing 
Protestantism  a  few  years  back.  Some  political 
events  unhappily  interfered  to  delay  the  execution 
of  this  good  design. 

In  these  free  states,  a  reformation  may  be  ef- 
fected with  comparative  ease,  if  once  the  minds 
of  the  leading  magistrates  and  clergy  are  duly  in- 
formed and  impressed  with  divine  truth.  They 
depend  on  no  foreign  potentate.  A  majority  of 
the  senate  determines  ah  questions.  What  they 
once  resolve  on,  they  never  want  courage  to  per- 
form. It  was  thus  that  the  reformed  doctrines 
were  received  at  Zurich,  Bern,  &c.  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  German  language  prevails 
through  the  Oberland ;  so  that  I  have  had  no 
great  means  of  gaining  information  on  the  general 
state  of  morals  and  religion.  I  can  speak  indeed 
of  particular  facts  which  fall  under  my  own  ob- 
servation ;  but  when  I  come  to  reflections  on  a 
whole  canton,  I  remember  the  diffidence  which 
becomes  a  stranger  on  such  subjects.  Still,  I 
cannot  but  avow,  that  the  general  appearance  of 
these  Catholic  cantons  is  strongly  against  them  ; 
whilst  in  Bern  all  is  industry  and  cleanliness,  and 
not  a  beggar  to  be  seen. 

Zojingen,  thirty  miles  from  Lucern,  half-past 
nine,  Friday  night. — While  supper  is  preparing,  I 
will  write  something  of  the  occurrences  of  a  most 
delightful  day.  After  breakfast  this  morning,  we 
went  to  see  a  model  of  Lucern  and  the  neighbor- 
ing country,  on  a  scale  of  about  thirteen  inches  to 
a  league.  It  was  most  gratifying  to  trace  out 
part  of  the  tour  we  had  just  made.  Our  attend- 
ant pointed  out  the  model  of  one  Alp,  the  Titlis, 
on  which  the  ice  lies  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
feet  thick  in  summer.  General  Pfyffer  spent  his 
life  in  traversing  the  mountains,  and  executing 
this  model.  A  portrait  of  him,  in  his  travelling 
dress,  adorns  the  room ;  and  his  camp-seat,  of  a 
most  simple  but  admirable  contrivance,  was  shown 
us.  We  next  visited  the  arsenal,  and  saw  the 
sword  of  Zuingle,  the  Reformer,  (for  he  was 
compelled,  by  the  law  of  the  republic,  to  bear 
arms,  and  he  fell  on  the  field  of  Capelle,  in  1531  ;)* 
and  then  the  Jesuits'  church  and  the  cathedral, 
where  the  tawdry  ornaments  and  superstitious 


*I  cannot  but  just  add  here,  that  undoubtedly 
there  was  too  much  of  secular  politics  mixed  up  with 
the  higher  principles  of  the  Swiss  Reformers.  An 
interference  with  the  temporal  governments  proved 
one  very  iamentable  impediment  to  the  advance  of 
the  Reformation.  The  character  of  Luther  stands 
pre-eminent,  above  all  the  Reformers,  in  this  respect. 
His  wisdom,  spirituality  of  mind,  subjection  to  "  the 
powers  that  be,  as  ordained  of  God,"  and  moderation 
on  doubtful  points,  (except  in  the  saeramentarian 
controversy,)  placed  him  on  an  elevation,  to  which 
I  am  not  aware  that  any  of  his  contemporaries  can 


images  of  the  Virgin  re-awakened  that  pain  of 
mind  which  the  Protestant  cantons  had  soothed. 
A  noble  monument  just  erected  to  the  Swiss  re- 
giment, who  perished  at  Paris,  in  defending  Louis 
XVL,  August  10,  1792,  very  much  interested  us ; 
it  is  a  lion,  28  feet  long,  cut  out  in  the  rock,  and 
the  names  of  the  officers  inscribed  beneath. 

The  three  covered  bridges  in  the  town  are  sur- 
prising structures  ;  the  first,  that  of  the  Court,  is 
one  thousand  four  hundred  feet  long  ;  the  second, 
one  thousand  one  hundred  ;  in  the  spaces  between 
the  beams  of  the  first  there  are  two  hundred  and 
thirty-eight  paintings  from  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
tament ;  and  of  the  second,  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
four  from  the  lives  of  the  heroes  and  saints  of 
Switzerland.  A  third  bridge  has  thirty-six  pic- 
tures from  Holbein's  Dance  of  Death.  The  river 
Reuss  is  here  of  a  deep  blue-green  color,  very 
rapid,  and  so  clear  that  you  may  count  the  stones 
at  the  bottom.  We  ascended  two  hills  which 
commanded  magnificent  views  of  the  town,  the 
lake,  the  adjoining  hills,  and  distant  Alps :  per- 
fectly enchanting. 

Zojingen,  Saturday  morning. — It  was  eleven 
o'clock  before  we  were  in  bed  last  night;  the  fact 
is,  we  spent  all  the  morning  in  seeing  Lucern,  and 
had  a  journey  of  six  hours  and  a  half  to  take  after 
three  o'clock,  in  order  to  reach  Bern  by  Saturday 
night.  I  have  only  further  to  say  about  Lucern. 
that  the  views  from  the  bridges  and  the  neighbor- 
ing hills  are  some  of  the  very  finest  in  Switzer- 
land. Zurich  and  Lucern  are  the  most  enchant- 
ing towns  we  have  seen.  The  road  hither  ran  by 
the  side  of  the  lake  of  Sempach  ;  but  by  seven  the 
evening  came  on,  and  we  could  see  little  of  the 
prospect ;  a  fine  moon-light,  however,  aided  us. 
At  the  town  of  Sursee,  whilst  we  were  taking 
some  refreshment,  I  saw  a  portrait  of  Pere  Girard 
of  Fribourg.  The  son  of  the  aubergiste  had  been 
his  scholar :  I  sent  for  the  boy  in.  He  had  been 
five  years  at  school — seemed  a  fine,  clever  lad — 
spoke  in  the  highest  terms  of  M.  Girard.  He  tells 
me,  M.  G.  had  five  classes,  and  four  or  five  hun- 
dred children,  at  Fribourg ;  and  that  he  gave  lec- 
tures on  the  catechism,  and  taught  the  children 
the  New  Testament.  He  was,  in  truth,  too  good 
for  the  Papists ; — they  raised  an  opposition — the 
Jesuits  aided — and  Pere  Girard's  whole  establish- 
ment is  now  broken  up.  This  aubergiste  had 
sent  his  son  fifty-five  miles  to  this  good  school- 
master. These  individual  cases  of  piety  and  zeal 
continually  occur.  The  intrepidity  and  faith  of 
such  men  are  of  a  character  which  we  have  little 
conception  of  in  England,  surrounded  by  Protest- 
ant connections  and  protected  by  Protestant  laws. 
Surely  charity  should  peculiarly  rejoice  in  such 
triumphs  of  the  grace  of  God,  in  the  midst  of  the 
corruptions  of  Popery. 

be  raised.  Religion  was  with  him  a  matter  of  the 
heart,  and  the  reformed  doctrines  the  consolation  of 
his  aroused  and  most  tender  conscience;  and  all 
this  in  a  very  peculiar  degree.  Others  may  have 
had  more  learning,  as  Melancthon  ;  or  more  acute- 
ness,  as  Calvin  or  Zuingle  ;  but  for  deep,  affecting 
views  of  religion,  superiority  to  secular  politics,  and 
experience  of  inward  temptations,  united  with 
magnanimity  of  mind,  and  uncommon  powers  of 
eloquence,  none  can  be  compared,  I  think,  with  Mar- 
tin Luther. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


4d 


The  town  of  Zofingen  is  in  Argovie,  and  is  Pro- 
testant ;  it  contains  about  two  thousand  souls.  A 
house  was  destroyed  by  lightning,  hi  the  storm  of 
Wednesday  night.  The  women  in  Lucern  wear, 
not  caps,  but  immense  straw  hats,  with  very  small 
flat  crowns,  and  four  bows  of  ribbon,  two  green 
and  two  red,  with  sometimes  a  bunch  of  flowers. 
Our  voiturier  (for  we  were  obliged  to  hire  one  at 
Lucern  to  take  us  back  to  Bern)  feeds  his  horses 
with  bread ;  when  we  stopped  yesterday,  we  saw 
a  boy  with  a  loaf  of  bread,  (of  the  same  sort  as  we 
had  ourselves,)  cutting  it  with  a  knife,  and  giving 
first  one  horse  a  slice,  and  then  another,  which 
they  seemed  to  eat  with  much  pleasure. 

Herzogcnbuchs,  seventeen  mile.'  from  Zofingen, 
twelve  at  noon. — We  have  had  a  pleasing  drive  of 
four  hours  through  a  fruitful  country.  The  village 
is  neat  and  clean,  and  the  whole  place  is  crowded 
with  men  and  women  who  have  been  attending  a 
funeral,  and  are  now  going  to  dinner.  We  are 
in  a  Protestant  canton,  and  within  seven  leagues 
of  Bern.  The  village  contains  about  five  hundred 
inhabitants  ;  two  or  three  hundred  of  whom  are 
dining,  or  about  to  dine,  at  this  funeral. 

Bern,  Saturday  evening,  half-past  seven. — Thank 
God,  I  find  myself  again  with  my  dear  Ann  ;  and 
thank  God  also  she  is  remarkably  well.  The  fort- 
night's entire  quiet,  though  dull  to  her  in  some 
respects,  has  restored  her  to  wonderful  health  and 
strength.  She  has  also  now  become  accustomed 
to  the  food  and  place,  and  knows  better  what  she 
is  about,  and  how  to  manage  the  people  and  things 
in  Switzerland.  How  great  a  blessing  is  this  ! 
We  had  a  beautiful  ride  from  Herzogenbuchs  to 
Bern,  twenty-one  miles.  Almost  all  the  country 
from  Lucern  to  Bern  is  well  cultivated,  the  views 
beautifully  mild,  herds  of  cattle  feeding  in  different 
spots,  the  meadows  yielding  four  or  five  crops  a 
year,  the  farming  buildings  large  and  convenient — 
the  whole  reminding  us  of  beloved  England — 
which  could  not,  of  course,  be  the  case  in  the 
mountain  regions  we  have  left.  As  we  approached 
Bern,  a  noble  range  of  Alps  stretched  themselves 
before  us.  We  passed  Hofwyl,  the  celebrated 
spot  where  M.  Fellenberg  has  his  school  and  his 
ilishment  for  agriculturists;  but  it  was  too 
late  to  stop. 

We  have  been,  in  this  Oberland  tour,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifteen  miles  in  twelve  days,  and  above 
two  hundred  of  it  on  mules.  Never  did  I  derive 
so  much  benefit  to  my  health,  as  by  these  moun- 
tain rides.  We  propose  now  to  go  on  to  Lausanne 
on  Monday.  We  shall  set  off  for  Paris  (please 
God)  by  the  1st  of  October,  at  latest;  stay  there 
till  the  23d,  and  be  at  home  on  Friday  the  .'31st. 
T  had  the  particular  pleasure  of  finding  a  letter 
from  you,  dated  August  6th,  and  received  August 
21st,  on  my  return  here.  Your  account  of  our 
dear  relative  grieves  me  to  the  heart.  My  prayers 
shall  be  united  with  yours,  that  these  severe  and 
repeated  afflictions  may  become  real  blessings  to 
him,  by  awakening  him  to  more  seriousness,  de- 
termination, and  earnestness,  in  seeking  the  sal- 
vation of  his  soul,  which  is  the  grand  concern  of 
man,  and  without  which  we  are  lost  and  miserable, 
though  in  the  utmost  outward  prosperity. 

Bern,  Sunday  everting,  Angus!  24,  18213. — We 
have  had  to-day  a  delightful  Sunday  ;  twice  have 
I  not  only  attended  public  worship,  (which  we 


always  do,)  but  heard  '  'the  glorious  Gospel  ot  the 
blessed  God,"  as  St.  Paul  expressed  it,  from  the 
lips  of  his  ministers.  The  difference  between  a 
cold  harangue  on  ethics,  and  the  gracious  message 
of  peace  and  joy  in  Christ  Jesus,  is  immense. 
Duty  must  follow,  not  precede,  much  less  exclude, 
salvation  by  faith.  The  morning  subject  was 
John,  v.  44.  "  How  can  ye  believe,  which  receive 
honor  one  of  another,  and  seek  not  the  honor  that 
cometh  from  God  only?" — the  afternoon,  Heb.  x. 
The  church  was  crowded  in  the  morning,  and  the 
attention  of  the  congregation  most  pleasing.  No- 
tice was  given  of  a  public  fast  for  Sept.  11,  "  On 
account  of  the  sins  of  the  people,  and  in  order  to 
render  thanks  to  God  for  his  benefits."  The  lan- 
guage of  the  notice  was  very  pious  and  appropriate. 
After  recounting  the  various  public  blessings  of 
Almighty  God  to  the  republic  of  Bern,  it  proceeded 
to  mention  "  the  most  excellent  of  all  God's  gifts, 
the  holy  religion  of  Jesus,  which  is  an  inexhausti- 
ble source  of  truth,  virtue,  and  consolation,  to  so 
many  thousands  of  souls."  It  then  dwelt  on  the 
ingratitude  and  sins  of  the  people,  and  exhorted 
them  "  to  fly  to  the  grace  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ, 
and  seek  from  Him  the  pardon  of  their  sins  by  un- 
feigned repentance,  a  lively  faith,  and  a  true  con- 
version." It  ordered,  lastly,  that  all  the  shops 
should  be  shut  after  three  o'clock  the  preceding 
day. 

At  half-past  four  we  had  our  private  service. 
Tlnee  English  families  joined  us ;  so  that  we  were 
eighteen  in  all.  I  was  not  in  the  least  acquainted 
even  with  the  names  of  my  auditory  ;  but  an  op- 
portunity occurring,  I  had  just  mentioned  to  two 
families,  at  the  table-d'hute,  that  I  was  about  to 
have  English  service;  and,  as  we  were  beginning, 
a  third  family,  a  clergyman's,  begged  permission 
to  come  in.  They  all  seemed  intensely  attentive. 
My  subject  was  from  1  Thess.  i.  5,  "  For  our  Gos- 
pel came  not  unto  you  in  word  only,  but  also  in 
power,  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  in  much  as- 
surance." I  hope  some  good  was  done.  One 
family  was,  at  the  least,  better  employed  than  on 
the  preceding  Sunday,  when  they  were  at  a  play 
at  Lausanne.  This  the  father  of  it  had  told  me 
with  perfect  sangfroid  ;  adding,  that  he  had  been 
properly  punished  ;  for  they  were  late,  and  could 
obtain  no  good  sittings.  It  was  tins  conversation 
which  led  me  to  propose  to  them  to  join  our  Eng- 
lish service.  How  lamentable  is  it  that  British 
travellers  have  so  slight  a  sense  of  the  obligation 
of  keeping  holy  the  Sabbath  ! 

So  far  as  I  can  learn,  there  is  much  of  true  re- 
ligion in  this  important  canton.  It  quite  delights 
me  to  be  able  to  say  this.  I  have  so  often  had  to 
give  you  unfavorable  accounts,  that  I  have  a  dou- 
ble pleasure,  when  truth  allows  me  to  unite  with 
charily  in  my  reports.  The  education  of  the  chil- 
dren is  strictly  attended  to — indeed  every  parent 
is  compelled  to  send  his  children  to  school  and 
catechism.  In  this  respect  the  Swiss  governments 
possess  a  real  moral  power.  In  the  police  of  the 
towns  ;  the  suppression  of  vice  ;  the  prohibition  of 
theatres ;  the  banishing  of  bad  persons  at  once, 
and  without  ceremony  ;  the  laws  against  luxury, 
&c;  it  is  amazing  what  a  salutary  influence  some 
of  these  states  exercise  over  their  comparatively 
diminutive  territories. 

The  town  of  Bern  contains  about  a  ninth  part 


50 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


of  the  population  of  Liverpool  or  Manchester ;  and 
all  the  canton  not  a  fourth  part  of  the  population 
of  London — indeed  the  twenty-two  Swiss  cantons 
are  not  much  more  populous  than  that  one  im- 
mense city.*  Every  thing  therefore  falls  imme- 
diately under  the  notice  of  the  magistrates,  and 
may  be  checked  at  its  drst  appearance.  And  this 
sort  of  paternal,  though  perhaps  somewhat  arbi- 
trary, restraint,  being  connected  generally  with 
the  faithful  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  all  seems  to 
be  done,  that  any  government  can  do,  for  the  sup- 
pression of  public  immorality  and  the  encourage- 
ment of  piety  and  virtue. 

Whereas  in  England  things  are  on  a  very  dif- 
ferent footing.  The  overgrown  population  of  the 
metropolis,  the  extent  of  the  other  commercial 
towns  and  cities,  the  jealousy  of  their  civil  rights 
which  pervades  all  ranks,  the  measure  of  political 
and  religious  liberty  which  they  claim  and  enjoy, 
the  influence  of  public  opinion  on  parliament  and 
ministers  of  state,  the  tone  of  religious  sentiment 
given  by  the  bishops  and  clergy,  all  combine  to 
prevent  the  interference  of  an  arbitrary  discipline, 
and  to  leave  tilings  at  the  disposal  of  law  and  the 
general  feelings  of  the  nation.  Undoubtedly  this 
has  degenerated  too  often  into  negligence  and  dis- 
order, especially  in  the  permission  of  blasphemous 
and  seditious  publications,  in  the  neglect  of  the 
education  of  our  poor,  and  the  inadequate  provision 
for  the  public  worship  of  God.  Nor  has  the  faith- 
fid  preaching  of  the  reformed  doctrines  in  their 
simplicity  and  vigor,  been  always  so  general  with 
us,  as  it  seems  to  have  been  in  the  Swiss  churches. 

Still,  in  England  there  is  a  principle  of  renova- 
tion implanted,  and  concealed,  as  it  were,  in  all 
our  free  institutions,  which  revives  whenever  the 
mercy  of  God  visits  our  country,  and  which  was 
never,  perhaps,  more  powerfully  at  work  than  at 
present.  The  standard  of  religious  sentiment  is 
rapidly  advancing,  our  clergy  are  rising  from  their 
torpor,  and  are  preaching  and  living  according  to 
the  Gospel ;  the  influence  of  public  sentiment  is 
turned,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to  the  side  of 
piety  and  good  morals ;  our  government  favors 
the  progress  of  this  mighty  change  ;  Parliament 
itself  begins  to  move  ;  our  Bible  and  missionary 
institutions  are  hi  some  proportion  to  our  wealth 
and  commercial  greatness.  Now,  in  the  small 
governments  of  Switzerland,  I  suspect  that  much 
more  must  depend  on  the  personal  character  of 
the  members  of  the  government,  and  much  less 
on  public  opinion.  And  if  a  spirit  of  negligenoe 
as  to  morals,  or  of  persecution  as  to  religion, 
.should  pervade  the  minds  of  the  chief  persons  in  a 
canton,  there  would  be  far  less  hope  of  a  recovery 
than  in  England. 

But  I  am  indulging  too  much  in  this  sort  of  re- 
flections, for  a  stranger ;  the  state  of  things  in  the 
canton  of  Bern  is  at  present  delightful ;  and,  after 
all,  under  every  form  of  government,  the  extent 
of  real  spiritual  religion  in  the  heart  and  life,  must 
ever  depend  on  a  higher  cause — the  pure  preach- 
ing of  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  and  the  grace  of 
God's  blessed  Spirit.  May  that  grace  descend 
more  and  more  on  our  own  happy  country  and  all 


*  Switzerland  contain?  1,750,000  inhabitants ; 
London,  1,274,800;  Bern  13,3-10;  Liverpool,  118,972; 
the  canton  of  Bern,  215,000 


Christian  nations  and  churches,  yea,  on  all  man- 
kind ! 

I  am  your  affectionate  brother,        D.  W. 

P.  S.  As  I  have  been  speaking  on  the  subject 
of  strangers'  books,  I  cannot  close  my  letter 
without  mentioning  the  two  ingenious  sentences 
which  were  written  in  the  time  of  our  James  I. 
by  the  celebrated  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  whose  ad- 
vice to  Mdton  I  noticed  in  a  former  letter. 

The  first  is  a  keen  satire  ;  and  would  have 
been  more  complete  if  the  ambiguity  of  the  Eng- 
lish word,  he,  could  have  been  expressed  in  the 
Latin  : 

"  An  ambassador  is  an  honest  man  sent  to  lie 
abroad  for  the  good  of  his  country." — "  Legatus 
est  vir  bonus  peregre  missus  ad  mentiendum  re- 
publics: causa," 

The  other  is  more  grave,  but  not  without  a 
touch  of  humor  ;  for  I  suppress  the  long  solemn 
list  of  Sir  Henry's  titles,  and  of  his  various  em- 
bassies, which  precedes  it : 

"  Henricus  Wottonius,  &c.  &c.  &c.  tandem  hoc 
didicit,  Animas  fieri  sapientiores  quiescendo." — 
"Henry  Wotton,  &c,  &c.  &c.  at  length  learned 
this,  That  souls  are  made  wiser  by  being  quiet." 

The  first  was  written  early  hi  Sir  Henry's  life, 
and  was  printed  from  the  Latin  copy,  eight  years 
afterwards,  and  maliciously  transcribed  on  several 
glass  windows  at  Venice,  where  he  then  resided 
as  English  Ambassador.  The  other  was  the  cool 
and  weighty  result  of  experience,  after  a  long  life 
spent  in  diplomatic  services. 

I  wish  all  the  sentences  written  now  were  as 
well  worth  remembering. 

NOTICE  OF  THE  PUBLIC  FAST  AT  BERN. 

This  public  religious  service  is  annual  in  the 
Swiss  churches,  and  is  attended  to  with  much 
solemnity  by  all  classes.  Surely  other  churches 
might  do  well  to  imitate  so  good  an  example. — 
What  cause  have  we  in  England,  at  the  time  I 
am  writing  this,  (February,  1825)  for  thanksgiving 
as  well  as  for  humiliation — for  thanksgiving  on 
account  of  the  unnumbered  blessings  which  God 
has  vouchsafed  to  us  ;  blessings  almost  unparal- 
leled in  the  history  of  nations — for  humiliation  on 
account  of  our,  alas  !  too  flagrant  and  aggravated 
national  sins.  Surely  the  growing  sense  of  reli- 
gious obligation  which  marks  the  general  body  of 
people  in  England,  would  support  the  venerable 
heads  of  our  church  in  so  seasonable  an  appoint- 
ment. The  highest  pitch  of  public  prosperity  al- 
ways touches  on  the  most  fearful  reverses,  by 
leading  to  pride,  luxury,  vice,  and  forgetfulness  of 
God.  I  insert  the  whole  of  the  valuable  document 
from  which  I  have  given  a  passage  or  two  above. 
I  never  saw  a  copy  of  it  in  this  country. 

Nous  avoyer  et  conseil  de  la  ville  et  republiquc 
de  Bern,  assurons  tigs  chers  etfiuiles  ressor- 
tissans  de  noire  gracieuse  bienveiilance,  et  leur 
faisons  savoir: 

Que,  de  concert  avec  les  autres  Etats  reformcs 
de  la  Confederation,  nous  avons  arrete  de  faire  ce- 
lebrer,  Jeudi  11  Septembre  prochain,u  n  jour  so- 
lennel  d'actions  de  graces,  de  jeune  et  de  priere. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


51 


Et  qui  de  nous,  cliers  et  fideles  ressortissans, 
ne  se  sentirait  avec  nous  porte  a  remercier  Dieu 
publiquement,  et  du  fond  d'un  coeur  touche,  en  rc- 
flechissant  a.  tous  les  bienfaits  qu'il  a  repandus  sur 
nous  pendant  cette  annee  si  pleine  d'evenemens  1 
Une  paix  profonde  regne  au  sein  de  notre  patrie,  et 
dans  les  contrees  qui  nous  avoisinent ;  tandis  que 
dans  d'autres  pays  plus  eloignes  le  fleau  de  la 
guerre  trouble  la  prosperite  des  peuples :  et  de 
cette  tranquillite  decoulent  pour  la  vie  domestique 
et  publique  d'inombrables  benedictions  qui  s'eten- 
dent  sur  tous  les  etats  et  sur  tous  les  ages.  La 
terre  a  etc  fertile  au-de  la  de  toute  esperance,  et 
par  ses  riches  productions  a  confondu  les  inquie- 
tudes de  ceux,  auxquels  la  temperature  variable 
et  pluvieuse  de  l'ete  faisait  craindre  le  retour  de 
la  disette.  Et  si  par-ci  par-la.  des  orages  ont  oc- 
casionne  quelque  perte,  que  ce  dommage  est  peu 
Je  chose  en  comparaison  de  tout  le  bien  que  nous 
avons  recue  de  la  main  du  Seigneur !  ce  n'a  ete 
en  quelque  sorte  qu'un  avertissement  pour  nous 
rappeler  pu'il  est  en  sa  puissance  de  nous  donner 
ou  de  nous  enlever  ce  qui  nous  est  le  plus  necessaire. 

Et  pourquoi  ne  ferions-nous  pas  mention  du  plus 
excellent  de  tous  les  dons  de  Dieu,  de  la  sainte 
religion  de  Jesus,  qui  est  enseignee  purement  dans 
les  cglises  et  dans  les  ecoles,  et  qui  est  une  source 
intarissable  de  verite,  de  vertu,  et  de  consolation 
pour  tant  de  milliers  d'ames  ] 

Si  1'experience  journaliere  de  cette  grace  du 
Seigneur  qui  se  multiplie  sur  nous  de  tant  de  ma- 
nieres,  doit  a  juste  titre  nous  animer  a  la  celebrer 
avec  joie ;  nous  ne  saurions  cependant  vous  le  ca- 
cher,  un  regard  jete  sur  l'etat  religieux  et  moral 
de  notre  peuple,  devoile  une  grande  corruption, 
qui  en  verite  nous  rend  indignes  d'une  telle  grace. 
Une  legerete  sans  bornes  se  manifeste  dans  les 
villes  et  a  la  compagne  sous  une  multitude  de 
formes  ;  dans  1'mdifference  thouchant  la  connais- 
sance  et  l'adoration  de  Dieu,  chez  plusieurs  dans 
un  total  abandon  des  temples  du  Seigneur,  dans 
I'oisivete,  le  gout  du  luxe,  et  une  vie  dereglee,  qui 
entrainent  la  ruine  de  families  entieres,  comme 
aussi  des  individus  en  particuher.  Et  a.  cote  de 
cette  deplorable  et  criminelle  irrerete,  n'avons- 
nous  pas  la  douleur  de  voir  dans  quelques  contrees 
des  homines  pervers  continuer  a.  faire  un  horrible 
abus  des  choses  divines,  de  tout  ce  qu'il  y  a  de  plus 
saint,  pour  tromper  les  simples,  pour  scduire  les 
faibles,  et  se  livrer  a.  la  plus  grossiere  immoralite  1 
Des  iniquitee  aussi  graves  ayant  lieu,  ainsi  que 
tant  d'autres  transgressions  qni  minent  insensible- 
ment  la  prospteritepublique  et  domestique ;  le  soin 
paternelque  nous  devons  prendre  du  salut  de  nos  re- 
.-ortissans  nous  oblige  a  les  exhorter  serieusement, 
de  rccourir  a.  la  grace  de  Dieu  en  Jesus  Christ,  et 
de  chercher  aupres  de  lui  le  pardon  des  peches 
par  une  repentance  non  feinte,  une  foi  vive,  et  une 
conversion  veritable,  se  rappelant  soigneusement 
qu'il  ne  faut  pas  s'en  tenir  a  la  simple  promessc 
de  s'amender,  mais  que  le  sacrifice  agrtable  au 
Tres-Haut,  c'est  une  vie  Chretienne  selon  la  verite, 
la  puretc,  et  la  charite, 

Nous  attendons  avec  confiance,  que  quiconquc 
desire  le  bien  de  la  patrie,  et  son  propre  avantage, 
ne  manquera  pas  au  jour  de  jefine  prochain,  d'im- 
plorer  pour  cet  effect  de  l'ainour  eternel  le  secours 
d'enhaut,  et  la  conservation  des  biens  precieux  dont 
nous  jouissons. 

55—2 


Mais  pour  prevenir  autant  que  possible  tout  ce 
qui  pourrait  troubler  la  devotion  pendant  ce  jour 
solennel  de  jeiine,  nous  ordonnons  enfin  serieuse- 
ment, que  durant  tout  ce  saint  jour,  et  la  veille 
depuis  les  trois  heures  de  1'apres-diner,  toutes  les 
auberges  et  pintes  soient  fermees  pour  chacun, 
excepte  pour  les  voyageurs  etrangers  ;  nous  de- 
fendons  en  meme  temps  les  courses  indecentes 
d'une  paroisse  dans  une  autre,  et  entendons  que 
chacun  frequente  l'eglise  de  sa  paroisse. 

Veuille  l'Auteur  de  toute  grace  lui-meme  faire 
servir  cette  institution  a  sa  sainte  gloire,  a  la  pros- 
perite de  la  patrie,  et  a  l'avancement  du  bonheur 
de  chacun  en  particuher. 

Donne  le  18  Aout,  1823. 

Chancellerie  de  Berne. 


LETTER  X. 

Morat,  August  25. — Lausanne,  August  31, 1823. 

Battle  of  Morat — Avenche — Payerne — Lausanne — 
Reformation — Translation  of  Scott — Lake  of  Ge- 
neva—  Lodgings — Calvinism — Nion — Coppet — 
M.  Neckar — Madam  de  Stael— Geneva — Rhone 
— Steam  Boat — Death  of  Missionaries  Johnson 
and  Palmer — The  Pope — Ferney — Voltaire — 
Sunday  at  Lausanne — Preachers — Persecution — 
Calvin's  Will — Arrete  at  Lausanne. 

Morat,  canton  of  Friburg,  15  miles  from 
Bern,  Monday,  August  25,  1823. 

Mr  dearest  sister, — At  length  we  have  left 
Bern,  eighteen  days  after  our  arrival.  We  have 
been  driving  to-day  through  a  sweet  country, 
though  of  necessity  less  striking  than  the  Ober- 
land,  which  still  captivates  my  imagination.  On 
reflection,  I  feel  more  and  more  gratified  at  hav- 
ing had  health  and  strength  to  visit  it.  The 
Jungfrau,  the  Avalanches,  the  Giessbach,  the  Gla- 
cier of  the  Rhone,  and  the  valley  of  the  Reuss, 
seem  quite  to  fill  and  overwhelm  my  mind.  Even 
the  Righi,  bad  as  the  weather  was,  has  left  a 
strong  impression  on  my  recollection.  Next  to  a 
perfectly  clear  day,  I  conceive  nothing  could  have 
been  finer  than  the  beholding  the  tremendous 
storm  gathering  in  the  horizon,  hours  before  it 
burst  upon  us,  contrasted  with  the  sweet  sunshine 
on  the  opposite  side.  I  must  tell  you,  that  good 
old  Mr.  Wyttenbach  called  on  us  before  we  left 
Bern,  and  gave  us  his  blessing:  and  that  three 
young  ladies  out  of  our  congregation  yesterday, 
seemed  a  good  deal  affected  with  the  discourse  ; 
they  spoke  to  us  this  morning  with  evident  inte- 
rest and  anxiety.  It  is  impossible  to  reckon  on  the 
impressions  made  by  a  single  sermon  ;  but  atten- 
tion to  truth  is  always  a  hopeful  sign,  and  may 
lead  on  to  consideration,  repentance,  conversion ; 
— "  faith  cometh  by  hearing." 

It  is,  perhaps,  scarcely  worth  adding  to  what  I 
have  said  about  Bern,  that  the  founder  of  the  town 
was  a  duke  of  Zaehringen.  He  is  represented 
over  one  of  the  gates,  in  a  colassal  form,  twenty 
feet  or  more  high.  In  all  these  towns  and  can- 
tons, you  should  know,  that  the  walks  and  varied 
beauties  of  nature  are  opened  to  the  public,  and 
you  are  sure  to  find  shady  paths  and  convenient 


52 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


seats  for  your  repose ;  nothing  is  usurped  as  of 
private  use.  I  forgot  to  say,  that  at  Lucem,  all 
the  dogs  in  the  town  are  secured  with  muzzles  of 
brass  or  iron,  placed  loosely  over  the  mouth ;  no- 
thing could  be  more  curious,  than  to  meet  ten  or 
twelve  of  these  poor  animals  in  every  street,  thus 
deprived  of  liberty. 

Morat,  where  we  now  are  dining,  is  beautifully 
situated  on  the  lake  of  that  name  ;  it  is  one  thou- 
sand four  hundred  and  sixty  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  has  a  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  celebrated 
for  one  of  those  great  battles,  by  which  a  small 
number  of  Swiss  heroes  overcame  France  and 
Austria,  and  established  their  independence.  The 
battle  of  Morat  was  fought  June  22, 1476,  against 
Charles  duke  of  Burgundy.  Two  thousand  heroes 
kept  an  army  of  seventy  thousand  French  in 
check,  at  Morat,  till  the  Swiss  confederates  could 
arrive — Couriers  were  despatched  in  all  directions 
to  hasten  their  march — In  three  weeks  thirty-five 
thousand  men  were  collected — They  at  once  re- 
solved to  attack  the  enemy's  camp,  and  they 
gained  a  complete  victory.  Three-and-twenty 
thousand  of  Charles's  army  perished  on  that  day  ; 
and  the  duke  escaped  with  difficulty,  with  three 
thousand  cavalry,  to  Morges.  The  Swiss  loss 
was  four  hundred  killed,  and  six  hundred  wounded. 

The  lake  of  Morat,  is  only  six  miles  long,  and 
two  broad ;  but  abounds  in  a  fish  called  sabet, 
said  to  be  the  largest  of  all  the  fresh  water  kinds. 
We  have  had  a  fearfully  hot  ride  of  four  hours 
and  a  half.  This  is  the  fourth  fine  day  we  have 
had  in  succession. 

Payrne,  Canton  de  Vaud,  half-past  nine,  Mon- 
day night. — We  left  Morat  at  half-past  six,  and 
soon  came  to  the  spot  where  the  battle  of  Morat 
was  fought.  A  building  formerly  stood  there, 
forty-four  feet  by  fourteen,  containing  the  bones  of 
the  Burgundians  who  fell,  with  this  truly  Swiss 
inscription  :  "  The  army  of  Charles,  duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, besieging  Morat,  was  slain  by  the  Swiss, 
and  left  behind  them  this  monument,  in  1476" — 
"hoc  sui  monumentum  reliquit."  The  budding 
was  des'royed  by  the  French,  in  1793.  A  new 
and  simple  column  was  erected  last  year,  with 
this  inscription,  "  Victorian),  22  Jun.  1476,  patrum 
concordia  partam,  novo  signat  lapide  Republica 
Fribourg,  1822."  "The  victory  obtained  by  the 
union  of  their  forefathers,  22d  June,  1476,  is 
marked  with  a  new  column  by  the  Republic  of 
Fribourg,  1822 — a  simple  and  sublime  record ! 

About  half-past  seven  we  passed  through 
Avenche,  the  ancient  Aventicum,  founded  589 
years  before  Christ,  and  a  most  nourishing  city 
and  a  capital  of  Helvetia,  under  the  emperor  Ves- 
pasian, from  A.  D.  69 — 77.  It  was  destroyed  by 
Attala  in  the  fifth  century.  We  saw  the  ruins  of 
the  Roman  tower,  walls,  amphitheatre,  altars, 
temples  ;  and  drove  for  a  mile  over  what  formerly 
constituted  Aventicum.  An  inconsiderable  vil- 
lage is  all  that  now  remains  of  what  was  once  the 
metropolis  of  Switzerland.  Thus  the  glory  of 
cities  passes  away.  The  spot  abounds  with  an- 
cient inscriptions  ;  one  is  too  curious  to  be  omit- 
ted. Tacitus  relates,  that  Julius  Alpinus,  chief 
magistrate  of  Aventicum,  was  massacred  by  or- 
der of  Aulus  Carina,  in  the  year  69  ;  in  spite  of 
the  prayers  of  his  daughter.  An  inscription  has 
been  found  in  the  antiquities  of  the  town,  winch 


remarkably  confirms  this  historical  fact.  It  is  an 
epitaph,  most  simple  and  touching,  on  this  very 
daughter,  and  supposed  to  be  written  by  herself. 
"  I,  Julia  Alpinula,  here  lie,  the  unhappy  offspring 
of  an  unhappy  father.  I  could  not  avert  by  my 
entreaties  the  death  of  my  father;  the  fates  had 
appointed  him  an  evil  death.  I  lived  XXIII. 
years."*  It  is  thus  that  incidental  circumstances 
corroborate  the  truth  of  history.  The  Scripture 
annals  have  been  confirmed  a  thousand  times  in  a 
similar  manner ;  and  though  they  embrace  a  pe- 
riod of  several  thousand  years,  and  touch  on  the 
history  of  all  countries,  and  have  lam  open  to  the 
misrepresentations  of  unbelievers  in  every  age, 
nothing  has  ever  been  established  to  weaken  their 
authenticity. 

Moudon,  Tuesday  morning,  Arigust  26. — We 
set  off  this  morning  at  half-past  eight.  Before 
breakfast,  we  went  to  see  the  church  of  Payerne, 
where  there  is  a  tomb  of  queen  Bertha,  who  built, 
in  962,  the  cathedral,  from  the  ruins  of  Avenche  ; 
the  edifice  is  now  used  as  a  barn.  We  saw  also, 
the  curious  saddle  which  she  used,  made  of  wood 
cased  with  iron,  and  with  a  high  framework,  like 
a  child's  go-cart,  so  as  to  defend  and  fix  the  whole 
body.  We  are  now  at  a  small  town  called  Mou- 
don, twelve  miles  from  Payerne — one  thousand 
four  hundred  souls — built  by  the  Romans,  on  the 
Broie  river,  which  joins  the  lakes  of  Morat  and 
Neufchatel.  The  co-untry  here  is  much  more 
tame  than  in  the  Oberland  (indeed  you  must  ex- 
pect dull  letters  after  the  wonders  of  the  Alps,) 
but,  still  fruitful,  variegated,  agreeable. 

Now  let  me  answer  your  inquiries  about  the 
beds  in  the  Pays  Bas  and  Germany  (for  my  letters 
are  miscellanies  indeed:)  1st.  We  were  in  dan- 
ger of  rolling  out,  from  the  inclined,  shelving  form 
of  the  high,  thick,  awkward,  trebled  mattresses  ; 
the  beds  inclined  both  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
and  from  the  head  to  the  foot.  2d.  If  you  kept 
in  bed,  then  you  were  in  danger  of  losing  all  the 
scanty  clothes  at  once,  by  the  slightest  change  of 
position.  3d.  If  you  laid  hold  of  the  clothes  to 
prevent  this,  then  you  infallibly  uncovered  your 
feet ;  and  in  rising  to  adjust  the  clothes,  the  whole 
bed  became  deranged.  4th.  When  other  things 
were  settled,  you  had  to  search  about  with  your 
hands  in  the  straw  of  the  mattresses,  and  push 
down  some  of  the  principal  bumps  as  well  as  you 
could.  5th.  The  curtains  being  suspended  on  a 
ring  or  hoop,  from  the  top  of  the  room  (the  beds 
having  no  posts,)  you  were  in  danger  of  pulling 
down  the  whole  canopy  upon  you,  if  you  drew  the 
curtains  round  you.  6th.  All  these  dangers  be- 
ing over,  you  were  exposed  every  minute,  till  the 
house  was  quiet,  to  persons  of  all  descriptions 
coming  into  your  room  ;  for  the  lock  would  some- 
times not  turn,  and  you  had  no  bolts.  Then, 
7th.  The  servants  knew  not  one  word  of  French  ; 
and,  lastly,  the  beds  themselves  were  so  small, 
and  so  beset  with  hard  wooden  sides  and  ends, 
that  you  were  infallibly  exposed  to  injuring  your 
hands,  or  arms,  or  head,  by  violent  blows.  Now  we 
are  in  Switzerland,  the  beds  are  generally  better. 


*  "Julia  Alpinula  hie  jaceo  infelicis  patris  infe- 
lix  proles.  Exorare  patris  necem  non  potui ;  male 
mori  in  fatis  illi  erat.  Vixi  annos,  XXIII."— Grut. 
Inscrip.  Tac.  Hist.  L.  1  et  2. 


TRAVELS   ON   THE   CONTINENT. 


53 


Lausanne,  capital  of  Pays  de  Vaud,  Tuesday 
night. — We  arrived  here  at  eight  o'clock.  The 
drive  of  twelve  miles  was  fine  and  beautiful.  We 
crossed  Mount  Jorat,  two  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  seventy  feet  above  the  sea.  The  moun- 
tains on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  of  Geneva 
were  clearly  visible  ;  but  Mount  Blanc  (the  great 
popular  curiosity  of  Switzerland,  or  Savoy,  pro- 
perly speaking)  was  obscured  with  clouds.  As 
we  approached  Lausanne,  the  lake  and  adjoining 
country  opened  beautifully  before  us.  The  pea- 
sants have  here  a  new  variety  of  bonnets — a  straw 
one,  rising  above  the  head  in  turrets,  and  ending 
in  a  sort  of  handle  at  the  top,  something  like  a 
bell.  Lausanne  is  a  town  of  eleven  thousand 
souls  ;  Protestant ;  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is  situated  on  tliree 
hills  with  their  intermediate  valleys,  so  that  many 
>f  the  streets  are  steep.  It  is  filled  with  voitu- 
riers  and  carriages  of  all  sorts,  and  claims  a  kind 
nf  privilege  of  furnishing  travellers,  who  com- 
monly enter  Switzerland  by  way  of  France,  for 
their  Swiss  tour  in  the  summer,  and  their  Italian 
La  the  winter.  The  lake  of  Leman,  or  Geneva, 
on  which  it  stands,  is  the  largest  in  Switzerland, 
after  that  of  Constance.  It  is  above  forty  miles 
long,  and  ten  broad  ;  forty  small  rivers,  besides 
the  Rhone,  fall  into  it ;  Geneva  is  at  the  other 
end  of  it.  A  steam-boat  has  just  begun  to  sail  in 
it,  for  the  first  time  in  Switzerland. 

We  heard  yesterday  and  to-day  of  the  effects 
of  the  dreadful  storm  on  Wednesday  night,  when 
\\  e  were  on  the  Righi :  seven  houses  and  many 
heads  of  cattle  were  destroyed.  What  thanks  do 
ue  owe  to  a  good  Providence  for  preservation  ! — 
One  stroke  of  lightning  might  have  summoned 
the  crowded  guests  of  our  inn,  and  us  amongst 
their,  to  their  eternal  account!  You  have  no 
idea,  in  England,  of  the  storms  in  these  warmer 
climates. 

Lausanne,  Wednesday,  3  o'clock. — We  have 
taken  lodgings  for  a  month,  with  liberty  to  quit  at 
a  fortnight.  A  kind,  excellent  Swiss  friend,  whom 
we  knew  in  London,  has  been  indefatigable  for 
our  comfort.  We  have  a  suite  of  four  rooms  on 
the  fir&t  floor,  looking  full  on  the  fine  Lake  of  Ge- 
neva ;  a  sitting  room  about  twenty-five  feet  square ; 
three  bed  rooms,  and  a  cabinet ;  all  neat,  and 
even  elegant ;  with  an  approach  through  a  gate- 
way and  yard,  from  the  main  street ;  so  tliat,  we 
have  the  most  exquisite  view  imaginable  on  the 
one  side,  and  all  the  comforts  of  a  town  on  the 
other.  We  have  a  nice  little  garden,  to  which  we 
descend  from  our  parlor  ;  from  this  we  look  down 
upon  a  sweet  garden  belonging  to  another  house ; 
from  which  the  vineyards  begin  still  lower  down 
the  hill,  and  these  vineyards  extend  to  the  lake 
itself.  We  pay  two  hundred  and  forty  francs  a 
month,  about  two  pounds  ten  shilling  a  week. — 
It  is  no  recommendation  to  us,  but  we  are  inform- 
ed, that  Gibbon  inhabited  our  lodgings  for  six 
weeks,  before  his  own  house  was  ready  for  his  re- 
ception.* 

*  Gibbon  thus  describes  the  situation  of  his  house  ; 
which  is  quite  appicable  to  our  charming  lodgings  : 
''I  occupy  a  spacious  and  convenient  mansion,  con- 
nected on  the  north  side  with  the  city,  and  open  on 
the  south  to  a  beautiful  and  boundless  horizon.    A 


Thursday,  6  o'clock,  morning,  August  28. — 
Lausanne  is  by  no  means  a  fine  town  in  itself,  but 
it  is  most  beautifully  situated.  It  stands  above 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  lake,  and  is  a  fine 
object  from  a  distance.  There  are  charming 
walks  just  beyond  it,  on  one  of  the  hills,  command- 
ing a 'view  of  the  lake,  and  of  the  part  of  the 
town  which  stands  upon  a  second  and  nearly  pa- 
rallel hill.  The  intermediate  valley  is  filled  with 
vines.  Noble  trees  and  seats  increase  the  plea- 
sure of  the  promenade.  It  was  amongst  the  ear- 
liest towns  to  embrace  the  Reformation  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  proverbial  dissoluteness  of 
maimers  of  the  Popish  clergy  of  that  era,  is  still 
talked  of  in  Lausanne.  The  church  of  St.  Anne, 
and  the  houses  of  the  priests,  were,  hi  fact,  turned 
into  places  of  the  grossest  and  most  abandoned 
profligacy.  It  was  thus,  that  the  enormity  of  the 
evil,  prepared  men  to  receive  the  remedy. 

Never  was  any  point  of  history  more  clearly 
made  out  than  the  necessity  of  the  Reformation. 
Christianity  was  almost  forgotten,  both  in  its  doc- 
trines and  duties ;  and  a  frightful  code  of  super- 
stition, united  with  maimers  the  most  corrupt,  was 
rapidly  obliterating  every  trace  of  its  genuine  cha- 
racter. Even  as  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  ex- 
ists now,  a  reformation  would  have  been  indispen- 
sable. But  we  are  to  judge  of  the  importance  of 
that  great  event,  not  by  what  Popery  actually  is, 
after  the  tacit  influence  on  it  of  three  centuries 
of  evangelical  truth,  in  the  Reformed  churches  ; 
but  by  what  it  was  before  Martin  Luther  sepa- 
rated from  it,  and  by  what  it  would  have  been, 
long  before  the  present,  day,  if  that  heroic  Re- 
former and  his  noble  associates  had  not  acted  as 
they  did.  And  we  are  to  recollect,  that  besides 
the  gross  errors,  both  in  faith  and  practice,  which 
disgraced  it  then,  and  which  disgrace  it  still,  it 
cherishes  a  spirit  of  persecution,  insists  on  all  it3 
absurdities  as  matters  of  faith,  imposes  its  iron 
yoke  on  the  conscience,  and  will  hear  of  no  re- 
monstrance, no  advice,  no  correction.* 

The  Panorama  in  London  gives  an  accurate 
and  pleasing  view  of  the  entrance  to  Lausanne 
from  Geneva.  In  the  evening,  the  dear  children 
and  I  spent  all  the  tune  in  our  sweet  little  garden, 


garden  of  four  acres  has  been  laid  out  by  the  taste 
of  M.  Deyverdun  ;  from  the  garden  a  rich  scenery 
of  meadows  and  vineyards  descends  to  the  Leman 
lake,  and  the  prospect  far  beyond  the  lake  is  crown- 
ed by  I  he  stupendous  mountains  of  Savoy." 

*  This  tyrannical  dominion  is  one  characteristic 
of  the  fallen  church  of  Rome.  "  We  offer  the  Pa- 
pists every  thing  we  ought,  and  more  than  we  ought," 
says  Luther,  "  we  only  claim  to  ourselves  the  liberty 
of  conscience,  which  we  have  in  Christ  Jesus.  We 
will  not  be  compelled  or  bound  in  conscience  to  any 
work,  so  that  by  doing  it  we  should  be  righteous,  by 
omitting  it  condemned.  We  will  willingly  use  the 
same  meats  with  them,  and  observe  the  same  feasts 
and  fasts,  if  they  will  only  permit  us  to  keep  them 
of  our  free  choice,  and  cease  from  these  threatening 
words,  by  which  they  have  hitherto  terrified  and 
subjected  the  whole  world  :  'We  command,  we  in- 
sist, we  excommunicate,'  &c.  Here  we  will,  and 
ought  to  be  rebels,  and  pertinacious;  otherwise  we 
should  lose  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  and  our  liberty, 
which  we  have,  not  in  Cassar,  in  kings,  in  princes, 
nor  in  the  Pope,  the  world,  and  the  flesh,  bu' 
Christ  Jesus."— Comm.  in  Gal.  p.  71.  Wittenb.  i  j'i5. 


54 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


or  rather  terrace,  for  we  have  a  wall  and  iron  rail- 
ing which  supports  the  ground  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed ;  and  this  railing  prevents  our  falling  down 
thirty  or  forty  feet  into  the  next  terrace-garden, 
which  is  immediately  below  us  towards  the  lake. 
It  is  now  six  in  the  morning  :  the  three  windows 
of  our  saloon  are  open  ;  the  sun  is  mounting  over 
the  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  and  shed- 
ding a  lovely  tint  on  every  object.  Our  kind  fel- 
low-traveller and  my  eldest  son  are  going  with 
me,  in  a  car,  to  Geneva,  (thirty  miles)  that  I  may 
not  lose  a  moment  in  seeing  after  the  translation 
of  Scott. 

You  know  that  I  have  been  some  time  engaged 
in  assisting  to  have  this  admirable  practical  com- 
ment on  the  Scriptures  translated  into  French. — 
The  whole  body  of  French  Protestant  Theology 
affords  no  one  plain,  spiritual,  solid  exposition  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  With  immense  difficulty  I 
have  found  a  translator  well  skilled  in  English, 
accustomed  to  literary  occupation,  master  of  a 
good  style,  and  of  the  same  sentiments  with  my 
author.  He  has  nearly  translated  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Matthew.  The  warm  approbation  of  the  de- 
sign from  all  quarters  exceedingly  encourages  me 
.o  go  on ;  and  the  tendency  to  error  and  excess 
amongst  some  pious  persons  here,  makes  it  more 
and  more  important.  Still  I  feel  a  great  doubt 
whether  so  large  a  work  will  succeed,  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  things,  on  the  continent.  At  the 
utmost,  I  only  expect  it  may  conspire,  with  other 
more  efficient  and  adequate  measures,  to  aid  the 
revival  of  religion.  May  God  order,  direct,  and 
bless  ! 

I  approach  Geneva  (for  which  I  am  now  setting 
off)  with  feelings  of  peculiar  veneration.  The 
name  of  Calvin  stands  high  amongst  the  Reform- 
ers, divines,  and  scholars  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
There  is  no  man  to  whom  I  owe  so  much  as  a 
commentator.  The  reproaches  cast  so  liberally 
on  what  is  called  Calvinism  hi  England,  are,  for 
the  most  part,  (as  moderate  men  of  all  parties  now 
agree  in  allowing)  either  the  effect  of  pure  igno- 
rance, or  of  dislike  to  spiritual  religion.  The  ex- 
cesses and  daring  spirit  of  too  many  modern  reli- 
gionists, have  no  warrant  in  the  writings  of  Cal- 
vin. A  more  sober,  practical,  holy  writer,  gene- 
rally speaking,  does  not  exist.  There  was,  un- 
doubtedly, something  harsh  in  his  character  ;  he 
carried  his  acuteness  too  far  in  his  system  of  di- 
vinity, so  as  to  overstep,  in  my  judgment,  the  exact 
moderation  of  the  Sacred  Writings ;  and  in  his 
scheme  of  church  government,  he  followed,  not  the 
Episcopalian,  but  the  Presbyterian  model.  His 
virtues  bordered  on  severity.  But,  after  all  these 
deductions,  he  was  amongst  the  very  first  men  of 
his  own  or  any  age  ;  and  the  objections  raised 
against  his  writings  in  modern  times,  have  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  his  failings,  but  might  be 
almost  as  well  raised  against  what  the  Scriptures 
state  of  the  fall  of  man,  of  salvation  by  grace,  of 
justification  by  faith,  of  regeneration  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  of  holy  obedience  as  the  fruit  of  love.* 
In  fact,  these  are  the  things  in  which  true  religion 
consists  ;  and,  therefore,  they  are  distasteful  to 
the  pride  and  sensuality  of  fallen  man.     This  dis- 

*  I  place  the  t  eamble  of  his  will  at  the  end  of  this 
setter. 


like  sometimes  assumes  one  disguise  and  some- 
times another  ;  but  it  is  only  a  disguise — the  dis- 
like as  to  vital  godliness  itself.  What  is  now  op- 
posed in  England  as  Calvinism,  was  opposed  m 
the  preceding  age  under  other  names  ;  and  will 
be  opposed  in  the  next  age  under  names  still  vary- 
ing with  the  fashion  of  the  day. 

Nyon,  on  the  road  to  Geneva,  21  miles,  1  o'clock, 
Thursday. — We  are  sitting  in  a  garden,  at  a  most 
beautiful  spot  on  the  lake,  which,  with  its  deep- 
blue  waters  is  rippling  before  us.  We  set  off  in 
our  car  at  seven  this  morning,  my  son  driving, 
and  my  friend  and  I  going  inside.  The  day  is  hot, 
but  beautiful.  We  have  driven  most  of  tiie  way 
through  vineyards,  which  have  little  or  no  fence 
to  them.  The  grapes  are  now  large,  and  in  some 
few  spots  ripe  ;  but  the  vintage  will  not  take  place 
for  a  month.  We  passed  through  Morges  and 
Rolle,  two  lovely  towns,  situated  each  on  a  bay 
of  the  lake,  and  affording,  as  you  approach  them, 
a  charming  view. 

We  are  now  at  Nyon,  the  spot  where  Caesar, 
after  defeating  the  Helvetii,  founded  the  first  Ro- 
man colony,  fifty-six  years  before  the  birth  of  our 
Lord.  All  here  is  fertility,  industry,  and  fruitful- 
ness.  This  lake  of  Geneva  is  diversified  by  per- 
petual bays,  towns,  chateaux,  vineyards,  orchards, 
country-houses.  I  observe,  in  the  towns,  that  the 
shopkeepers,  in  their  signs,  give  not  merely  a  sin- 
gle figure,  as  in  England  ;  as  of  a  man,  a  boot,  a 
bottle,  a  hat,  &c. ;  but  a  long  board  filled  with  all 
the  figures  of  different  sorts  of  boots,  bottles,  hats, 
which  they  happen  to  sell ;  so  that  you  have  quite 
an  historical  painting — in  wretched  style  of  course. 

About  six  miles  before  we  came  to  Geneva,  we 
passed  through  the  beautiful  village  of  Coppet, 
celebrated  as  the  residence  of  M.  Neckar,  and  of 
his  still  more  distinguished  daughter,  Madame  de 
Stael.  I  much  wished  to  have  called  at  the  cha- 
teau, to  which  I  had  been  invited  by  the  kindness 
of  the  present  possessor,  the  Baron  de  Stael ;  but 
I  found  it  was  impossible.  You  will  be  charmed 
to  hear  that  the  Baron  with  his  noble  and  amiable 
sister,  are  blessings  to  the  neighborhood.  Their 
benevolence  and  piety  are  such,  that  they  acquaint 
themselves  with  the  circumstances  of  all  the  poor 
families  around  them,  and  administer  relief  to  their 
bodies  and  minds.  It  is  quite  delightful  to  think, 
that  the  descendants  of  one  of  the  most  able  states- 
men of  France,  and  of  perhaps  the  most  brilliant 
writer  of  her  age,  should  be  devoting  all  their  ta- 
lents to  the  diffusion  of  the  truest  philosophy,  the 
illumination  and  moral  elevation  of  their  fellow- 
creatures,  by  the  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, and  of  the  blessings  of  real  Christianity  as 
purchased  by  our  Lord  and  Saviour.  It  was  with 
extreme  regret  I  found  myself  unable  even  to  make 
a  short  stay  in  this  attractive  spot. 

Geneva,  Thursday  night,  nine  o'clock. — We 
arrived  here  about  six,  after  a  very  hot,  dusty,  dis- 
agreeable journey  in  point  of  fatigue ;  our  little 
low  car  placed  us,  as  we  approached  the  city,  hi 
the  midst  of  the  dust ;  and  we  met  a  continued 
succession  of  carriages.  The  country  continued 
sweet  and  beautiful.  The  view  of  the  cathedral, 
and  other  buildings  of  the  city,  from  the  hill,  is 
very  fine,  chiefly  from  the  circumstance  of  its  be- 
ing placed  at  the  extremity  of  the  lake,  just  where 
its  waters  flow  out  and  form  the  Rhone.     This 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


55 


noble  river,  which  I  saw  springing  from  the  gla- 
cier, between  the  Grirasel  and  the  Furca,  and 
which  was  then  a  stream  of  mere  turbid  snow- 
water, enters  the  lake  of  Geneva  at  Boverat, 
nearly  of  the  same  muddy  white  color  ;  but  when 
it  flows  out  and  enters  France,  it  is  of  the  clearest 
deep-blue  color,  pure  to  the  bottom.  It  seems  to 
be  nearly  as  wide  here,  as  the  Thames  at  London. 
As  it  rolls  on  to  Lyon,  it  receives  several  rivers  as 
large  as  itself,  till  at  last,  in  its  approach  to  the 
Mediterranean,  it  surprasses,  in  volume  and  ra- 
pidity, the  Rhine.  It  is,  altogether,  one  of  the 
noblest  rivers  of  Europe.  It  rushes  through  Ge- 
neva, in  two  or  three  large  streams  from  the  lake ; 
and  convenient  bridges  are  thrown  over  them. 

Geneva  is  very  ancient ;  it  is  mentioned  by 
Caesar  as  the  last  town  of  the  Allobroges,  and  the 
nearest  to  the  borders  of  Helvetia.  It  now  con- 
tains twenty-five  thousand  souls,  in  about  one  thou- 
sand houses,  which  gives  a  much  larger  proportion 
for  each  house  than  any  other  place  I  am  ac- 
quainted with.  Tiie  houses  are  accordingly  very 
high — five  or  six  stories.  Many  of  the  streets 
have  a  peculiarly  awkward  appearance  from  the 
roofs,  at  this  extreme  height,  jutting  out  over  the 
streets  ten  or  twelve  feet,  and  being  propped  up 
by  poles,  or  wooden  pillars,  fixed  on  the  ground 
below,  and  then  secured  midway  by  cross-beams. 
Nothing  can  be  so  awkward  ;  and  what  increases 
the  awkwardness  is,  that  small  rows  of  shops  rmi 
opposite  the  houses  between  the  foot-way  and  the 
street  itself.*  It  resembles  somewhat  our  ancient 
city  of  Chester.  The  town  is  famed  for  education, 
talent,  industry,  and  commerce.  Watchmaking 
is  particularly  followed.  Numbers  of  English  are 
here,  and  in  the  neighboring  villages,  and  country- 
houses,  and  their  opinions  and  example  have  the 
greatest  weight.  I  wish  I  could  report  that  the 
tendency  of  them  was  uniformly  good. 

At  the  table-d'hote,  at  supper,  we  had  the  mor- 
tification to  find  that  the  new  steam-vessel  sailed 
from  Lausanne  to-day,  and  brought  nearly  one 
hundred  passengers,  without  heat,  dust,  &c,  in 
six  hours,  what  took  us  nearly  twelve  ;  nay,  that 
the  air  was  so  fresh  on  the  lake,  that  many  per- 
sons put  on  their  great-coats.  We  were  the  more 
vexed,  because  we  had  inquired  about  the  boat, 
and  were  misinformed.  The  fact  is,  the  steam- 
boat is  so  violently  opposed  by  voituriers  and  inn- 
keepers' servants,  that  there  is  no  learning  the 
truth  concerning  it.  It  is  a  ten  or  twelve  horse- 
power, built  by  a  Scotch  engineer,  with  a  crew  of 
Italians  ;  burns  wood  ;  goes  the  tour  of  the  towns 
on  the  lake  once  a  week ;  and  answers  uncom- 
monly well,  having  fifty  or  sixty  passengers  most 
days.  I  wrote  a  note  to  my  translator  last  night, 
and  am  to  see  him  this  morning. 

Friday  morning,  seven  o'clock. — I  am  now  writ- 
ing in  my  room  at  my  inn  at  Geneva,  five  stories 
high,  with  three  windows  overlooking  the  Rhone 
and  the  lake,  and  a  view  of  the  town  and  rising 
hills  on  the  opposite  shore.  By  being  at  this 
height,  I  am  lifted  up  out  of  the  smells,  closeness, 
and  heat  of  the  streets  at  this  hot  season ;  and 
therefore  ascend  my  eighty  weary  stairs,  and 
cross  the  eight  landing-places,  contentedly. 


♦This  obstruction  is,  I  understand,  about  to  be 
gradually  removed. 


Friday,  half-past  nine. — I  have  sent  to  the  post, 
and  received  your  welcome  letter  of  July  the  29th ; 
many,  many  thanks  for  all  your  intelligence.  I 
have  written  a  note  to  Cologne  to  recover  your 
first.  Present  my  kindest  love  to  our  friends  of 
the  Church  Missionary  Society ;  tell  them  to  be 
of  "  good  cheer  in  the  name  of  the  Lord : "  these 
sad  deaths  amongst  the  missionaries,  of  which 
your  letter  gave  me  the  account,  are  the  way  to 
life.  Johnson  and  Palmer  are  names  dear  to  the 
churches  of  Africa.  I  knew  them  both.  Johnson 
attended  me  for  some  time  before  he  went  to 
Africa,  to  receive  such  advice  and  instruction  as  I 
could  give  him.  The  surprising  success  of  his 
labors  has  often  filled  my  heart  with  grptitude.* 
His  simplicity  and  devotedness  were  seldom 
equalled. 

Palmer  was  also  a  man  of  peculiar  faith  and 
love.  He  had  won  my  heart.  In  early  life  he 
had  been  in  the  army.  In  the  retreat  of  Sir  John 
Moore  to  Corunna  he  was  quite  a  boy,  and  would 
have  perished,  if  an  officer  had  not  rolled  him  in  a 
blanket  and  thrown  him  on  horseback  behind  him, 
and  thus  rescued  him.  He  was  at  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  ;  I  remember  the  vivid  description  he 
gave  me  of  that  dreadful  field.  He  described  to 
me  the  majestic  figure  of  Lord  Wellington  as  he 
hastened  on  his  fine  charger,  with  his  telescope  in 
his  hand,  and  his  loose  Spanish  cloak  floating  be- 
hind him,  to  different  parts  of  the  fine.  At  the 
close  of  the  war,  he  devoted  himself  to  another 
and  a  higher  service ;  on  that  service  he  had  just 
entered,  when  it  pleased  God  thus  to  call  him  to 
himself,  with  his  wife  and  infant  child.  How  in- 
scrutable are  the  ways  of  Providence.  Johnson 
was  removed  in  the  midst  of  his  eminent  success ; 
Palmer  in  the  dawn  of  future  promise.  Johnson 
from  the  four  or  five  hundred  converts,  and  the 
seventeen  hundred  hearers  whom  he  had  been  the 
means  of  collecting  around  him  ;  Palmer  from  the 
crowded  population  of  Free  Town,  where  a  wide 
field  of  probable  usefulness  was  opening  before 
him.  The  loss  of  two  such  men  is  a  heavy  stroke, 
and  was  meant  to  be  felt ;  but  may  that  God  who 
has  inflicted  it,  sanctify,  support,  overrule,  com- 
fort !  The  more  my  own  health  has  failed,  the 
more  do  I  learn  to  feel  for  my  friends  in  England 
under  sickness  and  sufferings.  I  am  myself,  indeed, 
wonderfully  better :  I  eat,  sleep,  and  bear  fatigue 
well ;  still  I  am  not  without  feelings  of  weakness 
at  times — and  as  >life  flows  on,  I  see  eternity  more 
vividly  before  me. 

The  news  has  just  arrived  here  that  the  Pope 
is  dead,  at  the  age  of  eighty-two  or  eighty-three. 
There  is  said  to  be  a  current  prophecy  at  Rome, 
that  whatever  Pope  shall  reign  twenty-four  years, 
he  will  be  the  last.  This  Pope  has  reigned  nearly 
twenty-four  years.  Would  to  God  he  may  be 
the  last ! 

One  o'clock. — I  have  been  three  or  four  hours 
with  my  chief  translator.  He  is  evidently  an 
amiable,  pious,  sensible,  scholarlike  young  man  ; 
but  dejected,  feeble  in  health,  and  of  a  tender, 
and  perhaps   somewhat  scrupulous,  mind.      St. 

*  He  left  a  congregation  of  1700  people  at  Regem, 
a  town  near  Sierra  Leone,  and  schools  of  above  1000 
children.  The  communicants  were  450,  all  con- 
verted Negroes,  who  had  been  liberated  from  slave 
vessels. 


56 


TRAVELS    ON    THE     CONTINENT. 


Matthew  is  translated  in  the  rough,  and  part  of 
it  is  copied.  I  have  been  able  to  contradict  a  re- 
port which  has  been  prevalent  here,  that  I  was 
actually  dead.  My  friends  were  solemnly  as- 
sured of  the  fact  the  other  day ;  I  believe  they 
are  now  convinced  that  the  report  was  prema- 
ture. 

Lausanne,  Saturday,  August  30. — I  spent  the 
evening,  yesterday,  with  my  translator  at  Geneva ; 
saw  what  he  had  done  in  the  translation,  and  fixed 
a  meeting  with  some  friends  on  the  same  business 
for  next  week.  I  met  in  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing several  persons  of  much  piety  and  tenderness 
of  spirit.  Afterwards  I  walked  about  many  parts 
of  the  city,  which  is  surrounded  with  a  beautiful 
country.  A  new  wooden  bridge,  suspended  by 
iron  wires,  twisted  together  like  cords,  and  carried 
over  three  stone  gates  or  arches,  is  very  curious. 
It  leads  across  the  fortifications  and  fosse,  to  a 
lovely  point  for  seeing  Mont  Blanc,  which,  how- 
ever, the  cloudy  weather  forbade  us  to  behold. 

In  the  evening  my  friend  and  companion,  with 
my  son,  drove  out  to  Fer .ley,  where  Voltaire  lived. 
The  portraits  of  Milton  and  Sir  Isaac  Newton  are 
in  his  room  ;  his  tomb  was  destroyed  by  the  Aus- 
trians ;  but  he  ordered  a  bust  to  be  erected  at 
Ferney,  fifty  years  after  his  death — 1828.  The 
mischief  which  he  did  to  Switzerland,  and  especi- 
ally to  Geneva,  is  not  to  be  described.  A  pre- 
vious decline  in  spiritual  religion,  and  hi  the  great 
doctrines  of  their  reformers,  had  disposed  the  Ge- 
nevese  to  receive  the  poison  of  his  writings  and 
example.  He  boasted  that  the  magistrates  and 
clergy  dined  commonly  with  him ;  that  all  honest 
men  were  Deists,  though  some  few  Calvinists, 
out  of  a  city  of  twenty-four  thousand  free-thinkers, 
remained  ;  and  that  he  should  soon  gain  over  the 
whole  place.  Howard,  our  celebrated  philanthro- 
pist, said,  in  1770,  that  he  then  found  that  "  the 
principles  of  one  of  the  vilest  of  men  (so  he  de- 
scribes Voltaire)  had  greatly  debased  the  ancient 
purity  and  splendor  of  Geneva."  The  fact  is,  that 
some  even  of  the  ministers  of  religion  corresponded 
with  Voltaire,  and  allowed  him  to  jest  with  Chris- 
tianity in  his  letters  to  them.  They  were  not 
ashamed  also  to  be  present  at  his  private  theatre, 
with  all  its  corruptions  and  profaneness.  The  con- 
sequences need  not  be  stated. 

When  speaking  on  this  subject,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  lament,  that  the  Christianity  which  Voltaire 
beheld,  whether  in  France  or  in  Geneva,  was  not 
calculated  to  give  him  a  right  impression  of  its 
high  and  holy  tendency.  Gross  superstition,  and 
a  careless  Protestantism,  almost  equally  concealed 
from  him  the  commanding  grace  and  blessedness 
\v  hich  the  doctrine  of  a  divine  Saviour,  and  the 
mle  of  Christian  holiness,  are  designed  to  convey. 
The  extreme  profligacy  of  the  French  court,  un- 
der the  regency,  and  throughout  the  reign  of 
Louis  XV.  must  have  aided  also  in  maturing  his 
infidel  and  demoralizing  principles. 

This  morning  at  six,  my  friend  and  I  returned 
to  Lausanne,  in  the  steam-boat,  leaving  my  son 
to  drive  home  the  car.  Instead  of  eleven  hours 
<->f  sun,  dust,  and  fatigue,  we  had  six  hours  of  cool, 
agreeable,  tranqud  passage  over  the  lake.  We 
reached  Lausanne  at  twelve  o'clock  ;  and  I  found 
tfly  dear  family  all  well,  and  most  happy  in  their 
nice  lodgings.     The  heat  is  very  great.     The 


Swiss  say,  each  such  day  is  a  ton  of  gold  in  ripening 
the  vintage.  In  the  evening  I  walked  with  my  old 
Lausanne  friend  to  a  beautiful  hill,  called  The 
Signal ;  it  presents  a  panoramic  view  of  the 
town,  lake,  and  adjoining  country.  The  ascent 
is  by  a  lovely  winding  path  in  the  midst  of  mea- 
dows and  vineyards. 

Sunday  morning,  August  31s/,  Lausanne,  ele- 
ven o'clock. — I  have  been  already  twice  to  church : 
at  half-past  sLx,  the  parish  church  near  us  was 
filled  with  people ;  and  I  heard  a  pretty  good  dis- 
course from  that  admirable  text,  "  As  Moses  lift  ed 
up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even  so  must  the 
Son  of  Man  be  lifted  up  ;  that  whosoever  believ- 
eth  in  him,  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  John,  iii.  14,  15.  The  fault  of  the  sermon 
was,  the  being  too  superficial,  too  general,  too 
declamatory.  At  nine,  I  went  to  the  cathedral, 
to  hear  the  first  preacher  in  the  canton.  He  is  a 
doctor  of  divinity,  of  great  respectability,  and  of 
a  venerable  appearance,  about  sixty-five  years  of 
age.  The  service  began  by  a  young  student  of 
the  college  ascending  the  pulpit,  and  reading, 
rather  carelessly,  three  chapters  of  the  Bible, 
whilst  the  congregation  was  assembling.  He 
then  read  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  the  sum- 
mary of  them  given  by  our  Saviour.  Upon  this  he 
left  the  pulpit,  and  the  preacher  mounted  it,  who 
began  by  giving  out  two  verses  of  a  hymn.  An 
organ  led  the  immense  congregation,  whilst  a 
chanteur,  a  sort  of  clerk,  standing  up  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  pew  (the  congregation,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
sit  in  singing,)  sung  with  a  very  loud  and  distinct 
voice.  Then  the  preacher  read  an  excellent,  but 
brief  confession  of  sin,  and  some  prayers.  The 
whole  of  this  part  of  the  service  was  good  ;  but, 
as  I  thought,  vastly  inferior  to  the  simple  and  edi- 
fying liturgy  of  our  own  church. 

He  next  delivered  a  discourse  of  twenty-five 
minutes,  from  1  Cor.  xi.  26. — "  As  often  as  ye  eat 
this  bread  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the 
Lord's  deatli  till  he  come."  His  divisions  were 
clear  and  appropriate.  First,  Ye  show  forth  the 
merit  and  propitiation  of  the  death  of  Christ ;  se- 
condly, Ye  show  forth  the  infinite  love  of  Christ 
in  that  death,  and  the  obligation  we  are  under  of 
loving  each  other ;  thirdly,  Ye  show  forth  your  be- 
lief in  the  future  coming  of  your  Lord,  and  the 
fulfilment  of  all  his  promises.  The  whole  was 
admirably  good  ;  striking,  solid,  elevated,  instruc- 
tive, evangelical — perhaps  it  wanted  something 
as  to  the  application  to  the  heart  and  conscience 
towards  the  close.  After  the  sermon,  the  reve- 
rend preacher  read  a  prayer  for  all  states  of  men  ; 
the  creed  ;  and  a  concluding  prayer.  The  clerk 
very  much  offended  me  by  sitting  with  his  hat  on 
during  the  service.  The  cathedral  is  a  fine  old 
large  building. 

Nine  at  night. — I  resume.  The  venerable  pro- 
fessor's sermon  at  the  cathedral  this  morning  was 
so  good,  that  I  lament  to  hear  his  doctrine  is  not 
equally  so  at  all  times,  and  above  all,  that  he  join? 
in  a  persecution  of  a  few  very  pious,  though  pos- 
sibly not  altogether  discreet,  persons  who  have 
lately  appeared  in  the  canton.  What  an  incon- 
sistent thing  is  human  nature !  Here,  in  this 
small  republic,  which  boasts  of  its  freedom,  al- 
most inquisitorial  powers  are  assumed  by  the  ma- 
gistrates and  clergy.  This  is  exactly  what  I  feared 


TRAVELS   ON  THE    CONTINENT. 


57 


when  speaking  of  Bern.  As  soon  as  any  per- 
son gives  offence,  the  magistrates  make  no  scru- 
ple of  banishing  him  at  once.  They  allow  no 
dissidents  from  the  establishment ;  not  a  soul.  A 
minister  who  is  suspended  cannot  preach  at  all. 
Now,  at  Geneva,  non-conforming  ministers,  and 
meeting-houses  are  tolerated,  at  least  for  the  pre- 
sent. And  yet  at  Geneva,  the  church  has  openly 
denied  the  faith,  whilst  at  Lausanne,  the  main 
features  of  orthodoxy  are  strongly  insisted  on  : 
all  these  things  furnish  much  matter  for  reflec- 
tion. 

Perhaps  one  may  say,  that  indifference  natu- 
rally leans  towards  toleration  ;  and  proud  nominal 
orthodoxy  towards  persecution.  Indifference  in- 
clines towards  toleration,  because  it  undervalues 
the  importance  of  all  religious  sentiments ;  and 
because  it  is  aware  it  needs  for  itself  the  fjrbear- 
ance  it  claims  for  others.  But  orthodoxy,  when 
separated  from  the  true  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  is 
often  self-righteous,  bigoted,  proud — proud  of  ta- 
lents, proud  of  what  it  thinks  the  correct  form  of 
truth,  proud  of  holding  others  in  subjection,  proud 
of  crushing  opposition,  proud  of  erecting  itself  as 
a  Pope  in  its  own  circle ;  it  therefore  leans  to- 
wards persecution.  These  incidental  evils  do  not 
at  all  lessen  the  immense  importance  of  truth ; 
in  fact,  they  are  not  evds  belonging  to  truth,  but 
to  the  want  of  a  practical,  affectionate,  humble 
apprehension  of  it,  in  all  its  extent. 

At  half-past  eleven,  this  morning,  we  went  to 
the  English  service,  and  heard  an  excellent  ser- 
mon from  an  English  clergyman,  who  was  passing 
through  the  town.  At  two,  I  heard  a  fourth  ser- 
mon, pretty  good,  from  a  professor  of  the  cathe- 
dral— But  I  am  weary,  and  must  again  say, 
adieu. 

Believe  me  your  affectionate, 

D.  W. 

P.  S.  We  think  of  taking  a  tour  to  Chamou- 
ny  and  the  Great  St.  Bernard  next  week,  after 
my  meeting  at  Geneva ;  leaving  Mrs.  W.  in  this 
beautiful  house,  where  we  have  one  of  the  finest, 
softest  views  in  Switzerland. 


PREAMBLE   TO   CALVIN  S   LAST   WILL. 

I  subjoin,  as  a  specimen  of  Calvin's  theological 
views,  as  well  as  of  his  spirit  and  character,  the 
preamble  to  his  last  will,  dictated  just  before  his 
death  in  May,  1564. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Lord,  Amen.  I,  John 
Calvin,  minister  of  the  word  of  God  in  the  church 
of  Geneva,  being  so  oppressed  and  afflicted  with 
various  diseases,  that  I  am  fully  induced  to  think 
that  the  Lord  God  has  determined  shortly  to  take 
me  out  of  this  world,  have  ordered  to  be  made  and 
written  my  testament  and  my  last  will  in  the  form 
that  follows  : 

"P'irst  of  all  I  give  thanks  to  God  that  he  had 
mercy  on  me  (whom  he  created  and  placed  in  this 
world,)  and  not  only  delivered  me  from  the  pro- 
found darkness  of  idolatry  in  which  I  was  sunk, 
and  brought  me  into  the  light  of  his  Gospel,  and 
made  me  a  partaker  of  the  doctrine  of  salvation, 
of  which  I  was  most  unworthy ;  and  not  only, 


with  the  same  mercy  and  loving-kindness,  bore 
with  my  many  faults  and  sins,  for  which  I  deserv- 
ed to  be  rejected  and  cast  off  by  him ;  but  also 
that  he  hath  exercised  such  gentleness  and  kind- 
ness towards  me,  as  to  deign  to  make  use  of  me 
in  preaching  and  promulgating  the  truth  of  Ins 
Gospel.  And  I  testify  and  profess  that  it  is  my 
wish  and  intention  to  spend  what  may  remain  of 
my  life  in  that  same  faith  and  religion  which  he 
delivered  to  me  by  his  Gospel,  nor  to  have  any 
other  hope  or  refuge  for  salvation  than  his  gra- 
cious adoption  ;  on  which  only  my  salvation  rests. 
And  I  embraco  with  my  whole  soul  the  mercy 
which  lie  has  vouchsafed  me  for  the  sake  of  Jesus 
Christ,  by  making  propitiation  for  my  sins  by  the 
merit  of  his  death  and  passion ;  so  that  satisfac- 
tion might  be  made  for  all  my  sins  and  transgres- 
sions, and  the  memorial  of  them  be  blotted  out. 
I  testify  also  and  profess  that  I  humbly  beg  of  him 
that  he  will  so  wash  and  purify  me  by  the  blood 
of  that  supreme  Redeemer,  poured  out  for  the  sins 
of  the  human  race  (effuso  pro  humani  generis  pec- 
catis,)  that  I  may  be  permitted  to  stand  before  his 
tribunal  in  the  image  of  the  Redeemer  himself. 
Also  I  profess  that  I  have  ddigently  laboured,  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  of  grace  and  loving-kind- 
ross  which  God  has  bestowed  on  me,  purely  and 
simply  to  preach  his  word  both  in  my  sermons 
and  in  my  writings  and  commentaries,  and  faith- 
fully interpret  his  Holy  Scriptures.  I  testify  also 
and  profess  that  in  all  the  contentions  and  debates 
which  I  have  had  with  the  enemies  of  the  Gospei, 
I  have  made  use  of  no  tricks  nor  sophistical  and 
bad  methods,  but  have  acted  candidly  and  sin- 
cerely in  defending  the  truth. 

"  But,  wo  is  me  !  all  my  labor  and  zeal  (if  they 
deserve  the  name)  have  been  so  remiss  and  lan- 
guid, that  I  confess  that  innumerable  things  have 
been  wanting  to  the  right  discharge  of  my  office, 
and  that  unless  the  unbounded  loving-kindness  of 
God  had  aided  me,  all  my  labor  would  have  been 
useless  and  vain.  Yea,  moreover  I  acknowledge 
that  unless  the  same  loving-kindness  had  helped 
me,  the  gifts  and  blessings  of  my  mmd  which  he 
vouchsafed  to  me  would  have  more  and  more 
brought  me  in  guilty,  before  his  tribunal,  of  sin 
and  negligence.  On  which  account,  I  testify 
and  profess  that  I  have  no  other  hope  of  salvation 
except  this  one,  that  God,  as  he  is  the  Father  of 
mercies,  will  show  himself  a  Father  to  me  who 
acknowledge  myself  a  miserable  sinner." 


ARRETE   OF   LAUSANNE. 

Since  my  return  to  England,  I  find  an  Arrcte 
has  actually  been  published  at  Lausanne,  in  the 
precise  language  that  persecutors  have  almost 
universally  adopted  since  Louis  the  Fourteenth's 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes.  It  forbids  all 
private  religious  meetings  ;  and  directs  magis- 
trates to  dissolve  such  meetings  by  force.  Every 
person  found  guilty  of  being  present  at  these  meet- 
ings is  to  be  punished  with  fines,  imprisonments, 
&c. 

And  is  it  in  Switzerland — Switzerland,  the 
nurse  of  the  Reformation — Switzerland,  the  coun- 
try of  Zuingle  and  Ecolampadius,  and  Beza — 


58 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT 


Switzerland,  the  last  favorite  refuge  of  religious 
liberty  in  E  urope,  that  this  has  taken  place  ?  Who 
can  too  strongly  express  Ins  detestation  of  such 
intolerant  and  unchristian  measures  1  For  the 
calumniated  persons,  who  are  the  objects  of  it, 
are  acknowledged  on  all  hands  to  be  peaceable 
members  of  the  republic,  unexceptionable  in  their 
moral  conduct,  and  pious  and  devoted  Christians. 
What  trifling  faults  they  may  have  committed,  or 
what  errors  even  they  may  have  fallen  into,  I  do 
not  know,  nor  will  I  trouble  myself  to  inquire ; — 
it  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  such  infirmities 
and  foibles,  supposing  them  to  exist,  are  no  palli- 
ation whatever  of  the  abominable  guilt  of  perse- 
cution. But  so  it  is.  The  clergy,  when  they  re- 
fuse to  accept  of  divine  grace,  have  always  been 
the  worst  of  enemies  to  real  spiritual  religion. 
All  experience  declares  this,  and  especially  the 
history  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ  our  Lord. 

I  subjoin  a  copy  of  the  Arrete,  as  a  most  cu- 
rious document,  and  a  sad  specimen  of  what  a 
Protestant  government  is  capable  of  enacting : — 

"Le  Conseil  d'Etat  du  Canton  de  Vaud. 

"  Vu  les  rapports  parvenus  depuis  quelques  an- 
nees,  sur  les  principes  et  la  conduite  d'une  nou- 
velle  secte  en  matiere  de  religion,  vulgairement 
appelee  des  Momiers,  qui  s'est  introduite  dans  le 
canton  ;  ainsi  que  sur  les  assemblees  ou  reunions 
de  cette  secte  qui,  dans  certains  lieux,  se  tiennent 
aux  memes  heures  que  le  service  du  culte  public  ; 

"Considerant  que  si  l'autorite  n'a  pas  as'occu- 
per  de  ce  qui  concerne  les  opinions  religieuses 
des  individus,  en  tant  qu'elles  n'infiuent  pas  sur 
1'ordre  publique,  il  est  neanmoins  de  son  devoir 
d'intervenir,  lorsque  ces  opinions  se  manifestent 
par  des  actes  exterieures  qui  tendent  a.  troubler 
cet  ordre  public ; 

"  Considerant  que  la  nouvelle  secte  dont  il  s'agit, 
a  donne,  lieu  sur  divers  points  du  Canton  a  des 
desordres  plus  ou  moins  graves,  qui,  s'ils  n'etaient 
arretes  dans  leur  premiere  cause,  pourraient  avoir 
par  leur  developpement  ulterieur  de  facheux  re- 
sultats ; 

"  Considerant  que  ces  sectaires  ont  declare  par 
l'intermediaire  de  ceux  qui  s'annoncent  comme 
leurs  chefs  ou  directeurs,  qu'ils  se  separent  de 
l'eglise  Nationale  et  se  rendent  independans  des 
institutions  et  ordonnances  qui  la  regissent;  pour 
former  une  eglise  nouvelle  ; 

"  Considerant  que  les  actes  qui  se  font  dans 
'  leur  assemblees  constitueraient  ainsi  un  veritable 
culte,  etranger  a  la  religion  de  l'etat ; 

"Considerant  que  les  principes  erronnes  ou 
exageres  professes  dans  les  dites  assemblees  et 
hautement  avoues  soit  par  les  sectaires,  soit  par 
ceux  qui  6e  presentent  comme  leurs  Chefs,  sont 
absolument  subversifs  de  1'ordre  social,  tant  sous 
le  point  de  vue  de  l'union  dans  les  famdles,  que 
sous  celui  des  rapports  qui  derivent  des  institutions 
civiles  et  religieuses ; 

"Considerant,  enfin  que  les  dits  sectaires  se 
placent,  par  leurs  discours,  leurs  demarches,  et 
leurs  actes  de  proselytisme,  dans  un  etat  d'aggres- 
sion  ouverte  contre  l'eglise  nationale  ; 

"Oui  le  departement  de  l'mterieur Ar- 
rete. 

"Article  1.  Les  Assemblees  ci-dessus  mention- 


nees  sont  expressement  defendues,  commes  con- 
traires  a  1'ordre  public  et  a  la  paix  religieuse. 

"Art.  2.  Les  Juges  de  paix  et  les  municipality  s 
specialement  charges  de  faire  dissoudre  immedi- 
atement  toute  assemblee  ou  reunion  de  ce  genre,  et 
cela  par  les  moyens  que  la  loi  met  a  leur  disposi- 
tion pour  le  maintien  de  1'ordre  public. 

"  Les  Juges  de  paix  et  les  municipalites  feront 
sans  delai  rapport  au  conseil  d'etat  des  mesures 
qu'ils  auront  prises  en  execution  du  present  article, 
et  des  circonstances  qui  auront  provoque  des  me- 
sures. 

"  Art.  3.  Toute  personne  reunie  a.  une  de  ces 
assemblees  prohibees,  qui  n'aura  pas  obei  de  suite 
a.  1'ordre  de  se  separer  et  sera  convaincue  d'avoir, 
par  sa  resistance,  mais  l'autorke  dans  le  cas  d'em- 
ployer  la  force,  sera  poursuivie  pour  etre  punie 
conforraement  a  l'article  53  du  Code  correctionel 
(trois  jours  de  prisons)  sans  prejudice  des  peines 
plus  graves  auxquelles  les  suites  de  cette  resistance 
pourraient  donner  heu. 

"  Art.  4.  Seront  poursuivis  pour  etre  punis  con- 
formement  a  l'article  58  du  Code  correctionel 
(600  livres  d'amende,  ou  dix  ans  de  prisons)  sui- 
vant  le  prescript  de  l'article  11  de  la  loi  du  2  Juin, 
1810,  tous  les  individus  dont  les  demarches  tendrai- 
ent  a  gagner  des  proselytes  a  une  secte  contraire 
•a.  la  paix  religieuse  et  a  1'ordre  public.  Tout  in- 
dividus qui  fournirait  un  emplacement  quelconque 
pour  y  tenir  des  assemblees  prohibees,  sera  envi- 
sage, comme  complice  et  poursuivi  comme  tel. 

"Art.  5.  Seront egalement poursuivis,  pom* etre 
punis  des  peines  mentionnees  a  l'article  precedent 
tous  les  individus  reconnus  pour  avoir  provoque  ou 
dirige  une  assemblee  proliibee,  ou  pour  avoir  foncti- 
onne  en  qualite  de  Chefs,  ou  de  Directeurs,  ou  de 
tout  autre  maniere  semblable. 

Art.  6.  Le  present  arrete  sera  imprime,  publie, 
et  affiche.  II  sera  transmis  aux  lieutenants  du  con- 
seil d'etat,  aux  Juges  de  paix,  et  aux  municipalites 
charges  de  veiller  et  de  tenir  la  main  a.  son  execu- 
tion. 

"  Donne  sous  le  sceau  du  Conseil  d'Etat  a  Lau- 
sanne le  15  Janvier,  1824. 
"  Suivent  les  signatures  et  le  sceau." 

Thus  is  the  Inquisition  of  Spain  transferred  to 
Protestant  Switzerland ;  and  the  noblest  gift  of 
the  Reformation,  liberty  of  conscience  is  open- 
ly violated. 

As  this  part  of  the  volume  is  again  going  through 
the  press,*  I  take  the  opportunity  of  giving  some 
further  information  on  the  above  most  distressing 
subject,  partly  taken  from  letters  lately  received 
from  Switzerland,  and  partly  from  other  authentic 
sources.  It  is  quite  lamentable  to  see  to  what  a 
length  some  of  the  Swiss  protestant  govern- 
ments have  actually  carried  the  spirit  of  persecution. 

I  first  give  a  copy  of  the  law  passed  at  Lau- 
sanne last  May,  four  months  after  the  above  Arrete, 
and  embodying  the  enactments  of  that  decree : — 

"  Le  grand  conseil  du  canton  de  Vaud,  sur  la  pro- 
position du  conseil  d'Etat. 

"  Considerant  que  quelques  personnes  exaltees 
cherchent  a.  introduire  et  a  propager  une  nouvelle 
secte  religieuse ; 


*  March,  1825. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


59 


"  Voulant  reprimer  les  actes  de  cette  secte,  qui 
troublent  l'ordre  public,  decrete  : 

"Article  1.  Toute  assemblee  de  partisans  de 
cette  secte,  formee  de  personnes  etrangeres  a  la 
famille,  pour  y  exercer  le  culte,  ou  y  celebrer  quel- 
qu'uue  des  ceremonies  de  l'eglise,  est  defendue,  et 
sera  immediatement  dissoute. 

"  Art.  2.  Les  personnes  qui  auront  preside  ou 
dirige  ces  assemblees,  y  auront  officie,  ou  auront 
fourni  le  local,  seront  responsables  et  punies  de 
l'une  des  peines  qui  suivent. 

"  Art.  3.  Toute  acte  de  proselytisme  ou  de  se- 
duction, tendant  a.  gagner  a  cette  secte,  est  inter- 
dit ;  et  celui  ou  ceux  qui  s'en  seraient  rendus  cou- 
pables,  seront  punis  de  l'une  des  peines  ci-apres. 

"  Dans  l'appreciation  de  la  gravite  du  debt,  et 
dans  l'application  de  la  peine,  les  tribunaux  prend- 
ront  en  consideration  la  seduction  exercee  envers 
les  instituteurs  des  colleges  ou  ecoles,  envers  les 
personnes  du  sexe,  ou  celles  qui  sont  sous  l'autorite 
de  parens  ou  tuteurs. 

"  Art.  4.  Les  contraventions  aux  articles  2  et  3 
ci-dessus  seront  punies,  ou  par  une  amende  qui  ne 
pourra  exceder  slx  cents  francs,  ou  par  la  defense 
d'aller  qu  de  sejourner  dans  telle  commune,  ou  par 
la  confination  dans  une  commune  pour  un  temps  qui 
ne  pourra  exceder  une  annee,  ou  par  une  prison 
de  discipline  qui  ne  pourra  exceder  une  annee,  ou 
enfin  par  un  bannissement  liors  du  canton  qui  ne 
pourra  excoder  treis  ans. 

Art.  5.  La  defense  d'aller  ou  de  sejourner  dans 
une  commune  sera  convertie  en  confination  du 
condamne  dans  sa  commune,  pour  un  temps  qui 
ne  pourra  exceder  une  annee,  dans  le  cas  ou  il 
aurait  enfreint  cette  defense. 

La  confination  dans  une  commune  sera  con- 
vertie en  prison  de  discipline  pour  le  reste  du 
temps,  si  le  condamne  avait  enfrient  sa  confina- 
tion. 

Le  bannissement  hors  du  canton  sera  converti 
en  prison  de  discipline  pour  le  reste  du  temps,  si 
'e  condamne  avait  rompu  son  ban. 

Art.  6.  Toute  cause  qui  aura  pour  object  un  des 
debts  prevus  par  la  presente  loi,  sera  necessaire- 
ment  soumise  au  tribunal  d'appel. 

Art.  7.  Le  consed  d'etat  est  charge  de  la  pub- 
lication et  de  l'execution  de  la  presente  loi. 

Donne  sous  le  grand  sceau  de  l'etat,  a  Lau- 
sanne, le  20  Mai,  1824. 

Such  is  the  harsh  and  inconsistent  law  of  a  Fro- 
nt. Swiss  canton,  in  the  enactments  of  which 
neither  is  the  sect  well  defined,  nor  the  crime 
clearly  pointed  out,  nor  the  punishment  invariably 
fixed,  but  all  is  left  to  the  interpretation  of  tribu- 
nals and  the  eagerness  of  informers.  It  seems  that 
if  a  single  person,  not  of  the  family,  should  be  pre- 
sent where  the  Scriptures  are  read  by  a  parent  to 
his  children  and  servants,  the  whole  number  would 
be  considered  as  guilty.  This  is  far  more  inde- 
finite and  oppressive  than  the  French  laws,  bad  as 
they  confessedly  are,  which  prohibit  the  periodical 
assembly  of  more  than  twenty  persons  without  the 
authority  of  the  government ;  and  thus  at  least 
define  precisely  the  act  which  Is  to  be  considered 
as  criminal. 

And  above  all,  what  is  this  prohibition  of  prose- 
\ytism  ?  Are  not  men  to  be  allowed,  by  reasoning 
and  persuasion,  peaceably  to  propose  their  senti- 
55-3' 


ments  to  others  ?  May  men  talk  of  politics,  litera- 
ture, philosophy,  and  is  religion  alone — the  one 
thing  needful — to  be  banished  from  their  conversa- 
tion. 

But  I  proceed  to  give  some  account  of  the  ac- 
tual execution  of  this  unjust  law. 

M.  Charles  Rochat,  minister  of  the  Gospel,  of 
the  canton  de  Vaud,  of  a  respectable  family,  and 
whose  brother  is  one  of  the  national  clergy  of  the 
canton,  is  the  first  on  whom  the  severity  of  the 
new  law  has  fallen.  Five  persons  were  found 
seated  around  a  table  in  his  house,  with  the  Bible 
open  before  them — the  wife  of  M.  Rochat,  a  com- 
mon friend,  with  two  of  bis  sisters,  and  a  young 
person,  a  stranger.  This  was  the  whole  crime. 
M.  Rochat  was  found  guilty  of  reading  in  his  own 
house,  before  his  wife  and  four  friends,  a  chapter 
of  the  New  Testament !  For  this  he  was  at  first 
condemned  to  three  years'  banishment,  which, 
however,  the  tribunal  of  appeal  reduced  to  one  year. 

Next,  M.  Oliver  was  banished  for  two  years  by 
the  sentence  of  the  same  law. 

Like  judgments  have  been  pronounced  against 
MM.  Chavannes,  Juvet,  and  Fivaz,  of  whom  the 
two  former  were  previously  confined  ten  weeks 

in  PRISON. 

Two  females  were  also  banished  by  the  juge- 
ment  de  premiere  instance  of  the  tribunals  of 
Orbe  and  Yverdun,  on  the  charge  of  similar  meet- 
ings being  held  at  their  houses ;  one  of  whom, 
however,  has  been  since  acquitted  at  Lausanne, 
as  it  was  proved  that  she  lived  with  her  mother, 
and,  consequently,  that  it  was  at  her  mother's 
house,  and  not  at  her's,  that  some  friends  after 
dinner  had  read  the  Bible  together. 

But  it  is  not  merely  in  the  canton  de  Vaud  that 
these  enormous  instances  of  injustice  have  oc- 
curred ;  at  Neufchatel  an  act  of  arbitrary  power 
has  just  been  committed,  almost  incredible  from 
its  severity.  An  old  law,  long  obsolete,  has  been 
discovered,  which  it  seems  was  passed  two  or 
three  hundred  years  back.  A  simple  agriculteur 
has  been  made  the  first  victim  of  its  revived  pow- 
ers. He  received  into  his  house  M.  Juvet.  one 
of  the  condemned  ministers  of  the  canton  de  VauJ, 
and  allowed  him  to  administer  the  sacrament. 
For  this  crime  he  was  thrown  into  prison  for 
three  months,  and  was  then  brought  up  in  chains 
and  with  a  rope  drawn  tight  round  his  neck  to 
receive  sentence.  Ten  years  of  banishment 
was  the  punishment  pronounced  ;  and  if  he  shall 
attempt  to  return  before  the  expiration  of  this 
term,  he  is  to  be  marked  with  a  hot  iron  for 
the  first  offence,  and  for  the  second  to  be  hung. 
No  passport  was  given  him;  so  that  he  is  left  to 
be  hunted  about  from  place  to  place  like  the  most 
degraded  criminal.  This  worthy  man,  whose  name 
is  Magnin,  has  a  wife  and  three  children,  for  whom 
he  lias  now  no  means  of  procuring  support. 

Such  is  the  account  which  has  just  been  re- 
ceived. Fossibly  some  slight  circumstances  may 
be  inaccurately  stated,  from  want  of  more  com- 
plete information  on  the  part  of  my  correspondents ; 
but  of  the  main  facts,  no  doubt  whatever  can  be 
entertained.  Grosser  acts  of  unqualified  persecu- 
tion have  seldom  been  perpetrated,  since  the  glo- 
rious Reformation  first  burst  the  chains  of  Popish 
darkness  and  cruelty.  Nor  can  any  one  thing,  in 
my  opinion,  be  so  deeply  criminal  in  the  eye  of 


GO 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


that  God  who  is  the  sole  judge  of  the  consciences 
of  his  creatures,  and  who  has  committed  to  civil 
governments  the  duty  of  restraining  and  punish- 
ing open  immorality  and  vice,  and  upholding  piety 
and  virtue ;  but  not  of  erecting  a  tribunal  over  the 
feelings  and  various  judgments  of  men  in  minor 
points  of  religious  practice  ;  much  less  of  abusing 
the  sword  of  justice  to  purposes  of  base  and  wan- 
ton cruelty,  in  matters  purely  indifferent. 

Our  Warburton  has  nobly  shown  that  for  the 
magistrate  to  meddle  with  Christian  doctrine  and 
discipline,  in  the  detail,  must  be  the  source  of  end- 
less confusion.  To  maintain  religion  in  its  ele- 
mentary principles,  as  the  spring  of  public  morals, 
and  to  protect  the  national  profession  of  it  from 
insult  and  outrage,  whilst  a  full  toleration  is  grant- 
ed to  those  who  peaceably  differ  from  the  majority 
with  regard  to  the  form  of  it,  is  the  very  utmost 
3mit  of  the  magistrate's  power ;  all  beyond  is  per- 
secution. 

The  low  state  of  the  Protestant  churches  has 
long  been  lamented  by  every  serious  mind.  But 
still  the  free  toleration  which  for  more  than  a  cen- 
tury they  have  afforded  to  the  true  servants  of 
God  has,  at  least,  honorably  distinguished  them 
from  the  tyranny  and  ambition  of  the  church  of 
Rome.  Liberty  of  conscience  is  the  badge  of 
the  Reformation,  and  has  now  been  fully  under- 
stood and  generally  acted  upon  for  a  series  of 
years,  in  Protestant  states ;  whilst  persecution  and 
cruelty  have  been  left,  as  by  general  consent,  to 
be  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  great  Papal 
apostacy. 

Other  evils  have,  it  is  true,  too  much  infected 
the  Protestant  bodies — these  we  do  not  palliate  or 
conceal — but  the  peculiar  guilt  of  persecution  has 
hitherto  been  abhorred  amongst  them.  Indiffer- 
ence, skepticism,  Socinianism,  impiety,  vice,  must 
be  confessed  to  have  too  widely  prevailed.  Some 
of  the  reformed  churches  have,  alas !  lamentably 
declined  from  evangelical  truth  and  vital  religion, 
and  have  been  long  verging  further  and  further 
from  the  strictness  of  the  Gospel  in  every  respect, 
except  as  this  one  blessing  of  religious  freedom 
has  supplanted  the  monster  persecution,  and  has 
left  an  opening  for  the  "  witnesses  to  prophecy," 
as  the  Apostle  speaks,  "in  sackcloth."  So  long  as 
this  was  the  case,  a  hope  of  a  revival  of  religion 
might  always  be  entertained  ;  because  true  Chris- 
tians were  still  allowed,  by  their  public  and  private 
labors,  to  endeavor  to  persuade  and  convince  man- 
kind. Declines,  in  spiritual  religion,  are  the  fruits 
of  our  fallen  nature  generally,  and  are  quickly  re- 
medied as  often  as  the  mercy  of  God  returns  to  a 
people,  and  a  continuance  of  religious  freedom 
allows  that  mercy  to  operate. 

Thus,  in  England,  the  generous  spirit  of  tolera- 
tion left  open  the  way  for  the  extensive  revival  of 
real  Christianity  which  is  now  going  on  amongst 
us  ;  and  has  attended,  in  every  step  of  its  progress, 
the  diffusion  of  the  evangelical  doctrines  on  which 
that  revival  rests.  But  if  persecution  be  once  per- 
mitted to  resume  its  baneful  influence — if  the  wit- 
nesses for  Christ  and  his  grace,  in  a  corrupt  world, 
be  banished  or  imprisoned — if  the  peculiar  doc- 
trines of  the  redemption  of  the  Gospel,  which 
brought  our  forefathers  out  from  the  church  of 
Rome,  are  proscribed  in  the  very  churches  which 
were  formed  by  that  separation — if  we  unite  a 


lukewarmness  about  divine  truth,  or  rather  an 
indifference  what  errors  are  maintained,  provided 
men  are  not  living  and  preaching  according  to  the 
true  faith  of  Christ,  with  a  spirit  of  intolerance 
and  persecution — that  is,  if  we  join  the  worst  in- 
cidental evils  of  Protestantism,  with  the  foulest 
direct  enormities  of  Popery — the  consequence 
will  be,  that  our  "  candlestick  will  be  removed  out 
of  its  place," — Rev.  ii.  v — and  the  fearful  arm  of 
the  Saviour  be  soon  aroused  in  the  defence  of  his 
violated  cause.  Soon  will  "  judgment  overtake  us" 
— soon  will  "the  ambassadors  of  peace"  be  recalled 
— soon  will  national  calamities  "  avenge  the  quarrel 
of  God's  covenant" — soon  will  the  ministers  of 
grace  be  sent  to  other  people  "  bringing  forth  the 
fruits  thereof" — and  the  Protestant  churches  be 
left  "  as  a  cottage  in  a  vineyard,  as  a  lodge  in  a 
garden  of  cucumbers,  as  a  besieged  city — and 
then  the  strong  shall  be  as  tow,  and  the  maker  of 
it  as  a  spark ;  and  they  shall  both  burn  together, 
and  none  shall  quench  them." — Isaiah  i.  8.  31. 

I  know  it  is  alleged,  in  extenuation  of  severe 
enactments,  that  enthusiasm  and  disorder  are  the 
consequences  of  unlimited  toleration — but  I  know 
how  weak  and  futile  are  such  allegations.  Un- 
doubtedly, most  great  revivals  of  religion  are  at- 
tended, through  the  infirmity  of  our  nature,  with 
some  extravagancies  and  excesses — no  wise  man 
can  expect  it  to  be  otherwise — but  what  is  the 
true  remedy  of  such  evils  1  Not  persecution,  but 
the  force  of  reason  and  right  conduct — the  influ- 
ence of  sound  and  holy  doctrine — the  persuasion 
of  Scriptural  warnings  and  admonitions — the  calm 
and  friendly  treatment  which  experience  and  wis- 
dom furnish  to  youth  and  indiscretion — and  es- 
pecially the  preaching  of  the  full  truth  of  the  Gos- 
pel, in  all  its  sobriety  and  force,  by  the  established 
ministers  of  the  church.  Against  such  weapons 
enthusiasm  has  never  been  able  to  stand.  It  soon 
dies  away.  The  minds  of  men  are  gradually  in- 
formed. The  Scriptures  are  seen  to  abound  with 
the  most  suitable  examples  and  instructions  against 
it.  The  new  teachers  of  religion  acquire  growth 
and  solidity — a  distinction  is  made  between  true 
and  false  zeal — the  consequences  of  intemperate 
warmth  are  observed  in  the  folly  of  those  who  are 
most  heated  with  it — and,  at  last,  a  genuine  and 
sound  piety  of  principle  and  conduct  is  generally 
recognised  and  cultivated. 

Such  is  the  natural  course  of  things.  Whereas, 
if  the  sword  of  vengeance  is  raised  against  pious 
and  unoffending  citizens,  on  the  ground  of  reli- 
gious opinions  and  practices,  all  is  thrown  into 
confusion — the  innocent  and  conscientious  are 
punished — the  sanctity  of  truth  is  outraged — the 
progress  of  reformation  stopped — the  Spirit  of 
grace  quenched  and  dishonored — the  chains  of 
ignorance,  indifference,  and  vice,  forged  and  pre- 
pared— all  inquiry  into  real  religion  checked — the 
timid  part  of  the  clergy,  induced  by  fear,  to  con- 
ceal and  abridge  the  truth  of  the  Gospel — every 
thing  reduced  to  a  formal  and  stationary  routine 
— a  dead  calm  spread  over  the  church — and  every 
thing  lost  as  to  vital  piety.  Thus  the  surest 
foundations  of  national  prosperity  are  dug  up — 
the  spring  of  virtuous  enterprise  broken — morals 
left  to  mere  natural  motives — arts,  science,  com- 
merce, discouraged  and  enervated — and,  above 
all,  the  blessings  of  Almighty  God  withdrawn. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


61 


I  trust  thai  the  remonstrances  of  Protestant  Eu- 
rope may  prevail  with  the  Swiss  governments  to 
reconsider  their  proceedings  ;  and  that  ere  long 
this  foul  blot  on  the  Reformed  churches  may  be 
wiped  out,  and  the  true  spirit  of  religious  liberty 
and  toleration  again  distinguish  and  bless  their 
communities.  It  is  understood,  that  many  of  the 
clergy  of  the  Canton  de  Vaud  bitterly  regret  the 
steps  which  have  been  taken  ;  but  are  at  present 
borne  down  by  the  magistrates  in  the  councd. — 
Whether  those  clergy  might  have  prevented  the 
enactment  of  the  law,  if  they  had  boldly  and  fully 
protested  against  it  from  the  first,  it  is  now  im- 
possible to  say,  and  ha  vain  to  inquire.  I  can  oidy 
hope,  that  the  repeal  of  it  will  as  speeddy  as  pos- 
sible obliterate  the  memory  of  the  lamentable  facts 
which  have  been  just  related. 

Such  a  hope  is  not  too  sanguine.  Already  has 
a  most  forcible  remonstrance  been  presented  to 
the  government,  signed  by  twenty-six  ministers. 
This  cannot  but  produce  good.  The  document 
is  valuable,  both  as  it  explicitly  avows  the  adhe- 
rence of  so  large  a  part  of  the  clergy  to  the  ad- 
mirable Helvetic  Confession,  (which,  next  to  our 
own  Thirty-nine  Articles,  is  perhaps  the  best  of 
all  the  Protestant  Confessions,)  and  also  as  ex- 
plicitly disavows  the  principles  of  persecution. — 
The  following  are  extracts  : 

— "  Nous  declarons  done  ici  solennellement  que 
nous  regardons  la  confession  de  foi  Helvetique 
comme  conforme  aux  paroles  de  l'Ecriture  Sainte, 
et  a  la  doctrine  de  notre  Sauveur  Jesus-Christ, 
regies  invariables  de  notre  foi ;  et  que,  loin  de 
precher  ni  d'enseigner  rien  qui  lui  soit  contraire, 
nous  l'adoptons  sincerement  et  en  suivons  fidele- 
ment  les  directions,  nous  y  tenant  pour  obliges, 
devant  Dieu  et  devant  les  homines,  par  notre  con- 
viction intime  et  par  le  serment  que  nous  avons 
prete  en  consequence." — 

— "  Nous  pensons  que  le  Christianisme  ne  doit 
s'  etendre  et  regner  que  par  les  armes  de  la  per- 
suasion, rendues  efficaces  par  la  grace  de  l'Eter- 
nel  notre  Dieu ;  que,  de  plus,  les  rigueurs  pour- 
raient  aigrir  et  eloigner  davantage  ceux  que  la 
douceur  eftt  peut-etre  ramenes  ;  que  les  lois,  pour 
peu  qu'ellee  fussent  severes  contre  des  separa- 
tistes,  pourraient  preter  des  armes  trop  redoutables 
aux  homines  moins  eclaires  que  les  legislateurs, 
et  qui  auraient  a  en  faire  l'application ;  qu'elles 
pourraient  enfin  influer  d'une  maniere  fachcuse 
sur  le  jugement  du  peuple  moins  eclaire  encore  : 
opinion  que  nous  ne  pourrions  que  trop  justifier 
par  l'histoirc  des  demeles  religieux  de  tous  les 
temps  et  de  tous  les  lieux.  Ainsi,  repoussant  de 
toutes  nos  forces  le  reproche  de  persecution  dont 
le  clerge  est  si  souvent  l'objet,  nous  demandons, 
du  fond  de  notre  cceur,  a  notre  Dieu  et  a  notre 
Sauveur,  qu'il  incline  a  la  clemence  le  cceur  de 
nos  souverains  magistrate  ;  qu'ils  se  regardent 
comme  les  peres  de  tous  ceux  qui  ont  le  bonheur 
de  vivre  sous  leur  gouvernement,  et  les  protegent 
egalement ;  que  s'ils  croient  devoir  deployer  la 
severite  des  lois,  suivant  leurs  attributions,  ce  ne 
soit  jamais  pour  gener  la  conscience  de  leurs  ad- 
ministres,  dont  ehe  est  le  domaine  sacre  et  invio- 
lable ;  qu'ainsi,  abandunnanl  a  Dieu  le  soin  de 
funir  les  offenses  qui  Tie  regardent  qui  lui,  ils  lais- 
sent  m  temps,  a  la  grace  et  a  la  persuasion  qui 


decoule  de  la  sainte  parole,  le  developpement  de 
leurs  salutaires  effets." — 

With  a  protest  containing  such  sentiments,  I 
do  not  despair  of  the  Swiss  churches.  Truth  will 
revive  and  spread.  The  doctrines  of  the  Refor- 
mation will  flourish  the  more  for  this  attempt  lo 
oppress  them.  The  consciences  of  men  will  be 
awakened ;  and  persecution  will  again  fail,  as  it 
ever  has  done,  of  crushing  "  the  Gospel  of  the 
grace  of  God." 

The  immense  importance  of  the  case  will,  I  am 
sure,  plead  my  excuse  for  these  observations  and 
extracts.  Protestant  Switzerland  stands  on  the 
edge  of  a  most  fearful  precipice.  The  conduct 
of  the  church  of  Geneva  will  be  considered  in  a 
future  part  of  this  work,  and  therefore  is  not  here 
adverted  to.* 


LETTER  XL 

Geneva,  Sept.  2.—Martigny,  Sept.  6, 1823. 

Translation  of  Scott — Cathedral  at  Lausanne — Pere 
Girard — Mont  Blanc — Conversation  with  Gene- 
vese  —  Savoy  —  Bonneville — Valley  of  Cluse — 
Goitres — St."  Martin's— Chede— Servoz — DeSaus- 
sure — Chamouny — Glacier  of  Bossons — Accident 
in  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc — Italian  Gentlemen — 
Montanvert — Couvercle — Mer  de  Glace — Alps — 
Infamous  sentence  in  Strangers'  Book — Tete 
Noire— Trient— French  Emigrants. 

Lausanne,  Tuesday  morning,  Sept.  2, 1823. 

My  dearest  sister — Yesterday  I  was  employ- 
ed the  whole  morning  in  examining  two  chapters 
of  the  translation  of  Scott,  which  I  had  brought 
with  me  from  Geneva.  I  went  over  it,  line  by 
line,  and  word  by  word.  It  gave  me  satisfaction  ; 
it  is,  so  far  as  I  see,  faithful,  clear,  simple  ;  nothing 
is  omitted,  nothing  changed.  But  I  am  no  kind 
of  judge.     A  good  translation  is  a  task  of  incon- 

*  I  leave  the  above  pages  unaltered  in  the  present 
edition.  The  facts  I  believe,  are  correct,  and  the 
observations  still  too  applicable  to  the  existing  state 
of  things.  The  last  accounts  with  which  I  am  ac- 
quainted are  those  stated  in  the  Christian  Observer 
lor  November  and  December  1826— Three  years  of 
continued  persecution,  in  the  face  of  Protestant  Eu- 
rope, after  all  the  means  employed  in  various  ways 
for  awakening  a  sense  of  shame  in  the  minds  of  the 
Lausanne  authorities,  is  a  portentous  event !  But  I 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing  with  one  or 
two  persons  of  influence  in  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  and 
the  incurable  prejudices  against  all  spiritual  religion 
which  seemed  to  possess  their  minds,  convinced  me 
of  the  real  cause  of  the  persecution,  and  of  the  hope- 
lessness of  remedying  the  evil  by  mere  argument. — 
Divine  grace,  the  influence  of  truth,  remorse  of  con- 
science, conversion,  the  holy  lives  and  deaths  of  the 
sufferers,  the  rapid  spread  of  the  proscribed  doc- 
trines, the  removal  of  the  chief  persecutors  by  sick- 
ness, or  change  of  abode,  or  the  hand  of  death— 
these  are  the  means  which  a  good  Providence  will 
employ,  in  its  own  time,  for  the  relief  of  the  injured 
and  oppressed.  In  the  mean  while,  may  earnest 
prayers  be  poured  out  by  all  those  who  love  the  Sa- 
viour, in  behalf  of  the  sufferers,  and  of  the  sacred 
cause  in  which  they  are  engaged.— March  1827. 


62 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


ceivable  difficulty.  The  value  of  the  original  work 
rises  in  my  view  every  time  I  consult  it — such  so- 
lidity ;  honesty  ;  strong  sense  ;  originality  ;  theo- 
logical knowledge  ;  evangelical  purity  of  doctrine ; 
simple  following  of  the  mind  of  the  sacred  writers  ; 
freedom  from  party  spirit ;  discretion  ;  sound  and 
manly  criticism ;  acute  resolution  of  difficulties ; 
practical  and  holy  tendency  throughout.  I  real- 
ly know  of  no  commentary,  except,  perhaps,  Cal- 
vin's, which  is  equal  to  it. 

What  I  most  want,  is  more  steady,  competent 
laborers  ;  there  is  still  very,  very  much  to  be  done 
before  St.  Matthew  will  be  ready  for  the  press.  I 
am  going  off  to-day  to  meet  our  friends  at  Gene- 
va, about  the  work ;  and  then  to  proceed  to  Cha- 
mouney.  It  is  possible  we  may  go  on  to  Martigny, 
and  even  Milan,  and  return  by  Lyon.  The  wea- 
ther is  most  inviting. 

In  going  to  the  cathedral  yesterday,  I  found  it 
was  budt  on  an  extremely  high  hill ;  you  first  as- 
cend a  street  exceedingly  steep,  and  then  come  to 
a  singular  covered  staircase  (in  the  open  street) 
of  one  hundred  and  seventy  steps ;  so  that  the 
church  stands  quite  on  a  pinnacle  ;  the  view  which 
it  presents  of  the  surrounding  country  is  of  almost 
unequalled  extent  and  sublimity.  The  academy 
is  near  the  cathedral.  It  was  founded  in  1537. 
Henry  Stephens  and  Beza  were  formerly  profes- 
sors in  it.  It  has  now  about  two  hundred  stu- 
dents. The  library  is  remarkable  for  the  books 
left  to  it  by  Don  Jacynthe  de  Quiros,  a  Spanish 
gentleman  who,  in  1750,  quitted  the  church  of 
Rome,  embraced  the  reformed  religion,  and  be- 
came professor  of  ecclesiastical  history  at  Lau- 
sanne. 

At  one  o'clock  yesterday  I  visited  a  pious  fami- 
ly, two  or  three  mdes  from  Lausanne,  at  a  house 
beautifully  situated  in  the  midst  of  vineyards,  and 
commanding  a  fine  view  of  the  lake.  I  had  a  most 
affecting  conversation  with  them.  The  father, 
mother,  sisters,  all  seem  quite  in  earnest  about 
their  salvation.  But,  unhappily,  they  have  few 
wise,  enlightened  guides.  Too  many  of  the  mi- 
nisters at  Lausanne,  with  much  orthodoxy  and 
zeal,  are  said  to  want  that  humble  <»nd  practical 
knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  as  a  concern  of  the 
heart,  without  which  they  cannot  direct  others. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  pious  minister  (who  has 
lately  been  silenced,)  has  fallen  into  the  danger- 
ous error  of  always  dwelling  on  the  mysterious 
doctrine  of  tiie  divine  election,  &c. ;  so  that  the 
serious  people  are  almost  as  sheep  without  a  shep- 
herd. What  a  delight  is  it  on  a  journey  to  be  able 
to  advise,  comfort,  and  strengthen,  in  any  degree, 
the  minds  of  distressed  brethren  in  the  faith !  I 
could  scarcely  tear  myself  away  from  this  family. 

At  Geneva,  things  I  am  told  are  much  worse 
than  here,  as  to  the  public  doctrines  taught  by  the 
clergy.  Tiie  decline  in  religion  began  in  that 
city  about  eighty  years  back,  when  the  subscrip- 
tion to  the  formulary  of  the  Swiss  Reformers — 
the  noble  and  most  scriptural  Helvetic  confession 
— was  abolished  ;  then  came  in  Voltaire  as  a  re- 
sident in  the  town ;  next,  the  catechism  of  Calvin 
was  done  away  with ;  lastly,  a  reglement  was  is- 
sued about  six  years  since,  drawn  up  with  adroit- 
ness and  caution,  but  plainly  intended  to  prevent 
the  ministers  from  preaching  explicitly  and  fully 
on  the  divinity  of  Christ,  original  sin,  grace,  and 


predestination — the  three  former  of  which  articles 
contain  the  very  sum  and  substance  of  the  Gospel ; 
and  the  latter  of  which  is  undoubtedly  an  import- 
ant scriptural  doctrine.  Thus,  from  being  the 
flower  of  the  Reformed  churches,  Geneva  has 
(for  the  time,  and  I  trust  it  will  be  only  for  a  short 
time,)  fallen  into  the  gulf  of  deism  and  Soci- 
nianism. 

I  have  obtained  a  copy  of  the  pamphlet  publish- 
ed  by  the  friends  of  M.  Girard,  the  schoolmaster 
at  Fribourg,  giving  an  account  of  the  whole  of  his 
proceedings.  It  is  authorized  by  the  municipal 
council.  It  seems  that  the  charge  alleged  against 
him  was,  that  his  schools  of  mutual  instruction 
were  hostde  to  religion.  The  statement,  however, 
of  M.  Girard  proves  that  the  principles  of  religion, 
and  religion  too  of  the  Roman  Catholic  form,  en- 
tered into  all  his  arrangements.  The  Catholic 
catechism  of  the  diocese  was  the  chief  book,  and 
his  schools  were  warmly  approved  of  by  the  bi- 
shop. Still  the  Jesuits  were  dissatisfied  because 
some  good  sense  and  sincere  piety  were  apparent 
in  M.  Girard's  method.  His  crime  was,  that  he 
made/a;7/i  working  by  love  the  end  and  founda- 
tion of  his  instruction ;  that  he  was  attached  to 
the  principles  of  Fenelon  and  Rollin,  and  avoided 
all  mere  mechanism  in  education  ;  that  he  labor- 
ed, as  he  states,  to  place  religion  in  the  under- 
standing and  in  the  heart  of  the  chddren. 

The  municipal  councO  of  Fribourg,  notwith- 
standing the  arts  of  the  Jesuits,  solemnly  assure 
him  of  their  approbation.  They  tell  him  "  that 
their  Master-instructer,  the  divine  Redeemer,  ne- 
glected not,  in  his  instructions,  the  forming  of  the 
heart ;  his  manner  of  teaching  was  never  a  dry 
theory.  You  are,  then,  reverend  father,"  they 
continue,  "  misunderstood ;  the  expression  is  too 
weak  ;  but  truth  at  last  will  resume  her  rights. — 
Man  proposes  ;  God  disposes.  We  think,  that 
because  God  loves  our  school,  he  has  been  pleas- 
ed to  visit  it  with  chastisement. 

"  The  municipal  council,  faithful  to  its  oath,  will 
fulfill  its  duties,  of  winch  it  feels  the  honor  and  the 
importance  ;  not  one  of  its  members  would  charge 
himself,  as  it  respects  the  present  and  future  gene- 
rations, with  the  responsibility  of  being  indifferent 
at  such  a  solemn  moment.  Let  us  hope !  God, 
whom  we  invoke,  will  protect  our  children,  and 
save  them  from  the  abyss." 

Nothing  can  be  more  affecting,  I  think,  than 
this  touching  appeal.  An  address  from  the  heads 
of  families  in  Fribourg  closes  the  pamphlet,  testi- 
fying to  the  same  facts.  "  Our  conviction,"  say 
they,  "  ought  to  be  of  some  weight  in  the  scale ; 
we  have  a  right  to  express  it.  And  who  are  the 
best  judges  1  those  who  blame  the  school  without 
knowing  it,  or  the  fathers  of  families,  the  earliest 
teachers  of  their  children,  who  have  constantly 
their  eye  fixed  on  their  morals,  then  docility,  their 
progress,  and  who  can  compare  the  present  with 
the  past?" 

The  pamphlet  was  published  at  Fribourg  about 
four  months  since.  It  affords  a  further  illustra- 
tion of  the  good  which  is  going  on  in  Catholic 
countries,  to  an  extent  we  have  little  idea  of  in 
England;  but,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  spirit  of 
the  Jesuits  and  chief  rulers  in  the  present  coun- 
cils of  the  Popedom, 

Geneva,  Wednesday  morning,  5  o'clock. — We 


TRAVELS   ON   THE   CONTINENT. 


on 


had  a  delightful  sail  yesterday  in  the  steam-boat. 
The  only  drawback  on  our  pleasure  was,  that  my 
dear  Mrs.  W.  was  not  with  us  ;  her  health  obliges 
her  to  remain  tranquil  during  this  our  second 
mountain  tour.  The  view  of  the  banks  of  the 
lake,  as  we  sailed  by,  was  exquisite,  especially  as 
the  evening  drew  on.  We  passed  the  chateau 
of  Prangins,  where  Joseph  Bonaparte  resided  after 
his  Spanish  dream  of  royalty.  The  Mont  Blanc 
was  visible  above  the  mountains  of  Savoy,  almost 
the  whole  way ;  and  at  sunset,  it  remained  illu- 
minated, or  rather  gilded  by  the  sun,  full  twenty 
minutes  after  every  other  mountain  was  in  the 
shade.  Its  height  is  not  apparently  greater  than 
that  of  the  Jungfrau  Alp  ;  but  its  extent,  size,  va- 
rious ridges,  enormous  platforms,  &c,  make  it  in- 
finitely more  majestic ;  it  appears  literally  a  re- 
gion of  ice  and  snow. 

During  our  passage,  I  had  a  long  conversation 
with  some  respectable  young  Genevese,  on  va- 
rious religious  topics.  It  was  grievous  to  see  how 
the  poison  of  the  prevailing  sentiments  at  Geneva 
had  infected  their  minds.  They  seemed  to  have 
no  fixed  principles,  except  a  loose  general  notion 
that  the  Bible  was  the  word  of  God.  All  the 
evangelical  doctrines  they  thought  harsh,  doubt- 
ful, or  unimportant — moral  instruction  was  all 
that  man  required — every  one  had  a  right  to  put 
his  own  sentiments  on  the  New  Testament,  as  the 
Reformers  had  put  theirs — all  opinions  wc  "s 
equally  good,  if  men's  conduct  only  was  con- 
formed to  them.  Such  is  the  sophistry  by  which 
the  stupendous  revelation  of  a  divine  Redeemer, 
dying  for  our  sins,  and  sanctifying  us  by  his  Spi- 
rit, is  evaded,  arid  the  dregs  of  heathen  ethics 
alone  retained — that  is,  the  whole  Bible,  as  the 
standard  of  truth,  is  overthrown,  and  "the  ima- 
ginations of  man's  own  heart"  substituted  in  its 
place. 

At  our  landing,  our  kind  friends  were  waiting 
for  us  on  the  shore,  and  I  had  a  conference  with 
them  for  two  hours.  They  met  me  again  for 
three  hours,  this  morning  at  seven.  We  are  gra- 
dually arranging  the  plan  of  the  publication  of 
St.  Matthew.  I  agreed  to  provide  a  person  to 
copy  the  MSS.  fair  for  the  printer  ;  fixed  January 
the  first  for  the  time  when  all  shonld  be  ready  for 
the  press ;  and  promised  to  meet  them  again  in 
about  three  weeks,  on  my  return  from  Chaniou- 
ny.  These  Genevese  friends  seem  men  of  the 
deepest  piety  and  sweetest  spirit  of  love  :  I  was 
delighted  and  edified.  I  forgot  to  say,  that  our 
lodging-house  at  Lausanne  is  Maison  Miliquet 
St.  Pierre,  premiere  etage ;  it  is  quite  worth  re- 
cording, in  order  to  inform  any  friends  who  may 
be  coming  to  Lausanne. 

llonweville,  18  miles  from  Geneva,  half -past  tioo. 
— We  are  now  in  the  duchy  of  Savoy,  attached 
to  the  kingdom  of  Sardinia.  The  capital  is  Tu- 
rin, which  we  hope  to  see  before  we  return. 
Our  road  lias  run  through  the  valley  of  the  Arve. 
The  country  has  been  singularly  beautiful,  some- 
thing like  the  valley  of  the  Reuss,  only  that  the 
river  Reuss  incomparably  surpasses  the  muddy, 
straggling,  wandering  Arve,  whose  shores  are  de- 
solation itself.  Savoy  is  Catholic;  and  negligent, 
indolent,  and  in  many  parts,  dirty.  The  vines, 
instead  of  being  regularly  planted  and  supported 
in  rows,  as  in  the  neighboring  lands,  are  positively 


allowed  to  grow  at  random,  in  the  most  scramb- 
ling manner,  on  the  ground,  with  potatoes  or  wil- 
lows rising  among  them.  This  small  market 
town  of  Bonneville  has  six  hundred  inhabitants. 
Just  before  1  left  Geneva,  your  parcel  arrived 
from  London.  I  had  time  to  send  it  on  to  Lau- 
sanne without  a  moment's  delay. 

St.  Martin,  near  to  Sallenche,  30  miles  from 
(learnt,  eight  o'clock. — We  have  had  a  most 
charming  drive.  The  valley  of  Cluse  opened 
upon  us  about  two  leagues  from  Bonneville.  Cluse 
(the  Roman  Clausum,  because,  according  to  some, 
it  appears  to  close  up  entirely  the  valley)  is  ro- 
mantically situated  on  the  Arve.  The  craggy 
mountains  are  in  contrast  with  the  sweel  fertility 
of  the  valley,  and  vary  so  perpetually  in  their  out- 
line, site,  and  appearance,  that  it  is  impossihle  for 
words  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  them.  At 
one  particular  spot,  three  small  cannon  were 
drawn  up  by  some  peasants  and  fired,  to  give  us 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  the  repeated  echo  of  the 
mountains. 

Two  things  distressed  us  to-day,  one  a  natural, 
the  other  a  moral  defect — almost  every  second 
person  here  has  a  swollen  neck ;  sometimes  so 
as  to  distort  the  whole  figure  ;  it  almost  amounts 
to  a  goitre  ;  children  often  have  it.  Besides  other 
inconveniences,  I  conceive  it  must  materially  im- 
pede the  poor  in  their  labors.  The  other  defect 
is,  the  lamentable  misery  and  superstition  of  these 
parts.  We  actually  saw  on  a  cross,  by  the  road- 
side, this  notice,  "  The  archbishop  of  Chamberry 
and  bishop  of  Geneva  grants  forty  days'  indul- 
gence to  all  those  who  shall  say  before  this  cross, 
a  pater,  and  an  Ave-Maria,  with  an  act  of  contri- 
tion, 1819."  And  yet  this  bishop  of  Geneva 
ruled  that  fine  canton  till  the  Reformation  ;  and 
it  was  only  in  1754,  that  the  duke  of  Savoy  relin- 
quished his  claims  upon  it.  O  what  a  blessing  is 
deliverance  from  the  monstrous  domination  and 
errors  of  the  church  of  Rome  !  The  duke  once 
made,  as  perhaps  you  know,  a  base  attempt,  to 
seize  the  town,  in  1004,  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
and  during  a  profound  peace:  the  heroism  of  the 
Swiss,  however,  was  not  to  be  overcome  ;  and 
they  repulsed  the  invaders.  The  river  Arve,  by 
which  we  have  been  travelling,  is  a  torrent  spring- 
ing in  Savoy,  and  pouring  into  the  Rhone,  near 
Geneva  ;  it  swells  so  suddenly  at  times,  as  to 
cover  all  the  adjoining  fields,  and  do  great  mis- 
chief. 

Servoz,  on  the  road  to  Chamouny,  11  o'clock, 
Thursday,  Sept.  4. — We  set  off  at  eight  this 
morning,  after  wretched  beds,  and  a  wretched 
breakfast;  but  all  has  been  repaid  by  the  magni- 
ficent view  we  had  of  Mont  Blanc,  in  all  its  splen- 
dor. The  mass,  or  rather  chain  of  Alps,  bearing 
the  general  name  of  Mont  Blanc,  covered  with 
perpetual  snow,  rose  over  the  intervening  moun- 
tains. The  contrast  between  the  snowy  terrors  of 
the  Alps,  immediately  above  us,  and  the  rich  ver- 
dure of  the  valley,  the  profusion  of  trees  on  the 
hills,  and  the  lovely  meadows  creeping  up  their 
sides,  by  which  we  were  passing,  was  really  in- 
credibly striking.  The  outline  of  the  fir-crowned 
mountains,  in  the  near  prospect,  was  surmounted 
with  the  snows  of  Mont  Blanc,  apparently  quite 
close  ;  so  that  it  seemed  impossible  that  we  should 
be  melting  with  heat,  so  near  to  tremendous  ice 


64 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


and  cold.  At  one  point,  we  had  first  the  small 
lovely  lake  of  Chede  at  our  feet ;  then  its  banks, 
gently  rising  and  presenting  themselves  above ; 
next  the  verdant  mountains  ;  and  lastly,  Mont 
Blanc,  of  which  the  vast  snowy  summits  were 
beautifully  reflected  in  the  clear  surface  of  the 
lake. 

Before,  however,  we  came  within  view  of  this 
astonishing  Alp,  we  stopped  to  visit  a  fine  cascade 
at  Chede  village.  The  torrent  falls  altogether 
iibove  one  hundred  feet ;  but  it  is  divided  into  five 
different  branches  or  beds,  which  the  stream  has 
worked  for  itself.  It  was  very  curious  to  see  a 
beautiful  rainbow,  as  early  as  nine  in  the  morning, 
formed  by  the  spray,  and  which,  from  the  point 
where  we  stood,  was  nearly  an  entire  circle,  be- 
ginning in  the  rain  upon  the  grass  on  one  side, 
continuing  over  the  torrent,  and  then  returning  to 
the  grass  almost  under  our  feet  on  the  other.  But 
I  can  think  of  nothing  but  Mont  Blanc ;  it  so 
much  surpasses  all  my  expectations.  When  our 
good  friend  was  here  four  years  ago,  the  day  was 
wet,  and  he  saw  nothing ;  the  weather  to-day  is 
superb,  and  we  stfe  every  thing.  The  very  vil- 
lage where  we  now  are  is  romantic  beyond  de- 
scription. 1  am  sitting  at  the  door  of  the  inn, 
writing  on  a  rough  wooden  table,  which  shakes  at 
every  movement  of  my  hand — the  village  church 
just  in  view — a  few  scattered  houses  around  it — 
three  noble  mountains  guarding  it  behind,  on 
which  some  fine  clouds  are  just  resting — fruitful- 
ness  apparent  all  around — whilst  company  are 
driving  up  to  the  village,  on  the  same  errand  with 
ourselves  ;  and  the  sun  from  behind  the  moun- 
tains is  casting  the  prospect  into  alternate  light 
and  shade. 

Astonishing  indeed  are  the  works  of  the  great 
God — impressed  with  the  footsteps  of  his  majesty, 
power,  and  grace.  We  only  want  a  heart  con- 
stantly raised  up  to  him  in  gratitude,  and  seeing 
him  in  all  the  operations  of  his  hands,  to  complete 
the  duty,  and  enhance  the  pleasure  of  such  a  scene 
of  wonders  ! 

Cha?nouny,  seven  o'clock,  Thursday  evening,  24 
miles  from  St.  Martin's. — After  leaving  Servoz, 
we  soon  entered  the  valley  of  Chamouny,  which, 
as  late  as  1741,  was  almost  entirely  unknown. 
Two  Englishmen  then  explored  it.  In  1760,  M. 
de  Saussure  undertook  his  first  journey  to  it.  The 
ascent  of  Mont  Blanc  by  that  enterprising  tra- 
veller, in  1787,  brought  it  at  length  into  notice  ; 
and  nearly  one  thousand  strangers  soon  visited  it 
annually.  The  reputation  of  the  valley,  and  the 
conveniences  prepared  for  travellers,  have  been 
increasing  ever  since  ;  so  that  we  have  found 
here  one  of  the  very  best  inns  in  Switzerland. 
Chamouny  is  separated  from  all  the  great  roads, 
and  seems  quite  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 
It  is  about  twelve  miles  long,  and  a  mile  broad. 
At  the  entrance  of  the  valley  is  a  monument 
erected  to  a  naturalist,  who  fell  down  a  fissure  a 
lew  years  since,  by  neglecting  his  guide,  and  was 
lost.  Such  warnings  perpetually  occur.  A  lad 
with  a  trumpet  astonished  us,  at  a  particular  part 
of  the  road,  with  the  echo  which  the  Alps  return- 
ed at  every  blast. 

About  a  league  from  Chamouny,  we  came  to 
the  small  village  of  Bossons,  above  which  is  a 
most  noble  glacier,  so  situated,  that  travellers  are 


able  to  cross  over  it.  We  ascended  the  conti- 
guous mountain,  excessively  steep,  about  two 
thousand  five  hundred  feet.  We  then  passed 
over  the  heap  of  loose  stones,  cast  up  by  the  last 
eboulement,  which  lay  between  us  and  the  gla- 
cier, and  thus  came  on  the  solid  mass  of  ice  and 
frozen  snow.  There  was  one  great  fissure  in  it 
which  it  was  terrible  to  look  down  ;  and  at  the 
bottom  of  which  roared  a  torrent  of  water ;  all  ... 
the  surface  of  the  glacier  was  slippery,  from  the 
heat  of  the  sun  upon  it.  It  was  cold  as  Decem- 
ber.    The  scene  was  very  fine. 

After  making  our  way  across,  we  had  a  much 
more  difficult  heap,  or  rather  ruin  of  stones  and 
loose  rocks,  first  to  ascend  and  then  to  descend, 
before  we  could  find  the  path  which  led  again  to 
Bossons.  Part  of  the  road  which  we  took  was 
that  by  which  De  Saussure,  with  his  eighteen 
guides,  ascended,  in  1787.  Indeed  we  may  be 
said  to  have  been  at  the  foot  of  Mont  Blanc  all 
the  afternoon.  I  see  one  of  its  summits  (fifteen 
thousand  five  hundred  feet,  the  highest  ridge  in 
the  old  world)  at  this  moment  from  my  chamber- 
window.  On  a  ridge  of  the  Alp,  perhaps  two 
thousand  feet  above  me,  a  fire  is  just  now  lighted, 
as  a  sign  of  rejoicing  that  no  animal  has  been  lost 
during  the  day  in  driving  down  the  cattle  for  the 
winter. 

Almost  the  first  person  I  saw  in  the  inn  here 
was  a  gentleman  from  England,  who  three  years 
ago  ascended  Mont  Blanc,  in  a  company  of  six- 
teen. They  reached  the  grand  plateau  of  the 
Alp,  (thirteen  thousand  five  hundred  feet)  the 
fourth  day,  after  incredible  fatigues,  from  rain, 
snow,  cold,  and  the  hard  rocks,  with  only  a  cover- 
ing of  leather  to  protect  them  during  the  night. —  * 
They  were  obliged  to  send  down  two  guides,  the 
second  day,  for  food.  On  this  vast  plateau,  or  '■ 
ledge,  they  found  an  immense  quantity  of  fresh 
fallen  snow,  not  frozen  ;  it  was  extremely  labo- 
rious to  walk  on,  the  snow  was  so  deep  ;  still  none 
of  the  guides  apprehended  danger.  But  on  a 
sudden  the  whole  field  of  snow  on  which  they 
were  treading  gave  way,  and  overwhelmed  the 
unfortunate  travellers  ;  their  footing  sunk ;  and 
they  were  covered,  rolled  along,  borne  away,  by 
the  enormous  avalanche.  The  snow  lodged  in 
the  next  fissure,  or  crevasse,  which  it  met  in  its 
descent.  Three  guides  unhappily  perished  ;  the 
other  thirteen  persons  extricated  themselves  with 
infinite  difficulty — or  rather  wTere  preserved  by  the 
mercy  of  God. 

Still  persons  are  frequently  ascending ;  or  at- 
tempting to  ascend,  for  they  seldom  reach  the 
real  summit.  Six  guides  went  up  with  a  single 
Englishman  the  day  before  yesterday  ;  and  some 
friends  have  been  all  to-day  watching  them  from 
the  inn,  with  a  telescope  :  they  are  expected  down 
to-night.  The  first  persons  who  ever  reached 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc  were  James  Balma 
and  Dr.  Paccard,  in  1786.  The  following  year 
M.  De  Saussure,  with  eighteen  guides,  attained 
the  same  eminence.  He  spent  five  hours  there. 
The  rarity  of  the  air  was  such,  that  his  pulse  was 
above  100 ;  he  had  no  appetite,  and  suffered 
much  from  intolerable  thirst.  The  winding  path 
is  between  fifty  and  sixty  miles  altogether,  of  steep 
ascent. 

We  have  met  here  an  Italian  gentleman,  with 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


05 


whom  we  had  made  a  slight  acquaintance  at 
Basle ;  a  quick,  ready,  sensible  man — talking 
French  and  English  tolerably  well — one  who  has 
for  above  twenty  years  spent  his  summers  in  tra- 
velling— neat  in  his  person — about  forty  years  of 
age — equipped  with  all  the  smaller  conveniences 
which  so  long  an  experience  could  not  fad  to  give 
him — he  has  read  a  good  deal  of  history  and  po- 
litics, and  is  very  communicative.  He  lias  one 
very  good  practice  ;  he  never  sets  out  on  a  tour 
till  he  has  devoted  six  months  to  a  thorough  study 
of  all  the  best  writers  on  the  country  he  is  about 
to  visit.  A  turn  to  satire  gives  a  point  to  his  re- 
marks. His  admiration  of  England  is  extreme  ; 
but  I  can  observe,  that  lie  takes  a  pleasure  in  re- 
lating little  anecdotes  to  the  disadvantage  of  indi- 
vidual Englishmen.  He  has  collected  five  stories 
in  his  present  tour.  I  suppose  he  calls  himself  a 
Catholic;  but  he  has  clearly  no  just  impression 
of  the  importance  of  religion.  He  speaks  on  the 
subject  with  levity,  and  even  indecorum ;  mingling 
the  tenets  of  his  church  with  the  essential  truths 
of  Christianity,  and  laughing  at  both.  He  was 
just  now  telling  one  of  the  guides,  who  he  heard 
would  not  eat  flesh  on  Fridays,  that  the  Pope  be- 
ing dead,  (as  I  mentioned  in  my  last)  he  was  at 
liberty  to  eat  meat  whenever  he  liked  ;  but  that 
if  lie  had  any  fears,  he  would  give  him  a  billet  to 
Jesus  Christ.  I  could  not  help  remonstrating 
with  him  for  the  latter  part  of  this  sentence  ;  ob- 
serving, that  though  I  was  a  Protestant,  and  of 
course  did  not  hold  the  Catholic  Fasts,  I  still 
agreed  with  the  Catholics  in  the  great  truths  of 
our  common  Christianity,  and  especially  in  adora- 
tion and  love  to  our  divine  Saviour.  He  received 
the  hint  with  perfect  politeness,  and  dropped  the 
subject.  I  remember  the  Italian  nobleman  at  the 
Grimsel  said  something,  in  the  same  ironical  way, 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  choosing  a  new  Pope.  Secret 
infidelity  is  widely  spreading  in  Italy. 

Friday  morning,  half-past  6,  chalet  on  Montan- 
:"•/,  3,150 feet  above  Chamouny. — We  were  called 
this  morning  at  half-past  three,  and  started  at  half- 
past  four,  for  the  Jardin  on  the  Mer  de  Glace,  in  a 
party  of  thirteen ;  a  guide  and  mule  for  each, 
with  boys,  &c.  We  have  been  ascending  two 
hours  in  fearful  cold  and  wind,  on  a  road  steep 
oeyond  description,  three  leagues  long,  amidst  the 
ruins  of  fallen  trees  and  rocks. 

Twelve  o'clock,  Couvercle,  Mer  de  Glace. — I  am 
now  writing  on  a  spot,  where,  perhaps,  never  man 
wrote  before,  and  whence  I  can  scarcely  look 
around  me  without  terrcr.     We  have  been  walk- 
ing and  climbing,  for  five  hours,  ten  or  fifteen  miles 
up  hills  and  mountains  of  ice,  snow,  and  impene- 
trable rocks,  amidst  chasms  and  torrents  hundreds 
of  feet  deep.     I  am  now  on  the  heights  of  the  Mer 
de  Glace,  nine  thousand  two  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  seated  on  the  ground,  with  my  letter  and 
pocket  ink-horn  before  me,  a  rock  for  my  writing- ! 
table,  and  my  small  pocket-book  placed  under  my  [ 
paper,  to  keep  it  a  little  steady.     We  have  been 
surmounting  immense  fatigue  and  danger,   ever  j 
since  we  left  the  chalet  at  seven.     All  other  diffi-  j 
culties  are  nothing  compared  with  those  which  i 
surround  us  ;    and  we  have  a  descent  of  seven 
hours,  not  a  little  dangerous,  to  make,  before  we  j 
reach  our  inn.      Still  the  extraordinary  magnifi-  j 
cence  of  the  scene  above,  below,  around  us,  when ! 


one  can  calmly  look  at  it,  seems  to  recompense  us 
for  every  tiling.  If  we  get  back  alive,  however, 
one  thing  I  can  venture  to  assure  you  of,  that  the 
fatigue  and  terror  are  such  as  to  prevent  our  ever 
coining  up  again. 

Chamouny,  8  in  the  evening. — Thank  God  we 
have  all  returned  safe.  Let  me  now  give  you 
some  notion  of  the  day's  journey.  We  were  four- 
teen hours  and  a  half  on  the  road,  and  went  fJrty 
mdes  ;  ten  mdes  on  mules,  and  thirty  on  foot ; 
which  thirty  were  in  a  perpetual  course  of  ascents, 
descents,  sliding  and  jumping.  After  leaving  the 
chalet  on  Montanvert,  in  the  morning  at  seven, 
we  descended  and  crossed  the  eboulement  or  vast 
heap  of  granite  and  sand,  which  intervened  be- 
tween that  and  the  glacier.  The  path  was  fre- 
quently on  the  surface  of  a  shelving  rock  of  slate, 
three  inches  wide,  with  a  precipice  at  our  feet. — 
When  we  came  to  the  glacier,  or  Mer  de  Glace 
itself,  we  had  new  difficulties  of  every  kind  to  sur- 
mount ;  and  in  the  course  of  our  progress  three 
vast  eboulements  to  climb  over.  When  we  reach- 
ed the  summit  of  the  mountain,  which  is  called 
the  Couvercle,  about  noon,  (nine  thousand  two 
hundred  feet)  we  were  so  exhausted  with  heat 
and  fatigue,  that  we  threw  ourselves  on  the  scanty 
grass  growing  on  the  rock,  as  if  we  were  dead. — 
After  an  hour  and  a  half's  rest,  and  a  dinner  on 
the  provisions  carried  for  us  by  the  guides,  we 
set  off  on  our  return.  Nothing  can  describe  the 
day's  journey  ;  the  simple  fact  of  walking  thirty 
miles  on  ice  and  rock,  with  declivities,  crevices, 
gulfs,  ice-torrents,  &c.  seems  sufficiently  terrific, 
but  can  convey  to  you  no  adequate  idea  of  the 
real  scene. 

Enough,  however,  of  our  fatigues.  Now,  to 
give  you  some  account  of  the  Mer  de  Glace.  It 
is  an  enormous  glacier,  forty-five  miles  long,  and 
two  wide,  and  rising  to  an  inaccessible  height. — 
We  only  ascended  to  the  point  commanding  the 
finest  view.  It  gave  me  the  idea  of  a  sea  in  a 
storm-  suddenly  frozen,  or  choked  with  snow  and 
ice.  We  saw  nothing  but  congealed  waves  or 
rather  mountains  of  frozen  water.  The  ice  is  not 
clear  and  smooth,  but  mixed  with  sand  and  stones, 
and  on  the  surface  alternately  melted  and  re-frozen 
every  twenty-four  hours.  In  all  this  sea,  changes 
are  continually  taking  place,  from  the  causes  I 
assigned  in  a  former  letter  : — a  single  day's  rain 
or  snow  alters  infallibly  a  variety  of  places.  The 
most  fearful  things  are  the  fentes,  crevices,  or 
fissures,  some  fifty  feet  wide,  others  just  beginning 
to  form  themselves  ;  others  like  a  well,  three  or 
four  hundred  feet  deep,  with  an  impetuous  torrent 
pouring  down  them,  and  working  like  a  mill  at  the 
bottom ;  together  with  thousands  of  rivulets  formed 
by  the  summer's  sun  on  the  surface.  As  the 
masses  of  ice  descend,  the  superincumbent  rocks 
and  stones  descend  with  them.  These  are  gra- 
dually carried  along ;  some  travel  five  hundred 
feet  down  the  immense  glacier  in  a  single  year. 
The  foot  of  the  Mer  de  Glace  is  in  the  valley  of 
Chamouny,  whence  the  river  Arveiron  flows, 
which  joins  itself  with  the  Arve,  and  pours  into 
the  Rhone,  near  Geneva. 

To  travel  on  this  sea  of  wonders  was  in  itself 
dangerous  enough  —  a  single  inadvertent  step 
might  have  been  fatal — the  extraordinary  skill  and 
experience  of  the  guides,  however,  (for  each  per- 


66 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


son  has  his  separate  one,)  make  accidents  ex- 
tremely rare.  The  views  which  we  witnessed 
were  enchanting.  The  deep  azure  of  the  sky  in 
one  of  the  finest  days  ever  seen ;  the  vast  region 
of  ice  which  the  sun  gilded  with  his  rays,  and  the 
panorama  of  snow-clad  Alps,  rising  stupendously 
all  around,  are  really  beyond  my  powers  of  descrip- 
tion. They  made  us  forget  all  our  fatigues.  The 
union  and  contrast  of  the  scenes  in  nature  appa- 
rently the  most  irreconcdable — and  all  beheld  for 
the  first  time,  and  under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances— produced  an  impression  in  which 
what  was  wonderful  and  pleasing  had  an  equal 
share  with  the  sublime  and  stupendous.  In  three 
spots  I  sat  down,  penetrated  with  admiration,  and 
made  my  guide  tell  me  the  names  of  the  Alps 
around  me  ;  I  give  the  names  as  accurately  as  my 
ear  could  catcli  them:  1st,  Characoux;  2d,  Gra- 
pon  ;  3d,  Mont  Blanc  ;  4th,  Le  Geant ;  5th,  Tamla ; 
Gth,  Grand  Jorasse  ;  7th,  Petit  Jorasse ;  8th,  Le 
Sehon;  9th,  Les  Courts ;  10th,  Aiguilles  Rouges ; 
11th,  Gemme  Verd ;  12th,  Le  Moine  ;  13th, 
Aiguille  de  Dru;  14th,  La  Flechiere;  15th  Le 
Breveut. 

I  just  add  that  the  guides  here  are  respectable, 
well-informed  men;  mine  is  called  The  Bird, 
L'Oiseau.  He  has  been  thirty-eight  years  a 
guide.  The  most  respectable  Swiss  writers  cor- 
respond with  them.  They  speak  very  good 
French — the  language  of  Chamouny  is  a  patois. 
There  are  forty  of  them  at  Chamouny,  and  seventy 
mules.  Every  thing  is  regulated  by  the  govern- 
ment, even  to  the  order  in  which  the  guides  go 
out.  Chamouny  contains  near  fifty  hamlets,  three 
churches,  and  three  thousand  souls.  It  is  a  Ca- 
tholic priory ;  but  our  guides  were  intelligent,  and 
seemingly  in  earnest,  on  the  subject  of  religion.^  I 
talked  with  my  own  a  good  deal.  He  clearly  dis- 
tinguished between  the  essentials  of  religion  and 
morals,  and  the  ceremonies  and  usages  of  hie  own 
church.  He  spoke  of  judgment  and  eternity,  and 
the  sin  of  man,  and  the  death  of  our  Saviour,  with 
some  feeling.  There  seemed  also  a  conscien- 
tiousness governing  his  mind,  which  gratified  me 
a  good  deal.  I  have  not  myself  met  with  any 
Catholics  so  well  informed. 

Chamouny,  I  must  say,  deserves  all  its  populari- 
ty ;  two  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  visiters 
came  to  it  last  year ;  out  of  whom,  about  forty 
only  went  to  the  end  of  the  Mer  de  Glace ;  which 
is  some  commendation  of  our  courage,  but,  per- 
haps, not  of  our  prudence,  at  least  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned.  The  day  has  been  beautiful — not  a 
cloud. 

And  now  may  it  please  God  to  fill  my  heart 
with  praise  for  his  works,  adoration  of  his  awful 
majesty,  gratitude  for  preservation,  and  a  humble 
desire  to  see  his  love,  his  wisdom,  his  providence, 
his  power,  his  glory  in  all  things  !  I  am  sure  re- 
ligious feelings  are  the  appropriate  consequences 
of  such  a  day's  excursion.  It  is  most  painful  to 
me  to  say,  that  one  Englishman*  has  for  ever  dis- 
graced himself  here  by  attaching  to  his  name,  in 
the  strangers'  book,  an  unblushing  avowal  of 
atheism.  He  has  not,  however,  escaped  a  suitable 
and  most  severe  and  striking  retort  from  one  of 
his  countrymen.     He  had  annexed  to  Ids  name 

*  Percy  Bysche  Shelley. 


these    horrid    WOrds,  Sij/xoKpaTiKO^  <£iXni'flpw:roraro5-  Kai 

aQcor*     Immediately  under  them  this  thrilling  re- 
proof, in  allusion  to  Psalm  xiv.  l.f  is  now  inserted, 

Trient,  canton  of  Valais,  Sivilzerland,  three 
o'clock,  Saturday  afternoon. — We  set  off  this  morn- 
ing, twenty  minutes  before  nine,  and  have  been 
six  hours  and  ten  minutes  corning  eighteen  miles. 
We  have  passed  through  the  valleys  of  Chamou- 
ny, Val  Valorsine,  Chatelet,  where  Switzerland 
and  Savoy  divide,  and  Trient,  where  we  now  are. 
Often  as  I  have  expressed  my  astonishment  at  the 
variety  of  Swiss  and  Savoy  scenery,  I  must  repeat 
the  same  language.  Certainly  nothing  can  ex- 
ceed the  surprise  we  have  felt  all  this  morning. 
We  have  crossed  a  barrier  called  Le  Tete  Noire  ; 
and  all  the  way,  especially  in  passing  the  moun- 
tains, there  has  been  nothing  but  wonders.  Val- 
leys sowed,  as  it  were,  with  the  fragments  of  fallen 
rocks ;  villages  of  romantic  beauty,  and  of  archi- 
tecture the  most  rude;  noble  firs  crowning  the 
mountain  sides  ;  several  glaciers  descending  in  the 
ravines  from  the  common  source  of  the  Mer  de 
Glace  ;  the  path  now  sinking  into  the  deepest  val- 
ley, now  rising  into  a  frightful  precipice,  sometimes 
leading  by  rude  stairs  of  rocks,  at  other  times  by 
torrents  and  sand  ;  the  whole  wray  diversified  with 
the  rnins  of  falling  firs,  the  effects  of  the  tre- 
mendous storms  of  the  winters,  so  as  at  places  to 
obstruct  the  path  ;  lastly,  the  torrent  of  the  Trient 
rolling  along  to  disgorge  itself  into  the  Rhone, 
whilst  the  alternate  succession  of  barren  scenery 
and  cultivated  meadows,  like  mosaic-work,  in  the 
valley  and  up  the  side  of  the  mountains,  completed 
the  picture. 

But  words  fail  when  they  are  attempting  to 
describe  Switzerland.  One  applies  nearly  the 
same  terms  to  the  valley  of  the  Reuss,  the  Hoell- 
enthal,  the  valley  of  Moutiers,  the  Chede,  and  the 
valleys  seen  to-day ;  and  yet  they  are  all  widely 
different  from  each  other ;  and  each  utterly  in- 
conceivable, except  to  one  who  has  visited  them 
for  himself. 

It  was  by  this  almost  impracticable  road  of  the 
Tete  Noire,  that  hundreds  of  French  emigrants 
escaped  into  the  Valais,  when  the  French  invaded 
Savoy,  in  1792.  Countesses  —  marchionesses — 
carrying  themselves  their  infants — officers  — 
priests — in  the  midst  of  them  the  bishop  of  Nismes, 
a  venerable  old  man,  eighty  years  of  age — formed 
this  long  and  pitiable  caravan.  It  rends  the  heart, 
to  reflect  on  the  miseries  of  that  period.  The 
rule  of  the  French  on  the  Rhine,  was  followed,  as 
I  have  told  you,  with  a  mixture  of  great  good 
amidst  the  horrors  unavoidable  on  revolutions  ; 
but  their  rule  in  Switzerland  seems  to  have  been 
one  unmixed  calamity.  Liberty,  literature,  mo- 
rals, religion,  private  and  public  happiness,  wi- 
thered at  their  approach,  and  have  only  begun  to 
revive  since  the  restoration  of  the  old  state  of 
things  in  that  fine  country.  Bonaparte  is,  gene- 
rally speaking,  detested  here,  as  much  as  he  is  in 
other  places  adored. 


* Democrat,  philanthropist,  and  atheist. 

+  "  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is  no 
God." 

t  If  he  speaks  truth,  he  is  a  fool,  if  not,  a  liar  —See 
Christian  Observer,  vol.  for  1824. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


6? 


Saturday  evening,  half-past  six. — We  are  just 
arrived  at  Martigny,  in  the  Valais,  twenty-seven 
miles  from  Chamouny. 

D.  W. 


LETTER  XII. 

Great  St.  Bernard,  Sept.  6. — Brieg, 
Sept.  10, 1823. 

Jardin  of  Mer  de  Glaoe — Forclaz — Bas  Valais — 
Martigny — Deluge  of  the  Dranse —  Sunday  at 
Martigny  —  Sermon  —  Popery —  Orsieres  —  Lyd- 
des — Pious  Admonition  on  Eternity — Great  St. 
Bernard  —  Dogs — Monks  —  Chapel  for  Dead — 
Lives  saved — Provost — Sion — Valais — Prayers  at 
Great  St.  Bernard — Catholic  Admonition. 

Maktigny,  Bas  Valais,  Switzerland, 
Saturday  night,  Sept.  6,  1823. 

My  dear  sister, — I  was  quite  mortified  in 
sending  you  my  last  letter  ;  it  was  written  in  such 
inexpressible  hurries,  and  seemed  to  me,  when  I 
read  it  over,  so  sadly  unconnected  and  incomplete. 
Indeed,  this  has  been  more  or  less  the  case  with 
all  my  letters.  I  know,  however,  that  your  love 
will  excuse  the  defects  of  my  rapid  accounts.  I 
believe  1  did  not  tell  you  that  the  particular  points 
of  the  Mer  de  Glace  which  we  went  to  visit  were 
the  Cpuvercle  and  the  Jardin,  or  garden.  The 
Couvercle  is  an  immensely  high  rock,  to  which 
you  have  no  access  but  by  crossing  the  sea  of  ice, 
as  we  did,  and  which,  from  its  height  and  position, 
commands  an  unbroken  view  of  Mont  Blanc  and 
eleven  other  Alps.  From  the  Couvercle  there  is 
a  twenty  minutes'  walk  to  the  Jardin,  which  is  a 
rock  rising  above  the  Mer  de  Glace.  A  slight 
stone  enclosure  marks  out  the  garden,  which  is 
covered,  during  the  brief  summer,  with  vendure 
and  flowers.  The  contrast  with  the  snowy  mantle 
concealing  tlw  face  of  nature  all  around,  is  very 
striking.  This  Jardin  we  did  not  reach ;  I  really 
was  overcome. 

There  are  eighteen  immense  glaciers,  formed 
from  the  Mer  de  Glace,  in  different  ravines,  and 
thirty  smaller  ones.  The  English  gentleman, 
whom  I  reported  as  having  ascended  Mont  Blanc  , 
returned  safely ;  he  accomplished  the  task  in  thirty-  { 
seven  hours  ;  but  Ins  fatigue  was  so  great,  that  he 
was  at  last  literally  obliged  to  be  pushed  up  by  the 
guides.  At  the  summit,  a  tremendous  storm  of 
snow  and  wind  had  nearly  carried  them  all  away  ; 
lie  remained  there  only  five  minutes,  and  could 
scarcely  see  any  thing.  His  object  was  not  sci- 
ence ;  but  simply  pleasure,  or  curiosity :  he  had 
made  no  preparation,  had  no  instruments  with  him, 
and  was  unaccompanied  by  a  single  friend.  Such 
exploits  are  regarded  by  every  one  as  hazardous 
and  useless,  instead  of  being  entitled  to  admira- 
tion. 

My  old  guide  (who  went  up  with  De  Saussure  in 
1786,  and  was  named  by  him  L'Oiseau)  tells  me 
the  accident  which  occurred  on  Mont  Blanc,  as  I 
have  already  mentioned,  in  1820,  arose,  as  he 
thinks  very  much  from  the  youth  and  inexperience 
of  the  guides :  a  whole  day's  rain  and  snow  fell 
whilst  the  party  was  ascending,  and  made  the  peril 
of  an  avalanche  almost  certain.  The  oldest  guide 
55—4 


now  at  Chamouny  is  Balma,  aged  seventy-six,  nam- 
ed by  De  Saussure,  "Mont  Blanc."  My  friend  and 
fellow-traveller's  guide  was  the  son  of  the  Syndic, 
or  chief  magistrate  of  the  village,  which  said  Syndic 
we  met,  with  a  scythe  on  his  shoulder,  in  primitive 
simplicity,  going  to  mow,  as  we  ascended  Montan- 
vert.  The  guides  have  seven,  eight  or  ten  francs 
a-day ;  those  who  go  up  Mont  Blanc  tliirty  or  forty 
francs  a  day,  and  sometimes  much  more.  They 
also  rear  and  keep  the  aruJies,  which  are  worth 
twenty  or  twenty-four  Louis  each  (from  nineteen 
to  twenty-three  pounds.)  In  fact,  the  whole  ap- 
paratus of  Chamouny  is  unequalled :  there  are 
twenty-four  porters,  for  carrying  ladies  only.  I 
suppose,  during  a  good  summer  of  four  or  five 
months,  a  guide  may  get  eight  or  nine  hundred 
francs,  (about  thirty-six  pounds)  besides  his  food  ; 
some  much  more— which  is  almost  a  fortune  in 
Savoy.  In  our  journey  to-day  to  Martigny,  we 
observed  perpetual  fragments  of  rocks  scattered 
every  where  hi  the  fields,  so  that  the  farmers  collect 
them  in  great  heaps  in  different  spots,  in  order  that 
the  grass  may  have  room  to  grow  at  least  on  some 
of  the  land.  To  overcome  or  lessen  difficulties,  is 
the  perpetual  task  to  which  man  is  called  by  all 
the  various  disorders  on  the  face  of  nature :  and 
in  no  country  so  much  as  in  Switzerland  and 
Savoy. 

When  we  left  Trient,  at  four  o'clock,  we  began 
to  ascend  the  mountain  Forclaz,  from  the  summit 
of  which,  and  in  the  descent,  the  view  of  the  Va- 
lais (an  immense  valley,  about  a  hundred  miles 
long,  reaching  from  the  lake  of  Geneva  to  the 
Grimsel)  was  most  enchanting  :  the  plain  with  all 
its  varied  beauties,  as  far  as  Sion — the  Rhone 
rushing  through  it — the  Alps  of  the  Oberland  gird- 
ing it  around — and  all  illuminated  with  the  after- 
ncun's  sun — nothing  could  be  more  exquisite. 
Martigny,  where  I  am  now  writing,  is  a  small 
town,  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
above  the  sea  (Chamouny  is  three  thousand  one 
hundred  and  fifty.)  In  the  time  of  the  Romans  it 
was  called  Octodurum.  On  descending  to  it,  we 
had  to  cross  the  devastations  occasioned  by  the 
bursting  of  the  river  Dranse,  which  quite  sadden 
my  mind  when  I  think  of  them.  The  melancholy 
story  resembles  that  of  Goldau,  except  that  the 
loss  of  lives  was  not  so  considerable.  It  arose, 
I  understand,  from  the  Dranse,  which  rushes  down 
the  mountains  about  eighteen  miles  from  Martigny, 
becoming  first  obstructed,  and  then  stopped  in  its 
course,  in  the  valley  of  Bagnes,  by  the  falling  of  mas- 
ses of  ice  from  the  Glacier  of  Getroz.  A  most  enor- 
mous lake  was  thus  formed,  thirteen  thousand  feet 
long,  and  from  one  to  seven  hundred  feet  wide ; 
the  mean  depth  being  two  hundred ;  and  the  whole 
mass  of  water  eight  hundred  millions  of  cubic  feet! 
The  country  was  soon  alarmed  at  the  tidings  of 
this  accumulation  of  waters ;  and  a  tunnel,  or 
gallery,  was  cut  through  the  barrier  of  ice,  to 
facilitate  the  escape  of  the  river  by  its  usual 
channel.  The  lake  was  actually  reduced  forty- 
five  feet ;  but  this  was  not  sufficient  to  prevent 
the  calamity.  For  on  the  17th  June,  1818,  the 
waters  burst  in  a  moment,  without  the  least  warn- 
ing, through  the  barrier  of  ice,  and  rushed  forth 
with  such  fury,  that  in  one  hour  they  had  readied 
Martigny,  eighteen  miles.  The  torrent  destroyed 
fifty-two  houses  at  Champsee,  and  overwhelmed 


68 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


a  surprising  number  of  fields,  houses,  barns,  ma- 
nufactories, &c.  at  Bagnes  and  Martigny ;  all  was 
swallowed  up  in  an  instant.  An  entire  forest  was 
rooted  up  by  it ;  and  damage  done  to  the  amount 
of  one  million  one  hundred  and  nine  thousand  se- 
ven hundred  and  sixty  francs  of  Switzerland,  about 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds  English. 

How  instantaneous,  as  well  as  awful,  are  the 
judgments  of  God !  What  an  uncertain,  treacherous 
scene  is  this  passing  world  !  And  what  deductions 
do  such  events  make  from  the  pleasures  of  a  re- 
sidence in  this  country,  however  enchanting  hi 
many  respects !— But  I  must  conclude  for  to-night ; 
it  is  past  eleven,  and  I  have  been  travelling  hard 
for  two  days. 

Martigny,  Sunday,  eleven  o'clock. — Again  in  a 
Catholic  town,  with  not  a  single  Protestant,  as  I 
am  told.  This,  my  twelfth  Sunday,  is  distressing 
to  my  mind.  We  have  been  to  the  Catholic 
church,  (for  there  is  no  other)  and  heard  a  sermon 
in  French ;  for  French  is  the  language  all  through 
the  Valais.  As  we  entered  the  churchyard,  we 
saw  a  priest  uttering  some  prayers,  and  then 
sprinkling  water  on  the  people  who  were  kneelino- 
around.  On  coming  into  the  church  itself,  we 
found  it  crowded  with  people.  I  asked  a  lady 
to  lend  me  a  Prayer-book  ;  but  she  could  not  tell 
me,  nor  could  I  find  out,  where  the  priest  was 
reading :  one  thing  I  suspect,  that  but  few  in  the 
church  could  understand  a  word  of  the  prayers — 
those  near  me  were  muttering  their  allotted  Pater- 
nosters, without  any  reference  to  the  public  pray- 
ers, and,  when  I  asked  them,  coidd  give  me  no 
idea  where  the  priest  was — it  did  not  seem  to  en- 
ter their  minds — indeed,  intelligent  worship  was 
clearly  no  part  of  the  object  for  which  the  con- 
gregation was  assembled.  The  music  undoubted- 
ly was  beautiful.  After  half  an  hour,  the  priest 
gave  notice  that  the  Pope  was  dead,  and  exhorted 
the  people  to  pray  for  his  soul,  and  to  beg  of  God 
to  grant  him  a  worthy  successor.  He  then  read 
notices  of  Saints'  days,  and  of  the  nativity  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  which  falls  to-morrow. 

Next,  another  priest,  the  prior,  I  believe,  of  the 
parish,  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  delivered  a  ser- 
mon on  our  Lord's  words,  "  Render  unto  Cassar 
the  things  which  are  Cesar's,  and  unto  God  the 
things  that  are  God's."  His  subject  was,  the 
duty  of  restitution.  After  his  introduction,  I  was 
surprised  to  observe,  that  he  not  only  paused  and 
kneeled  solemnly  down  in  the  pulpit  himself,  but 
that  the  whole  congregation  knelt  down  also  in 
secret  prayer,  before  he  entered  on  his  discussion. 
The  pause  was  peculiarly  impressive,  I  assure 
you,  and  what  I  never  saw  before  ;  though  the 
intercession  of  the  Virgin,  undoubtedly,  corrupted 
it  sadly.  The  sermon  was  admirable,  as  an  ab- 
stract explication  of  the  particular  duty  of  resti- 
tution, chiefly  drawn  from  Chrysostom  and  Au- 
gustine. There  was  a  degree  of  talent,  a  force, 
an  acumen,  a  dignity  hi  all  the  preacher  said 
which  arrested  attention.  The  whole  made  a 
powerful  impression.  I  saw  some  countrywomen 
who  stood  near  me  in  the  aisle,  positively  quake 
for  fear.  There  was  nothing  of  Popery,  properly 
speaking,  in  it — it  was  a  good  ordinary  discourse 
on  its  topic.  Still,  it  was  defective,  and  even  un- 
scripturaJ,  as  the  instruction  of  a  Cliristian  divine 
— there  was  not  a  word  as  to  the  way  of  obtain- 


ing pardon  for  our  breaches  of  this  duty  ;  nor  a 
word  of  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  neces- 
sary to  assist  us  to  keep  it  for  the  future  ;  nor  a 
word  of  the  necessity  of  watchfulness  over  the 
corruption  of  the  heart,  as  the  spring  of  all  sin 
and  evil.  Nay,  he  plainly  said,  that  good  works, 
that  is,  the  performance  of  this  and  other  moral 
duties,  would  save  us,  in  direct  contradiction  to 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  doctrine  of  redemption. 
The  sermon  was  delivered  from  memory,  and  in- 
terspersed with  striking  anecdotes.  When  it  was 
over,  I  feft  the  church,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  the  churchyard  was  filled  with  people,  kneel- 
ing or  sitting,  apparently  very  devout,  though  they 
could  neither  hear  nor  see  any  thing. 

But  this,  bad  as  it  is,  is  the  fairer  side  of  Po- 
pery ;  if  you  go  into  the  complicated  system  of 
its  corruptions,  you  find  that  superstition  every 
where  fills  up  the  place  of  Scriptural  Christianity ; 
and  that  Jesus  Christ  is  almost  unknown  in  his 
holy  salvation  from  sin  and  guilt.  Even  what  is 
true  in  Popery  is  spoiled  by  the  manner  in  which 
it  is  disfigured  or  curtailed ;  for  instance,  the  peo- 
ple are  not  taught  the  ten  commandments  as  we 
have  them  in  the  Bible ;  but  an  abridgment,  in 
which  the  second,  that  is,  the  commandment 
against  idolatry  and  image-worship,  is  positively 
left  out,  and  the  tenth  divided  mto  two  ;  and  to 
which  are  appended  what  are  called  the  com- 
mandments of  the  church,  six,  I  think,  in  number, 
which  are  given  in  the  same  form,  and  with  the 
same  solemnity  as  those  of  the  decalogue ;  and 
are  infinitely  more  insisted  upon  by  the  priests, 
and  observed  by  the  people.  The  whole  founda- 
tion of  what  the  priests  inculcate  is,  moreover, 
not  the  authority  of  the  inspired  revelation  of  God, 
but  the  authority  of  the  church — they  "  teach  for 
doctrines  the  commandments  for  men." 

Then  only  consider  the  many  incredible  errors 
and  superstitions,  wliich  they  have  by  this  means 
contrived  to  affix  on  real  Christianity — pilgrim- 
ages, traditions,  prayers  for  the  dead,  veneration 
of  relics,  intercession  of  saints,  indulgences,  dis- 
pensations, pretended  miracles,  purgatory,  the  sa- 
crifice of  the  mass,  transubstantiation,  the  denial 
of  the  cup  to  the  laity,  penances,  auricular  con- 
fession, image-worship,  celibacy  of  the  clergy, 
monastic  vows,  infallibility  of  general  councils, 
supremacy  of  the  Pope,  implicit  submission  to  the 
church,  lost  estate  of  heretics,  prayers  in  an  un- 
known tongue,  tyranny  over  the  conscience,  vir- 
tual prohibition  of  the  Bible.  Such,  avowedly,  is 
Popery  in  itself;  though  many  individual  Roman 
Catholics  know  little  about  it,  and  are  pious  and 
simple-hearted  Christians. 

But  amidst  all  these  corruptions  nothing  seems 
to  me  so  flagrantly  unscriptural  as  the  adoration 
of  the  image  of  the  Virgin,  and  the  trust  reposed 
in  her  by  the  great  mass  of  the  people.  I  con- 
ceive this  idolatry  to  be  much  more  displeasing  hi 
the  sight  of  God  than  the  worship  of  the  queen 
of  heaven,  so  vehemently  reprobated  by  the  pro- 
phet Jeremiah,  or  the  prostration  of  the  Pagans 
before  their  idols,  which  St.  Paul  and  the  other 
apostles  so  indignantly  condemned.*  Indeed, 
when  I  think  of  the  peculiar  jealousy  of  the  in- 
finitely glorious  Jehovah  on  the  subject  of  any 


*  See  Jer.  xliv.  and  Acls  of  Apostles  passim. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


69 


approach  to  idolatry,  I  see  in  this  one  feature  of 
Popery,  the  infallible  mark  of  an  open  apostacy 
from  the  faith.  The  extraordinary  fondness  of  the 
people  for  this  worst  part  of  their  creed,  only  in- 
creases this  conviction  in  my  mind.* 

O,  may  the  time  be  hastened  when  these  fatal 
errors  sliall  cease,  and  Christ  alone  be  again  ac- 
knowledged to  be  Lord  by  aU  Christians !  And 
may  Protestants  walk  in  the  blessed  light  they 
enjoy,  and  not  sink,  in  avoiding  Popery,  into  the 
fatal  gull's  of  indifference,  skepticism,  and  infidel- 
ity— the  carelessness,  divisions,  and  irreligion  of 
professed  Protestants  are  the  scandal  of  Chris- 
tendom. I  have  heard  many,  many  worse  sermons 
from  Protestant  pulpits  than  the  one  I  have  just 
told  you  of.  May  the  blessed  Spirit  descend  upon 
the  universal  church  once  more,  and  dispel  Popish 
and  skeptical  darkness,  as  he  once  did  Jewish  and 
Pagan  !  All  we  want  is  His  inspiration  and  His 
book.  Send  the  Bible,  we  pray  thee,  O  Lord, 
into  every  family,  and  attend  it  with  thy  sacred 
influences  :  and  then  truth  and  holiness  will  again 
flourish  in  the  earth,  the  inventions  of  men  die 
away,  and  charity  become  the  bond  of  peace 
amongst  thy  disciples ! 

So  far  as  I  recollect,  this  is  the  first  Sunday 
where  I  have  found  no  church  of  any  kind  except 
the  Catholic  ;  as  it  is  certainly  the  first  time  I 
have  heard  a  French  Catholic  preacher.  On  the 
Grimsel  there  was  no  church  at  all ;  but  every 
where  else  I  have  found  some  Protestant  service, 
and  attended  it,  though  in  German.  In  this  town 
there  is  possibly  not  a  creature  who  ever  read 
the  Bible — a  large  proportion  of  the  people  would 
not  know  what  I  meant  by  that  sacred  book — 
many  would  have  even  no  idea  that  God  has  given 
an  infallible  written  revelation  of  His  wih  to  man 
for  his  guidance  and  salvation. 

Sunday,  two  o'clock. — We  have  just  had  our 
English  divine  service;  never  did  the  prayers  of 
our  truly  Protestant  and  Reformed  church  appear 
lo  me  more  scriptural  and  more  edifying,  nor  the 
psalms  and  lessons  more  consoling  and  instructive, 
than  after  having  witnessed  the  Popish  ceremo- 
nies.    I  expounded  Luke  xiii.  1 — 5. 

Lyddes,  canton  of  Valais,  Monday  morning, 
Sept.  8,  eleven  o'clock. — At  half-past  three  this 
morning  our  guide  came  to  call  me.  But  the 
weather  was  dull;  and  we  were  so  long  delibera- 
ting whether  to  set  out  or  not,  that  it  was  a  quar- 
ter to  six  before  we  were  on  our  mules.  We  have 
now  gone  sixteen  miles  on  the  way  to  the  cele-' 
brated  hospice  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard.  Our 
road  has  been  through  the  valley  of  Entremont. 
For  the  first  few  miles  we  were  passing  over  the 


♦The  Virgin  Mary  is,  beyond  all  comparison, 
more  adored  than  the  ever-blessed  God — the  wor- 
ship paid  to  her  is  universal  in  all  places,  and  by  all 
people.  After  the  Virgin,  some  of  the  principal 
saints  seem  to  be  the  most  worshipped;  then  our 
Saviour;  and  lastly  God,  our  heavenly  Father. 
"  Shocking  as  this  may  appear," proceeds  the  writer 
from  whom  I  quote,  "  it  is  too  true.  I  am  sure  I  do 
not  exaggerate  when  I  say,  that  throughout  Italy, 
Spain,  Portugal,  and  every  country  where  the  Ca- 
tholic is  the  exclusive  religion  of  the  people,  for  one 
knee  bent  to  God,  thousands  are  bent  before  the 
shrines  of  the  Virgin  and  the  saints."t 

t  Rome  in  the  nineteenth  century,  vol.  i.  22. 


desolations  occasioned  by  the  bursting  of  the 
Dranse.  It  really  reminded  me  of  what  the 
Scripture  speaks  of  the  universal  deluge,  when 
God  swept  away  every  living  thing  from  the  face 
of  the  earth.  It  was  melancholy  to  see  the  val- 
ley, described  as  once  so  lovely,  now  choked  and 
covered  with  masses  of  rocks  and  heaps  of  sand. 
It  has  been  actually  necessary  to  make  a  new 
way  in  many  places,  and  in  one  spot  to  cut  a  gal- 
lery or  tunnel,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
long,  through  the  granite  ruin  which  stopped  the 
road.  It  is  said,  that  above  fifty  persons  perished 
in  that  calamity. 

As  we  were  going  through  the  village  of  Or- 
sieres  we  heard  voices  singing  in  the  church,  and 
on  entering,  found  it  crowded  with  people — it  is  the 
nativity  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  who  is,  as  I  have 
said,  the  chief  object  of  the  Papists'  devotion. 
AU  along  the  road  the  people  are  going  or  return- 
ing from  mass  in  crowds.  In  Lyddes,  where  we 
now  are,  the  mass  being  over,  the  street  is  filled 
with  idle  folks.  Business  and  labor  are  wholly 
suspended.  It  is  curious,  that  all  the  men  in  these 
villages  have  coats  of  the  same  color,  a  snuff 
brown,  with  large  cocked  military  hats.  If  the 
men  in  these  towns  were  taught  to  labor,  to  im- 
prove their  roads,  repair  their  hedges,  and  culti- 
vate their  land,  instead  of  praying  to  the  Virgin 
Mary ;  and  if  the  women  would  mend  their 
clothes  and  wash  their  children,  and  keep  their 
houses  tidy,  instead  of  making  caps  and  petticoats 
for  the  same  lady,  we  Protestants  cannot  but  think 
they  would  be  better  employed  than  they  now  are. 
But  every  great  departure  from  truth  is  attend- 
ed with  accumulated  moral  evils  in  one  way  or 
other. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that  at  Martigny  we  saw  a 
celebrated  tower,"built  by  the  Romans  (for  Caesar 
was  at  Octodurum ;)  a  beautiful  cascade,  called 
the  Pisse-Vache,  and  the  fall  of  the  Trient  into 
the  Rhone,  by  a  crevice  or  fente  between  two 
rocks,  so  narrow  as  scarcely  to  admit  of  the  stream 
to  pass. 

I  have  been  much  delighted  here  (Lyddes)  with 
a  religious  admonition  on  the  subject  of  eternity, 
printed  in  large  letters,  on  a  folio  sheet,  and  hung 
up  in  the  salle-a-manger ;  a  similar  paper  is 
placed  in  every  house  in  the  parish  ;  it  quite  re- 
lieves my  mind  to  see  some  one  great  truth  of 
Christianity  plainly  taught,  and  without  supersti- 
tion. I  have  obtained  a  copy,  from  which  I  give 
one  extract — "  Understand  well  the  force  of  these 
words — a  God — a  moment — an  eternity  ;  a  God 
who  sees  thee;  a  momenl  which  flies ;  an  eter- 
nity which  awaits  you  : — a  God  whom  you  serve 
so  ill ;  a  moment  of  which  you  so  little  profit ;  an 
eternity  which  you  hazard  so  rashly."  I  dwell 
with  pleasure  on  this  paper,  because  after  what  I 
have  been  just  observing,  these  are  the  things 
which  moderate  one's  depression,  and  teach  one 
charity  towards  the  persons  of  individual  Catho- 
lics. They  lead  us  to  hope  that  there  are  in  the 
church  of  Rome  numbers  of  humble  and  contrite 
disciples  of  the  lowly  Jesus,  who  substantially  un- 
derstand and  feel  the  awakening  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity, who  put  all  their  confidence  for  salvation 
in  the  atoning  blood  of  their  Saviour,  and  who  are 
guided  by  His  Spirit  in  the  piths  of  true  obe- 
dience— these  "do not  worship  the  beast,  neither 


70 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


his  image,  neither  receive  his  mark  upon  their 
foreheads  or  in  their  hands."     Rev.  xx.  4. 

Hospice,  au  Grand  St.  Bernard,  Monday  even- 
ing, Sept.  8,  eight  o'clock. — We  arrived  here  about 
five,  after  a  journey  of  eleven  hours — twenty-eight 
miles.  The  road  became  more  and  more  wild  as 
we  ascended,  till  at  last  all  vegetation  seemed  to 
have  ceased.  We  are  now  at  the  celebrated  re- 
ligious hospice  of  the  monks  of  St.  Augustine,  of 
which  you  have  heard  so  much.  My  curiosity  is 
greatly  excited  ;  and  as  my  sons  cou-ld  not  conve- 
niently take  their  journals  with  me,  they  entreat 
me  to  be  as  full  as  I  can  in  my  account  to  you. 
It  is  eight  thousand  three  hundred  and  fourteen 
feet  above  the  sea — the  highest  spot  in  Europe 
which  is  inhabited  all  the  year  round.  It  was 
founded  in  the  year  962,  by  St.  Bernard  de  Meu- 
thon,  who  was  the  provost  for  forty  years,  and 
died  in  1008.  It  is  on  the  high  Alps  which  sepa- 
rate Le  Valais  from  Piedmont ;  and  it  was,  before 
the  Simplon  and  Mount  Cenis'  roads  were  made 
and  improved  by  Bonaparte,  one  of  the  greatest 
passages  between  Switzerland  and  Italy.  It  is 
still  a  very  considerable  thoroughfare,  especially 
for  the  poor  Piedmontese,  who  cross  every  spring 
to  Switzerland  and  France  for  employ.  This  hos- 
pice has  twelve  monks,  and  six  domestics,  con- 
stantly resident  to  receive  the  poor  without  pay- 
ment, and  succor  the  distressed  traveller.  They 
are  bound  to  entertain  these  travellers  for  three 
days,  and  in  case  of  illness,  to  nurse  and  attend 
them  till  they  recover. 

The  domestics  go  out  almost  every  morning 
during  the  winter,  on  different  routes,  to  search 
for  pilgrims  who  may  have  lost  their  way.  They 
take  with  them  dogs  of  a  Spanish  breed,  called 
the  St.  Bernard  dogs,  very  large  and  powerful, 
who  have  a  sagacity  so  unerring,  that  they  disco- 
ver and  follow  the  tracks  on  the  mountains,  though 
covered  with  eight  feet  of  snow.  They  go  before 
the  domestics,  clearing  a  path  with  their  heads 
and  feet ;  and  as  soon  as  a  traveller  is  near,  they 
invariably  smell  him  out,  and  lead  the  servant  to 
him.  The  domestic  is  furnished  with  bread  and 
wine ;  and  sometimes  a  dog  is  sent  out  alone, 
with  a  basket  tied  to  his  neck,  containing  these 
necessaries.  The  number  of  lives  saved  is  incre- 
dible. Last  winter  an  old  man  was  found  quite 
frozen,  whom  they  restored  to  life.  Two  other 
men  had  been  carried  away  by  an  avalanche  of 
snow,  and  would  undoubtedly  have  perished  but 
for  the  hospice.  One  single  dog  has  saved  the 
lives  of  five  persons  ;  his  name  is  Jupiter ;  there 
are  four  others,  named  Lion,  Turk,  Pallas,  and 
Castor.  We  had  them  called  to  us,  that  we 
might  caress  them,  for  they  are  good-natured  and 
generous  animals.  In  the  course  of  last  year 
twelve  thousand  travellers  passed  some  time  at 
the  hospice.  Last  night  there  was  four  or  five 
hundred  persons  who  slept  here.  It  was  a  dou- 
ble festival.  All  the  chambers,  halls,  passages, 
floors,  were  crowded  with  guests.  The  snow  falls 
almost  all  the  year ;  it  freezes  commonly  in  the 
morning,  even  during  the  height  of  summer ;  and 
the  lake  behind  the  house  is  frequently  frozen 
over  even  in  July.  This  afternoon  the  thermo- 
meter was  44  ;  whilst  yesterday  at  Martigny  it 
was  nearly  80.  There  are  not  above  ten  days  in 
the  year  when  the  sky  is  perfectly  clear  through- 


out the  day.  Thirty  horses  and  mules  are  era- 
ployed  nearly  half  the  year,  in  fetching  wood  from 
the  forests,  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  horn  the  con- 
vent. 

Close  to  the  hospice  was  formerly  a  Roman 
temple,  dedicated  to  Jupiter  Penninus  ;  on  the  site 
of  which  various  antiquities  arc  continually  found. 
We  were  shown  a  large  collection  of  them — 
amongst  which  were  many  medals  of  great  value. 
When  we  first  arrived,  a  monk,  in  a  loose  habit 
of  black,  buttoned  down  close  in  front,  with  a  black 
cap,  received  us  and  showed  us  first  into  the  din- 
ing-room, and  then  to  our  chambers.  Soon  after 
another  monk  walked  out  with  us,  and  pointed  out 
the  chief  beauties  around-  At  one  place  he  show- 
ed us  the  division  between  Switzerland  and  Italy ; 
and  made  us  tread  at  the  same  time  on  both  coun- 
tries. He  bid  us  mark  several  spots  where  the 
dogs  had  discovered  frozen  travellers,  and  had 
been  the  means  of  saving  them  :  one  he  particu- 
larly pointed  out,  where  they  had  discovered  a 
peasants  family  perishing  in  the  snow ;  upon 
which  one  of  these  noble  animals  had  contrived  to 
take  up  an  infant,  and  place  it  on  its  back,  and 
then  hastened  to  the  hospice,  to  fetch  persons  who 
might  rescue  the  unhappy  parents.  The  story  af- 
fected us  almost  to  tears. 

It  is  not  only  the  frosts  and  snow  which  create 
the  danger,  but  the  dreadful  storms  of  wind,  which 
come  on  quite  unexpectedly  and  carry  away  the 
traveller.  The  Italian  courier  passed,  a  few  win- 
ters ago,  from  Aoste  to  the  Great  St.  Bernard, 
on  a  very  inclement  afternoon.  The  monks  en- 
deavored to  persuade  him  to  abandon  all  thought 
of  going  forward.  He  was  determined  to  proceed. 
They  then  sent  two  servants  with  him,  to  direct 
him  on  his  way.  As  these  did  not  return  when 
they  were  expected,  another  domestic,  with  three 
dogs,  was  dispatched  in  search  of  them.  The  dogs 
refused  to  move,  though  they  were  the  best  of  the 
whole  number :  this  was  the  sure  sign  that  ex- 
treme danger  was  on  the  road.  However,  life 
was  at  stake,  and  the  dogs  were  at  length  forced 
to  go.  That  night  neither  men  nor  dogs  return- 
ed ;  and  some  days  afterwards  they  were  all  dis- 
covered buried  under  an  avalanche,  about  half  a 
league  from  the  convent,  perfectly  dead.  To  sup- 
port their  expenses,  the  monks  in  the  summer  en- 
tertain visiters,  who  make  presents  to  the  institu- 
tion. Last  Wednesday,  forty  strangers,  mostly 
English,  breakfasted  here. 

At  seven  o'clock  this  evening  the  bell  rang,  and 
we  were  ushered  into  the  salle-a-manger.  I  was 
all  eagerness  to  observe  their  manners  and  cus- 
toms. All  the  monks,  or  chanoines,  as  they  call 
themselves,  were  present.  Latin  prayers  were 
said  with  much  devotion ;  the  English  staring. — 
The  monks  each  placed  one  or  two  of  us  between 
them  at  the  table,  and  an  excellent  supper  was 
served  up — abundant  without  extravagance ;  it 
consisted  of  soup,  various  hashes,  and  some  game. 
The  wine  light,  but  good. 

The  conversation  was  most  friendly  and  agree- 
able. I  was  placed  next  the  provost.  I  conceiv- 
ed that  our  hosts  might  be  men  of  some  theolo- 
gical learning,  and  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
subject  of  religion,  and  to  the  doctrine  of  Augus- 
tine, the  founder  of  their  order.  I  told  them  I 
agreed  with  that  great  writer  in  his  defence  of 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


71 


the  doctrine  of  grace  and  his  opposition  to  Pela- 
gius,  and  generally  in  his  exposition  of  Christian 
truths  and  duties.  I  added,  that  St.  Augustine 
was  esteemed  by  Protestants  as  one  of  the  great 
lights  of  the  church  ;  and  was  constantly  appealed 
to  in  their  articles  and  confessions.  The  provost 
immediately  asked  me  if  I  was  a  minister  of  reli- 
gion, and  what  became  of  my  parish  during  my 
absence.  On  my  telling  him  that  I  was  a  master 
of  arts  of  the  university  of  Oxford,  that  I  had  been 
ordered  to  travel  abroad  on  account  of  my  health, 
and  had  committed  my  duties  at  home  to  a  valu- 
able and  pious  fellow-clergyman,  who  would  dis- 
charge them  with  conscientious  fidelity,  he  pur- 
sued his  inquiries  no  further.  There  was  an  in- 
tense curiosity  apparent  in  all  he  said.  I  assured 
him  that  all  good  Protestants  loved  their  Catholic 
brethren  who,  like  Nicole,  and  Pascal,  and  Fene- 
lon,  believed  truly  in  our  Saviour,  and  obeyed 
simply  and  humbly  his  commands.  I  added,  that 
I  hoped  the  time  would  soon  come  when  the  Holy 
Spirit,  being  poured  out  on  Christendom,  a  gene- 
ral agreement  on  essential  truth  would  prevail, 
and  a  holy  charity  as  to  non-essential.  I  could 
not  discover,  however,  from  his  replies,  that  he 
was  much  acquainted  with  these  topics.  Prac- 
tical benevolence  seems  the  only  business  of  these 
worthy  monks,  whose  early  education  and  se- 
cluded habits  must  leave  them  to  the  full  influence 
of  first  impressions.  One  of  them,  however,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  table  observing  my  conver- 
sation with  the  provost,  began  to  talk  with  me  on 
the  French  preachers,  and  the  striking  sermons 
of  Brydayne,  just  published.  He  agreed  with  me, 
in  admiring  the  fine,  affecting  appeals  which 
abound  in  this  writer ;  but  still  I  did  not  observe 
any  distinct  ideas  of  devotion  or  spiritual  feeling 
in  what  he  said,  even  in  the  sense  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  writers,  though  I  was  really  quite  delight- 
ed with  him  and  my  other  hosts,  and  anxious  to 
judge  of  them  in  the  most  favorable  way. 

The  provost  afterwards  told  me  that,  in  the 
year  1800,  Bonaparte  passed  the  Great  St.  Ber- 
nard. He  had  sent  over  thirty  thousand  men  from 
France  to  Italy,  with  artillery  and  cavalry,  who 
were  three  weeks  in  crossing.  The  cannons  re- 
quired sixty  or  seventy  men  each  to  drag  them  up 
the  ridge.  Many  horses  perished  in  the  precipices. 
He  came  himself  afterwards  on  a  mule,  for  which 
he  gave  thirty  louis  at  Martigny ;  it  stumbled  on  the 
way,  and,  but  for  the  guide  catching  him  in  his 
arms,  he  would  have  fallen  down  the  precipice, 
lie  afterwards  rewarded  the  man  for  his  prompt- 
ness, who  was  known  ever  after  in  the  village  by 
the  name  of  Bonaparte.  Napoleon  staid  two 
hours  and  a  half  at  the  hospice ;  he  was  dark  and 
thoughtful ;  said  only  a  few  words  ;  ate  of  the  pro- 
visions he  had  brought  with  him  ;  accepted  a  little 
of  their  wine  ;  appeared  lost  in  silence  ;  asked  if 
they  knew  the  strength  of  a  neighboring  fort; 
went  down  to  Italy,  and  fought  the  battle  of  Ma- 
rengo! He  treated  the  convent  as  well  as  he 
could ;  but  the  monks  lost  every  thing  during  the 
war,  even  to  their  linen  and  furniture. 

After  supper,  Latin  grace  was  again  said ;  the 
provost  beginning,  and  the  other  monks  making 
responses.  We  retired  to  our  rooms  directly  after 
supper.  I  conceive  there  are  few  institutions  so 
\  aluable,  in  a  humane  point  of  view,  as  this.     It 


is  painful  to  think,  that  some  impostors  went  about 
Europe  a  few  years  since  collecting  alms,  as  they 
pretended,  for  the  hospice.  They  came  to  Eng- 
land and  were  at  Oxford.  They  were  Piedmon- 
tese.  Efforts  were  made  by  many  benevolent 
persons  to  raise  subscriptions  for  them ;  but  the 
fraud  was  at  length  detected.  The  provost  re- 
quested us  to  state,  that  the  hospice  never  collects 
contributions,  except  in  their  own  country,  Swit- 
zerland. I  just  add,  that  a  regular  journal  of  the 
state  of  the  weather  at  the  hospice,  with  the  prin- 
cipal events  that  occur,  and  especially  the  lives 
saved,  is  published  once  a  month  in  one  of  the  pe- 
riodical works  at  Geneva,  I  think  the  "Biblio- 
theque  Universelle."  It  is  generally  observed,  that 
when  the  thermometer  is  62°  at  Geneva,  it  is  32° 
here.  It  is  impossible  to  keep  oneself  warm.  My 
friend  even  found  his  breath  a  good  deal  affected 
this  evening.  You  would  be  amused  to  see  me 
at  this  moment  sitting  trembling  with  cold  in  my 
small  Popish  chamber,  attempting  to  write  at  an 
old  wooden  desk,  affixed  to  the  wall  by  hinges 
which  have  this  instant  given  way  and  overturned 
my  paper,  ink,  and  whole  apparatus.  But  I  must 
hurry  to  rest,  after  such  a  fatiguing  day  ;  it  is 
past  eleven,  and  I  was  awake  between  three  and 
four  this  morning,  and  have  been  writing  now 
nearly  two  hours.  I  wish  my  dear  Ann  and  Eli- 
za could  have  been  here.  My  sweet  little  girl 
would  have  so  ldced  to  have  seen  these  fine  dogs, 
which  are  almost  as  large  as  heifers,  and  live  upon 
a  sour  sort  of  soup,  made  on  purpose  for  them  ; 
their  fame  is  spread  throughout  the  world,  and 
pictures  of  them  are  multiplied.  One  of  them, 
who  saved  twelve  or  thirteen  persons,  was  stuffed 
after  his  death,  and  is  now  at  Bern.  I  saw  a 
beautiful  engraving  at  Paris,  of  the  dog  in-the  act. 
of  saving  the  infant  before  mentioned. 

Lyddes,  half-past  twelve,  Tuesday  morning. — 
We  had  a  simple  breakfast  provided  for  us  this 
morning  by  the  monks  at  St.  Bernard.  We  visit- 
ed the  chapel,  which  is  neat  and  commodious ;  and 
my  friend  and  I,  between  us,  dropped,  with  delight, 
five  louis  d'or  into  the  poor's  box.  The  hospice 
itself  was  built  in  1550,  and  has  been  enlarged 
several  times.  The  walls  are  enormously  thick 
the  ground  floor  is  all  arched ;  and  the  walls  are 
strengthened  by  strong  buttresses  on  the  side  of 
the  lake.  In  the  chapel  is  a  monument  erected 
to  the  memory  of  General  Dessaix,  by  Bonaparte. 
Our  chambers  were  convenient — the  furniture 
old — the  beds  good — the  windows  with  double 
glass  sashes — crucifixes  in  the  rooms.  The  pro- 
vost, or  head  of  the  convent,  together  with  the 
prior,  breakfasted  with  us  ;  the  rest  of  the  monks 
had  each  a  pewter  dish  of  soup,  which  they  ate 
standing.  We  again  saw  our  friends  the  dogs 
before  we  went ;  two  are  of  a  brown  speckled  co- 
lor, and  three  white,  with  fawn  ears;  their  heads 
are  very  large  ;  enorm<4us  teeth  ;  necks  thick,  and 
with  flesh  hanging  down  like  a  bull's;  front  feet 
amazingly  strong ;  they  stand  very  high  upon 
their  legs;  the  haunches  and  hind  legs  are  like 
those  of  hounds  ;  they  add  to  all  their  other  quali- 
ties, that  of  being  excessively  gentle. 

Thus  have  we  visited  this  remarkable  establish- 
ment, which  has  afforded  us  more  pleasure,  per- 
haps, than  any  thing  we  have  seen  during  ou.' 


72 


TRAVELS  ON  THE    CONTINENT. 


whole  journey.  Two  or  three  hundred  years  of 
uniform  and  laborious  beneficence  has  raised  this 
convent  to  an  unequalled  height  of  celebrity.  The 
monks  seldom  are  able  to  live  many  years  at  St. 
Bernard.  The  provost  was  going  down  to  the 
lower  lands  to-day.  The  hospice  is  very  damp 
for  a  considerable  part  of  the  year.  Seme  attempts 
are  making  to  raise  a  fund  for  rebuilding  it.  Win- 
ter will  set  in  in  ten  days.  Sometimes  all  the  do- 
mestics, all  the  dogs,  and  all  the  monks,  are  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  for  hours,  when  travel- 
lers are  in  particular  danger ;  and  it  has  happened 
that  an  avalanche,  as  I  have  said,  has  carried  them 
all  away,  without  the  possibility  of  their  being 
succored. 

One  building  which  the  monks  showed  us  was 
the  chapel  of  the  Bone-House  —  an  apartment 
where  the  bodies  found  in  the  snow  are  deposited, 
in  order  to  be  owned  by  their  friends.  The  good 
monks  perform  the  funeral  service,  indiscriminate- 
ly, over  all  that  they  find ;  and  the  cold  is  so  in- 
tense, that  it  is  many  years  before  the  bodies  are 
dried  up,  for  decomposition  seldom  takes  place. 
We  looked  through  the  sad  grating  of  the  room, 
and  distinctly  saw  the  heaps  of  bodies,  like  mum- 
mies, covering  all  the  place  ;  it  was  a  melancholy 
sight.  The  benevolence  and  courage  of  this  kind 
fraternity  amount,  therefore,  to  a  sort  of  devotion 
quite  extraordinary.  This  is  the  only  convent 
which  Bonaparte  spared.  It  is  curious,  that  by 
this  same  route,  by  which  Bonaparte  invaded  Italy, 
Hannibal  is  supposed,  by  some,  to  have  led  the 
Carthaginian  forces,  for  a  similar  design,  two  thou- 
sand years  ago.  Such  are  the  vicissitudes  of  hu- 
man glory  and  ambition  ! 

Martigny,  six  o'clock,  Wednesday  morning. — 
We  returned  here  last  night  at  seven,  and  found 
one  of  our  carriages  sent,  as  we  had  requested,  to 
meet  us  from  Lausanne.  Thus  has  our  second 
little  tour  to  Chamouny  of  eight  days  terminated. 
The  weather  has  been  most  fine  the  whole  time, 
We  have  seen  some  of  the  greatest  curiosities  in 
Switzerland  and  Savoy  :  the  Valley  of  the  Cluse, 
Chamouny,  Mont  Blanc,  the  Mer  de  Glace,  and, 
above  all,  the  Great  St.  Bernard.  We  might  now 
return  to  Lausanne  in  a  day  ;  but  we  are  tempt- 
ed to  make  a  detour  into  Northern  Italy ;  we 
are  only  about  three  days'  journey  from  Milan ; 
whither  our  kind  fellow-traveller  wishes  us  to  ac- 
company him,  on  his  way  to  Rome.  We  are  go- 
ing off  then,  not  on  mules,  but  in  the  carriage 
with  post  horses,  towards  this  splendid  city.  May 
God  be  pleased  to  direct,  over-rule,  and  bless  this 
extension  of  our  journey,  to  the  further  instruction 
of  our  minds  and  establishment  of  our  healths  ! 

Sion,  Wednesday  noon,  September  10. — This 
is  tne  capital  of  the  Valais — two  thousand  five 
li-vdred  inhabitants.  A  rnost  ancient  city;  the 
Romans  found  it  already  a  considerable  place, 
when  they  first  penetrated  into  Helvetia.  We 
arrived  here  at  half-past  ten  to  dinner.  The  road 
has  been  beautiful,  between  the  rocks  which  crown 
each  side  of  the  valley.  Any  one  of  this  range 
would  form  an  object  of  extreme  interest ;  but  we 
are  here  so  surrounded  with  beauty  and  grandeur, 
fhat  it  is  impossible  to  dwell  on  the  details. 


Brieg,  at  the  foot  of  the  Simplon,  seventy  miles 
from  Martigny,  seven  o'clock,  Wednesday  evening. 
— We  have  arrived  here,  after  twelve  hours'  driv- 
ing. We  have  come  post.  By  voituriers  we 
should  have  been  two  days  and  a  half.  At  Sion, 
where  we  dined,  I  went  to  see  the  cathedral  and 
the  church  of  the  Jesuits,  (for  they  have  been  re- 
stored,) who  have  the  direction  of  the  education 
here ;  they  have  built  a  new  church  within  these 
three  years.  I  met  several  of  the  young  Jesuits  in 
the  streets.  We  eyed  each  other  with  mutual 
surprise.  They  were  quite  young  men,  florid,  in- 
telligent, firm  in  their  love.  They  wear  the  cleri- 
cal dress.  The  most  striking  proof  perhaps  of 
their  spirit  is,  that  there  is  not  one  bookseller  in 
Sion ;  no,  nor  is  there  one  in  all  the  canton  of 
the  Valais,  though  containing  a  hundred  thousand 
souls.  The  fact  seems  incredible ;  but  I  was  so- 
lemnly assured  of  it  by  the  printer  at  Sion,  to 
whom  the  guide  took  me  when  I  inquired  for  the 
booksellers.  This  printer,  by  the  by,  is  allowed 
to  work  only  under  the  direction  of  the  Jesuits, 
and  prints  nothing  but  books  of  Catholic  devo- 
tion. 

After  leaving  Sion  we  passed  the  Di  able  rets 
Mountains,  where  eboulements  are  often  falling  : 
two  in  1714  and  1749,  ravaged  the  neighboring 
valley.  An  old  man  lived  three  months  there  in 
his  overwhelmed  cottage,  before  he  could  effect 
his  escape.  The  agriculture  of  this  lovely  valley 
is  sadly  neglected  ;  all  is  left  to  wild  nature.  The 
Rhone  is  not  banked  ;  the  lands  are  not  drained ; 
a  large  part  of  the  valley  is  a  marsh.  The  vines 
are,  however,  so  far  attended  to,  that  terraces  are 
formed  for  their  creeping  up  the  mountains  to  an 
extreme  height.  The  number  of  villages  and  pri- 
vate houses  built  in  the  most  romantic  situations, 
on  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  is  very  great,  and 
strikingly  beautiful.  They  seem  like  nests  built 
by  birds.  On  the  utmost  heights  are  often  raised 
small  chapels ;  to  which  processions  are  made  in 
crowds,  on  certain  festivals,  by  the  poor  supersti- 
tious people  of  this  canton. 

On  the  whole,  this  valley,  the  largest  in  Swit- 
zerland, reaching  from  Geneva  to  the  glacier  of 
the  Rhone,  and  bounded  by  chains  of  diversified 
mountains,  with  snowy  Alps  perpetually  rising 
above  them,  fertile  beyond  conception,  and  water- 
ed by  the  Rhone,  has  more  than  equalled  all  our 
expectations,  except  as  the  folly  and  vice  of  man 
have  impeded  the  bounties  of  a  kind  Providence. 
The  inhabitants  are  proverbially  indolent,  negli- 
gent, and  dirty.  No  branch  of  trade  flourishes. — 
Even  as  to  agriculture,  they  are  far  behind  their 
neighbors.  Their '  fertile  plains  are  left  exposed 
to  the  inundations  of  the  Rhone.  The  canton  is 
exclusively  Catholic.  The  doctrine  of  the  Re- 
formers had  gained  many  adherents  in  the  six- 
teenth century  ;  but  early  in  the  seventeenth  they 
were  all  banished.  Education  is  neglected. — 
Every  thing  seems  on  the  worst  footing. 

The  day  has  been  most  fine,  and  nothing  but 
the  dust  has  annoyed  us.  The  goitres  now  are 
quite  distressing  ;  we  have  seen  some  literally 
hanging  down  upon  the  breasts  .of  the  sufferers. 
The  thermometer  has  been  about  80°.  We  have 
had  to  regret  the  indisposition  of  our  friend,  who 
has  been  attacked  with  pain  in  his  face  ;  my  dear 
sons  and  myself  are  quite  well. 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT, 


73 


May  God  fill  our  hearts  with  some  sense  of  his 
manifold  bounties  and  goodness  1  The  lessons 
.  we  have  the  opportunity  of  learning  are  most 
numerous  and  most  important.  This  deplorable 
canton  speaks  for  itself  to  all  who  arc  in  love  with 
Jesuits  and  bad  government. 

I  am  your  affectionate 

D.  W. 

NOTICE  OF  PRAYERS  AT  GREAT  ST.  BERNARD. 

A  friend  has  given  me  a  copy  of  the  following 
beautiful  hymn  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  he  trans- 
lated from  the  Latin  prayer-book  of  the  Great 
St.  Bernard,  probably  composed  from  some  of  the 
writings  of  St.  Augustine,  the  founder  of  their 
order : 

"  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  and  send  from  heaven  a 
ray  of  thy  light !  Come,  thou  father  of  the  poor, 
thou  giver  of  gifts,  thou  light  of  the  world,  the 
blessed  comforter,  the  sweet  guest  of  the  soul,  and 
its  sweet  refreshment ;  thou,  our  repose  in  labor, 
our  coolness  in  heat,  our  comfort  in  affliction  ! — 
Oh,  most  blessed  Spirit,  fulfil  the  hearts  of  thy 
faithful  people  !  Without  thy  influence  there  is 
nothing  in  man  which  is  not  weakness  and  guilt. 
Oh,  cleanse  that  which  is  sordid  ;  bedew  that 
which  is  dried  up  ;  heal  that  which  is  wounded  ; 
bend  that  which  is  stubborn ;  cherish  in  thy  bo- 
som that  which  is  cold  ;  guide  that  which  is  wan- 
dering ;  and  grant  unto  thy  servants,  putting  their 
trust  in  thee,  the  merit  of  thy  righteousness ; 
grant  them  final  salvation,  grant  them  everlasting 
joy !  O  Lord,  hear  my  prayer,  and  let  my  cry 
come  unto  thee  !" 

In  this  sublime  and  affecting  prayer,  there  is 
not  an  expression  in  which  the  devout  Protestant 
would  not  heartily  join,  except,  perhaps,  that  which 
implores  of  the  Holy  Spirit  "  the  merit  of  his 
righteousness,"  which  savors  of  the  sentiment 
embraced  by  St.  Augustine,  and  held  till  the  pe- 
riod of  the  Reformation,  that  justification  was  a 
habit  of  grace  infused  into  the  soul — an  error, 
however,  which,  when  united  with  an  exclusive 
trust  in  the  forgiving  mercy  of  God,  through  the 
death  of  Christ,  for  everlasting  salvation,  cannot 
be  thought  to  be  fundamental. 

I  add  another  prayer  from  the  same  offertory, 
free  from  any  savor  of  superstition ;  the  expres- 
sions concerning  our  Lord's  body  being  warranted 
by  the  terms  of  Scripture,  though  they  may  be 
ODen  to  abuse,  and  arc,  in  fact,  abused,  as  we 
know,  by  the  Catholic  interpreters  : 

"  O  blessed  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I  pray  that  thy 
most  holy  name  may  be  the  last  word  that  my 
mouth  shall  ever  utter  !  O  gracious  Jesus,  I  pray 
that  thy  most  sacred  body  may  be  my  last  refresh- 
ment, and  the  sustenance  which  I  shall  enjoy  and 
feed  upon  for  ever  !  O  gracious  Lord,  I  pray  that 
my  last  sigh  may  be  the  last  pain  I  shall  endure 
to  all  eternity  !  O  gracious  Lord,  I  pray  that  thy 
most  blessed  face  may  be  the  first  object  which 
my  soul  shall  behold,  when  it  is  released  from  this 
mortal  body  !  O  gracious  Lord,  I  pray  that  thou 
thyself  wouldest  be  my  guide  and  my  companion 
from  this  land  of  exile,  to  my  eternal  home  and 
country !     Amen  !" 


LETTER  XIII. 

Simplon,  Sept.  11. — Milan,  Sept.  14, 1823. 

Brieg — Simplon — Road — Persal — Descent  into  Ita- 
ly—Domo  d'Osola  —  Priests — Contrast  between 
Swizerland  and  Italy — Lago  Maggiore —  Bor- 
romean  Isles — Colossal  Statue  of  Borromeo — 
Milan — Scale  of  Vegetation  on  Alps — Marble 
Cathedral — St.  Ambrose — St.  Austin. 

Brieg,  29G,  wiles  from  Lusanne,  Sept.  11, 
1823,  Thursday  morning,  half-past  5. 

Tins  town  of  B^ieg,  my  dear  sister,  is  of  consi- 
derable extent ;  I  should  think  it  has  three  hun- 
dred houses;  it  is  about  two  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  in 
all  the  Valais.  The  Jesuits'  church  is  conspicuous, 
being  covered  with  a  brilliant  green  stone,  striped 
with  bright  yellow.  The  houses  of  the  place  are 
tiled  with  a  white  slate  glittering  like  silver.  When 
the  sun  gilds  the  mica-roofs,  the  view  from  the 
windows  of  the  inn,  which  is  on  a  hill,  is  quite  novel. 
It  is  here  that  the  celebrated  road  ot  the  Simplon 
properly  begins,  though  it  may  be  said  to  com- 
mence as  far  back  as  Geneva ;  the  road  from  Ge- 
neva to  Brieg  having  been  widened  and  improved, 
at  the  same  time  that  it  was  carried  on  over  the 
Alps  to  Italy.  Simplon  is  the  name  of  a  village 
on  a  mountain  of  the  Haut  Valais,  in  the  chain  of 
Alps  between  Switzerland  and  Italy.  The  road 
was  begun  by  Bonaparte  in  1801 ;  he  employed 
thirty  thousand  men  upon  it  for  four  or  five  years. 
The  side  next  to  the  Valais  was  executed  by 
French  engineers  ;  that  next  to  Italy,  by  Italian. 
These  last  had  the  greatest  difficulties  to  sur- 
mount, from  the  hardness  of  the  rocks.  It  is  twenty- 
five  loot  wide  everywhere — a  prodigious  work,  ri- 
valling the  labors  of  ancient  Rome.  The  highest 
point  is  six  thousand  one  hundred  and  seventy-four 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  ascent  is  only  of  about 
two  inches  and  a  half  in  six  feet,  a  rise  so  gradual 
as  to  be  easy  to  the  heaviest  wagons. 

Persal  on  the  Simplon,  half  past  10. — We  have 
now  come  the  first  stage  on  this  celebrated  road, 
which  is  gentle  in  its  rise  beyond  all  conception  ; 
and  as  smooth  as  our  Bath  road.  The  plan  in 
forming  it  was  adjusted  with  such  skill  and  care, 
by  following  the  sides  of  mountains,  as  always  to 
preserve  the  same  gradual  ascent.  Large  portions 
of  the  road  were  made  by  blowing  up  rocks,  and 
building  terraces  from  the  valleys,  with  bridges 
over  the  ravines.  Granite  stones  are  placed  at 
short  intervals  on  each  side,  with  strong  railing  on 
the  edge  of  precipices.  The  prospects,  as  you 
ascend,  are  soft  and  pleasing.  The  valleys  and 
the  town  of  Brieg  stretching  before  the  view  at 
an  immense  distance  below,  varying  with  the  dif- 
ferent turns  of  the  scenery,  form  a  new  and  en- 
chanting picture  at  every  tenth  step.  The  moun- 
tains of  firs  form  a  sort  of  back  ground.  The  con- 
ception and  execution  of  this  road,  reflect  an 
honor  on  the  name  of  Bonaparte,  which  all  his 
military  schemes  never  deserved.  Every  traveller 
of  every  country,  forgetting  his  ambitious  motives, 
applauds  the  ingenuity,  hardihood,  and  usefuhu-ss 
of  the  interprise. 

Dvmo  d'Osola,  in  the  Valley  of  Osola,  six  o'clock, 
Thursday  evening. — We  have  now  passed  the  re- 


74 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


mainder  of  the  Simplon.  It  really  rises  in  my 
estimation.  Not  only  is  the  road  of  a  convenient 
width  and  excellent  smoothness,  but  ten  or  twelve 
refuges  are  built  for  travellers  overtaken  by  bad 
weather.  In  one  of  these  we  dined,  at  half-past  ten. 
We  had  boiled  mutton,  roast  veal,  potatoes,  salad, 
and  very  good  light  wine  for  four  of  us,  for  eight 
francs,  about  eighteen  pence  a  piece.  In  continu- 
ing our  route  we  had  the  Alps  constantly  in  view. 
There  are  six  or  eight  tunnels,  or  galleries,  cut 
through  sold  rocks,  to  form  part  of  the  road  ;  one 
gallery  is  six  hundred  and  eighty-there  feet  long, 
with  enormous  windows  opened  in  the  rude  granite 
to  give  light  on  the  path.  I  observed  at  another 
place  four  beautiful  cascades  falling  down  the  cliffs, 
which  are  carried  under  the  road  by  aqueducts. 
Bonaparte  began  a  new  hospice  :  it  has  fourteen 
windows  in  front,  and  five  on  each  side.  The 
work  has  stood  still  since  1814.  An  immense  pillar 
of  granite  lies  neglected  along  the  road,  in  another 
part,  designed  for  his  triumphal  arch  at  Milan.  It 
attests,  in  the  most  affecting  manner,  the  total 
change  which  his  fall  instantly  occasioned.  Not 
a  creature  has  cared  to  remove  it  out  of  the  way, 
or  apply  it  to  any  other  purpose.  We  were  six 
hours  and  a  half  in  attaining  the  highest  point  of 
the  road.  The  zig-zags  which  it  takes,  to  pre- 
serve the  gentle  ascent,  are  surprising. 

After  passing  the  village  of  Simplon,  we  began 
to  descend  towards  Italy  through  a  valley  magni- 
ficently and  sublimely  rude.  The  horrors  of  the 
impending  rocks — the  immense  masses  broken  off 
by  the  storms,  and  lying  scattered  around — the 
perpendicular  crags  of  their  lofty  sides — united 
with  the  infinite  variety  which  reigns  ha  every  part, 
really  penetrated  my  mind  with  astonishment ;  ac- 
customed as  I  have  lately  been  to  unusual  gran- 
deur in  the  works  of  nature.  Then  the  descent 
is  so  gradual,  that  we  drove  a  fast  trot  all  the  way. 
In  short,  it  would  be  worth  while  talcing  a  journey 
to  see  this  country,  if  there  were  no  beautiful 
road ;  and  it  would  be  almost  worth  while  taking 
the  journey  to  see  the  road,  if  there  were  no  beau- 
tiful country :  the  combination  of  the  two  is  un- 
equalled, as  1  suppose,  in  the  world.  At  four  we 
entered  Italy,  properly  so  called,  for  on  the  conti- 
nent, Savoy  is  commonly  considered  as  part  of 
Italy.  The  name  of  the  first  Italian  village  is  San 
Marco. 

The  plain  of  the  Valley  of  Osola  is  beautiful.  It 
is  the  first  Italian  plain  we  have  seen  ;  it  differs 
from  the  Swiss,  in  its  greater  fertility,  softness, 
and  beauty ;  the  meadows  are  more  rich,  the  trees 
in  finer  verdure.  The  town  of  Domo  d'Osola  has 
about  three  thousand  inhabitants.  There  is  no 
bookseller  in  the  place — I  mark  this  fact,  where  it 
occurs,  as  implying  a  thousand  consequences — 
the  public  mind  is  bound  down  in  imperturbable 
ignorance  and  self-satisfaction.  As  we  passed 
Isella,  the  second  village  in  Italy,  our  baggage  was 
searched;  and  the  officer  told  us  plainiy,  the 
objects  he  looked  after  were  books  of  religion  and 
politics — morals  are  left  to  themselves. 

On  driving  into  the  town,  I  was  surprised  to  see 
priests,  in  their  peculiar  dress,  but  somewhat  shab- 
bily attired,  standing  about  idly,  or  sitting  in  the 
market  place,  at  the  doors  of  cabarets,  in  company 
with  the  common  people.  Their  jovial,  careless 
sort  of  look,  struck  me  as  characteristic  of  the 


manners  of  too  many  of  that  order  of  persons  in 
Italy.  The  cliief  church  here  is  of  modern  Greek 
architecture ;  there  are  three  altogether,  and  about 
fifteen  priests.  A  convent  of  Capuchins,  suppressed 
by  Napoleon,  has  just  been  restored.  When  we 
asked  the  innkeeper  what  curiosities  there  were 
in  the  town,  he  said  there  was  only  a  Calvary — a 
chapel,  or  temple,  on  some  mountain,  with  a 
superstitious  representation  of  our  Saviour's  pas- 
sion— a  trait  perfectly  conclusive  as  to  the  general 
state  of  opinions  and  information  in  the  place. 

We  are  now  in  Italy.  But,  how  fallen  !  How 
melancholy  is  it  to  think  of  the  actual  condition  of 
this  queen  of  nations  !  Ignorance,  poverty,  indo- 
lence, vice,  superstition,  misery,  are  but  too  visible 
on  all  sides.  Half  the  time,  in  fact,  which  God 
assigned  to  man  for  labor,  is  consumed  in  super- 
stitious festivals  of  saints  ;  whilst  the  one  day  of 
sacred  rest  is  desecrated  to  folly  and  sin.  All  tins 
is  the  more  deplorable,  when  compared  with  the 
beauty  of  the  country  itself.  The  air  is  delicious 
— the  balmy  atmosphere  soothes  and  enchants  you. 
Then  the  recollections  also  of  past  glory  rush  upon 
the  mind.  Italy  is  associated  with  all  our  earliest 
learning.  It  is  the  country  of  poets,  and  artists, 
and  orators,  and  warriors.  Scarcely  a  spot  is  to 
be  found  that  has  not  been  the  theatre  of  some 
celebrated  action.  The  stupendous  rums  which 
adorn  it,  impress  the  mind  with  lofty  ideas  of  the 
skill  and  perseverance  of  man,  and  at  the  same 
time  teach  us  the  perishableness  and  vanity  of  all 
his  works.  The  towns  are  famed  for  the  conspi- 
cuous characters  to  whom  tbey  have  given  birth ; 
whilst  Rome — once  the  mistress  of  the  Pagan 
world  ;  then  the  first  see  of  the  Christian  church : 
and  lastly,  the  source  of  the  gross  western  apostacy 
from  the  faith — gives  a  deep  mterest  to  the  whole 
country  where  it  is  situated.  I  confess,  a  mixed 
feeling  possesses  my  mind,  for  which  I  cannot 
distinctly  account.  Curiosity,  surprise,  veneration, 
sorrow,  fear,  compassion,  all  have  a  part.  Though 
I  am  not  going  to  Rome,  yet  I  seem  to  share 
all  the  emotions  of  travelling  for  the  first  time  in 
Italy — and  the  impression  is  deeper  from  the  coun- 
try I  have  just  left. 

In  Switzerland,  all  was  the  grandeur  and  ma- 
jesty of  nature  ;  in  Italy,  it  is  the  splendor  and 
perfection  of  architecture.  In  the  one,  the  towns 
were  of  themselves  nothing ;  in  the  other,  they 
are  every  thing.  In  Switzerland,  the  modern 
efforts  for  religion  and  liberty,  and  the  fine  spirit 
of  the  inhabitants,  attract  your  cliief  attention :  in 
Italy,  the  ancient  memorials  of  past  power,  and 
the  remains  of  science  and  literature.  In  Swit* 
zerland,  you  connect  the  works  of  nature  with  tnc 
men ;  in  Italy,  the  men  with  the  works,  not  of 
nature,  but  of  art.  The  Swiss  have  for  five  cen- 
turies been  raising  their  poor  and  desolate  coun- 
try, by  their  industry  and  good  government,  to  be 
the  praise  of  Europe  ;  the  Italians  have  for  twelve 
centuries  been  depressing,  by  their  indolence  and 
bad  administration,  the  most  fertile  and  luxuriant, 
to  be  its  reproach.  Switzerland,  in  short,  is  the 
land  of  freedom  and  of  the  purest  form  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  Italy,  of  slavery  and  of  the  most  corrupt 
state  of  the  Christian  doctrine.  But  I  am  in- 
dulging in  an  endless  strain  of  reflection. 

To  return.  The  vines  are  here  very  different, 
in  point  of  luxuriance  and  beauty,  from  those  of 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


75 


the  Rhine  or  of  Switzerland  ;  they  are  raised  on 
treillises,  often  of  granite,  and  always  in  regular 
order,  high  enough  to  form  arbors  ;  so  that  the 
grass  or  corn  grows  beneath,  and  the  field  is  one 
bower.  Where  this  is  not  the  case,  you  have 
beech,  maple,  or  peach  trees  hung  with  vines, 
joined  from  tree  to  tree  by  branches,  suspended 
on  ropes  ;  at  other  places,  the  terraces  rise,  load- 
ed with  vines,  all  up  the  mountain-side.  The 
view  of  the  rich  black  grapes,  hanging  under  the 
treillis-work,  is  incomparably  beautiful.  We  were, 
perhaps,  a  little  partial  in  our  judgment,  because 
the  grapes  of  Switzerland,  when  we  left  it,  were 
as  hard  as  stones  ;  whereas  here  the  branches 
hang  in  rich,  ripe  clusters  everywhere,  so  that  our 
postillion,  as  he  walks  up  a  hill,  or  a  boy  conduct- 
ing us  to  a  sight,  gathers  large  bunches  unasked, 
and  brings  them  to  us.  I  conceive,  that  Italy 
must  be  something  like  to  ancient  Palestine,  though 
doubtless  much  inferior  to  it. 

Arena,  41  miles  from  Domo  d'Osnla,  8  o'clock, 
Friday  evening;  Sept.  12. — The  weather  is  most 
propitious.  We  have  had  only  one  wet  day  (Au- 
gust 31)  since  the  storm  on  the  Righi :  to-day 
there  has  been  a  soft  delightful  temperature,  with- 
out excessive  heat.  We  set  oft'  at  seven  this 
morning,  and  have  been  travelling  a  great  way 
by  the  margin  of  the  lovely  Italian  \zke,  called 
Lago  Maggiore  ;  its  waters  are  smooth  as  a  mir- 
ror, so  as  to  reflect  every  thing  on  its  banks  ; 
towns  on  each  side,  mountains  in  varied  outline, 
crowning  the  prospect — the  near  scenery  soft  and 
lovely,  the  distant  bold  and  magnificent.  It  is, 
in  some  parts,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  feet 
deep.  Eels  abound  in  it,  of  the  weight  of  thirty 
pounds. 

From  Baveno,  we  embarked  to  visit  the  Borro- 
mean  Isles,  so  called  from  the  ancient  Italian 
family  which  possesses  and  has  adorned  them. — 
They  are  two,  Isola  Bella  and  Isola  Madre.  The 
principal  one  is  a  mile  and  a  half  round  ;  originally 
a  barren  rock,  bu*  now  covered  with  gardens, 
grottos,  and  terraces,  raised  on  arches  and  arcades. 
In  some  parts  the  arches  are  ten  stories  high,  one 
over  another,  raised  from  the  lower  part  of  the 
rock  to  the  highest  terrace  ;  which  is  one  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake,  and 
forty  feet  square.  A  pegasus  placed  on  the  sum- 
mit gives  the  whole  island  something  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  pyramid.  The  aspect  of  these 
arches  and  terraces  from  the  road  was  most  beau- 
tiful— there  was  something  quite  novel  in  the  view 
of  the  mass  of  gardens  and  buildings  rising  at  once 
out  of  the  water,  as  by  enchantment. 

Nor  were  we  disappointed  when  we  came  near- 
er. We  saw  in  the  garden.-,  cedars,  myrtle  trees, 
cypresses  of  enormous  girth,  aloes,  Egyptian 
grapes,  serpentine  cucumbers  a  yard  and  a  half 
long ;  a  plant  from  the  Canaries,  which  grew 
twenty-four  feet  high  in  thirty-two  days  ;  but  the 
most,  abundant  species  of  trees  were  the  citrons, 
which  lined  the  walls  of  the  terraces,  and  had 
large  cabbages  planted  at  their  roots,  to  protect 
them  from  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun.  There 
were  also  vines,  olives,  and  orange  trees  in  profu- 
sion. More  than  thirty  thousand  oranges  and 
citrons  are  gathered  every  year.  In  the  time 
when  the  gardens  are  hi  flower  the  sweet  per- 
fume spreads  for  a  considerable  distance  over  the 
55—5 


lake.  The  fragrance  was  most  gratifying  to-day, 
though  it  is  as  late  in  the  year  as  the  middle  of 
September.  Fountains  and  statues  refresh  and 
adorn  every  part  of  the  grounds.  In  short,  these 
islands  are  the  model  of  perfection  in  their  way — 
which  way,  indeed,  lias  been  out  of  taste  for  about 
a  century,  and  is  undoubtedly  stiff  and  unnatural ; 
but  still,  they  reward  one  riclily  for  the  trouble  of 
a  visit.  Some  of  the  prospects  from  the  islands, 
on  the  lake  and  the  bordering  villages  and  moun- 
tains, are  exquisite.  The  heights  of  the  Simplon 
and  the  peaks  of  Mount  Rosa  and  Saint  Gotliard 
may  be  discerned  from  them.  The  Borromean 
Palace,  in  each  island,  is  an  emblem  of  Italian 
finery  and  negligence.  The  wings  of  the  principal 
one  are  completed  :  but  the  body  is  nothing  but 
bare  walls.  I  understand  this  is  almost  general 
in  Italy  ;  the  nobles  budd,  or  rather  begin  to  build, 
immense  houses — they  half  finish  them — they 
soon  allow  them  to  decay  and  go  to  ruin ;  a 
complete  well-appointed  mansion  is  rare  in  this 
country. 

In  approaching  this  town  of  Arona,  where  I  am 
now  writing,  we  ascended  a  hill  to  examine  a 
colossal  statue  of  cardinal  Charles  Borromeo,  an 
eminent  benefactor  to  Milan,  and  founder  of  the 
Sunday  schools  still  existing  there ;  he  died  i:i 
the  year  1584.  The  statue  itself  is  seventy-two 
feet  high — twelve  times  the  natural  size,  and  five 
or  six  times  as  high,  I  think,  as  that  of  the  duke 
of  Bedford  in  London — the  pedestal  tlurty-six  feet. 
The  arm  is  twenty-eight  feet  long,  the  head  twenty 
feet  round,  the  nose  two  feet  seven  inches  long, 
the  circuit  of  the  cloak  fifty-four  feet,  &c.  &c. — 
The  attitude  is  that  of  one  blessing  the  people. — 
The  right  hand  is  raised  gently,  the  left  clasps  the 
Breviary  ;*  (which  is  thirteen  feet  liigh)  the  head 
is  bare  ;  the  countenance  most  benignant ;  the 
garments  those  of  a  cardinal,  in  easy,  flowing 
drapery.  So  admirably  natural  is  the  whole,  that 
you  have  no  idea  of  its  enormous  dimensions  on 
first  looking  at  it.  It  is  curious  that  we  thought 
we  discovered  a  likeness  between  the  cardinal 
and  the  present  count  Borromeo,  whom  we  hap- 
pened to  meet  as  we  landed  on  his  island :  the 
resemblance  in  the  nose  seemed  to  us  to  be  strik- 
ing. The  head,  feet,  and  hands  of  this  Colossus 
are  made  of  bronze  ;  the  body  of  copper ;  the  pe- 
destal is  of  stone.  There  are  no  steps  within  the 
pedestal,  as  you  might  expect ;  but  my  sons  had 
to  ascend  by  a  ladder  from  the  outside  to  the  part 
of  the  statue  where  the  fold  of  the  cloak  falls. — 
Under  tins  bronze  fold  they  entered,  and  then  as- 
cended to  the  head  of  the  figure,  and  sat  with  ease 
in  the  nostrils.  A  stone  pillar  with  iron  spikes 
fixed  in  it,  by  way  of  stairs,  runs  up  the  interior 
of  the  statue  to  support  it.  1  really  quite  trembled 
as  they  went  up  the  qfmTering  ladder  of  forty-eight 
steps;  and  when  they  entered  the  statue,  and 
afterwards  looked  out  to  me  from  a  kind  of  aoor 
which  opened  in  the  back  of  it,  a  hundred  feet 
above  my  head,  (half  as  high  as  the  Monument  in 
London)  I  was  really  alarmed.  Thank  God,  they 
came  down  safe. 

The  inns  in  Italy  are  contrived  for  delight.— 
We  are  now  sitting  with  our  windows  open ; 

*  So  the  guide-books  call  it— for  my  part;  I  hop* 
it  is  the  Bible. 


76 


TRAVELS    ON    THE     CONTINENT. 


flower-pots  are  placed  in  every  nook ;  grapes 
hang  all  around  in  rich  clusters  ;  open  galleries 
and  platforms  conduct  from  one  part  of  the  house 
to  another  ;  the  floors  are  all  brick  or  stone  ;  the 
rooms  are  lofty  ;  and  if  they  were  but  clean,  all 
would  be  well.  We  have  now  the  finest  fruit  at 
breakfast  and  dinner,  and  good  light  wines  at  a 
franc  a  bottle.  The  people  are  of  a  copper  color. 
The  women  wear  handkerchiefs  over  their  heads 
like  veils.  At  Domo  d'Osola,  the  streets  had  two 
narrow  slips  of  smooth  flags  in  the  middle,  for  the 
wheels  of  carriages,  the  rest  being  rough  pebbles. 
We  arc  under  stricter  police  laws  than  ever  ;  our 
passports  are  sent  for  at  every  town,  as  soon  as 
we  eater  ;  and  we  have  a  license  for  post-horses, 
which  we  have  to  show  at  each  stage.  Such  is 
the  liberty  of  the  Sardinian  and  Austrian  domi- 
nions in  Italy. 

There  are  about  three  thousand  people  in  this 
town  of  Arona,  six  churches  and  forty  priests, 
with  sixty  monks  ;  no  bookseller — compare  this 
with  the  state  of  English  towns  of  the  same  ex- 
tent— Banbury  for  instance  ;  where  there  is  one 
church  and  one  clergyman,  but  large  schools, 
numerous  benevolent  institutions,  and  perhaps  a 
dozen  booksellers.  Italy  swarms  with  monks  and 
ignorance. 

The  Borromean  motto  is  "  Humilitas ;"  which 
is  inscribed  even  on  each  flower-pot  of  the  superb 
garden  in  the  islands,  and  on  the  picture  of  the  As- 
cension of  St.  Borromeo  to  heaven,  in  the  church 
of  what  is  called  the  Sacred  Mount,  where  the 
stupendous  statue  is  placed ;  on  the  ascent  to 
which  Mount,  by  the  by,  there  are  six  or  more 
chapels  dedicated  to  the  same  saint.  I  asked  the 
waiter  here,  quite  accidentally,  if  they  were  all 
Catholics  at  Arona  ;  he  looked  at  me  with  asto- 
nishment, and  said,  yes  : — perceiving  his  surprise, 
I  told  him  I  was  an  Englishman  and  a  Protestant, 
and  that  the  English  believed  in  Jesus  Christ  their 
Saviour,  though  they  did  not  believe  in  the  Pope ; 
at  which  the  man  seemed  more  astonished  still. — 
Such  slight  circumstances  as  these,  serve  at  least 
to  betray  the  habits  of  thought  in  the  common 
people  in  Italy.  All  is  sealed  up  in  impenetrable 
ignorance  and  superstition.  I  suppose,  if  I  had 
attempted  ever  so  mildly  to  convince  him  of  the 
errors  of  Popery,  I  should  soon  have  heard  of  it 
from  the  police. 

Milan,  Saturday  evening,  half-past  8,  Sept.  13, 
44  miles  from  Arona,  about  1950  miles  from  Lon- 
don.— We  set  off  this  jmorning  at  half-past  seven, 
and  came  to  Sesto  Calende,  on  the  Tesin.  It 
was  near  this  town  that  Hannibal  is  thought  to 
have  conveyed  his  elephants  across  the  river  and 
defeated  the  Romans,  three  hundred  years  before 
Christ. 

The  Lombardo-Venetiarf  kingdom  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria  begins  here.  Happily  our  pass- 
ports were  signed  by  the  Austrian  ambassador 
before  we  left.  Bern,  or  we  should  have  had  to  re- 
trace our  steps  ;  several  Englishmen,  for  want  of 
this  formality,  have  actually  been  compelled  to 
return.  We  dined  at  Cascenia  at  half-past  eleven, 
and  entered  Milan  at  half-past  three.  The  coun- 
try through  which  we  passed  is  flat,  and  wretch- 
edly cultivated,  but  fertile.  The  pastures  are 
often  excellent.  The  grass  is  regularly  cut  four 
times  a  year.    The  tenants  pay  no  rent  in  money 


for  their  farms,  but  divide  the  returns  with  their 
landlord.  Ploughing  is  performed  by  oxen.  The 
agricultural  instruments  are  deplorable  ;  and  the 
inhabitants  are  generally  poor.  Many  of  the 
churches  have  small  square  towers,  very  lofty, 
with  six  or  seven  stories,  and  windows  in  each. — . 
The  towns  are  slovenly  and  dirty  beyond  all  de- 
scription :  one  would  think  there  was  scarcely  a 
comfortable  house  in  them. 

In  coming  down  to  Sesto,  we  had  a  noble  view 
of  mount  Rosa,  with  its  perpetual  snows,  winch 
appeared  higher  than  any  Alp  we  had  seen,  on 
account  of  the  low  situation  of  the  plain  from 
which  we  viewed  it.  It  is  with  regret  we  took 
leave,  for  a  time,  of  these  magnificent  scenes.  I 
should  have  told  you,  that  in  Savoy,  the  women 
were  the  chief  laborers  in  the  fields.  I  saw,  se- 
veral times,  a  plough  guided  by  a  woman ;  who 
with  one  hand  held  the  plough,  and  with  the  other 
drove  a  miserable  lean  cow,  which  drew  it  through 
the  dusty  land. 

I  will  just  say,  about  the  Alps  generally  (for  I 
expect  now  to  have  to  quit  the  subject,)  that  the 
fine  where  the  snow  rests  on  them  perpetually  is 
from  eight  thousand  four  hundred  and  fifty,  to 
nine  thousand  one  hundred  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea  ;  the  line  where  fir-trees  and  flow- 
ers flourish,  six  thousand  :  the  lowest  line  where 
corn  will  grow,  three  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  ;  and  where  vines  can  be  cultivated, 
one  thousand  nine  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Thus 
the  same  mountains  exhibit  every  variety  of  pro- 
duct. Their  heads  are  craggy,  inaccessible, 
without  the  possibility  of  vegetation  ;  their  bases 
are  covered  with  rich  corn-fields,  or  luxuriant 
pastures;  the  middle  consists  of  pastures  less 
productive,  interspersed  with  a  great  variety  of 
plants.  The  summits,  in  fact,  are  doomed  to  all 
the  rigors  of  an  Icelandic  winter  ;  whilst  at  their 
feet,  one  enjoys  the  warmth  of  an  Italian  sun. 

There  is  something  very  instructive  in  this 
scale  of  vegetation — for  I  must  moralize  for  a 
moment.  The  degree  of  the  sun's  heat  regu- 
lates every  thing  in  the  natural  world.  All  is 
sterile  as  it  recedes  from  it.  May  we  not  say,  in 
like  manner,  as  to  the  moral  world,  that  fruitful- 
ness  in  holy  love  and  obedience  is  just  in  propor- 
tion as  our  principles  and  habits  place  us  under 
the  vivifying  influences  of  grace  1  The  nearer 
we  approach  to  the  centre  of  all  warmth  and  life, 
the  more  fruitful :  as  we  recede,  all  withers  and 
dies.  My  main  quarrel  with  Popery  and  with 
merely  nominal  Protestantism  is,  that  they  con- 
ceal and  exclude  the  genial  light  and  heat  of  the 
"  Sun  of  Righteousness,"  and  substitute  a  cold, 
freezing  superstition  or  indifference  in  its  stead. 
Christ  our  Lord  is  to  the  moral  world;  what  the 
glorious  orb  of  day  is  to  the  natural — the  source 
and  fountain  of  life  and  growth  and  joy. 

But  to  return  to  our  route  to  Milan — We  were 
much  surprised  to  find  more  than  one  large  church 
built  in  the  midst  of  the  fields,  with  not  a  house 
near ;  and,  therefore,  apparently  for  the  travel- 
ling peasants  in  passing  from  town  to  town.  This 
may,  perhaps,  be  an  excusable  trait  of  supersti- 
tion ;  a  trait  of  another  kind  we  discovered  at 
dinner.  The  waiter  asked  us  three  francs  each 
for  some  cold  meat,  wine,  and  fruits ;  we  hesi- 
tated.    Upon  which  an  English  gentleman  told 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


77 


us  we  had  only  to  give  him  two  francs  each,  and 
one  for  himself,  and  he  would  be  content ;  the 
rogue  took  the  money  without  a  word. 

Milan,  where  we  now  are,  is  considered,  next 
to  Rome  and  Naples,  one  of  the  largest  cities  of 
Italy.*  It  was  the  ancient  Mediolanum ;  and 
was  founded  as  early  as  Tarquinius  Priscus,  670 
years  before  Christ.  It  was  the  capital  of  Bona- 
parte's kingdom  of  Italy,  and  is  now  the  joint- 
capital  with  Venicef  of  the  Italian  dominions  of 
the  emperor  of  Austria.  It  has  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants  ;  the  outer 
waii  is  ten  miles  in  circuit,  and  it  is  one  of  the  very 
few  great  cities  not  built  on  a  river.  The  Adda 
and  Tesin,  however,  communicate  with  it  by  ca- 
nals. We  are  at  the  Royal  Hotel,  and  are  ex- 
tremely well  accommodated.  The  landlord  tells 
us  that  his  servants  have,  during  the  last  nine 
years,  perfectly  learned  the  English  taste. 

Immediately  after  our  arrival,  we  hastened  to 
see  the  celebrated  cathedral,  built  of  white  mar- 
ble, the  grandest  and  most  imposing  specimen  of 
Gothic  architecture  now  remaining ;  and  the 
finest  church  in  Europe,  after  St.  Peter's  at  Rome, 
and  St.  Paul's  at  London.  It  is  also  the  largest 
in  Italy,  next  to  St.  Peter's.  It  is  four  hundred 
and  forty-nine  feet  long,  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  wide,  and  two  hundred  and  thirty-eight  high. 
It  was  begun  in  1386,  and  is  yet  unfinished  ;  but, 
strange  to  say,  Bonaparte  did  more  to  complete  it 
in  a  few  vears,  than  had  been  done  in  three  hun- 
dred previous — or  than  will  be  done,  perhaps,  in 
three  hundred  to  come. 

This  noble  edifice,  as  you  first  approach  it, 
bursts  upon  the  eye  most  majestically.  The  fa- 
cade is  magnificent,  and  the  three  other  sides  are 
hardly  inferior.  The  immense  mass  of  perfectly 
white  marble,  of  which  it  is  built,  its  amazing 
size,  the  labor  manifest  in  its  several  parts,  and  the 
exquisite  finish  of  the  ornaments  and  statues 
which  adorn  it,  fill  the  mind  of  a  stranger  with 
admiration.  We  gamed  the  best  idea  of  the 
beauties  of  its  alabaster  walls  by  going  up  on  the 
roof,  which  is  itself  covered  with  slabs  of  marble. 
We  then  saw  quite  closely  the  fret-work,  the 
carving,  and  the  sculpture,  and  marked  the  grace 
of  the  figures,  and  the  symmetry  and  elegance  of 
each  pinnacle.  Above  the  dome  there  rises  an 
elegant  tower,  like  an  obelisk..  We  walked  up 
stairs  of  marble,  we  leaned  on  balustrades  of 
marble,  we  passed  through  galleries  of  marble  ; 
whilst  the  walls  were  literally  studded  with  sta- 
tues, and  every  niche  filled  with  its  archbishop  or 
saint — there  are  in  all  more  than  four  thousand 
figures.  The  fact  is,  as  marble  is  obtained  with 
ease  and  in  great  abundance  in  Italy,  and  admits 
of  nicer  workmanship  than  stone,  the  full  benefit 
has  been  taken  of  these  advantages.  The  in- 
terior of  the  building,  however,  is  obscured  with 
dust  and  smoke,  and  incense,  and  burning  lamps; 
so  that  it  does  not  look  nearly  so  handsome  as  the 
outside.     The  smalhiess  of  the  windows,  and  the 


*  Milan  is  about  ten  miles  in  circumference  ;  Na- 
ples fifteen,  besides  seven  large  suburbs,  and  con- 
tains 450,000  inhabitants;  Rome  is  thirteen  miles, 
within  the  circuit  of  its  walls. 

t  Milan  and  Venice  are  placed  on  a  par  with  each 
other. 


paintings  on  the  glass,  also  tend  to  increase  the 
general  gloomy  appearance. 

The  statue  of  St.  Bartholomew,  within  the  ca- 
thedral, is  considered  as  a  chef-d'oeuvre — but  the 
subject  is  frightful — the  martyr  is  represented  just 
in  the  act  of  being  flayed  alive — the  skin  hangs 
down  loose  like  a  garment  behind  him.  Two 
pulpits  in  the  choir  much  pleased  us.  They  are 
of  fine  bronze,  each  running  round  an  immense 
pillar,  like  a  gallery ;  one  is  supported  with  ad- 
mirable figures  of  Cyprian,  Ambrose,  Austin,  and 
Jerome  ;  and  the  other,  by  the  four  mysterious 
animals  of  Ezekiel.  The  tomb  of  Carlo  Borro- 
meo  is  most  splendid.  It  is  a  room  of  silver  gilt, 
and  contains  a  superb  altar,  and  the  history,  in 
bas-relief,  of  the  chief  events  of  his  life — beyond 
conception  magnificent.  The  shrine  is  of  rock 
crystal.  The  summit  of  the  tower  of  the  cathe- 
dral presents  a  beautiful  and  extensive  view  of  the 
city  and  plain  of  Milan  ;  with  its  rivers,  gardens, 
groves,  vineyards,  and  numerous  towns  ;  bounded 
by  the  neighboring  Alps,  and  more  remote  Apen- 
nines. 

Still  all  is  an  entire  flat ;  the  plain  of fair  Italy. 
In  this  respect,  Switzerland,  dear  Switzerland,  far 
surpasses  it.  As  we  approached  Milan,  a  small 
hedge  in  the  road  was  sufficient  to  conceal  the 
whole  of  the  place  from  us.  The  town  has  some 
fine  streets,  with  handsome  foot-pavements  ;  but 
as  it  is  very  ancient,  most  of  the  streets  are  nar- 
row, and  irregularly  built.  Its  superb  private 
edifices  and  palaces  are  but  few ;  in  these  it 
yields,  not  only  to  Rome  and  Genoa,  but  to  Flo- 
rence. I  observe  all  is  done  to  keep  out  the 
heat :  the  shops  have  no  windows  ;  curtains  hang 
on  the  outside  of  the  doors  ;  the  people  come  out 
chiefly  in  the  evening  ;  and  on  great  festivals 
they  ascend  the  roof  of  their  cathedral,  and  pass 
then-  evenings  in  the  coolness  which  it  furnishes. 
The  streets  have  two  single  rows  of  flags,  in  the 
middle,  for  the  wheels  of  the  carriages,  and  some- 
times double  sets.  The  windows  have  three  shut- 
ters :  first,  Venetian  ;  then  glass  ;  then,  on  the 
inside,  wood,  to  exclude  the  hot  air. 

Sunday  morning,  Sept.  14. — This  is  one  of  my 
melancholy  Sundays.  An  immense  Catholic 
town  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  souls — 
the  ecclesiastical  apparatus  enormous  ;  about  two 
hundred  churches,  eighty  convents,*  and  one  hun- 
dred religious  houses — compare  this  with  the  Pro- 
testant establishments  of  Birmingham  or  Man- 
chester, which  fall  as  far  short  of  what  such  a 
crowded  population  fairly  demands,  as  the  Milan 
establishment  exceeds  it.  We  might  surely  learn 
something  in  England  of  the  duty  of  greater  zeal 
and  attention  to  our  pure  form  of  Christianity, 
from  the  excessive  diligence  of  the  Catholics  in 
their  corrupt  superstitions. 

I  feel  a  peculiar  veneration  for  Milan  on  two 
accounts :  St.  Ambrose,  whom  Milner  dwells  on 
with  such  commendations,  was  the  light  of  this 
city  in  the  fourth  century;  Carlo  Borromeo, 
whose  benevolence  exceeds  all  description,  was 
archbishop  here  in  the  sixteenth.  This  last  I 
know  at  present  little  of ;  but  Ambrose  was  one 
of  the  most  humble  and  spiritual  of  the  fathers  of 


*  One  hundred  and  fourteen  convents  are  said  to 
have  been  suppressed  by  Napoleon. 


78 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


the  church,  two  or  three  centuries  before  Popery, 
properly  speaking,  began.  In  this  city  Ambrose 
preached ;  it  was  here  Austin  heard  him,  at- 
tracted by  the  fame  of  his  eloquence.  It  was 
here  also,  that  Angilbertus,  bishop  of  Milan  in  the 
ninth  century,  refused  to  own  the  supremacy  of 
the  Pope  ;  indeed,  the  church  of  Milan  did  not 
submit  to  the  Roman  see  till  two  hundred  years 
afterwards.  May  God  raise  up  another  Ambrose 
to  purify  and  recall  the  city  and  churches,  which 
he  instructed  thirteen  or  fourteen  centuries  ago  ! 
Nothing  is  impossible  with  God ;  but  Popery 
seems  to  infatuate  this  people.  On  the  church  of 
Milan  notices  are  affixed,  that  whoever  causes  a 
mass  to  be  said  there,  may  deliver  any  one  he 
chooses  from  purgatory.  In  the  mean  time,  this 
debasing  superstition  goes  hand  in  hand  with  se- 
cret infidelity  and  unblushing  vice. 

But  once  more  adieu.  May  God  make  me 
prize  more  the  essence  of  Christianity,  and  dwell 
less  on  those  adventitious  circumstances  which 
are  so  soon  carried  to  excess,  or  converted  to  su- 
perstition !  The  Gospel  in  its  simplicity,  power, 
holiness,  and  love,  is  all  in  all.  Here  we  cannot 
be  too  earnest,  too  fervent,  too  watchful.  Other 
things  are  valuable  as  they  promote  this,  and  only 
as  they  do  so.  If  they  obscure  or  supersede  what 
they  ought  to  aid  and  adorn,  they  become  per- 
nicious and  even  destructive. 

I  am  yours, 

D.  W. 


NOTICE   OF   ST.  AMBROSE. 

Ambrose  was  one  of  the  brightest  luminaries 
of  the  fourth  century.  He  was  born  in  the  year 
338,  and  was  educated  for  the  law.  The  emperor 
Valentinian  appointed  him  judge  at  Milan,  A.  D. 
374,  where  lie  became  renowned  for  prudence 
and  justice,  during  five  years.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  a  tumult  having  arisen  in  the  cathedral  at 
the  election  of  a  bishop,  Ambrose  repaired  thither 
in  order  to  quell  it.  An  infant's  voice  was  on  a 
sudden  heard  in  the  crowd,  "  Ambrose  is  bishop." 
The  whole  assembly  caught  the  words ;  and,  for- 
getting he  was  a  layman,  vociferated  with  one 
consent,  "  Ambrose  is  bishop."  The  judge  was 
confounded  and  alarmed,  and  absolutely  refused 
to  accept  of  the  nomination.  The  emperor,  how- 
ever, whose  court  was  at  Mdan,  at  length  com- 
pelled him  to  assent. 

His  first  act  was  to  make  over  all  his  property 
to  the  church.  He  then  commenced  a  particular 
and  most  devout  study  of  the  Scriptures.  His  la- 
bors afterwards,  as  bishop,  were  incessant.  In 
the  instruction  of  catechumens  he  employed  so 
much  pains,  that  five  bishops  could  scarcely  do 
what  he  alone  performed.  He  preached  every 
Lord's  day,  and  frequently  in  the  week.  When 
he  was  fiercely  persecuted  by  Justina  the  empress, 
a  patroness  of  Arianism,  and  was  required  to  yield 
up  his  church,  he  spent  whole  days  and  nights  in 
the  sacred  place,  employing  the  people  hi  singing 
divine  hymns  and  psalms ;  and  on  this  occasion  he 
introduced,  for  the  first  time,  the  responsive  sing- 
ing, after  the  manner  of  the  east,  to  preserve  them 
from  weariness.  Arianism  was,  by  his  doctrine 
and  his  zeal,  at  length  expelled  from  Italy.     But 


still  many  persons  of  distinction  in  the  city  re- 
mained Pagans,  especially  amongst  the  senators. 
The  tradition,  therefore,  as  to  his  cathedral,  men- 
tioned in  my  next  letter,  may  be  considered  au- 
thentic. 

His  conduct  towards  the  emperor  Theodosius 
has  deservedly  raised  his  character  in  all  succeed- 
ing ages.  The  emperor  professed  Christianity, 
and  in  the  main  is  thought  to  have  been  a  deci- 
dedly pious  prince  ;  but  he  was  of  a  passionate 
temper,  and  the  inhabitants  of  Thessalonica  hav- 
ing, in  a  tumult,  put  to  death  one  of  his  officers,  he 
signed  a  warrant  for  military  execution,  though  he 
had  previously  promised  Ambrose  to  forgive  them. 
In  three  hours  seven  thousand  persons,  without  trial 
and  without  distinction,  were  massacred.  The 
Bishop  upon  this  refused  to  admit  Theodosius  into 
the  church  of  Milan  for  more  than  eight  months, 
and  then  only  after  doing  public  penance.  Mr. 
Addison,  who  travelled  in  Italy  in  1699  and  1700, 
says,  he  was  shown  the  gate  of  a  church  that  St. 
Ambrose  shut  against  the  emperor.  No  such 
entrance  was  pointed  out  to  us,  probably  from  the 
neglect  of  our  guide ;  for  the  tradition  itself  of 
such  pieces  of  local  history  is  commonly  indelible. 

But  it  is  as  the  instructor  of  his  great  convert, 
St.  Augustine,  or  Austin,  that  I  most  cherish  the 
memory  of  Ambrose.  Austin  was  sunk  in  the 
depths  of  Manichaeism,  when  about  the  year  384, 
and  the  30th  of  his  age,  a  requisition  was  made 
from  Milan  to  the  prefect  of  Rome,  where  he  then 
resided,  to  send  a  professor  of  rhetoric  to  that 
city.  Austin  obtained  this  honorable  appointment. 
He  sought  the  acquaintance  of  Ambrose  because 
he  was  skdful  in  rhetoric.  Ambrose  received  him 
like  a  father,  and  Austin  conceived  an  affection 
for  him,  not  as  a  teacher  of  truth,  which  he  had 
no  idea  of  discovering  in  the  Christian  church,  but 
as  a  man  kind  to  him  ;  and  he  studiously  attended 
his  lectures,  only  with  a  curious  desire  of  discover- 
ing whether  fame  had  done  justice  to  his  eloquence 
or  not.  He  stood,  indifferent  and  fastidious  with 
respect  to  this  matter,  and,  at  the  same  time,  de- 
lighted with  the  sweetness  of  his  language.  But 
the  ideas  which  he  neglected  came  into  his  mind, 
together  with  the  words  with  which  he  was  pleas- 
ed ;  and  he  gradually  was  brought  to  attend  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  bishop.  Thus  imperceptibly  did 
the  grace  of  God  work  in  the  mind  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man  !  It  was  long  before  he  unbosomed 
himself  to  his  instructor.  He  tells  us  it  was  out 
of  his  power  to  consult  him  as  he  could  wish,  sur- 
rounded as  he  was  with  crowds  of  persons  whose 
necessities  he  relieved.  During  the  little  time  in 
which  he  was  from  them,  (and  the  time  was  but 
little,)  he  either  refreshed  his  body  with  food  or  his 
mind  with  reading. 

After  two  or  three  years  of  inward  conflict,  he 
at  length  gave  in  his  name  for  baptism ;  which 
Ambrose  administered  to  him,  little  thinking  that 
he  was  admitting  into  the  church  a  convert  who, 
in  the  gracious  purposes  of  God,  was  designed  to 
be  the  bright  glory  of  the  western  church,  and  the 
main  restorer  of  decayed  Christianity  in  the  world. 
There  was  a  little  chapel  lately  rebuilt  when  Mr. 
Addison  visited  Milan,  on  one  of  the  walls  of 
which  an  inscription  stated,  that  it  was  in  that 
place  that  Austin  was  baptized,  and  that  on  this 
occasion  St.  Ambrose  first  sung  his  Te  Deuin,  his 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


79 


great  convert  answering  him  verse  by  verse.  I 
lost  the  sight  of  this  curiosity  also ;  whether  from 
the  ignorance  of  my  guide  or  not,  I  cannot  say. 

St.  Ambrose  died  in  the  year  397,  in  the  57th 
year  of  his  age,  and  the  23d  of  his  episcopate.  He 
has  been  charged  with  leaning  too  much  towards 
the  incipient  superstitions  of  his  day,  and  thus  un- 
consciously of  helping  forward  the  growth  of  mo- 
nastic bondage  and  prelatieal  pride.  Something 
of  this  charge  may  be  true  ;  but  he  lived  and  died 
firm  and  unbending  in  all  the  fundamentals  of  di- 
vine truth.  He  loved  the  Saviour.  He  depended 
on  his  merits  only  for  justilication.  He  relied  on 
tiie  illumination  and  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He 
delighted  in  communion  with  God.  A  rich  unction 
of  godliness  rests  on  his  writings  ;  and  he  was  one 
of  the  most  fervent,  humble,  laborious,  and  chari- 
table of  all  Christian  bishops. 

I  know  not  whether  I  am  too  ardent  in  my  feel- 
ings ;  but  I  must  confess,  that  Zurich,  Basle,  Ge- 
neva, Milan,  and  Lyon,  are  the  spots  most  dear 
to  my  recollection  amongst  all  the  places  crowded 
with  beauties  of  another  land,  which  have  attract- 
ed my  notice  during  my  tour. 

I  need  scarcely  add,  that  in  forming  my  judg- 
ment of  St.  Ambrose,  my  guide  has  been  Milner, 
whose  incomparable  Ecclesiastical  History,  widely 
as  it  is  circulated,  is  not  nearly  so  well  known  as 
it  deserves.  For  evangelical  purity,  accurate  dis- 
crimination of  character,  laborious  research,  sound 
judgment,  decision,  fidelity,  I  know  no  book  like  it 
in  tiie  compass  of  English  theology.  As  an  ec- 
clesiastical history  it  stands  not  merely  unrivalled, 
but  ALONE. 


LETTER  XIV. 

Milan,  Sept.  13. — Chamberry,  Sept.  19,  1823. 

Sunday  at  Milan — Sunday  Schools — Punch — Vir- 
gin Mary — Noisy  Festival — Popery  like  Pagan- 
ism— Church  oi  St.  Ambrose — Library — Amphi- 
theatre of  Bonaparte  —  Unfinished  "Triumphal 
Arch — Remains  of  Roman  Baths — Mint— Po — 
Tesin — Turin — Churches  —  Palace — Ambioggio 
— Lans-le-buurg — Ancient  Arch  at  Susa — Mount 
Cenis  Road — Reflections — St.  Michael — Aigue- 
belle — Cnamberry — Life  of  Borromeo— Extracts 
from  Writings. 

Milan,  Sunday  evening,  Sept.  14,  1823. 

Mr  dearest  sister — I  have  witnessed  to-day, 
with  grief  and  indignation,  all  the  superstitions  of 
Popery  in  their  full  triumph.  In  other  towns,  the 
neighborhood  of  Protestantism  has  been  some 
check  on  the  display  of  idolatry  ;  but  here  in  Italy, 
where  a  Protestant  is  scarcely  tolerated,  except 
in  the  chapels  of  ambassadors,  you  see  what  things 
tend  to ;  Popery  has  its  unimpeded  course  ;  every 
thing  follows  the  guidance  and  authority  of  the 
prevailing  taste  in  religion. 

At  half-past  ten  this  morning  we  went  to  the 
cathedral,  where  seats  were  obtained  for  us  hi  the 
gallery  near  the  altar.  We  saw  the  whole  of  the 
proceedings  at  High  Mass — priests  almost  without 
end — incense  —  singing — music — processions — 
perpetual  changes  of  dress — four  persons  with  mi- 
tres, whom  the  people  called  the  little  bishops — a 


crowd  of  people  coming  in  and  going  out,  and 
staring  around  them  ;  but  not  one  prayer,  nor  one 
verse  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  intelligible  to  the  peo- 
ple, not  even  if  they  knew  Latin  ;  nor  one  word 
of  a  sermon  :  in  i  hort,  it  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  Pagan  show. 

We  returned  to  our  inn,  and,  after  our  English 
service,  we  went  to  see  the  catechising.  This 
was  founded  by  Borromeo,  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, and  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  diocese 
of  Milan.  The  children  meet  in  classes  often  or 
twenty,  drawn  up  between  the  pillars  of  the  vast 
cathedral,  and  separated  from  each  other  by  cur- 
tains ;  the  boys  on  one  side,  the  girls  on  the  other. 
In  all  the  churches  of  the  city  there  are  classes 
also.  Many  grown  people  were  mingled  with  the 
children.  A  priest,  and  sometimes  a  layman,  sat 
in  the  midst  of  each  class,  and  seemed  to  be  ex- 
plaining familiarly  the  Christian  religion.  The 
sight  was  quite  interesting.  Tables  for  learning 
to  write  were  placed  in  different  recesses.  The 
children  were  exceedingly  attentive.  At  the  door 
of  each  school,  the  words,  pax  vobis,  peace  be  un- 
to you,  were  inscribed  on  a  board  ;  the  names  of 
the  scholars  were  also  on  boards.  Each  school 
had  a  small  pulpit,  with  a  green  cloth  in  front, 
bearing  the  Borromean  motto,  Humilitas. 

Now  what  can,  in  itself,  be  more  excellent  than 
all  this !  But  mark  the  corruption  of  Popery : 
these  poor  children  are  all  made  members  of  a 
fraternity,  and  purchase  indulgences  for  their  sins 
by  coming  to  school.  A  brief  of  the  Pope,  dated 
1609,  affords  a  perpetual  indulgence  to  the  chil- 
dren in  a  sort  'of  running  lease  of  six  thousand 
years,  eight  thousand  years,  &c,  and  these  indul- 
gences are  applicable  to  the  recovering  of  souls 
out  of  purgatory  ;  the  prayers  also  before  school 
are  full  of  error  and  idolatry.  All  this  I  saw  with 
my  own  eyes  and  heard  with  my  own  ears  ;  for  I 
was  curious  to  understand  the  bearings  of  these 
celebrated  schools.  Thus  is  the  infant  mind  fet- 
tered and  imprisoned. 

Still  I  do  not  doubt  that  much  good  may  be 
done  on  the  whole — the  Catholic  catechisms  con- 
tain the  foundation  of  the  Christian  religion,  a  ge- 
neral view  of  Scripture  history,  explanations  of 
the  creation  and  redemption  of  mankind,  some 
good  instructions  on  the  moral  law,  sound  state- 
ments on  the  divinity  of  Christ,  and  the  Holy 
Trinity  ;  some  acknowledgments  of  the  fall  of 
man,  and  the  necessity  of  the  grace  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit ;  with  inculcations  of  repentance,  contrition, 
humility,  self-denial,  watchfulness,  and  preparation 
for  death  and  judgment.  These  catechisms  are 
not  brief  summaries,  but  rather  full  explanations 
of  religion ;  making  up  small  volumes  of  fifty  or 
more  pages.  In  the  frontispiece  of  the  catechism 
for  the  diocese  of  Geneva  is  the  following  affect- 
ing sentence,  under  the  figure  of  our  Lord,  "  Son 
amour  et  mon  crime  ont  mis  Jesus  a  mort " — a 
sentiment  which  cannot  but  produce  good.  Still 
all  is  wafully  mixed  up  with  superstition,  and  error, 
and  human  traditions ;  and  the  consequence  of 
this  mixture  is,  that  vital  truths  are  so  associated 
in  the  mind,  from  early  youth,  with  the  follies  of 
Popery,  that  even  the  most  pious  men  of  that  com- 
munion do  not  enough  distinguish  between  them. 
If  you  deny  transubstantiation,  they  suppose  you 
disbelieve  the  divinity  of  Christ ;  if  you  avow  that 


80 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


you  are  not  a  Papist,  they  suppose  that  you  are  a 
heretic,  and  have  renounced  the  faith,  &c.  It  was 
thus  that  such  eminent  Christians  as  Pascal,  Ni- 
cole, Quesnel,  Fcnelon,  and  the  great  men  of  the 
Jansenist  school,  lived  and  dijd  in  the  church  of 
Rome.  "A  voluntary  humility,"  as  well  as  the 
"vvorsliipping  of  angels," — Coloss.  ii.  18 — may  well 
be  noted  by  St.  Paul  as  an  error,  which  ought  zea- 
lously to  be  excluded  from  the  Christian  church. 

After  dinner,  at  half-past  three,  we  had  our  se- 
cond English  service,  at  our  hotel,  and  then  were 
hurried  out  to  see,  what  you  will  think  incredible 
in  a  Christian  country,  altars  set  up  in  the  open 
air  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  with  hangings,  festoons 
of  lamps,  priests  offering  prayers,  lamps  hung  on 
cords  stretched  across  the  streets,  the  houses  and 
squaies  gaily  adorned  with  carpets  and  lights  ; 
the  churches  open  and  illuminated,  and  crowds 
passing  in  and  out ;  while  priests  were  giving  re- 
lics to  kiss  to  the  devotees  who  came  kneeling  at 
the  altar  in  the  most  rapid  succession ;  and  soldiers 
were  parading  about  to  keep  in  order  the  assem- 
bled mobs.  I  never  was  so  astonished  in  all  my  life. 
Religion  was,  in  fact,  turned  into  an  open  noisy 
amusement.  Before  the  cathedral  itself,  there  was 
an  amazing  crowd  to  witness  Punch  and.  his  wife 
— literally,  Punch  and  his  wife  :  *  priests  were 
mingled  in  the  crowd  ;  and  the  thing  is  so  much  a 
matter  of  course,  that  nearly  every  picture  of  this 
cathedral,  has,  I  understand,  Punch  and  his  audi- 
tory in  the  fore-ground ;  thus  the  farce  is  kept  up 
throughout  this  sacred  day. 

And  what  is  all  this,  but  the  ceremonies  of  an- 
cient Roman  Heathenism  colored  over  with  modern 
Roman  Christianity]  The  resemblance  between 
Popery  and  Paganism  in  Italy  strikes  every  impar- 
tial observer.  The  names  of  things  only  are  chang- 
ed. There  are  the  same  prostrations — the  same 
incense — the  same  holy  water — the  same  lamps 
and  candles — the  same  votive  offerings  and  tablets 
— the  same  temples,  with  the  names  of  the  hea- 
then deities  slightly  altered  to  suit  the  names  of 
pretended  saints — the  same  adoration  of  images — 
the  same  worship  of  the  supposed  guardians  of 
roads  and  highways — the  same  pomps  and  proces- 
sions— the  same  flagellations  at  certain  periods 
— the  same  pretended  miracles.  It  is  not  a  little 
curious,  that  the  very  superstitions  which  the  ear- 
ly Christian  fathers  most  vehemently  condemned 
in  the  Pagan  rites,  are  now  celebrated  at  Rome, 
in  open  day,  as  a  part  of  Christian  worship.  As  to 
the  fact  of  the  similiarity  of  the  heathen  and  Popish 
ceremonies,  it  is  admitted  on  all  hands.  The  Ita- 
lian antiquaries  delight  hi  tracing,  in  all  simplicity, 
the  resemblance  ;  whilst  the  theologians  defend  it 
on  the  ground  of  the  necessity,  in  the  conversion 
of  the  gentiles,  of  dissembling  and  winking  at  many 
tilings,  and  yeilding  to  the  times.  And  if  at  last 
they  are  pressed  with  tne  notorious  idolatry  and 
folly  of  many  of  these  usages,  they  explain  them 
away,  precisely  as  the  heathen  did  their  worship 
of  false  deities ;  and  thus  establish  the  connection 


*  Italy  is  the  native  country  of  Punch.  A  priest 
at  Naples  once  observing  the  crowd  more  attentive 
to  Punch,  then  exhibiting,  than  to  himself  who  was 
preaching,  suddenly  seized  a  crucifix,  and  pointing 
to  the  figure  of  our  Lord,  exclaimed,  "Ecco  il  vero 
Puncinello."  He  turned  the  admiration  of  the  multi- 
tude instantaneously  to  himself. 


and  identity  of  the  superstitions.  Such  is  Dr.  Mid- 
dleton's  testimony,  hi  his  most  interesting,  elegant, 
learned,  and  decisive  "Letter  from  Rome,"  in  the 
year  1729  * — a  testimony  confirmed  by  all  impar- 
tial writers  since.f 

A  late  traveller,  for  instance,!,  says,  there  is  the 
same  strange  mixture  of  the  ceremonies  of  Pagan- 
ism with  the  rites  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion 
in  Sicily.  The  feast  de  la  Vara,  at  Messina,  is  ob- 
viously founded  on  that  of  the  Panatheneeum  ce- 
lebrated at  Athens,  in  all  the  abundant  details  of 
folly  and  impiety.  The  festivals  of  Saturn  and 
Rhea  are  also  continued  there,  under  names  slight- 
ly changed ;  and  more  than  one  ancient  Pagan 
deity,  is  now  a  Christian  saint.  The  Sicilians  show 
you  the  mountain  of  Saint  Venus,  the  well  of  Saint 
Juno,  the  chapel  of  Saint  Mercury !  \\ 

The  facility  with  which  the  Jesuit  Missionaries 
in  Japan  and  China  allowed  their  converts  to  retain 
the  rites  and  usages  of  Paganism,  is  well  known, 
and  is  entirely  consistent  with  the  above  state- 
ments. The  Spanish  Missionaries  in  America  act- 
ed the  same  part.  Popery  conceals  and  corrupts 
Christianity ;  and  then  alloys  it  further  with  the 
peculiar  habits  and  superstitions  of  each  country.1I 

But  to  pass  to  another  subject.  What  a  la- 
mentable reflection  is  it,  that  all  this  is  in  a 
Christian  country,  and  under  color  of  Christianity, 
and  even  on  the  Christian  Sabbath.  The  fact 
is,  the  Sabbath  is  almost  unknown  here  as  the 
day  of  sanctification  and  holy  rest!  Doubtless, 
in  so  vast  a  population,  there  are  many  secret 
disciples  of  the  Lord  Christ,  who  "sigh  and  cry  for 
all  the  abominations  that  be  done  in  the  midst 
thereof ; "  but  as  to  the  mass  of  the  people,  the 
Sunday  is  forgotten,  obliterated,  lost — nay,  it 
is  turned  into  the  very  worst  day  of  all  the 
week — no  idea  enters  then  minds  of  the  divine 
purpose  and  mercy  in  it,  of  which  the  Lord  himself 
speaks  by  his  prophet,  "I  gave  them  my  sabbaths, 
to  be  a  sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they 
might  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify 
them."  I  should  conceive  there  are  but  very,  veiy 
few  Bibles  amongst  all  this  population  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  souls. 

What  do  we  owe  to  Luther,  Calvin,  Zuingle, 
Cranmer,  Ridley,  Knox,  &c.  who,  under  Cod,  lived 


*  There  may  possibly  be,  in  Dr.  Middleton's  Let- 
ter, some  attacks  on  the  Popish  miracles  in  that  ge- 
neral spirit  of  incredulily  and  levity  which  seems  to 
condemn  all  miracles — and  against  which  a  young 
reader  cannot  be  too  much  on  his  guard. 

tSee  Rome  in  the  19th  century,  above  referred  to. 

t  M.  Forbin. 

II  See  "  Extract  from  Les  Souvenirs  de  la  Sidle" 
lit  supra. 

IT  In  a  report  made  a  year  or  two  back  on  the  state 
of  religion  in  the  south  of  India,  we  are  informed 
that  the  Roman  Catholics  at  Tinnevclly,  a  large 
district  under  the  Presidency  of  Madras,  besides  the 
idolatrous  ceremonies  which  the  church  of  Rome 
openly  sanctions,  "add  such  others  as  their  hea- 
thenish inclinations  and  the  customs  of  the  country 
suggest.  At  all  the  great  festivals  of  the  church 
they  conform  to  the  customs  of  the  Heathens;  except 
that  they  call  their  '  Swamies '  by  names  of  Apostles 
and  other  saints,  instead  of  Rama,  Siva,  &c.  They 
draw  the  Rutt  and  carry  their  idols  in  procession, 
exactly  like  the  Heathen.  The  distinction  of  Hea 
then  castes  is  observed  among  them." 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


81 


and  died  to  rescue  us  from  similar  darkness ! 
And  what  an  effusion  of  grace  must  have  ac- 
companied their  labors,  to  give  them  the  success 
with  which  they  were  crowned  throughout  the 
greater  part  of  Europe.  And  how  great  must  be 
the  guilt  of  those  Protestant  countries,  who  are 
suffering  the  light  of  truth  to  go  out  in  their 
churches,  and  are  substituting  false  schemes  of 
religion,  or  forms  of  cold  orthodoxy,  for  the  life- 
giving  principles  of  the  Reformation  !  May  we 
"  walk  in  the  light "  whilst  it  remains  with  us,  lest 
"  darkness  "  should  again,  in  just  judgment,  be  al- 
lowed to  "  come  upon  us  !  " 

Monday  evening,  eight  o'clock,  Sept.  15,  1823. 
— We  hired  a  voiture  this  morning,  and  drove 
about  tliis  great  city  from  eight  o'clock  till  six,  ex- 
cept taking  an  hour  for  refreshment.  We  have 
been  richly  rewarded.  I  shall  say  little  of  the 
churches.  This  place  is  the  toyshop  of  the  Virgin 
Mary:  we  observe  every  where  tradesmen  for 
selling  wax  candles,  images,  crucifixes,  ornaments 
— this  speaks  for  itself — "  Demetrius  and  his  crafts- 
men." I  will  only  mention,  that  I  observed  a 
direct  claim  of  miraculous  powers  on  the  tomb  of  a 
Dominican  rector  (miraculorum  gloria  clarus.) 
Plenary  indulgences  also  were  stuck  up  on  almost 
every  church.  Two  inscriptions,  however,  under 
the  cross  of  our  Lord,  pleased  me :  "  Having  made 
peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross  ; "  and,  "  For  the 
joy  that  was  set  before  him,  he  despised  the  shame." 
if  some  of  these  old  inscriptions  were  but  acted 
upon,  a  mighty  change  would  soon  take  place. 

The  church  that  delighted  me  most  was  that  of 
St.  Ambrose,  anciently  the  cathedral  and  where 
he  ordinarily  officiated,  founded  in  the  fourtli  cen- 
tury, on  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Bacchus.  Some  re- 
mains of  the  conquered  heathen  temple  were  seen 
in  different  stones  about  the  building,  especially  a 
bas-relief  of  Bacchanals,  a  pillar,  with  serpents, 
emblematic  of  Esculapius ;  and  the  chair  of  St. 
Ambrose,  formerly  used  in  the  idol  temple.  The 
church  is  very  old,  and  built  of  brick,  and  is  almost 
buried  by  the  elevation  of  the  ground  all  around  it. 
You  descend  several  steps  to  the  largo  court,  sur- 
rounded with  galleries  in  front  of  it,  and  then  se- 
veral more  steps  in  entering  the  church  itself. 
The  body  of  St.  Ambrose  is  supposed  to  lie  under 
the  liigh  altar.  I  confess  I  sat  with  reverence  in 
the  chair  of  this  great  luminary  of  the  church, 
and  mused  on  the  fatal  tendency  to  corruption 
in  man,  which  in  a  few  centuries  could  engraft 
on  St.  Ambrose's  doctrines,  idolatries  and  super- 
stitions almost  as  gross  as  those  which  he  over- 
threw. 

The  Ambrosian  Library,  called  after  the  name 
of  Ambrose,  was  founded  by  Fred.  Borromeo, 
cousin  to  the  famous  Borrorneo;  it  contains  thirty 
thousand  volumes.  We  were  shown  fifty-eight 
leaves  of  a  most  curious  MS.  of  the  Iliad  of  the 
fifth  century  before  Christ,  of  which  Angelo  Mai 
published  a  fac  simile  in  1810  ;  a  manuscript  Vir- 
gil, with  marginal  notes  by  Petrarch ;  a  Latin 
translation  of  Josephus,  written  on  papyrus,  of  the 
third  century ;  and  a  very  valuable  volume  of  de- 
signs by  Leonardi  da  Vinci. 

I  know  you  will  ask,  what  memorials  of  Bona- 
parte I  visited.  In  reply  I  have  to  say,  that  we 
went  to  see  his  amphitheatre,  with  which  I  was 
much  delighted.   It  is  one  thousand  feet  long,  five 


hundred  broad,  and  capable  of  holding  forty  thou- 
sand persons  ;  a  truly  Roman  work.  It  is  as  spa- 
cious, though  less  elevated  than  the  celebrated 
amphitheatre  of  Verona.  The  seats  are  made  of 
turf,  and  rise  one  above  another  on  the  sloping 
bank.  There  are  ten  rows  of  them.  They  are 
of  course  all  open  to  the  heavens.  The  amuse- 
ments are  foot  and  horse  races,  and  naval  fights ; 
the  arena  being  easily  filled  with  water,  by 
means  of  sluices.  We  much  admired  the  chariots 
made  after  the  ancient  Roman  models,  and  used  in 
the  games.  There  is  a  suitable  gallery  on  one 
side  for  distinguished  personages ;  and  the  whole 
is  surrounded  with  a  wall.  We  next  proceeded  to 
Bonaparte's  villa,  which  is  beautiful ;  and  his  gate 
of  Marengo  also,  except  that  by  a  great  mistake 
he  dedicated  it  to  "  Peace  the  preserver  of  na- 
tions." 

But  the  most  splendid  and  affecting  monument 
of  his  fame,  is  the  incomplete  triumphal  arch  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Simplon  road.  The  unfinish- 
ed stones  remain  where  they  were  at  his  death. 
The  bas-'-elicfs,  which  were  to  record  his  triumphs, 
are  covered  with  dust.  The  sheds  for  the  work- 
men are  deserted.  You  walk  amidst  the  half- 
formed  designs.  No  one  cares  to  finish  the  plan  ; 
and  a  total  obliteration  seems  to  have  effaced  the 
gaudy  fascination  which  once  attended  his  name. 
In  the  breasts  of  the  people,  however,  here  as  else- 
where, he  still  lives,  and  comparisons  not  the  most 
flattering  are  made  between  him  and  the  Austrian 
government. 

Alter  this  we  went  to  inspect  some  very  curious 
Roman  antiquities ;  a  noble  range  of  sixteen  lofty 
pillars,  formerly  belonging  to  the  baths  of  Milan. 
They  are  fine  Corinthian  fluted  pillars  of  white 
marble  of  Paros,  of  admirable  proportion,  and  plac- 
ed at  the  most  just  distances  from  each  other. 
They  are  near  the  church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  and  are 
thought  to  have  been  erected  at  a  time  when  the 
purest  architectural  taste  prevailed.  The  royal 
palace,  and  that  of  the  archbishop,  had  notliing 
in  them  very  remarkable.  At  the  mint  we  saw 
a  balance  which  turned  with  the  eight  hundredth 
part  of  a  grain.  The  practice  all  over  Bonaparte's 
kingdoms  of  marking  the  value  of  each  coin  on 
the  face  of  it,  seems  to  be  very  good.  A  franc  is 
marked  a  franc,  five  francs,  five  franc?,  and  so  on. 
The  hospitals  and  charitable  institutions,  amount- 
ing to  about  thirty,  we  could  not  visit. 

Many  of  the  women  here  wear  at  the  back  oi 
the  head  a  semi-circle  of  broad  rut  pieces  of  tin, 
something  like  a  fan,  with  two  transverse  pieces 
at  the  bottom  of  them  towards  the  neck,  like  two 
pewter  spoons  joined  by  the  handles — a  costume 
purely  Roman.  The  general  dress  of  the  women 
is  very  becoming,  with  black  or  white  veils;  if 
they  have  not  veils,  they  draw  the  shawl  over  the 
head.  One  of  the  most  peculiar  customs  at  Mi- 
lan is  the  hanging  of  the  window-curtains,  of  all 
sorts  of  colors,  not  within  the  house,  but  on  the 
outside.  It  is  singular  also,  to  observe  the  dirty 
blacksmith,  or  awkward  shoe-boy,  eating  immense 
bunches  of  ripe  black  grapes,  winch  would  sell  in 
England  for  three  shillings,  or  three  shillings  and 
six-pence  a  pound,  as  he  goes  along  the  streets. 
— But  I  must  quit  Milan,  which  though  it  has 
distressed,  has  delighted  and  instructed  us,  and 
has  more  than  amply  repaid  us  the  journey. 


82 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


Turin,  capital  of  the  principality  of  Piedmont, 
>8  miles  from  Milan,  2047  from  London  by  our 
route,  Tuesday  evening. — We  left  Milan  this 
morning  at  a  quarter  past  five,  and  in  fourteen 
hours  and  a  half  reached  this  splendid  and  far- 
famed  city.  We  left  our  friend  and  fellow-tra- 
veller, who  had  accompanied  us  from  England, 
to  go  on  to  Rome  for  the  winter.  The  two  dear 
boys  and  I  took  the  carriage  which  met  us  at 
Martigny  last  Tuesday  from  Lausanne,  and  posted 
hither.  We  had  three  horses  and  no  luggage 
(every  thing  is  at  Lausanne;)  so  that  we  have 
made  a  most  excellent  day's  journey.  The  plain 
of  Piedmont  is  of  course  level ;  it  is  also  extremely 
ill  cultivated,  and  so  marshy,  from  the  numerous 
streams  falling  into  the  Tesin  or  the  Po,  and  per- 
petually overflowing  the  country,  that  we  hardly 
saw  a  vine  the  whole  hundred  miles.  The  vil- 
lages and  towns  bear  sad  marks  of  that  want  of 
energy  and  spirit  connected  with  the  prostrate 
tendency  of  despotic  governments.  Switzerland 
far,  far  exceeds  what  we  have  yet  seen  of  Pied- 
mont, in  all  respects,  except  that  indescribable  soft 
balmy  air,  which  soothes  the  whole  frame.  The 
hedges  are  often  of  acacia.  The  grapes  and 
peaches  are  spread  in  immense  baskets  for  sale 
in  every  little  village.  We  gave  three-halfpence 
for  a  pound  of  delicious  black  grapes,  and  half  a 
franc,  fourpence  halfpenny,  for  a  bottle  of  light 
wine — for  we  did  not  stop  to  eat.  The  people 
here  are  of  a  pure  olive  color.  The  priests  jos- 
tle you  almost  at  every  corner.  The  chief  corn 
in  this  country,  and  in  Lombardy  also,  is  Indian 
wheat  and  some  rice. 

Turin,  Wednesday  morning,  half-past  eight. — 
My  boys  have  taken  eleven  hours'  sleep  to  ba- 
lance accounts.  This  city,  of  eighty-five  thou- 
sand souls,  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  northern 
bank  of  the  Po,  which,  rising  at  mount  Viso, 
crosses  northern  Italy,  and  after  bathing  the  walls 
of  fifty  cities,  and  receiving  thirty  rivers,  in  a 
course  of  three  hundred  miles,  empties  itself  into 
the  Adriatic  sea.  It  is  the  king  of  Italian  floods. 
Indeed  the  Po,  and  the  Tesin,  are  the  only  two 
rivers  famed  in  song,  which  are  on  our  route. 
The  Tesin  or  Ticino,  we  have  crossed  more  than 
once;  it  springs  from  Mount  St.  Bernard,  tra- 
verses the  Lago  Maggiore,  runs  by  Pavia,  and 
then  discharges  itself  into  the  Po. 

Ambioggio,  twenty-one  miles  from  Turin,  on  the 
road  to  Lyon,  half-past  eight,  Wednesday  evening. 
— We  are  now  actually  on  our  way  to  England, 
and  every  step  will  advance  us  nearer  home. 
Thanks  be  to  God  for  preservation  and  every 
needful  mercy  hitherto,  during  a  long  journey. 
May  we  be  brought  again  to  my  dear  Ann ;  and 
with  her  and  our  little  girl  arrive  safely  in  London ! 
I  must  now  give  you  some  account  of  our  drive 
this  morning  about  Turin.  We  set  off  at  half- 
past  nine  in  a  voiture.  In  six  hours  we  had  vi- 
sited many  of  the  chief  curiosities.  What  shall 
I  say  to  you  about  this  famous  city,  formerly  the 
gayest  of  Italy  1  It  is  a  royal  residence  of  the 
lung  of  Sardinia,  the  streets  of  which  are  built 
all  in  straight  lines,  or  radii,  which  meet  in  a 
centre.  There  are  one  hundred  and  forty-five. 
It  is  about  tour  miles  in  circuit.  The  fortifications 
were  domolished  after  the  battle  of  Marengo. 
The  houses  are  uniform,  and  many  of  the  streets 


have  arcades  on  each  side.  A  rivulet  of  clear 
water  flows  down  the  middle  of  each  street.  The 
street  of  the  Po  is  one  of  the  finest  in  Europe. 
There  is  an  uniformity  in  all  this ;  but  the  arcades 
are  so  noble,  and  the  city  so  well  built,  that  the 
appearance  is  imposing.  It  far  surpasses  Bern, 
which,  I  suppose,  must  have  been  built  in  imita- 
tion of  it.  The  character  of  the  inhabitants  is 
like  their  dialect,  Italian  with  a  mixture  of  French. 
Their  dress  is  little  different  from  that  of  the 
French.  Their  manners  are  polished,  from  the 
long  residence  of  the  court.  The  English  used 
formerly  to  remain  for  some  time  here,  before 
they  prosecuted  their  Italian  tour  ;  in  order  to 
perfect  themselves  in  the  language  and  habits  of 
the  country.  Since  the  revolution  they  more 
commonly  rest  for  this  purpose  at  Geneva.  They 
are  thus  kept  from  the  snares  and  seductions  of  a 
luxurious  court,  and  the  associations,  of  a  dissolute 
Italian  population. 

As  to  churches,  there  are  one  hundred  and  ten, 
with  about  five  thousand  priests,  monks,  &c.  Al- 
most all  the  churches  we  visited  were  filled  with 
people,  and  two  priests  officiating  at  separate  al- 
tars. At  the  Jesuits'  church,  I  inquired  if  there 
were  any  of  that  order  now  at  Turin ;  the  guide 
replied,  yes ;  that  they  were  beginning  again,  and 
were  arranging  their  affairs!  Thus  the  zeal  and 
activity  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  stdl  re- 
main unabated.  In  some  things  it  deserves  to 
be  imitated  by  Protestant  countries.  Its  ample 
provision  of  churches  and  ecclesiastical  ministers 
— its  watchfulness  over  the  people  within  its  juris- 
diction— its  care  in  visiting  the  sick — its  diligence 
in  catechising,  &c.  are  examples  to  the  reformed 
communities.  A  pure  and  spiritual  religion  ought 
to  be  the  motive  to  similar,  and  even  greater  ex- 
ertions ;  only  abating  every  thing  approaching  to 
intolerance  and  dominion  over  the  conscience. 
For  in  the  church  of  Rome,  what  is  good  in  itself, 
is  so  corrupted,  as  to  leave  a  melancholy  impres- 
sion on  the  mind.  Still,  with  regard  to  churches, 
is  it  not  painful  to  reflect  that  in  Catholic  coun- 
tries accommodation  is  provided  for  the  entire  po- 
pulation; whilst  in  many  parts  of  England,  one 
in  ten — twelve — fifteen,  is  all  that  the  churches 
will  contain.  Thank  God  this  disproportion  is 
now  by  degrees  lessening  ! 

At  the  church  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Consolation, 
we  were  solemnly  assured  of  the  miracles  which 
the  Virgin  had  wrought.  The  walls  indeed  were 
covered  with  the  votive  offerings  of  those  who 
imagined  they  had  received  miraculous  benefits. 
But  this  was  not  more  extraordinary  than  the 
chapel  of  the  Holy  Napkin,  in  the  cathedral ; 
in  which  chapel  is  preserved  the  very  napkin  in 
which  our  Saviour  was  enfolded  after  his  cruci- 
fixion, with  the  marks  of  his  sacred  blood  !  The 
servant  who  told  me  this,  did  it  not  only  with  gra- 
vity, but  with  an  awe  in  liis  voice  and  manner 
quite  unique.  He  assured  me  that  the  Pope  had 
seen  it  in  passing  through  the  city — this  was  an 
irresistible  proof ! 

What  would  the  noble  Claudius,  bishop  of  Tu- 
rin in  the  ninth  century,  have  said  to  these  super- 
stitions 1  You  remember,  perhaps,  the  name.  He 
may  be  called,  truly,  the  first  Reformer  from 
Popery.  From  the  year  817  to  839  he  continued  to 
protest  against  the  errors  of  the  see  of  Rome; 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


83 


and  kept  mem  from  being  introduced  into  Ins  dio- 
cese, in  spite  of  the  violent  opposition  which  was 
raised  agamst  him.  In  the  remains  of  his  wri- 
tings winch  are  extant,  he  declares  Jesus  Christ 
to  be  the  only  Head  of  the  Church — he  condemns 
the  doctrine  of  human  merits,  and  the  placing 
traditions  on  the  same  level  with  the  Scriptures 
— he  maintains  that  we  are  saved  by  faith  only — 
he  holds  the  fallibility  of  the  church — exposes  the 
futility  of  praying  for  the  dead,  and  the  sinfulness 
of  the  idolatrous  practices  then  supported  by  the 
Roman  see.  The  valleys  of  Piedmont,  inhabited 
now  by  the  Waldenses,  or  Vaudois,  of  whom  I 
hope  to  tell  you  something  more  particularly,  were 
in  his  diocese  ;  and  it  is  probable  those  cliurc.ies 
were  much  increased  and  confirmed  by  his  la- 
bors.* 

But  to  return  to  Turin.  At  the  university  we 
saw  many  undoubted  antiquities  of  Roman  fame 
— busts  of  Cicero — altars — household  gods — tri- 
pods, and  a  head-dress  hke  what  I  described  as 
now  worn  at  Milan, — all  exceedingly  curious. 
The  university  contains  two  thousand  five  hun- 
dred students.  There  are  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  volumes  in  the  library.  I  asked 
if  they  had  any  manuscripts  of  the  Scriptures ; 
the  librarian  stared,  and  then  showed  me  a  Latin 
Bible  of  Thomas  Aquinas  !  But  at  Vercelh  they 
profess  to  have  the  autograph  of  St.  Mark's  Gos- 
pel— the  sacred  original  of  the  evangelist — in 
Lathi ;  mistaking,  I  suppose,  the  celebrated  Codex 
Vercellensis  of  Eusebius  for  it ;  or  else  confound- 
ing Vercelh  with  Venice.f 

The  royal  palace  forms  one  side  of  an  immense 
square,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  a  fortified  tower, 
surrounded  with  a  moat,  erected  by  the  duke  of 
Savoy.  I  think  it  is  the  very  largest  square  I 
have  seen  on  the  continent.  I  was  pleasjd  to 
sec  in  the  palace  a  portrait  of  our  Charles  I.  ; 
and,  which  is  singular,  of  Calvin.  The  small  li- 
brary of  the  private  chapel  contained  a  Bible, 
Austin's  Confessions  and  Letters,  and  Nicole's 
Essays  ;  all  excellent  books.  This  leads  one  to 
hope,  that  the  same  judgment  and  piety  which 
formed  such  a  selection,  might  possibly  govern 
the  habits  and  conduct  of  some  of  the  royal  per- 
sonages for  whom  it  was  made.  It  was  the  first 
time  I  had  seen  a  Bible  in  a  private  Catholic 
library. 

The  arsenal  had  thirty  thousand  muskets  of 
English  manufacture.  We  observed  hi  the  Mu- 
seum a  stuffed  wolf,  taken  two  years  ago  near 
Turin,  after  having  killed  twelve  or  thirteen  chil- 
dren. From  the  observatory  we  had  a  command- 
ing view  of  the  city  and  neighborhood.  The 
churches  generally  are  magnificent  structures,  in 
marble  of  every  vein  and  color,  with  profuse  or- 

*  See  Milner,  Cent.  IX. 

t  Jean  Andre  Irico  published  at  Milan,  in  1743, 
the  book  of  the  Gospels  found  among  the  MSS.  of 
the  church  of  Vercelli.  It  is  supposed  to  be  in  the 
very  hand-writing  of  Eusebius,  of  Vercelli,  who 
lived  in  the  fourth  century,  and  was  a  friend  of 
Athanasius.  The  MS.  is  deposited  amongst  the 
relics,  which  are  preserved  with  superstitious  re- 
verence in  the  author's  church  at  Vercelli.  There 
is  a  pretended  autograph  of  St.  Mark's  Gospel  at 
Venice;  but  it  is  merely  a  copy  of  the  Latin  ver- 
sion. 

55— G 


naments  ;  indeed,  the  ornaments  are  too  profusely 
scattered,  and  the  city  hardly  contains  one  chaste 
model  of  architecture.  Turin  is,  however,  by  far 
more  elegant,  finished,  splendid,  attractive,  than 
the  enormous  mercantile  city  of  Milan.  We  no- 
ticed that  the  tradesmen  at  Turin  affix  their 
names  and  trades  not  above  their  shop  windows, 
but  on  pieces  of  embroidered  cloth,  extended  be- 
tween the  doors  of  the  adjoining  houses. 

We  dined  at  half-past  three,  and  at  five  came 
on  two  stages  to  tliis  small  town,  because  the  ram 
had  fallen  all  day,  and  we  were  afraid  of  snow  on 
mount  Cenis  ;  indeed,  the  rain  made  it  impossible 
to  walk  about  Turin,  and  therefore  we  left  it  with 
less  regret.  We  crossed,  at  Turin,  the  Po,  in 
going  to  the  queen's  palace  :  perhaps  no  river  has 
been  more  celebrated  by  the  poets  ;  but  where 
we  saw  it,  it  scarcely  answered  my  expectations. 
The  bridge  over  it  is  a  noble  structure. 

Thursday,  Sept.  18,  Lans-le-bourg,  at  the  foot 
of  Mount  Cenis,  on  the  French  side,  Jive  o'clock. — 
We  set  off  this  morning  from  Ambioggio,  at  a 
quarter  before  six,  and  came  in  three  hours  to 
Susa,  on  the  Italian  side  of  mount  Cenis.  Here 
we  beheld  with  admiration  the  triumphal  arch, 
raised  in  honor  of  Augustus,  by  Cottius,  king  of 
the  Cottian  Alps.  After  eighteen  centuries,  it  is 
in  excellent  preservation  ;  the  elegance,  simplicity, 
and  majesty  of  it,  surpasses  much  the  intended 
arch  of  Bonaparte.  The  inscription  is  become 
faint ;  but  it  records  the  names  of  the  twelve  na- 
tions who  remained  faithful  to  Augustus,  when  all 
the  rest  threw  off  the  Roman  yoke.  It  is  curious, 
that  the  designs  of  those  who  are  commemorated 
by  these  arches  were  simdar  :  Augustus  to  sub- 
due France,  Bonaparte  to  subdue  Italy  ;  only  in 
the  first  instance,  Italy  was  the  aggressor,  and  hi 
the  second,  France.  Bonaparte's  plan  was,  like 
that  of  Augustus,  to  keep  in  subjection  a  con- 
quered country,  by  making  a  road  for  his  artillery 
directly  across  its  natural  fortifications,  the  Alps. 
The  characteristics  of  inditary  ambition  are  the 
same  in  every  age. 

The  road  which  Bonaparte  restored  and  im- 
proved over  Mount  Cenis  was  finished  in  1811, 
six  years  after  he  had  executed  the  astonishing 
work  of  the  Simplon  :  next  to  that  road,  I  suppose, 
it  is  the  finest  in  the  world.  The  day,  however, 
has  been  so  exceedingly  rainy,  that  we  could  be 
no  judges  of  the  scenery  around  us.  The  road  is 
in  itself  admirably  good,  and  the  ascent  and  de- 
scent most  gradual.  There  are  twenty-six  houses 
of  refuge,  and  a  mditary  hospice  for  two  thou- 
sand men.  The  highest  point  of  the  Cenis  is 
about  nine  thousand  feet.  We  have  been  ex- 
tremely cold,  but  without  snow.  We  are  now 
two  thousand  feet  lower,  and  still  need  a  fire. 

We  left  Italy,  properly  so  called,  about  two  or 
three  to-day,  and  came  again  into  Savoy.  From 
Domo  d'Osola  to  Mount  Cenis,  we  have  travelled 
in  Italy  about  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles :  we 
have  had  a  specimen  of  Italian  scenery,  climate, 
manners,  religion  ;  we  have  visited  the  capitals 
of  Lombardy  and  Piedmont.  We  have  seen  Pope- 
ry in  all  its  deepest  traits  of  dominant  supersti- 
tion, just  as  we  saw  it  at  Bonn,  Franckfort,  and 
Bern,  in  its  most  restrained  and  modest  form. 
The  rapid  visit  has  been  new,  instructive,  and  yet, 
most  alarming.     The  general  imoression  is  me- 


84 


TRAVELS  ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


lancholy.  The  lower  orders  are  sunk  into  the 
grossest  superstitions  ;  the  higher  are  deeply  in- 
fected with  infidelity.  Both  are  the  prey  of  ex- 
treme ignorance,  vice,  and  superstition.  Public 
spirit,  morals,  industry,  commerce,  religion,  alike 
languish.  The  arts  have  declined.  Even  the 
temperature  of  Italy  has  become,  in  some  parts, 
less  healthy,  from  the  vast  undrained  marshes  and 
the  indolent  agriculture  of  the  farmers.  The 
French  domination  lessened  some  of  these  evils, 
whilst  it  healed  none,  and  introduced  other  mis- 
chiefs of  its  own.  A  spirit  of  turbulence  and  poli- 
tical chicane  has  begun  to  agitate  the  Carbonari ; 
but  with  no  beneficial  influence  on  morals  and  re- 
ligion. 

The  Popish  government  is  so  feeble,  that  hordes 
of  banditti  infest  the  road  from  Rome  to  Naples, 
and  venture  to  negotiate  almost  openly,  for  the 
ransom  of  their  captives.  In  the  meantime  the 
ignorance,  profligacy,  and  secret  infidelity  of  the 
ecclesiastics  increase,  and  are  undermining  the 
few  scattered  fragments  of  the  Christian  temple. 

The  Bible  is  almost  unknown.  A  friend,  who 
visited  Rome  a  few  years  back,  told  me  he  met  a 
Roman  lady  of  distinction  there  who  had  never 
heard  that  there  was  a  book  revealed  by  Al- 
mighty God  which  we  call  the  Bible  ;  and  who 
contended  for  a  long  time  with  him  that  he  must 
be  mistaken  in  supposing  that  there  was  :  "  For," 
added  she,  "  I  must  in  that  case  have  heard  of  it." 
Another  friend,  a  clergyman,  who  was  in  Italy  in 
1818,  was  asked  by  a  person  of  education  and 
respectability,  at  whose  house  he  lodged,  what 
could  be  meant  by  the  expression,  "  God  is  a 
Spirit,"  which  she  found  in  a  tract  which  he  had 
given  her.  Upon  his  explaining  this  very  first 
element  of  Scriptural  religion,  she  expressed  the 
utmost  surprise,  and  asked  liim  whether  he  was 
really  serious  in  saying  that  Almighty  God  did 
not  resemble  the  pictures  and  images  of  him  which 
the  church  had  taught  her  to  believe  all  her  life. 
The  same  friend  told  me,  that  in  a  large  company 
when  the  subject  of  Christianity  happened  to  be 
introduced,  the  most  determined  principles  of  infi- 
delity were  avowed  by  the  leading  persons  as- 
sembled. At  present,  little  can  be"  hoped  for. — 
You  have  not  only  to  convince  the  infidel  of  the 
truth  of  Christianity,  but  you  have  first  to  free  his 
moid  from  the  intimate  association  of  it  with  the 
corruptions  of  the  church  of  Rome.  His  argu- 
ments against  revelation  are  drawn  very  much 
from  these  corruptions ;  and  he  is  neither  disposed 
to  allow  your  account  of  what  Christianity  is,  to 
be  the  true  one,  nor  to  receive,  on  your  authority, 
your  arguments  in  its  favor.  He  has  no  founda- 
tion of  general  knowledge  on  which  you  can  pro- 
ceed. Surely  all  these  things  concur  in  exciting 
the  persuasion,  that  Popery  can  only  be  over- 
thrown by  the  immediate  power  of  that  God 
whose  grace  it  has  been  so  long  opposing  and 
resisting.  And  indeed  it  is  remarkable,  that  a 
sudden  unexpected  overthrow — at  a  moment 
least  looked  for — is  the  representation  given  us 
of  its  approacliing  downfall  in  the  Sacred  Wri- 
tings.— Rev.  xviii.  8.  10.  17. 

All  that  I  saw  of  Italy  entirely  confirms  the  ac- 
counts given  me  by  my  friends.  Even  as  to  poli- 
tical affairs,  discontent  seems  lurking  in  the  breasts 
of  the  people;  especially  in  Lombardy  and  Pied- 


mont. They  regret  Bonaparte  ;  and  they  wiD 
scarcely  speak  to  the  Austrian  soldiers,  of  whom 
there  are  about  eight  thousand  at  Milan  alone. 
When  I  asked  the  waiter  at  Milan  if  there  were 
any  Protestants  there,  he  replied,  "  We  are  au 
Protestants  (persons  who  protest)  now."  But  I 
indulge  too  much  in  these  remarks. 

At  Turin,  we  had  eight  hundred  and  sixteen 
miles  to  travel  to  London  by  the  road  we  propose 
taking,  and  we  have  reduced  this  to-day  by  eighty- 
four  miles.  The  village  where  we  now  are,  Lans- 
le-bourg,  is  at  the  foot  of  the  French  side  of  Mount 
Cenis,  a  miserable  village  of  near  two  thousand 
souls.  We  were  induced  to  stop  here,  because 
an  English  woman  keeps  the  inn  ;  she  married  a 
Savoyard  nine  years  ago.  She  was  a  Protestant, 
but  I  observed  her  faith  had  been  much  shaken 
by  the  total  want  of  a  reformed  worship.  I  said 
all  I  could  to  confirm  her  mind  in  the  doctrine  of 
Christ  our  Lord.  Beggary  and  misery  still  pre- 
vail. Crowds  of  wretched  deformed  supplicants 
surround  us.  We  gave  a  trifle  just  now  to  an  old 
woman,  aged  one  hundred  and  nine  years.  The 
people  here  speak  French  ;  so  that  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  communicate  a  little  more  with  the  inhabi- 
tants on  the  subject  of  religion  and  morals. 

The  manner  of  posting  here  is,  like  every  thing 
else,  on  a  wretched  footing.  All  is  under  the  po- 
lice ;  not  a  postillion  nor  a  horse  stirs  without  the 
police's  leave  ;  and  when  they  do  stir,  such  crea- 
tures— men  and  horses  too — fit  for  ploughing, 
rather  than  for  running  in  a  carriage  ;  and  men 
and  masters  too  often  ready  to  cheat  the  English. 
Sometimes  the  postillion  crams  his  legs,  shoes 
and  all,  into  lus  boots,  wliich  are  like  churns  • 
sometimes  he  thrusts  them  in  with  neither  shoes 
nor  stockings.  In  Lombardy  their  livery  was  a 
ligh*  yellow  cloth,  with  tassels  !  The  tackling  of 
the  horses,  being  chiefly  of  cord,  requires  one  o»- 
two  regular  stops,  each  stage,  for  the  purpose  o^' 
being  adjusted. 

And  now,  as  I  have  fallen  upon  the  customs  of 
the  people  abroad,  I  may  as  well  speak  to  you 
about  the  washing,  or  rather  beating,  of  the  linen 
on  the  continent.  At  Geneva,  the  apparatus  was 
most  complete.  In  the  river  a  kind  of  covered 
shed  was  built,  with  small  boards  on  the  sides 
going  down  to  the  water's  edge  ;  at  each  board  a 
woman  was  kneeling  with  a  broad  stick  or  platter, 
with  which  she  was  beating  the  clothes  as  she 
plunged  them  into  the  water — soap  is  almost  un- 
known. The  clothes  are  thus  half-washed  and 
half-torn,  and  then  charged  an  enormous  price. 
At  Milan,  and  on  the  road  to  Turin,  the  men  and 
women  in  company  wash  their  own  clothes  in  iha 
small  streams  or  puddles  flowing  through  the 
towns. 

St.  Michel,  Friday  viorning,  Sept.  19//;.,  10 
(/clock. — We  are  still  on  the  Mount  Cenis  road, 
though  we  crossed  yesterday  the  mountain  called 
by  that  name.  We  set  oft'  this  morning  just  after 
five,  and  have  come  thirty-six  miles  ;  the  day  is 
extremely  cold,  but  we  have  no  rain,  and  not 
much  fog  ;  we  have  been  able,  therefore,  to  enjoy 
the  beauties  of  the  country  through  which  we 
have  passed.  We  have  seen  nothing  as  yet  which 
equals  the  Simplon  scenery  ;  but  still,  many  parts 
of  the  road  have  been  majestic.    The  character 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


rs  wild  rocky  Alps,  with  the  torrent  of  the  Arque 
flowing  or  rather  rushing  clown  at  bottom. 

Aigue-belle,  72  miles  from  Lans-le-bourg,  4 
o'clock,  afternoon. — The  day  lias  turned  out  most 
beautiful ;  we  have  been  passing  through  the  val- 
ley of  Maurienne  all  the  morning,  and  have  thus 
made  our  way  through  the  Alps,  the  centre  chain 
of  which  we  crossed  at  Mount  Cenis.  This 
Aigue-belle  (Aqua  bella)  is  the  gate  as  it  were  of 
these  vast  natural  fortresses,  which  have  been 
surrounding  us  at  the  height  of  eight  or  nine  thou- 
sand feet.  The  villages  and  people  seem  to  be 
still  wretched,  with  many,  many  goitres.  There 
are  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants  in 
this  valley,  who  live  by  the  produce  of  cattle ; 
they  plant  no  grain,  but  a  little  oats  and  barley. 
The  torrent  spreads  desolation,  and  renders  many 
parts  of  the  valley  a  mere  marsh.  The  king  of 
Sardinia  lias  just  completed  a  military  fortress,  on 
the  spot  where  Savoy  is  nearest  Dauphiny.  The 
road  has  been  capital  and  on  a  gentle  descent, 
and  many  of  the  points  of  view  have  been  exqui- 
sitely beautiful. 

Chamberry,  Friday  night,  Sept.  I9ih. — We  have 
arrived  at  tins  capital  of  Savoy,  after  a  journey  of 
ninety-nine  miles  in  sixteen  hours.  The  road, 
after  Aigue-belle,  became  very  indifferent,  and  the 
night  coming  on,  we  were  not  able  to  enjoy  much 
of  the  fine  country  through  which  we  passed. 
The  proper  Mount  Cenis  road  extends  from  Susa 
to  Aigue-belle,  about  one  hundred  and  thirty-five 
miles,  and  is  undoubtedly  a  stupendous  work, 
though  on  the  whole  much  inferior  to  the  Sim- 
plon.  Thus  have  we  again  to  bless  God  for  all 
his  mercies  !  The  two  wet  days  have  given  my 
younger  son  a  little  cold,  which  I  trust  will  soon 
pass  off;  in  other  respects,  they  have  enhanced 
the  value  and  enjoyment  of  the  fine  weather  we 
have  been  this  day  witnessing.  We  hope  to  be 
at  Lyon  to-morrow,  at  Geneva  on  Wednesday, 
and  at  Lausanne  the  same  evening,  to  rejoin  my 
dear,  dear  family,  from  whom  I  seem  to  have  been 
separated  for  an  age. 

I  am  your  affectionate  D.  W. 

NOTICE  OF  CARDINAL  BORROMEO. 

I  was  vexed  on  returning  to  England,  and  con- 
sulting my  books,  that  I  had  been  so  long  ignorant 
of  the  history  and  character  of  Borromeo.  lie  is 
considered  by  the  Roman  Catholic  writers  as  the 
model  of  all  virtues,  and  the  great  restorer  of  ec- 
clesiastical discipline  in  the  sixteenth  century.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  satisfy  myself  in  what  de- 
gree he  was  a  true  Christian,  in  the  Scriptural 
sense  of  the  word.  That  he  was  devoted  to  the 
superstitions  of  Popery,  and  was  a  firm  upholder 
of  the  Roman  see,  cannot  be  doubted ;  but  I  have 
no  access  to  his  sermons  or  letters,  so  as  to  judge 
whether  any  living  embers  of  the  faith  and  love 
of  Christ  were  smothered  at  the  bottom  of  these 
superstitions.  His  habits  of  devotion,  his  self- 
denial,  his  zeal,  his  fortitude,  his  humility,  and  es- 
pecially his  unbounded  and  almost  unparalleled 
benevolence,  which  are  ascribed  to  him  by  univer- 
sal consent,  would  lead  one  to  hope  that,  notwith- 
standing "  the  wood,  and  hay,  and  stubble,"  ac- 
cumulated on  it,  he  was  building  on  the  true 
"foundation,  Christ  Jesus." — 1  Cor.  hi.  11,  12. 


He  was  born  at  Arona  in  1538,  in  a  small  apart- 
ment which  I  saw  behind  the  church ;  and  was  of 
one  of  the  noblest  and  most  opulent  families  of 
Italy.  At  the  age  of  eleven  he  had  several  liv- 
ings given  him  by  his  uncle  the  Cardinal  de  Me- 
dicis,  who  was  elected  Pope  in  1519.  In  his 
twenty-third  year  he  was  created  cardinal  by  the 
same  pontiff,  and  managed  the  proceedings  of  the 
council  of  Trent,  as  well  as  the  chief  temporal 
affairs  of  the  Pope,  for  some  years.  This  I  con- 
sider as  by  far  the  most  unfavorable  part  of  Bor- 
romeo's  life,  as  to  the  cultivation  of  personal  piety. 
Such  employments  at  Rome  must  have  initiated 
him  into  all  the  system  of  that  artful  and  secular 
court — and  he  who  was  intrusted  to  draw  up  the 
Trent  catechism,  must  at  that  time  have  had  little 
real  Christian  knowledge  or  feeling.  However, 
in  1565  he  left  Rome,  and  went  to  reside  at  Milan, 
of  which  he  had  been  made  archbishop. 

Here  begins  the  bright  part  of  Borromeo's  his- 
tory. He  had  now  to  preside  over  the  largest 
diocese  of  Italy,  consisting  of  not  less  than  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  parishes,  many  of  them  in  the 
wildest  regions  of  the  Alps.  He  began  by  resign- 
ing all  his  other  preferments,  by  giving  up  to  his 
family  his  chief  estates,  and  by  dividing  the  reve- 
nues of  iiis  archbishopric  into  three  parts — one  for 
the  poor — another  for  the  building  and  reparation 
of  churches— the  third  for  his  domestic  expendi- 
ture as  bishop  ;  all  the  accounts  of  which  he  sub- 
mitted annually  to  the  examination  of  his  clergy. 
He  next  totally  renounced  the  splendor  in  which 
he  had  lived  at  Rome,  reduced  the  number  of  his 
servants,  forbade  the  use  of  silk  garments  in  his 
palace,  rendered  his  household  a  pattern  of  edifica- 
tion, slept  himself  on  boards,  prolonged  his  watch- 
ings  and  prayers  to  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  wore 
an  under  dress  coarse  and  common,  and  devoted 
himself  to  perpetual  fasts  and  abstinences. 

He  then  entered  on  the  task  of  restoring  de- 
cayed discipline  and  order  throughout  his  vast 
diocese.  To  this  end  he  was  indefatigable  in  vi- 
siting liimself  every  parish  under  his  care,  held 
frequent  ecclesiastical  synods,  and  established  a 
permanent  council,  which  met  monthly  to  inspi  d 
and  regulate  the  conduct  of  the  priests.  In  tins 
manner  his  cotemporaries  agree  in  asserting, 
that  he  removed  various  scandals  which  previ  iled 
amongst  all  classes  of  the  faithful,  abolished  many 
superstitious  usages,  and  checked  the  ignorance 
and  abuses  of  the  secular  and  regular  clergy. 

His  fortitude  in  carrying  through  his  reforms, 
notwithstanding  the  violent  opposition  which  he 
met  with  from  all  quarters,  deserves  remark.  On 
one  occasion  an  assassin  was  hired,  who  shot  at 
him,  whilst  kneeling  in  prayer,  in  the  archiepisco- 
pal  palace.  Borromeo,  unmoved,  continued  his 
devotions ;  and,  when  he  rose  from  his  knees,  the 
bullet,  which  had  been  aimed  at  his  back,  but  had 
been  caught  in  the  lawn  sleeves  of  his  dress,  fell 
at  his  feet. 

His  charities  were  unbounded.  He  built  ten 
colleges,  five  hospitals,  and  schools  and  public 
fountains  without  number.  Besides  this,  he  be- 
stowed annually  the  sum  of  thirty  thousand  crowns 
on  the  poor ;  and  in  various  cases  of  public  dis- 
tress in  the  course  of  his  life,  as  much  as  two 
hundred  thousand  crowns  more. 

In  the  meantime,  his  personal  virtues,  liis  low- 


86 


TRAVELS  ON  THE  CONTINENT. 


liness,  his  self-command,  his  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
his  temperance,  his  prudence,  his  sanctity,  the 
consistency  of  his  whole  character,  (I  speak  after 
his  biographers,  whose  veracity,  I  believe,  is  not 
questioned,)  gave  him  such  weight,  that  he  not 
only  rendered  his  immense  diocese  a  model  of 
good  order  and  discipline,  after  an  anarchy  of  eighty 
years,  during  which  its  archbishops  had  not  re- 
sided, but  extended  his  influence  over  the  neigh- 
boring dioceses,  and  pushed  his  regulations 
throughout  a  great  part  of  France  and  Germany. 

Perhaps  his  conduct  during  a  pestilence  which 
raged  for  six  months  at  Milan  is  amongst  the  ac- 
tions of  his  life  which  may  lead  one  the  most  to  hope 
that  this  benevolent  and  tender-hearted  prelate 
was  indeed  animated  with  the  fear  and  love  of  his 
Saviour.  Nothing  could  restrain  him  from  visit- 
ing his  sick  and  dying  flock,  during  the  raging  of 
this  fatal  malady :  when  his  clergy  entreated  him 
to  consult  his  own  safety,  he  replied,  that  nothing 
more  became  a  bishop  than  to  face  danger  at  the 
call  of  his  duty.  He  was  continually  found  in  the 
most  infected  spots,  administering  consolation  both 
to  the  bodies  and  souls  of  his  perishing  people  ; 
and  he  sold  all  the  small  remains  of  his  ancient 
splendor,  and  even  his  bed,  to  give  the  produce  to 
the  distressed. 

The  institution,  or  rather  invention  of  Sunday 
schools,  is  again  a  further  evidence  of  something 
more  than  a  superstitious  state  of  heart.  Nothing 
could  be  so  novel  as  such  institutions  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  and  nothing  so  beneficial.  When 
we  recollect  the  public  admiration  which  has  rest- 
ed on  such  schools  in  our  own  Protestant  and  en- 
lightened country,  though  planned  scarcely  fifty 
years  back,  we  may  estimate  the  piety  of  mind, 
the  vigor  and  penetration  of  judgment,  which  could 
lead  a  Catholic  archbishop  and  cardinal  to  insti- 
tute them  two  hundred  years  ago,  and  to  place 
them  on  a  footing  which  has  continued  to  the  pre- 
sent day.  May  I  not  add,  that  possibly  some  of 
the  superstitious  usages  now  attached  to  these 
schools  may  have  grown  up  since  the  time  of 
Borromeo.  Certainly  the  indulgences  which  I 
saw  were  of  the  date  of  1609,  five-and-twenty 
years  after  his  death;  for  the  reader  must  be  in- 
formed that,  in  the  year  1584,  this  benevolent 
bishop  fell  a  victim  to  fever  caught  in  the  moun- 
tainous parishes  of  his  diocese,  which  he  was  visit- 
ing in  his  usual  course. 

As  a  preacher  he  was  most  laborious.  Though 
he  had  an  impediment  in  his  speech,  and  a  diffi- 
culty in  finding  words  to  express  readily  his  mean- 
ing, he  overcame  these  hindrances,  and  preached 
most  assiduously  on  Sundays  and  festivals  at  Mi- 
lan. His  biographers  say,  that  the  higher  classes 
in  the  city  were  offended  with  him,  and  did  not 
frequent  his  sermons  ;  but  that  the  common  peo- 
ple flocked  with  eagerness  to  hear  him.  Perhaps 
something  of  what  the  Apostle  calls  "the  offence 
of  the  cross,"  may  be  traced  in  this.  It  does  not 
at  all  lessen  my  hope  of  Borromeo's  piety,  that  the 
rich  and  great  did  not  follow  him. 

Such  is  a  faint  sketch  of  some  of  the  chief 
events  in  the  life  of  Charles  Borromeo.  My  ma- 
terials are  scanty,  especially  as  to  the  spiritual 
state  of  his  heart  and  affections.  It  is  for  God 
only  to  judge  on  this  subject :  but  charity  rejoices 
to  hope  all  things  in  such  a  cp.c-e.   1  acknowledge 


that  his  simple  and  sublime  moUo,  humilitas,  is 
very  affecting  to  my  mind.  I  trust  it  was  the  ex- 
pression of  his  real  character ;  and  that  his  sub- 
mission to  the  usurpations  of  the  Romish  church 
may  have  arisen  from  that  faulty  prostration  of  the 
understanding  to  human  authority,  which  is  so  apt 
to  engraft  itself,  under  circumstances  like  those  of 
Borromeo,  on  scriptural  lowliness  of  spirit.  Oh,  if 
he  had  more  fully  studied  and  obeyed  his  Bible, 
and  had  read  with  honest  candor  the  treatises  of 
his  great  contemporaries,  the  reformers  of  Ger- 
many and  Switzerland,  he  might,  perhaps,  have 
become  the  Luther  or  Zuingle,  instead  of,  what 
he  actually  was,  only  the  Fenelon  of  Italy. 


Since  the  publication  of  the  second  edition  oi 
these  letters,  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 
sulting, at  the  Bodleian  library,  some  of  the  smal- 
ler works  of  Borromeo  ;  from  which  I  proceed  to 
make  some  extracts. 

I.  The  following  are  taken  from  a  collection 
of  his  letters,  published  at  Antwerp,  in  1623.  I 
give  only  those  parts  which  may  serve  to  express 
his  sentiments  on  the  weightier  matters  of  re- 
ligion. 

Speaking  of  the  death  of  Bemardus  Vimercatus, 
of  the  College  of  Milan,  Borromeo  thus  expresses 
himself :  "  We  all  die,  and  are  as  water  spilled  on 
the  ground.  But  as  this  does  not  depend  on  us, 
but  arises  from  the  necessity  of  nature,  wise  men 
are  distinguished  from  the  foolish  by  this,  that  the 
foolish  bestow  this  most  brief  life  in  obtaining  eter- 
nal death ;  the  wise  in  securing  everlasting  life. 
We  all,  indeed,  die  without  difference  ;  but  to 
some  death  is  the  way  to  life  and  glory,  never  to 
end ;  to  others,  to  darkness  and  eternal  death.  I 
trust  you  will  be  strongly  excited,  by  the  death 
of  your  brother,  to  a  contempt  of  this  life  and  a 
salutary  despising  of  earthly  things.  I  hope  you 
will  each  of  you  argue  thus  :  '  Vimercatus  is  dead 
in  the  flower  of  his  age,  in  strong  health,  with  the 
prospect  of  a  longer  life  than  others  ;  I  also  must 
die  :  and  in  that  so  unknown  and  so  uncertain 
hour,  what  kind  of  life  should  I  wish  I  had  follow- 
ed 1  What  should  I  wish  I  had  done  for  the  glory 
of  God  and  for  the  safety  of  my  soul!  I  am 
grieved  and  ashamed  of  my  present  sloth,  in  a  mat- 
ter so  infinitely  important.  If  the  master  of  the 
house  had  known  at  what  hour  the  thief  would  come, 
he  woidd  have  watched,  and  not  suffered  his  house 
to  he  digged  through.  Death  impends  day  and 
night,  and  lays  wait  for  my  life.  Shall  I  not  at 
length  awake  1  Shall  I  not  take  care  of  my  soul, 
and  of  my  salvation  ] ' 

"  Whoever  of  you  is  excited  by  these  thoughts, 
(and  I  hope  all  of  you  may  be  so,)  will,  I  trust,  in 
future,  employ  the  greatest  diligence  in  walking 
loorthy  of  God,  and  in  seeking  most  eagerly  after 
the  perfection  necessary  to  an  ecclesiastical  per- 
son." 

To  archbishop  Valentia,  Patriarch  of  Antioch. 
he  writes,  "  According  to  the  zeal  for  the  divine 
glory  which  God,  the  Father  and  Giver  of  all 
good,  has  imparted  to  me,  I  love  with  much  affec- 
tion all  his  servants,  but  more  especially  those  who 
are  in  the  dignity  and  watch,  as  it  were,  of  bi- 
shops, and  who  labor  that  the  most  precious  blood 


TRAVELS    ON  THE    CONTINENT. 


87 


of  Christ  may  not  seem  to  have  been  shed  in  vain 
for  his  sheep ;  and  "who,  as  heavenly  orbs,  both 
iliuminate  the  sheep  with  the  light  of  evangelical 
doctrine,  and  excite  them  to  all  parts  of  Christian 
excellence  by  the  force  of  good  example." 

To  the  doctor  Duniius  he  says,  "  By  doing  tins, 
you  will  please  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  this  is  the 
chief  argument  of  all ;  to  whom  I  earnestly  pray 
that  he  will  defend  you,  and  fill  you  with  ail  hea- 
venly treasures." 

Of  Bishop  Alba  he  expresses  a  hope,  that  in 
dying  "he  had  flown  away  from  the  body  of  this 
death,  to  enjoy  those  blessings  which  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive." 

He  writes  to  Ernestus,  archbishop  of  Cologne, 
on  his  being  raised  to  that  see :  "  And,  although  I 
dare  not  congratulate  you  on  this  great  dignity, 
(for  some  experience  hath  taught  me  how  much 
business  and  care,  and  how  much  labor  and  dan- 
ger there  is  in  the  office  of  a  bishop,)  yet  I  con- 
gratulate the  inhabitants  of  Cologne  and  all  Ger- 
many, which  I  hope  will  be  much  assisted  by  your 
administration  of  that  church  and  your  restoration 
cf  ancient  discipline,  in  the  love  of  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  also  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  Every  thing 
depends,  believe  me,  on  your  showing  yourself  to 
be  a  bishop  who  is  blameless,  as  the  apostle  Paul 
teaches.  This  you  will  easily  accomplish,  the 
grace  of  God  assisting  you,  if  you  regard  notliing 
whatever  but  the  glory  of  God,  and  make  both 
ilie  Catholics  and  heretics  understand  this.  And 
what  can  be  considered  of  such  value,  in  any  view, 
4s  tne  welfare  of  souls  redeemed  by  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Clnist  I  We  ought  to  contemn  everything, 
and  to  give  up  life  itself,  for  the  salvation  of  one 
bouI  ;  what  then  is  to  be  done,  or  rather  what  is 
not  to  be  done,  where  the  salvation  of  almost  un- 
numbered souls  is  concerned  ]  " 

To  the  cardinal  Valdemontanus  he  speaks  thus  : 
"  Piety  rests  not  on  any  slight  foundation,  which 
distance  of  place  may  weaken,  or  length  of  time 
destroy ;  but  depends  on  God,  whose  nature  is 
eternal  and  whose  power  is  infinite,  and  is  pre- 
served by  his  favor.  I  hear  that  you  not  only 
bum  with  the  love  of  this  piety,  but  also  labor  to 
inflame  with  it  all  around  you.  And  notliing  ought 
to  be  more  interesting  to  any  of  us  than  this.  For 
this  is  to  be  a  sweet  savor  of  Christ;  this  is  to  give 
light  to  all  that  are  in  (he  evangelical  house,  which 
all  the  servants  of  Christ  are  bound  to  do ;  but 
those  more  especially  who  are  illustrious  by  their 
dignity,  as  lamps  well  filled  with  oil  and  burning 
in  splendid  candlesticks." 

To  the  bishop  of  Trent  he  speaks  thus :  "  In 
your  commendation  of  my  conduct,  I  see  that  your 
design  is  to  excite  me  to  perform  hereafter  the 
duties  of  a  pastor  with  more  diligence.  For  daily, 
i>r  rather  hourly,  I  more  clearly  perceive  how  far 
I  am  from  that  perfection  of  duty,  which  both  God 
requires  of  me,  and  the  dignity  in  which  I  am 

E laced  demands.     Wherefore,  1  again  and  again 
eseech  you  not  to  cease  supplicating  the  divine 
Majesty  for  me." 

The  following  is  his  language  to  Ascanius  Co- 
lumna,  abbot  of  St.  Sophia  :  "  The  more  I  see  in 
you  the  gifts  of  God,  the  more  ardently  do  I  de- 
sire that  you  would  contend  with  all  your  powers 
of  body  and  mind  to  glorify  God's  name,  and  bend 


all  your  schemes  to  this  one  point,  to  be  a  sweet 
savor  of  Christ.  Never  imagine  that  there  can 
be  any  thing  more  excellent  and  more  valuable, 
in  every  respect,  than  to  diffuse  into  the  minds  of 
those  around  you  the  most  sweet  and  delightful 
savor  of  Christ,  by  your  well-ordered  life  and  ex- 
emplary Christian  virtues ;  and  to  allure  them  by 
a  heavenly  and  divine  pleasure,  and  bring  them 
over  from  the  blandishments  of  this  life,  and  the 
seductions  of  earthly  tilings,  to  the  pursuit  of  eter- 
nity, and  a  supreme  love  and  delight  in  God. — 
This  ought  to  be  the  end  proposed  in  all  our  stu- 
dies, and  even  all  our  thoughts.  If  we  aim  at  any 
thing  else,  we  are  vanity  itself." 

The  last  extract  from  these  letters  is  to  the 
cardinal  a  Joiosa :  "lam  not  ignorant  that  great 
difficulties  impede  and  hinder  most  tilings  ;  but 
nothing  is  difficult,  notliing  is  arduous  to  love. 
Love  is  strong  as  death.  And  many  things  are 
more  difficult  in  the  opinion  of  men,  than  they  are 
found  to  be  in  fact.  But  what  is  arduous  or  diffi- 
cult to  a  good  pastor,  who  by  his  example  sets 
straight  what  is  crooked,  softens  what  is  rough, 
fills  up  valleys,  and  levels  mountains  ]  The  force 
of  example  is  great ;  especially  in  that  man  who 
is  adorned  with  family,  age,  riches,  connections, 
dignity ;  and  who  esteems  all  these  things  only  so 
far  as  they  serve  to  set  forth  the  glory  of  God." 

II.  After  these  various  citations  from  liis  let- 
ters, I  go  on  to  the  following,  from  the  instructions 
which  the  archbishop  published  for  the  direction 
of  his  clergy,  in  preaching  the  Gospel. 

"  '  I  charge  you  before.God,  and  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  will  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead, 
preach  the  word,'  saith  the  most  holy  Saint  Paul." 
It  is  hi  this  solemn  maimer  that  Borromeo  begins 
the  book. 

On  the  subject  of  the  dignity  of  the  sacred  mi- 
nistry, he  exhorts  the  preacher  to  consider,  "  1st. 
That  it  entirely  regards  the  glory  of  Almighty 
God,  and  the  salvation  of  souls.  '2d.  That  by  it 
the  word  of  God  is  conveyed  from  the  very  foun- 
tain of  the  divine  Spirit,  to  the  souls  of  the  faith- 
ful ;  in  order  to  water  them  with  heavenly  bless- 
ings. 3d.  That  it  treats  of  subjects  the  most  sa- 
cred and  awful  in  themselves.  4th.  That  it  was 
exercised,  not  only  by  the  most  holy  men,  not  only 
by  apostles,  but  by  the  Son  of  God  himself." 

He  afterwards  urges  him  to  meditate  on  "  the 
difficulty  of  speaking  suitably  and  with  judgment 
on  such  subjects,  that  he  may  fly  with  more  ar- 
dent desires  to  God,  who  can  supply  him  with  all 
needful  help  by  the  inspiration  of  his  Holy  Spirit." 

He  then  teaches  him  that  "  a  preacher  should 
especially  pray  to  God,  that  by  his  divine  help  he 
may  not  be  lifted  up  with  the  pursuit  of  his  own 
praise  and  glory  ;  not  even  with  the  thought  of  it ; 
but  may  take  no  account  of  it  whatever." 

He  then  says,  "Let  the  preacher  fly  as  a  pest 
all  ambition  and  all  suspicion  of  it.  Let  him  not 
aim  at,  or  desire,  a  more  distinguished  place  for 
preaching  hi ;  but  remember  that  Jesus  Christ  the 
Lord,  who  was  sent  down  from  heaven  to  teach 
mankind,  preached  in  villages,  and  houses,  and 
fields." 

He  next  gives  directions  for  his  conduct:  "The 
preacher  should  do  every  thing  constantly  and 
boldly  for  the  glory  of  Christ  and  the  salvation  of 
souls.     He  should  be  inflamed  with  the  love  of 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


God ;  and  not  only  patiently  bear  reproaches, 
threats,  and  contumely ;  but  endure,  if  need  be, 
death  itself.  He  should  offer  and  commend  him- 
self, as  it  were,  to  the  divine  illumination ;  and, 
shutting  up  his  senses,  acquiesce  and  be  content 
with  the  infinite  love  ai.d  immense  charity  of  the 
iightof  God."* 

As  to  the  preparation  of  his  sermons,  "the 
preacher  will  understand  that  his  office  doth  not 
rest  on  human  learning  or  eloquence,  but  on  a  di- 
vine power  and  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and 
he  will  take  most  diligent  care  that  he  does  not 
grieve  the  Holy  Spirit  by  touching  the  work  of 
apostles  and  of  the  Lord  Jesus  himself,  when  in- 
fected with  any  mortal  sin.  But  he  will  purify 
his  conscience  from  all  sin  by  the  sacrament  of 
penitence,  before  he  begins  to  read  the  word  of 
God.  And  he  will  consider,  that  he  has  much  to 
fear  that  most  solemn  threat  of  the  prophet,  But 
unto  the  wicked,  saith  God,  what  hast  thou  to  do  to 
declare  my  statutes,  or  that  thou  shouldest  take  my 
covenant  in  thy  mouth,  seeing  thou  hatest  instruc- 
tion and  easiest  my  words  behind  thee? 

"Before  he  begins  to  study  his  discourse,  he 
will  make  a  solemn  prayer  to  God.  He  will  then 
first  understand  the  subject  on  which  he  is  about 
to  preach ;  and  then  meditate  upon  it,  and  strive 
so  to  affect  himself  with  it,  that  he  may  excite 
the  minds  of  his  hearers  to  the  same  pious  affec- 
tions. 

"  Before  he  ascends  the  pulpit,  let  him  suppose 
that  he  has  before  him  a  company  of  hungry  men 
waiting  for  food  from  his  preacliing ;  or  a  compa- 
ny of  lame,  paralytic,  dropsical,  dumb,  and  blind 
persons,  seeking  for  cure  from  him.  Considering 
viiis,  let  him  so  manage  every  part  of  his  discourse 
as  to  suit  their  cases,  and  advance  their  welfare 
and  cure,  by  advice,  counsel,  and  all  sorts  of  re- 
medies. 

"  Or  let  him  consider  himself  as  a  fisher  of  men, 
and  remember  that  he  ought  to  strain  every  nerve 
so  to  fish  that  he  may  fill  the  evangelical  net,  as 
it  were,  with  perishing  souls,  and  gain  them  to 
Christ  the  Lord. 

"  After  preaching,  he  should  spend  some  time 
in  prayer,  before  he  takes  any  refreshment. 

"  As  to  the  times  and  places  of  preaching,  he 
should  preach  every  where,  and  at  all  times ;  but 
especially  every  Sunday  and  holy-day  ;  and  daily 
during  advent  and  lent." 

III.  I  might  finish  by  giving  some  extracts  from 
the  "  constitutions  and  decrees  made  by  the  pro- 
vincial synod  of  Milan  under  the  authority  of  Bor- 
romeo,"  and  published  at  Venice  in  1566 ;  but  I 
abstain ;  I  will  only  notice  that  it  orders  every 
bishop  to  preach  continually,  unless  liindered  by 
illness  ;  and  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  each  parish  in  his  diocese  ;  it  directs  that 
schools  for  educating  the  clergy  should  be  formed, 
and  a  tenth  part  of  all  benefices  be  devoted  for 
that  purpose;  and  that  those  destined  for  the 
church,  should  read  the  Bible  diligently. 

These  extracts  from  the  various  writings  of 
Borromeo  are,  to  my  mind,  I  confess,  charming. 


*  The  allusion  perhaps  is  to  1  John,  i.  5.  "  God  is 
lifrht,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  ali ;"  or,  Psalm 
xxxvi.  9.  "  With  Thee  is  the  fountain  of  life,  and 
in  thy  light  shall  we  see  light." 


They  place  him  in  a  new  light.  Instead  of  the 
dazzling  glare  of  panegyric  as  to  his  outward  his- 
tory, they  exhibit  him  in  the  soft  lustre  of  the 
Christian,  the  pastor,  the  bishop,  as  to  the  interior 
of  his  heart.  They  open  to  us  the  fountain  of 
grace  and  piety,  from  which  his  extraordinary  be- 
nevolence, diligence,  and  humility  flowed.  They 
form  another  proof,  if  any  were  wanting,  that  the 
peculiar  motives  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  are  alone 
capable  of  producing  uniform,  active,  self-denying 
obedience. 

What  compassion  for  the  souls  and  bodies  of 
men,  what  tender  affection,  what  love  to  Christ, 
what  solemnity  of  mind  as  to  death,  what  consci- 
entiousness, what  deep  impressions  of  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  sacred  ministry,  what  fear  of  pride 
and  ambition,  what  fervor  of  prayer,  what  know- 
ledge of  the  Scriptures,  what  dependance  on  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit — in  a  word,  what  attain- 
ments in  the  divine  hfe  do  these  extracts  betoken  I 

If  only  a  few  words  were  altered,  and  the  great 
doctrine  of  Protestantism,  justification  before  God 
in  the  merits  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  were  ex- 
plicitly stated,  they  would  be  in  the  most  complete 
sense  evangelical.  Still,  as  they  are,  they  clear- 
ly prove  that  Borromeo  was  not  only  the  most  la- 
borious and  beneficent,  but  the  most  enlightened 
and  spiritual  prelate  of  his  age  in  the  church  of 
Rome. 

I  do  not  apologize  for  the  length  into  which  I 
have  been  drawn  in  communicating  to  the  Pro- 
testant reader  the  pleasure  which  1  derived  my- 
self from  the  discovery  of  such  a  character  as  Bor- 
romeo. To  trace  the  identity  of  true  religion 
under  the  most  unfavorable,  and  almost  contradic- 
tory appearances,  is  an  office  of  charity  so  delight- 
ful, as  well  as  profitable,  that  nothing  during  my 
whole  tour  has  disclosed  to  me  a  more  fruitful 
source  of  instruction  and  joy. 


LETTER  XV. 

Pont-beau-voisin,  Sept.  20. — Lyon,  Sept.  28, 1823. 

Chamberry  —  A  Bookseller  —  Pont-beau-voisin  — 
Roads — Bishop  Berkeley — Sunday  at  Lyon — Ca- 
tholic Sermon  —  Gibbon  —  Rivers  Saone  and 
Rhone — Fourviere— Hotel  de  Ville — Revolution- 
ary Horrors  at  Lyon — Speech  of  Emperor  Clau- 
dius— Roman  Amphitheatre — Martyrs  of  Lyon — 
Cimetiere— Arsenal — Death  of  Rev.  S.  Arnott 
— Chamberry  Peasant — Notice  of  Martyrs  in  Se- 
cond Century. 

Lyon,  capital  of  the  department  of  the  Rhone, 
Saturday  night,  Sept.  20th,  1823,  about 
789  miles  out  from  Lausanne,  and  about 
2302  from  London,  by  our  route. 

My  dearest  sister — Chamberry,  which  we 
left  this  morning,  contains  nearly  twelve  thousand 
souls.  It  is  the  capital  of  the  duchy  of  Savoy, 
situated  in  a  fruitful  valley  on  the  borders  of 
Dauphiny,  at  the  conflux  of  the  rivers  L'Aisse  and 
D  Albans.  It  has  a  cathedral  and  three  other 
churches,  two  convents,  and  about  one  hundred 
priests.  I  went  this  morning  into  the  cathedral : 
it  is  dirty  and  mean,  both  within  and  without.  I 
observed  in  it  three  boxes  for  charity :  one  of  them 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


89 


for  souls  in  purgatory  (I  give  it  word  for  word ;) 
the  second  for  repairing  the  church:  the  third  for 
offerings,  without  specifying  the  object — no  box 
for  the  poor.  I  asked  a  person  who  called  himself  a 
bookseller  (who,  by  the  bye,  was  the  only  one  in 
the  town,  and  actually  had  only  one  book  to  sell, 
a  Code  of  French  laws)  about  the  different  insti- 
tutions for  religion.  The  man's  wife,  who  was 
standing  by,  replied,  they  had  an  archbishop,  who 
had  been  simply  bishop  in  Bonaparte's  time,  but 
who  was  now  archbishop  of  Chamberry,  and 
prince  bishop  of  Geneva !  I  stared.  She  said  ho 
was  bishop  of  the  Christians  at  Geneva.  I  asked 
her  what  she  called  the  twenty-five  thousand  Pro- 
testants who  inhabited  that  town  ?  She  answered, 
they  were  not  Christians.  I  told  her,  then  I  was 
not  one  myself;  she  begged  pardon,  and  said  she 
meant  apostolical  Roman  Christians.  I  told  her 
I  believed  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  in  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord,  and  in  the  doctrine  of  the  apostles, 
and  therefore  I  was  a  good  apostolical  Christian, 
though  not  a  Papist. 

I  give  this  as  a  trait  of  character  in  a  bettcrmost 
sort  of  person.  It  is  the  natural  effect  of  the  doc- 
trine which  excludes  from  everlasting  salvation  all 
who  belong  not  to  the  church  of  Rome.  Bigotry 
and  persecution  follow  as  matters  of  course.  I 
must  say,  however,  that  I  have  met  with  many 
Roman  Catholics  during  my  tour,  who  expressly 
assured  me  that  they  disbelieved  this  uncharitable 
tenet.  One  lady  told  me  she  had  informed  her 
priest  in  confession,  that  she  never  could  receive 
it.  Let  only  the  holy  doctrines  and  holy  lives  of 
Protestants  be  more  and  more  known  by  the  Ca- 
tholics, and  charity  must  and  will  overthrow  so 
fatal  a  dogma.  Indeed,  if  the  Holy  Scriptures  are 
once  generally  read,  this  and  other  doctrines  of 
Popery  must  by  degrees  fall,  in  spite  of  Popes  and 
eouncils.  We  left  Chamberry  a  quarter  before 
eight. 

We  have  now  come  seventy-two  miles,  to  this 
ancient  and  noble  city  of  Lyon.*  We  entered 
France  at  twelve,  at  Pont-beau-voisin.  We  had 
amazing  difficulty  in  getting  through  the  custom- 
house. I  had  left  some  necessary  papers  at  Lau- 
sanne. The  officers  were  however  civil,  and  after 
hearing  my  story,  at  length  allowed  us  to  proceed. 
I  believe  we  were  detained  four  hours.  Travel- 
lers cannot  be  too  particular  in  carrying  their  pa- 
pers with  them  wherever  they  go.  The  road  was, 
in  two  parts  of  it,  perhaps  as  fine  as  any  thing  we 
have  seen.  The  passages  of  les  Echelles  and  of 
la  Chaille  are  most  terrific,  from  the  immense  rocks 
through  which  they  have  been  made,  and  the  fine 
scenery  which  surrounds  them.  These  roads  were 
begun  by  a  former  duke  of  Savoy  in  1670,  and  at 
three  different  times  resumed  by  Bonaparte  without 
being  completed.  The  present  king  of  Sardinia 
has  this  last  year  or  two  just  accomplished  the 
whole ;  in  fact,  this  Mount  Cenis  road,  in  general, 
seems  to  have  been  a  work  gradually  carried  on 
from  the  days  of  Augustus,  that  is,  during  eighteen 
centuries — a  space  of  time  sufficiently  long.  It  is 
but  a  few  years  ago,  that  three  or  four  oxen  were 
regularly  yoked  to  every  carriage  to  aid  the  horses 
in  the  ascent  of  les  Echelles. 


*  I  observe  it  is  generally  spelt  Lyons :  but  in  the 
town  itself  they  carefully  omit  the  final  5. 


I  remember  bishop  Berkeley  gives  a  frightful 
account  of  his  passage  on  new-year's  day,  1714. 
He  says  he  was  carried  in  an  open  chair  by  men 
used  to  scale  these  craggy  and  dangerous  rocks, 
and  that  his  life  often  (Upended  on  a  single  step. 
Bonaparte  put  an  end  to  this  by  making  a  tunnel, 
nine  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  directly  through  the  op- 
posing rock.  At  another  part  of  the  route,  the  tra- 
vellers were  let  down  in  a  kind  of  sledge,  at  a  most 
fearful  rate.  Much  even  now  remains  to  be  done 
between  Lyon  and  Turin ;  as  the  road  for  many 
stages  is  exceedingly  bad.  The  towns  and  vil- 
lages hi  Dauphiny  are  very  miserable.  The  priests 
have  mocked,  as  it  were,  this  misery,  by  building, 
in  one  or  two  of  the  market-places,  splendid  gilt 
crucifixes,  which  are  in  deep  contrast  with  the 
poverty  and  wretchedness  of  every  house  witliin 
view. 

Sunday,  one  o'clock  at  noon. — I  have  had  to-day 
the  singular  pleasure  of  attending  a  Protestant 
French  church.  It  was  really  quite  delightful  to 
hear  the  reader  begin  the  worship  of  God  by  read- 
ing distinctly  two  chapters  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment in  French,  so  as  to  be  understood  by  all  the 
people.  The  singing;  the  Ten  Commandments, 
word  for  word  as  they  are  in  the  Bible ;  the  sum- 
mary of  the  Law,  exactly  as  it  is  in  Matt.  xxii. 
37 — 39 ;  a  public  Baptism ;  the  confession  of  sins ; 
the  prayer ;  the  sermon,  all  charmed  me  as  the  spi- 
ritual, reasonable,  and  instructive  worship  of  God. 
Especially  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  was  so 
simple,  so  authoritative,  so  majestic,  so  edifying ; 
I  do  not  wonder  the  Reformers  laid  so  much  stress 
on  it.  Indeed,  I  cannot  express  the  striking  dif- 
ference between  this  simple  Protestant  worship 
and  the  farce,  show,  and  mummery  of  Popery  at 
Martigny  and  Milan.  All  minor  differences  be- 
tween Protestant  churches,  agreeing  in  the  faith 
and  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  sink  into  nothing 
before  the  frightful  idolatry  and  superstition  of 
Popery.  Disputes  about  circumstantials  are  im- 
pertinent—  divisions  odious — love  should  unite 
every  heart,  where  main  and  necessary  Scripture 
truth  is  felt  and  acknowledged.  Indeed,  one 
great  reason  of  my  hurrying  on  to  Lyon  against 
to-day,  was  to  enjoy  once  more  the  unspeakable 
blessing  of  the  pure  public  worship  of  Almighty 
God. 

The  sermon  was,  so  far  as  I  could  hear  (for  I 
sat  at  a  distance,  and  the  church  was  crowded,) 
pretty  good,  on  an  important  topic,  death ;  with 
many  striking  parts.  I  regret  extremely  to  add, 
that  there  is  but  one  service  here  on  the  Sunday, 
instead  of  three,  or  at  the  least,  two,  which  there 
surely  ought  to  be,  in  an  immense  city  like  this. 
In  walking  to  church  also,  we  were  distressed  to 
see  the  shops  all  half  or  a  third  part  open,  and 
customers  going  in  and  out,  with  crowds  of  per- 
sons at  the  coffee-houses.  At  MJan,  the  shops 
were  universally  shut. 

But  allow  me,  my  dear  sister,  to  turn  to  another, 
and,  to  me,  more  solemn  topic;  this  day  twenty- 
two  years,  I  was  admitted  into  the  sacred  ministry 
of  Christ's  church.  What  reflections  crowd  upon 
my  mind !  May  I  have  grace  to  remember  more 
and  more  the  vows  I  then  made ;  the  duties  to  my 
Saviour  and  to  his  flock,  which  1  then  undertook; 
the  unnumbered  errors  and  defects  of  which,  alas! 
I  am  too  conscious,  (especially,  as   archbishop 


90 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


Usher  said  on  his  dying  bed,  my  sins  of  omission  ;) 
the  ceaseless  mercies  which  I  have  received,  and 
the  short  time  which  remains  for  me  to  labor  for 
my  own  salvation,  and  the  salvation-  of  others ! 
Here  I  am,  travelling  for  my  health,  in  a  foreign 
land  ;  thanks  be  to  God,  that  health  is  wonderfully 
restored  ;  so  wonderfully,  that  I  am  not  like  the 
same  person.  But  then  I  have  been  silent  now 
fourteen  Sundays,  and  the  future  is  all  uncertain. 
May  God  enable  me,  if  I  am  permitted  to  return 
home,  to  feel  more  lively  compassion  for  my  fel- 
low-creatures, to  be  more  dead  to  worldly  things, 
and  to  labor  more  abundantly  in  the  sacred  vine- 
yard ;  and  may  he  pour  out  his  Holy  Spirit  upon 
my  kind  friends  who  are  supplying  my  lack  of  ser- 
vice ;  yea,  upon  the  universal  church  !  Time 
carries  us  away  as  a  flood.  Souls  are  passing  in- 
to eternity.  Judgment  is  near.  All  is  mere  tri- 
fling compared  with  eternal  salvation. 

Ten  o'clock,  Sunday  night. — My  younger  son 
lias  been  suffering  all  day  with  cold  in  his  teeth. 
There  is  no  fever,  no  head-ache,  nothing  but  a 
rheumatic  affection  of  the  front  teeth ;  still  this  is 
very  painful  to  him,  and  very  embarrassing  to  me, 
being  without  my  dearest  wife  ;  and  thus,  it  comes 
to  me  as  a  chastisement  and  admonition  from  my 
Heavenly  Father.  How  many,  many  mercies 
have  we  received  during  our  long  journey,  and 
how  little  grateful  have  we  been  for  them  !  May 
this  indisposition  work  in  him  and  in  me  the 
"  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness."  And  on  every 
occasion  of  suffering,  slight,  as  well  as  severe,  may 
I  ever  be  disposed  to  say,  "  It  is  the  Lord,  let  him 
do  what  seemeth  him  good." 

At  four  this  afternoon,  I  left  my  elder  son  to 
nurse  his  brother;  and  went  to  a  Catholic  church 
to  hear  a  celebrated  preacher  of  this  town.  I 
placed  myself  close  under  the  pulpit,  so  that  I  un- 
derstood almost  the  whole  of  the  sermon  ;  it  was 
an  able,  energetic,  striking  discourse ;  not  one 
word  of  Popery,  properly  speaking,  (which  was 
the  case  also,  as  I  have  said,  at  Martigny,)  but 
defective,  general,  unevangehcal,  and  therefore 
unscriptural  and  dangerous.  His  subject  was  the 
happiness  of  heaven ;  he  drew  a  striking  picture 
of  the  glory,  power,  happiness,  honor,  &c,  of  the 
heavenly  state.  His  immediate  point  w^s  to  prove, 
from  Scripture  and  experience,  how  much  glory, 
power,  happiness,  &c,  God  bestows  on  his  ser- 
vants, and  even  enemies,  here  on  earth  ;  and  then 
to  infer  the  infinitely  superior  glory  of  heaven.  He 
cited  admirably  the  cases  of  Moses,  Abraham, 
Joshua,  David,  Peter,  &c.  What  then,  you  say, 
were  the  defects  ?  The  heaven  he  described  was 
with  the  Saviour,  without  pardon,  without  holiness ; 
his  heaven  was  an  intellectual,  poetical,  sublime 
sort  of  paradise ;  he  took  for  granted,  too,  that  all 
were  in  the  right  way  to  it.  Thus,  almost  all  the 
great  ends  of  preaching  were  lost,  and  worse 
than  lost. 

Still  the  sermon  did  me  good,  because  much  of 
it  was  true,  as  far  as  it  went ;  and  I  was  glad  to 
hear  a  priest  stand  on  Protestant  ground,  and  ap- 
peal to  the  Bible,  and  the  Bible  only.  Besides, 
my  long  absence  from  home  has  disposed  me  to 
receive  with  candor  and  delight  any  thing  that 
approaches  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  in  any  part  of 
a  discourse.  What  the  apostle  calls  "  itching 
ears,"  are  soon  cured,  when  a  man  for  three  or 


four  months  has  scarcely  met  with  a  single  edify- 
ing, solid,  scriptural  sermon.  England,  alas  !  too 
often  undervalues  and  abuses  her  abundant  pri- 
vileges. The  immense  church  was  crowded  to 
excess,  and  hung  on  the  lips  of  the  preacher.  He 
preached  from  memory.  His  manner  was  serious, 
vehement,  impassioned.  He  so  affected  the  peo- 
ple that,  at  the  pauses,  positively  nearly  the  whole 
congregation  were  in  tears.  I  really  think  we  have 
much  to  learn  at  home  as  to  our  manner  of  preach- 
ing ;  the  two  Catholic  sermons  1  have  heard,  were 
incomparably  superior  to  most  of  our  English  ones, 
in  careful  preparation,  intelligible  arrangement, 
forcible  application  to  the  conscience,  fervent  and 
earnest  delivery  ;  in  short,  in  the  whole  manner 
of  the  address. 

Lyo?i,  Tuesday,  September  23. — We  are  still 
here  ;  my  dear  son,  though  much  better,  cannot 
travel.  I  have  ealled  in  the  first  physician  in  the 
town ;  for  there  are  no  apothecaries  here  as  in 
England.  The  ordinary  fee  is  three  francs  a  visit ; 
but  five  or  six  are  expected,  my  banker  tells  me, 
of  an  Englishman.  The  physician  writes  pre- 
scriptions, which  are  made  up  at  the  druggist's  or 
pastry-cook's — for  half  his  medicines  are  syrups 
and  sweetmeats.  I  have  sent  his  brother  by  the 
Diligence  to  Geneva,  that  he  may  go  on  to  Lau- 
sanne and  fetch  the  rest  of  the  family  to  me.  By 
returning  this  way  home,  they  will  go  very  little 
out  of  their  route,  and  they  will  also  see  Lyon,  the 
second  city  of  France.  I  am  obliged,  however, 
by  this  plan,  to  break  my  engagements  with  my 
kind  friends  at  Geneva,  which  I  had  fixed  for 
Thursday,  the  25th;  and  I  much  regret  that  I 
shall  not  revisit  Lausanne. 

I  omitted  to  see  several  things  there ;  especially 
the  house  and  library  of  Gibbon.  My  friends  told 
me  that  the  library  was  locked  up — no  bad  thing 
for  the  world  ;  and  that  the  terrace  and  summer- 
house,  where  he  completed  his  history  ki  1787, 
were  falling  into  decay.*     He  left,  like  all  other 

*  The  manner  in  which  he  records  the  termina- 
tion of  his  work  would  be  more  interesting,  if  the 
associations  raised  in  the  Christian's  mind  could  be 
separated  from  the  recollection  of  it. 

"  It  was  on  the  day,  or  rather  night,  cf  the  27th  ot 
June,  1787,  between  the  hours  of  eleven  and  twelve, 
that  I  wrote  the  last  line  of  the  last  page,  in  a  sum- 
mer-house in  my  garden.  After  laying  down  my 
pen,  I  took  several  turns  in  a  bercean,  or  covered 
walk  of  acacias,  which  commands  a  prospect  of  the 
country,  the  lake,  and  the  mountains.  The  air  was 
temperate,  the  sky  was  serene,  the  silver  orb  of  the 
moon  was  reflected  from  the  waters,  and  all  nature 
was  silent.  I  will  not  dissemble  the  first  emotions 
of  joy  on  the  recovery  of  my  freedom,  and,  perhaps, 
the  establishment  of  my  fame." 

This  last  point  was,  in  his  view,  the  great  object 
of  life.  Hope,  beyond  death,  he  had  none.  He  re- 
luctantly confesses  in  another  place,  that  "  the  ab- 
breviation of  time  and  the  failure  of  hope,  tinged 
with  a  browner  shade  the  evening  of  life."  "  The 
present,"  he  elsewhere  acknowledges,  "  is  a  fleeting 
moment,  the  past  is  no  more ;  and  our  prospect  of 
futurity  is  dark  and  doubtful."  His  attempts  to  per- 
suade himself  that  death  was  distant,  are  apparent 
from  the  following  passage: — "  This  day  may  pos- 
sibly be  my  last;  but  the  laws  of  probability,  so  true 
in  general,  so  fallacious  in  particular,  still  allow 
about  fifteen  years." 

He  wrote  this  sentence  some  time  in  the  year  1788 ; 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


91 


daring  infidels,  a  refutation  of  his  principles  behind 
him  in  the  pride,  impurity,  vanity,  and  extreme  sel- 
fishness of  his  moral  character.  As  to  fidelity  and 
trust-worthiness  in  Ids  history,  it  lias  been  demon- 
strated that  his  statements  of  facts  cannot  at  all  be 
relied  on,  where  Christianity  is  concerned.  After 
these  fatal  deductions,  to  admit  that  he  had  great 
talents  and  powers,  is  only  to  augment  the  melan- 
choly impression  with  which  a  Christian  adverts 
to  the  name  of  a  man  who  has  contributed  so 
largely  to  corrupt  the  first  sources  of  historical 
truth. 

Wednesday. — My  eldest  son  set  off  in  the  mail 
yesterday,  at  a  quarter  before  three,  for  Geneva 
and  Lausanne.  I  sit  with  my  remaining  sick  boy, 
read  to  him,  talk  with  him,  amuse  him,  give  him 
Jus  medicines,  and  yet  contrive  to  take  one  or 
two  walks  about  the  town  and  neighborhood  in 
the  course  of  the  day.  I  can,  however,  at  present 
give  you  only  a  very  inadequate  account  of  Lyon. 
It  contains  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand 
souls.  This  is  immense  for  a  city  not  the  capital 
of  the  country.  It  was  founded  by  the  Romans 
about  forty-two  years  before  the  Christian  sera, 
and  was  called  Lugdunum.  It  is  finely  situated 
at  the  confluence  of  the  Saone  and  the  Rhone, 
which  flow  nearly  parallel  for  some  time  before 
their  junction,  and  afford  room  for  this  noble  city 
to  rise  on  the  tongue  of  land  enclosed  between  the 
two  rivers  as  they  approach.  Then-  channels  are 
nearly  equal  in  breadth,  but  the  Rhone  contains 
the  greater  volume  of  water,  and  rolls  on  to  the 
Mediterranean.  It  is  just  as  if  London  had  two 
rivers  like  the  Thames,  between  which  its  chief 
buddings  and  streets  were  raised. 

Over  these  rivers  the  Lyonese  have  erected 
nine  bridges,  from  which  there  are  fine  views  of 
the  interior  of  the  town.  On  the  banks  they  have 
formed  delightful  quays  and  walks.  This  is  an 
advantage  peculiar  to  Lyon.  You  never  saw  such 
beautiful  promenades  for  a  mile  or  two  together,  on 
the  sides  both  of  the  Saone  and  the  Rhone,  as  there 
are  here.  Some  of  them  are  bordered  with  rows 
of  trees,  and  are  little  inferior  to  those  of  Paris. 
The  spot  is  pointed  out  by  the  guides  where  Han- 
nibal is  supposed  to  have  crossed  the  Rhone  in 
his  celebrated  invasion  of  Italy.  The  body  of  the 
old  town  is  dirty,  narrow,  dark,  miserable ;  but 
the  new  parts  are  open,  spacious,  elegant.  We 
are  at  the  Hotel  du  Providence  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Charite.  On  our  right  hand,  we  can  see  the 
Rhone  ;  on  our  left,  there  is  the  noble  square,  or 
place  of  Belle  Cour,  which  is  amongst  the  finest  in 
Europe;    it  has  walks  of  Linden  trees  on  one 


but  instead  of  fifteen  years  of  life,  he  expired  almost 
suddenly  on  the  Kith  of  January,  171)1,  after  scarcely 
a  third  part  of  the  expected  time  had  elapsed — and 
this  of  a  disease  which  he  had  studiously  concealed 
from  others,  and,  as  far  as  he  could,  from  himself, 
lor  thirty-three  years.  So  little  was  he  aware  of  his 
danger,  that  he  jested  with  Lord  Sheffield  on  the 
subject  almost  to  the  last;  and  even  when  life  was 
expiring,  he  told  a .  .  -1d  that  he  considered  himself 
to  be  a  good  life  for  ten,  twelve,  or  perhaps  twenty 
years — this  was  said  just  twenty  hours  before  his 
death. 

Such  is  infidelity — so  cold,  so  dark,  so  hopeless, 
so  vain,  so  self-deceiving — 1  was  going  to  say,  so 
childish  and  absurd. 
55 — 7 


side,  and  the  range  of  lulls  called  La  Fourviere, 
rising  beyond. 

This  hill  of  Fourviere  was  the  object  of  my  walk 
yesterday.  Its  proper  name  is  Fort  Viel,  Forum 
Vetus,  on  which  the  ancient  city  of  Lyon,  or  Lug- 
dunum, in  the  time  of  the  Romans,  was  founded 
about  the  tune  of  the  death  of  Caisar.  The  view 
which  I  there  obtained  of  the  whole  neighborhood 
was  superb ;  absolutely  it  was  enchanting.  The 
vast  expanse  of  unimpeded  prospect,  the  noble 
rivers,  the  bridges,  the  buddings,  the  quays,  the 
churches,  the  hdls  surrounding  the  town  on  one 
side,  and  clothed  with  country-houses  and  vine- 
yards, were  all  sketched  hi  the  magnificent  land- 
scape ;  whilst  the  distant  Alps,  including,  when 
the  weather  is  clear,  the  vast  Alp  of  Mont  Blanc, 
(which  may  at  times  be  discerned  from  Dijon,  and 
even  Langres,  above  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles 
distant  from  it  in  a  direct  line,)  in  the  farther 
ground,  formed,  as  it  were,  the  frame  of  the  pic- 
ture. Indeed  the  neighborhood  of  Lyon  is  con- 
sidered as  more  beautiful,  as  well  as  more  rich 
and  populous,  than  the  vicinity  of  Paris. 

How  painful  to  turn  from  all  these  beauties  to 
the  chapel  of  Notre  Dame,  on  this  eminence, 
which  was  re-opened  by  Pope  Pius  VII.,  at  his 
last  journey  through  Lyon.  The  Virgin  here  has 
wrought  wonderful  miracles,  and  people  come  on 
pdgrimage  to  it !  Half  the  chapel  was  covered 
with  votive  tablets.  I  think  I  speak  within  com- 
pass, when  [  say  there  were  thousands  of  them. 
Is  this  the  way  to  cure  the  infidelity  of  the  French  1 
When  wdl  a  little  common  sense  enter  the  heads 
of  the  priests  !  But  I  check  myself — I  must  re- 
member that  Popery  is  "  a  strong  delusion  ;  "  or, 
as  the  Apostle's  expression  may  perhaps  be  more 
literally  rendered,  "  the  energy  of  error !  " 

I  was  much  pleased  with  three  soldiers  whom 
I  met  at  Fourviere,  and  who,  seeing  I  was  a 
stranger,  really  loaded  me  with  civilities,  with  a 
gaiety  ot  manner  quite  surprising — and  then  posi- 
tively refused  to  take  any  recompense. 

The  revolutionists  in  1793  did  infinite  mischief 
at  Lyon.  The  Jacobins  hated  it  for  its  loyalty, 
its  virtues,  its  commerce ;  but  the  Royalists  had 
the  ascendancy  in  the  town,  till  the  convention  at 
Paris  ordered  it  to .  be  besieged.  The  place  was 
taken  by  storm,  and  unknown  murders  were  com- 
mitted. The  statues  of  Louis  the  XIV.,  two  foun- 
tains, and  all  the  public  buildings  in  Belle  Cour, 
were  levelled  to  the  earth.  The  machinery  of  the 
chief  manufacturers  was  broken  to  pieces,  their 
houses  razed  to  the  ground,  and  themselves  led 
to  execution.  The  guillotine  being  too  tardy 
an  instrument  of  death,  whole  parties  were  crowd- 
ed into  boats  and  sunk.  The  convention  even 
decreed  the  demolition  of  the  entire  city,  and  the 
extinction  of  its  name.  A  monument  is  raised  to 
two  hundred  and  ten  Lyonese  who  were  coolly 
shot  after  the  siege.  Such  is  liberty  pushed  to 
licentiousness  and  outrage,  and  casting  off  the  go- 
vernment of  law. 

Thursday  morning,  September  25  — Lyon  quite 
charms  me.  It  is  increasing  daily.  Buildings  are 
rising  on  every  side.  Commerce  has  been  regu- 
larly improving  since  the  peace  of  1815.  During 
the  revolution  all  was  decaying.  The  looms  for 
velvet,  silk,   and  gauze,  were  diminished  from 


92 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


10,000  to  1,600  ;  and  the  hands  employed  in  the 
hat  manufactories  from  8,000  to  about  the  same 
number.  The  silk  manufacture,  which  came  ori- 
ginally from  Italy,  is  now  transferred  to  England. 
Still  trade  here  generally  is  reviving.  The  print- 
ing and  bookselling  of  this  place  are  next  to  Paris 
in  importance.  There  is  a  large  military,  as  well 
as  civil  power,  in  the  town.  The  streets  are  al- 
ways crowded  with  people. 

Friday  morning,  September  26lh,  nine  o'clock. — 
My  dear  son,  thank  God,  is  amending.  Yesterday 
I  went  to  see  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  the  Palais 
des  Arts.  The  Hotel  de  Ville  is  one  of  the  finest 
in  Europe.  It  is  an  immense  pile  in  the  form  of 
a  quadrangle,  with  a  noble  court  in  the  midst. 
The  mayor  resides  there,  and  has  state  apart- 
ments, as  in  our  Mansion  House.  The  great  stair- 
case is  adorned  with  a  painting  of  the  burning  of 
the  city,  in  the  first  century,  as  described  by  Se- 
neca. The  large  hall  was  occupied  with  a  bal- 
loon and  parachute,  in  which  Mselle.  Garnerin 
is  about  to  ascend  next  Sunday,  and  which  is  now 
exhibiting  gratis.  The  Palais  des  Arts  was,  before 
the  revolution,  an  abbey  of  Benedictine  nuns,  (the 
Garde  des  Corps  and  Gens-d'armes  have  here  oc- 
cupied another  convent.)  It  contains  a  curious 
collection  of  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Roman  anti- 
quities. A  model  of  a  temple  found  at  Pompeii 
pleased  me  extremely. 

But  the  most  interesting  thing  is  part  of  the 
speech  of  the  emperor  Claudius,  when  censor  of 
Rome,  on  the  question  of  first  admitting  into  the 
Roman  senate  the  great  personages  of  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Lyon.  It  is  engraven  on  bronze,  and 
is  now  fixed  in  the  wall  of  the  museum,  so  as  to 
be  easily  legible.  It  was  found  in  1528,  in  dig- 
ging a  canal  through  a  hill  near  Lyon.  It  consists 
of  two  columns,  and  every  word  is  perfectly  legi- 
ble. It  is  the  more  valuable  because  Tacitus,  in 
the  eleventh  book  of  his  annals,  gives  this  self- 
same speech,  but  so  altered  and  embellished  as 
scarcely  to  retain  a  trace  of  the  original — the  line 
of  argument  is  quite  different.  It  thus  may  serve, 
perhaps,  as  some  test  of  the  fidelity  of  the  other 
speeches  of  Tacitus  and  Livy. 

It  is  a  triumphant  reflection,  that  the  evidences 
of  the  truth  of  Christianity  have  been  uniformly, 
and  without  a  single  exception,  confirmed  by  all 
the  discoveries  of  historical  monuments  during 
eighteen  centuries.  I  alluded  to  this  source  of 
proof  when  I  was  giving  you  an  account  of  Aven- 
ches  in  Switzerland.  Medals,  speeches,  altars, 
pillars,  chronicles,  arches,  found  in  all  countries, 
and  of  all  ages,  have  united  to  confirm  the  facts  on 
which  Christianity  rests.  May  this  Christianity 
be  purified  from  superstition  and  idolatry,  and  be 
displayed  more  and  more  in  its  native  efficacy  on 
the  hearts  and  lives  of  mankind !  It  is  not  so 
much  evidence  that  we  want,  as  grace,  repentance, 
faith,  charity,  holiness,  the  influences  of  the  blessed 
Spirit,  primitive  Christianity  embodied  in  the  lives 
and  tempers  of  Christians. 

Saturday,  Sept.  27. — My  dearest  John  is  now 
nearly  well.  I  expect  my  dear  family  from  Lau- 
sanne to-night,  and  then  our  domestic  circle  will 
again  be  complete.  I  had  no  spirits  yesterday, 
to  go  and  see  any  thing  ;  but  this  morning  I  have 


visited  St.  Irenee,  the  site  of  the  ancient  city, 
though  now  only  a  suburb.  I  here  visited  the 
Roman  baths  at  the  Ursuline  Monastery  (formerly 
so,  for  all  the  monasteries  and  convents  were 
abolished  at  the  Revolution.)  These  baths  con- 
sist of  a  series  of  numerous  dark  vaults,  commu- 
nicating with  each  other,  about  twenty  feet  under 
ground  ;  but  no  longer  interesting,  except  from 
their  antiquity.  I  then  went  to  what  was  the 
garden  of  the  Minimes,  and  saw  the  remains  of 
the  Roman  Amphitheatre,  where  the  early  Chris- 
tians were  exposed  to  the  wild  beasts.  This  scene 
affected  me  extremely.  The  form  of  the  Amphi- 
theatre remains,  after  a  lapse  of  sixteen  or  seven- 
teen centuries.  Some  traces  may  be  discovered 
of  the  rising  seats  of  turf,  and  several  dilapidated 
brick  vaults  seem  to  indicate  the  places  where  the 
wild  beasts,  and  perhaps  the  holy  martyrs,  were 
guarded.  It  is  capable  of  holding  an  immense 
assemblage — perhaps  30  or  40,000  persons.  A 
still  more  elevated  range  of  seats,  to  which  you 
ascend  by  decayed  stone  steps,  seem  to  have  been 
the  place  allotted  for  the  magistrates  and  regula- 
tors of  the  barbarous  shows.  A  peaceful  vineyard 
now  flourishes  where  these  scenes  of  horror  once 
reigned.  The  tender  garden  shrub  springs  in  the 
seats  and  vaults.  The  undisturbed  wild  flowers 
perfume  the  air.  A  stranger  now  and  then  visits 
the  spot,  and  calmly  inquires  if  that  was  the  Am- 
phitheatre which  once  filled  all  Christendom  with 
lamentation.  What  a  monster  is  persecution, 
whether  Pagan,  Popish,  or  Protestant !  And  yet, 
till  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  it  was  hardly 
banished  from  the  general  habits  of  Europe. — 
Would  to  God  that  even  now  it  could  be  said  to 
be  utterly  rooted  out ! 

I  visited,  after  this,  the  church  of  St.  Irenee, 
built  in  the  time  of  the  Romans,  when  the  liberty 
of  public  worship  was  refused  the  Christians.  It 
is  subterraneous,  and  contains  the  bones  of  the 
many  thousand  Christians  who  were  martyred  in 
the  year  202,  under  the  emperor  Severus.  It  is 
of  this  noble  army  of  martyrs  that  Milner  gives 
such  an  effecting  account.  An  inscription  on  the 
church  states,  that  St.  Pothinus  was  sent  by  Poly- 
carp,  and  founded  it ;  and  was  martyred  under 
the  emperor  Antoninus  ;  that  St.  Irenoeus  suc- 
ceeded him,  and  converted  an  infinite  multitude  of 
Pagans,  and  suffered  martyrdom,  together  with 
nineteen  tnousand  Christians,  besides  women  and 
children,  in  the  year  202  ;  and  that  in  the  year 
470,  the  church  was  beautified.  I  have  not  an 
exact  recollection  of  what  Milner  says,  and  there- 
fore may  be  wrong  in  giving  credit  to  some  of 
these  particulars  ;  but  I  have  a  strong  impression 
that  the  main  facts  agree  with  the  tradition  on 
the  spot ;  and  I  confess,  I  beheld  the  scene  with 
veneration.  I  could  almost  forgive  the  processions 
which  are  twice  in  the  year  made  to  this  sacred 
place,  if  it  were  not  for  the  excessive  ignorance 
and  superstition  attending  them. 

Near  to  this  church  are  some  fine  remains  of  a 
Roman  aqueduct,  for  conveying  water  to  the  city, 
built  at  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar.  A  convent  of 
three  hundred  nuns  has  arisen  since  the  peace,  in 
the  same  place,  of  the  order  of  St.  Michel,  where 
many  younger  daughters  are  sent  from  the  best 
families,  to  be  got  out  of  the  way,  just  the  same 
as  under  the  ancient  regime.     In  saying  this  I 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


93 


do  not  forget  that  the  education  in  many  of  the 
convents  is,  in  some  respects,  excellent,  and  that 
the  larger  number  of  young  persons  are  placed 
there  merely  for  a  few  years  for  that  purpose. 
•Still  the  whole  system  is  decidedly  bad,  and 
unfriendly  to  the  highest  purposes  of  a  generous 
education. 

The  cimetiere,  or  public  burial  ground,  is  a  fine 
♦pacious  plot  of  five  hundred  feet  by  eight  hun- 
dred, planted  with  trees,  and  guarded  from  all 
outrage.  It  affords  many  an  affecting,  solemn, 
instructive  lesson.  One  walks  amongst  the  monu- 
ments of  those  who  were  once  gay,  and  learned, 
and  skilful,  and  eager,  and  successful  as  ourselves  ; 
and  who  thought  as  little  of  death  as  most  of  those 
do  who  stop  to  number  their  graves.  A  brief 
space  of  thirty  years  sweeps  off"  an  entire  genera- 
tion, and  levels  all  the  momentary  distinctions  of 
life.  Happy  they  who  so  number  their  days,  as 
to  apply  their  hearts  unto  wisdom  !  As  I  return- 
ed to  our  hotel,  I  visited  the  remains  of  the  ar- 
senal, which  was  burnt  down  in  the  siege  of  1793. 
Our  physician  tells  me,  the  scenes  of  that  period 
were  terrific  ;  he  really  trembled  when  he  began 
to  talk  of  it.  No  wonder  Bonaparte  was  hailed 
as  the  deliverer  from  its  -horrors.  I  am  struck  in 
passing  through  the  streets  near  the  churches,  to 
see  women  with  stalls  selling  pictures  as  offerings 
to  the  Virgin  ;  this  marks  the  popular  taste  for 
superstition,  which  is  reviving  ;  and  is  a  most  un- 
favorable symptom. 

Saturday  evening,  10  o'clock. — My  dearest  wife, 
with  my  son  and  daughter,  arrived  at  eight  o'clock 
this  evening  ;  all  in  perfect  health,  through  God's 
great  goodness :  I  never  saw  them  look  so  well. 
Daniel  reached  Geneva  at  tliree  o'clock  on  Wed- 
nesday ;  went  the  next  day  to  Lausanne,  settled 
every  thing  there,  set  off  in  our  other  voiture  with 
post-horses  on  Friday  (yesterday)  morning,  and 
arrived  here  safely  this  evening,  after  a  journey 
of  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles.  It  is  quite  de- 
lightful to  me  to  see  them  all  again  in  such  health 
and  comfort.  Ann  has  brought  me  three  letters 
from  you  ;  one  dated  July  9th,  from  Cologne  ;  the 
second,  August  21st;  and  the  third,  Sept.  8th: 
this  makes  the  series  complete.  The  varied 
information  they  contain  interests  me  beyond  ex- 
pression. 

The  death  of  my  dearest  brother,  and  friend 
Arnott*  wounds  me  to  the  heart.  What  a  loss 
to  his  family  and  his  parishes  !  But  what  a  happy 
( Christian  death  !  I  am  bereaved  of  a  friend  not 
to  be  replaced  ;  a  friend,  whose  advice,  piety,  and 
judgment,  were  only  equalled  by  his  sincerity  and 
tenderness.  His  sudden  departure  overwhelms 
me.  He  was  ten  years  younger  than  myself,  and 
died,  it  seems,  after  an  illness  of  only  a  few  days. 
He  had  been,  from  his  earliest  childhood,  remark- 
able for  piety.  His  studies  at  the  University  were 
diligent  and  successful,  and  directed  to  the  liighest 
ends.  During  the  time  that  he  was  curate  at  St. 
John's,  his  conscientious  activity  in  every  branch 
of  his  duties  was  most  exemplary.  He  left  me 
about  ten  years  back,  on  obtaining  a  small  living 
in  Sussex.     Here  his  wisdom,  spirituality  of  mind, 


*  The  Rev.  Samuel  Arnott,  perpetual  curate  of 
Eastbourne,  near  Midhurst. 


compassion  to  the  poor,  friendliness  and  devoted 
zeal,  connected  with  the  faithful  preaching  of  the 
holy  truths  of  the  Gospel,  gave  him  such  an  in- 
fluence, that  he  was  beloved  and  honored  by  all 
his  parishioners.  It  had  been  his  practice  from 
his  youth  to  read  the  entire  Bible  through  every 
year — an  admirable  trait,  and  quite  characteristic 
of  the  man.  The  clergyman  who  attended  his 
dying  bed,  has  sent  me  a  most  interesting  account 
of  the  last  scenes.  Undisturbed,  calm,  resigned, 
with  a  meek  reliance  on  the  merits  of  liis  Saviour, 
and  anticipating  with  sacred  pleasure  the  joy  and 
holiness  of  heaven,  he  fell  asleep  hi  Christ. 

Sunday  morning,  Sept.  28th. — Thank  God,  we 
have  all  had  a  peaceful  night.  This  is  my  fif- 
teenth Sunday  of  entire  sdence  and  rest  from  the 
composition  and  delivery  of  sermons.  I  attribute 
my  present  change  of  health,  under  God,  to  this 
cessation  from  labor.  But  it  is  painful  to  me. 
My  Sundays  are  my  grief  and  burden.  The  sud- 
den call  of  my  dear  Arnott  fills  me  with  solemn 
anticipations  of  my  own  account,  so  soon  to  be 
rendered  at  the  bar  of  Christ  my  Saviour.  I  beg 
the  earnest  prayers  of  all  my  friends,  that  I  may 
be  enabled  to  "  walls  humbly  with  my  God ;"  and 
at  length  "  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and  the  mi- 
nistry which  I  have  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 
My  gratitude  in  having  all  my  dear  family  well 
and  comfortable  around  me,  is  great. 
Yours, 

D.  W. 


NOTICE  OF  A  CHAMBERRY  PEASANT. 

As  the  impression  I  received  of  the  religious 
state  of  Chamberry  was  unfavorable,  I  feel  a  pe- 
culiar pleasure  in  relating  the  following  anecdote. 
Two  English  ladies  were  passing  through  a  val- 
ley in  the  neighborhood  of  Chamberry  a  year  or 
two  back.  They  met  a  female  peasant  of  an  in- 
teresting appearance,  apparently  between  twenty 
and  thirty  years  of  age.  They  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  her,  and  found  she  was  in  service, 
and  had  by  her  industry  saved  money  enough  to 
buy  a  cow,  which  she  had  presented  to  her  pa- 
rents. Upon  turning  the  conversation  towards 
religion,  she  took  out  a  book  in  which  was  the  fol- 
lowing paper  sealed  in  it,  which  her  priest  had 
given  her.  I  add,  though  it  is  scarcely  worth 
while,  a  translation,  as  the  lines  happen  to  be  short. 


C  hretien  souviens  tu  que 

tu  as  aujourd'hui 
Un  Dieu  a  glorifier, 
Un  Christ  a  imiter, 
Tous  les  anges  a  ho- 

norer, 
Une  ame  a  sauver, 
Un  corps  a  mortifier, 
Des  vertus  a  demander, 
Des  pechea  a  pleurer, 
Uii  paradis  a.  gagner, 
Un  enfer  a  eviter, 
Une  eternite  h.  mediter, 

Un  temps  a.  menager, 
Un  prochain  a  edifier, 


Christian,    remember 

that  thou  hast  to-day 
A  God  to  glorify, 
A  Christ  to  imitate, 
All  the  angels  to  ho- 
nor, 
A  soul  to  save, 
A  body  to  mortify, 
Virtues  to  implore, 
Sins  to  weep  over, 
A  paradise  to  gain, 
A  hell  to  avoid, 
An  eternity  to  meditate 

on, 
Time  to  husband, 
A  neighbor  to  edify, 


94 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


Un  monde  a  apprehender,  A  world  to  fear, 

Des  demons  a  combattre  Devils  to  combat, 

Des  passions  a  abattre,  Passions  to  subdue, 

Et,  peut-etre,  la  mort  a  And,  perhaps,  death  to 

souffrir,  suffer, 

Et  le  judgement  a.  su-  And  judgment  to  un- 

bir.  dergo. 

Upon  further  talking  with  her,  she  seemed 
really  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  truths 
contained  in  the  paper,  and  to  be  endeavoring  to 
practice  them  daily.  I  cannot  describe  the  plea- 
sure which  such  individual  facts  afford  me.  The 
load  which  weighs  upon  my  mind  when  I  reflect 
on  the  system  of  Popery,  is  sensibly  lightened 
when  I  find  that  by  a  happy  inconsistency  (which 
is  not  confined  to  the  Roman  Catholic  commu- 
nion) the  hearts  and  lives  of  many  are  so  much 
better  than  their  creed  would  lead  one  to  expect. 
May  God  increase  tne  number ! 

NOTICE   OF   MARTYRS   OF   LYON. 

Upon  looking  carefully  into  Milner's  Ecclesias- 
tical History,  since  I  came  home,  I  find  there 
were  two  early  persecutions  of  the  Christians  at 
Vienne  and  Lyon  (neighboring  French  towns,) 
one  about  the  year  of  our  Lord  169,  under  the 
emperor  Marcus  Antoninus  ;  the  second  under 
Septimus  Severus,  about  the  year  202.  The  first 
of  these  is  best  known,  and  the  accounts  in  Mil- 
ner  refer  to  it.  The  scene  of  its  cruel  executions 
was  the  amphitheatre  which  I  visited  as  I  have 
above  mentioned.  The  second  is  not  so  credibly 
attested,  but  at  the  same  time  may  on  the  whole 
be  believed  to  have  taken  place.  The  church  of 
St.  Irenee  relates  exclusively  to  it.  Pothinus  was 
bishop  of  Lyon  during  the  first  cruelties ;  he  had 
been  a  disciple  of  the  blessed  Polycarp,  the  con- 
temporary of  the  apostle  John.  He  perished 
about  the  year  169,  being  upwards  of  ninety  years 
of  age  ;  he  had  been  sent,  in  all  probability,  by 
Polycarp  from  Smyrna  to  found  these  French 
churches ;  for  the  merchants  of  Smyrna  and  Lyon 
were  the  chief  navigators  of  the  Mediterranean 
sea.  This  could  not  be  very  long  before  the  per- 
secution burst  out.  He  was  accompanied  in  his 
apostolical  labors  by  Ireiweus,  an  Asiatic  Greek 
also,  who  wrote  the  interesting  and  authentic  ac- 
count of  the  first  acts  of  the  martyrs,  preserved 
by  Eusebius,  and  given  so  well  by  Milner.  Ire- 
nceus  succeeded  Pothinus  as  bishop,  and  suffered 
martyrdom  in  the  persecution  of  202. 

In  the  first  persecution  of  169,  the  power  of 
divine  grace  appeared  little  less  than  apostolical 
in  the  church  of  Lyon.  The  Christians  were  ex- 
posed not  once  only,  but  several  times  to  the  wild 
beasts  in  the  very  amphitheatre  over  which  I 
walked — one  day  extraordinary  of  these  brutal 
shows  was  given  to  the  people,  for  the  sake  of 
exposing  a  great  number  of  Christians.  Some 
were  previously  led  round  the  amphitheatre,  a 
tablet  being  carried  before  them,  simply  with  the 
words,  "  These  are  Christians ;"  for  the  term 
Christian  was  then  used  instead  of  arguments, 
just  as  the  words  Lollard,  Puritan,  Pietist,  Metho- 
dist, Calvinist,  Evangelical.  Saint,  &c.  have  since 
supplied  its  place.  The  Christians,  if  the  beasts 
failed  to  destroy  them,  were  placed  in  hot  iron 


chairs.  A  most  eminent  female  martyr,  Blan- 
dina,  was  four  several  times  tormented  in  the  most 
savage  manner.  Once  she  was  suspended  from 
a  stake  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  and  exposed  as  food 
to  the  wild  beasts,  none  of  whom  however  at  that 
time  touched  her  ;  on  another  day  she  was  first 
scourged,  then  torn  by  the  beasts  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, then  placed  in  the  scorching  iron  chair, 
and  lastly,  enclosed  in  a  net  and  thrown  to  a  bull, 
which  having  tossed  her  for  some  time,  she 
breathed  her  last  in  the  firm  faith  of  Christ. 
Under  all  these  sufferings  the  martyrs  remained 
unmoved,  yea,  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  were  filled  with  the  comforts  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  the  hopes  of  a  blessed  resurrec- 
tion. I  really  cannot  divest  my  mind  of  the  asso- 
ciations awakened  by  these  affecting  circum- 
stances, connected  with  my  visit  to  the  very  spot 
where  they  occurred. 

The  second  persecution  took  place  when  Ire- 
nseus  was  bishop,  in  the  year  202,  about  thirty  or 
forty  years  after  the  first,  and  under  the  emperor 
Severus,  who  is  generally  thought  to  have  been 
governor  of  Lyon  during  the  preceding  one.  Our 
accounts  of  it  are  slender.  Gregory  of  Tours 
and  the  ancient  martyrologists  inform  us,  "that 
after  several  torments  Irensus  was  put  to  death, 
and  together  with  him  almost  all  the  Christians 
of  that  populous  city,  whose  numbers  could  not 
be  reckoned,  so  that  the  streets  of  Lyon  flowed 
with  the  blood  of  Christians."  Mr.  Milner  thinks 
this  statement  may  be  somewhat  exaggerated  ; 
but  lie  considers  that  there  is  no  circumstance  of 
improbability  in  the  fact  itself,  and  that  the  known 
cruelty  of  Severus,  and  his  former  connection 
with  Lyon,  gives  to  the  persecution  a  strong  de- 
gree of  credibility.  It  is  to  this  second  persecu- 
tion that  the  subterraneous  church  of  St.  Irenee, 
and  the  inscription  concerning  the  nineteen  thou- 
sand Christians,  refers.  Milner  says  nothing  of 
the  vestiges  and  records  of  these  two  fiery  trials, 
still  subsisting  at  Lyon.  But  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing they  add  some  weight  to  facts  already  attested 
by  the  evidence  which  I  have  detailed.  At 
least  to  my  mind  the  connection  is  most  instruc- 
tive and  affecting. 

We  find  that  about  the  year  250,  the  Gospel 
which  had  so  gloriously  begun  in  Lyon,  was 
flourishing  and  diffusing  itself  in  France.  A  bi- 
shop named  Saturninus  was  then  at  Thoulouse. 
Several  other  churches  had  been  founded,  as  at 
Tours,  Aries,  Narbonne,  and  Paris.  The  bishops 
of  Thoulouse  and  Paris  afterwards  suffered  for 
the  faith  of  Christ ;  but  they  left  churches,  in  all 
probability,  very  flourishing  in  piety.  And  France 
in  general  was  blessed  with  the  light  of  salva- 
tion. 

I  say  nothing  here  of  Peter  Waldo,  the  cele- 
brated Reformer,  of  Lyon,  because  he  did  not 
flourish  till  the  twelfth  century.  But  I  cannot 
altogether  omit  the  name  of  Agobard,  archbishop 
of  Lyon,  in  the  ninth  century,  who  wrote  against 
the  abuse  of  pictures  and  images,  and  boldly 
maintained  that  we  ought  not  to  worship  any 
image  of  God,  except  that  which  is  God  himself, 
his  eternal  Son  ;  and,  that  there  is  no  other  me- 
diator between  God  and  man,  except  Jesus  Christ, 
both  God  and  man — an  early  and  clear  testimony 
against  Popish  corruptions. 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


95 


LETTER  XVI. 

Lyon,  September  28. — Geneva,  October  6th,  1823. 

Second  Sunday  at  Lyon — Library — Hotel  Dieu — 
Hotel  de  la  Charhe — Sick  Family — Journey  to 
Geneva— Professor  of  Lausanne— Perte  du  Rhone 
L'Ecluse —  Ferney — Voltaire — Catholics  at  Ge- 
neva— Fine  Walks — Translation  of  Scott — Sa- 
dgny — Rejected  Regent — Religious  Doctrine — 
Plan  of  Central  Switzerland — Cathedral — Li- 
brary— English  Clergy — Sunday  at  Geneva — Mi- 
nister from  Les  Cevennes — Reglement — M.  Si- 
mond's  defence  answered. 

Lyon,  Sept.  28,  1823,  Sunday  evening. 

My  dearest  sister — Our  sermon  this  morn- 
ing, at  the  Protestant  church  was  good  ;  but  not 
so  simple  and  awakening  as  the  vast  concerns  of 
eternity  demand  at  the  hand  of  the  minister  of 
the  Gospel.  I  spoke,  after  service,  to  a  respect- 
able gentleman  near  me,  who  turned  out  to  be  a 
minister,  the  former  pastor  of  a  French  Protest- 
ant, church  ;  for  it  is  a  curious  thing,  that  after  a 
certain  age  the  Protestant  clergy,  though  in  the 
possession  of  all  their  powers,  and  in  tolerably 
good  health,  retire,  as  no  longer  capable  of  ex- 
citing that  effect  which  depends  on  powerful  and 
energetic  voice  and  action.  This  is  quite  shock- 
ing. It  makes  preaching  a  sort  of  rhetorical  de- 
clamation, instead  of  the  simple  and  authoritative 
manifestation  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel.  It  com- 
mends itself  to  the  taste,  rather  than  the  con- 
sciences of  men.  It  relies  on  "  the  enticing  words 
of  man's  wisdom,"  rather  than  the  grace  and  de- 
monstration of  the  Holy  Spirit.  In  short,  it 
"makes  the  Cross  of  Christ  of  none  effect."  This 
minister  informed  me  there  were  five  or  six  thou- 
sand Protestants  in  and  about  Lyon  ;  and  yet  only 
one  church,  and  one  service  in  that  church. 
There  is  a  Bible  Society  which  he  tells  me  is  not 
very  flourishing.  The  government  now  is  not 
favorable  to  the  Protestants. 

In  the  Catholic  churches  I  could  find  out  no 
sermon.  I  sent  out  a  servant  to  inquire  with 
much  care  ;  I  also  searched  myself;  but  in  vain. 
The  interesting  discourse  of  last  Sunday,  made 
me  quite  eager  to  hear  a  second.  Thus,  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  souls  were,  I 
fear,  without  any  public  instruction  to-day  on  the 
doctrine  of  salvation,  except  the  few  hundreds  at 
the  Protestant  church.  In  fact,  the  Sabbath, 
which  should  be  "  our  delight,  holy  of  the  Lord 
and  honorable,"  is  lost  on  the  continent.  When 
it  is  spoken  of,  it  is  called  a  fete  or  holy-day,  in- 
discriminately with  the  nativity  or  assumption  of 
the  Virgin  Mary  ;  and  these  fetes  are  the  regular 
seasons  of  public  processions,  and  celebrations. 
Nay,  the  newspapers,  the  theatres,  &c,  are  ac- 
tually suspended  on  St.  Francis'  day  or  the  feast 
of  the  Virgin ;  but  on  the  Sunday  are  regularly 
carried  on,  and  more  eagerly  followed  than  ever. 
The  Sunday  is,  in  short,  the  day  for  shows, 
amusements,  dissipation,  vicious  pleasures  of  every 
kind. 

There  arc,  of  course,  thousands  in  the  Pro- 
testant churches  who  keep  sacred  this  holy  day, 
and  rejoice  in  its  blessed  services  as  much  as  the 
most  devout  Englishman  can  do.     In  the  Catholic 


church  also  there  are  doubtless  many,  many 
real  servants  of  Christ  who  do  the  same.  But 
speaking  generally,  the  Sabbath  is  utterly  lost  on 
the  continent — it  is  no  longer  the  Lord's  da y,  but 
the  day  of  the  god  of  this  world.  A  new  re- 
formation is  wanted.  The  spirit  of  the  martyrs 
of  Lyon  is  extinct.  May  the  same  grace  which 
formed  that  noble  army  in  the  early  ages  of  Chris- 
tianity, descend  again  on  Lyon  in  these  latter 
times]  And  may  England  avoid,  as  the  most 
fatal  of  downfalls,"  the  desecration  of  the  holy  Sab- 
bath !  Our  Sunday  travelling,  Sunday  visits,  and 
above  all,  Sunday  newspapers,  terrify  my  mind. 
I  cannot  conceive  how  it  is  that  the  mere  mask 
of  loyalty  and  church  principles,  assumed  by  some 
of  these  demoralizing  journals,  should  blind  the 
judgment  of  any  sincere  Christian  to  their  most 
pernicious  tendency. — We  have  had  our  two  pri- 
vate services.     My  heart  is  at  St.  John's. 

Monday,  September  29//i. — I  have  but  little  to 
say  to-day ;  indeed,  my  letters  must,  of  necessity, 
become  dull  and  uninteresting  now  we  are  all 
stationary  in  a  town.  My  eldest  son  and  I  have 
visited  this  morning  the  public  library,  which  con- 
tains one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  volumes, 
the  largest  provincial  collection  in  France.  It 
occupies  a  fine  building  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Rhone.  We  saw  a  part  of  a  bomb  which,  in 
1793,  had  been  thrown  by  the  mad  revolutionists 
into  the  library.  It  penetrated  a  large  globe ;  the 
part  of  the  bomb,  as  well  as  the  hole  it  made,  re- 
main unaltered. 

We  went  next  to  L'Hotel  Dieu,  an  immense 
hospital,  one  of  the  honors  and  ornaments  of 
France.  It  was  first  founded  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury ;  the  chief  rooms  are  divided  into  four  com- 
partments, with  an  altar  in  the  middle,  from  which 
the  prayers  may  be  heard  by  all  the  patients. 
There  are  eleven  hundred  beds,  one  hundred  &_.i  1 
fifty  nurses,  eight  physicians,  and  a  laboratory  for 
medicines.  The  nurses  are  called  '■  Les  Sceurs 
de  la  Charite."  They  form  a  religious  order,  and 
entirely  devote  themselves  to  attendance  on  the 
sick  in  the  hospital.  They  wear  a  dress  of  brown 
stuff— their  crucifix  hangs  low  from  the  neck — 
their  whole  appearance  is  clean  and  respectable. 
This  is  a  religious  body,  like  that  at  Great  St. 
Bernard,  really  useful  to  the  community  ;  and  it 
gives  me  sincere  pleasure  to  recognize  the  fact. 
Would  to  God  there  were  more  such  institutions 
as  "the  salt  of  the  earth,"  amidst  the  corrupt 
mass  of  Popish  errors  !  The  front  of  the  hospital 
facing  the  Rhone  is  magnificent,  and  is  now  nearly 
completed.  The  bedsteads  of  the  patients  are  of 
iron,  and  every  thing  had  the  appearance  of  clean- 
liness and  comfort. 

The  hospice  de  la  Charite  next  attracted  our 
curiosity ;  it  is  quite  a  separate  thing  from  the 
former.  It  is  a  religious  establishment,  consisting 
of  fifty  sisters,  and  twenty  brethren,  de  la  Cha- 
rite ;  these  superintend  the  house,  which  receives 
three  or  four  hundred  old  persons  above  the  age 
of  seventy,  who  are  entirely  supported,  clothed, 
and  fed  in  the  hospice.  It  maintains  also  seven 
or  eight  thousand  foundlings  or  orphan  children, 
chiefly  at  nurseries  in  the  country.  It  admits 
also  des  fiUes  enceintes,  for  their  lying-in.  This 
part  of  the  plan  fills  me  with  great  apprehension 
as  to  its  moral  tendency.    It  seems  to  me  to  be  a 


90 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


premium  upon  vice.  The  fearful  numbers  of  ex- 
posed or  foundling  children  is  a  mournful  proof  of 
degenerated  morals  ;  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  eighty  have  been  here  received  this  year, 
that  is  in  nine  months  ;  a  large  proportion,  I  should 
think,  of  all  the  births  at  Lyon.* 

I  am  quite  sure  that  the  licensing  and  raising 
taxes  from  gambling  houses,  and  other  places  of  a 
profligate  character,  must  directly  tend  to  counte- 
nance and  increase  fatal  immoralities.  How  infi- 
nitely preferable  is  the  honest  integrity  of  our 
English  laws,  which  connive  at  no  species  of  vice, 
much  less  attempt  to  raise  taxes  from  the  com- 
mission of  gross  crimes  against  society.  The 
whole  system  must  be  rotten  to  the  core  to  admit 
of  this  recognition  and  encouragement  of  the  very 
worst  evils.  It  is  a  still  viler  practice  to  suffer 
wretches  stationed  within  houses  of  the  most  aban- 
doned description,  to  be  inviting  passengers  to 
enter,  with  a  loud  voice,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
day.  What  a  falling  off,  since  the  noble  spirit  of 
piety  in  this  very  town  could  induce  so  many  thou- 
sands to  die  as  martyrs  for  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  !  What  a  difference  between  the  second 
and  the  nineteenth  century !  Then  men  were 
ready  to  suffer  death  rather  than  sin  against  God : 
now  they  tolerate  the  most  open  seductions  to 
vice  and  iniquity. 

Tuesday,  one  o'clock,  noon. — A  respectable  Pro- 
testant minister  residing  at  Lyon,  called  on  me 
yesterday.  I  had  a  long  conversation  with  him, 
in  which  he  endeavored  to  excuse,  though  he 
could  not  defend,  the  reglement  at  Geneva.  This 
morning  I  went  and  breakfasted  with  him  and  Ins 
wife  and  family ;  all  amiable,  obliging ;  but  I 
should  have  rejoiced  to  have  seen  something  more 
of  the  spirit  of  real  Christianity.  He  had  the  finest 
collection  of  engravings  of  Swiss  scenery  that  I 
have  yet  seen  ;  and  no  wonder.  When  a  youth, 
he  ascended  Mont  Blanc  with  his  father  and  M. 
De  Saussure,  in  1786.  In  the  course  of  conver- 
sation he  expressed  great  surprise  at  the  state  of 
Ireland — at  our  refusing  the  Catholics  civil  privi- 
leges— at  our  want  of  church  room — at  our  ne- 
glect of  the  education  of  our  poor — at  the  distur- 
bances and  riots  in  England.  I  made  such  an- 
swers as  I  could  on  these  points.  He  informed 
me  also  of  his  intention  of  visiting  London  at  the 
time  of  our  great  religious  meetings.  This  is  not 
the  first  occasion  I  have  had  to  observe  the  many 
incidental  but  important  benefits  of  our  public  an- 
niversaries. They  attract  the  regard  of  foreign- 
ers ;  and  are  the  means  of  encouraging  or  kin- 
dling a  spirit  of  piety  in  those  who  attend  them  at 
hrsi  chiefly  from  curiosity  ! 

Before  I  left  him,  he  requested  me  to  visit  an 
English  family  in  his  neighborhood  which  had  just 
lost  its  father.  I  went.  I  found  a  widow  and  four 
grown-up   daughters.     What  was  my  astonish- 


*  The  moral  state  of  the  population  of  Paris  is 
not  better.  I  observe  in  the  statistical  tables  of  that 
city,  that  out  of  27,070  births  in  the  year  1823,  9,806 
were  of  natural  children,  being  rather  more  than  a 
third  part  of  the  total  number.  The  union  of  mi- 
sery with  vice  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that 
as  nearly  as  possible,  the  same  proportion  of  persons 
died  in  the  public  hospitals  of  that  city  :  i.  e.  8,227 
out  of  a  total  of  24,500. 


ment  to  discover,  after  a  while,  that  it  was  a  fa- 
mily who  had  lived  in  the  very  house  in  which  I 
was  born,  in  London !  They  have  been  three 
years  at  Lyon.  They  are  extremely  well  spoken 
of.  The  father  died  yesterday  afternoon.  The 
visit,  though  short,  seemed  much  to  relieve  them. 
Thus,  in  a  foreign  land,  some  little  duties  of  cha- 
rity present  themselves  to  those  who  are  willing 
to  perform  them.  If  God  had  pleased,  the  afflic- 
tion and  death  might  have  been  in  my  own  house ' 
My  son  Daniel  is  to  attend  the  funeral  for  me  to- 
morrow ;  for  I  am  obliged  to  go  off,  for  a  few  days, 
to  Geneva,  about  Scott's  Bible.  I  should  have 
gone  last  week,  if  my  son's  illness  had  not  pre- 
vented me.  My  friends  are  waiting  to  hold  the 
promised  meeting.  I  intend  rejoining  my  family 
on  Tuesday  at  Dijon,  on  the  way  to  Paris. 

Geneva,  116  miles  from  Lyon,  Wednesday  even- 
ing, 7  o'clock,  Oct.  1,  1823. — I  set  off  in  the  mail 
from  Lyon  at  tlrree  yesterday  afternoon,  and  ar- 
rived here  at  half  past  three  this  afternoon.  This 
said  mad  coach  is  a  heavy,  lumbering  carriage, 
with  an  infinity  of  luggage,  travelling  four  miles 
and  three  quarters  in  the  hour.  I  was  in  the  ca- 
briolet, a  sort  of  outside  seat,  in  front  of  the  car- 
riage, with  the  prolonged  roof  of  the  coach  to 
cover  me,  and  a  good  leather  to  draw  up  in  front ; 
so  that  I  paid  the  same  as  for  an  inside  place, 
(twenty-two  francs,  about  seventeen  shillings  for 
116  miles.)  The  evening  and  night  were  warm 
and  fine,  and  the  morning  was  charming.  The 
country  which  we  passed  before  night-fall  was 
beautiful,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhone,  which  you 
remember  flows  from  Geneva  to  Lyon.  We  had 
supper  at  ten  o'clock,  at  Pont  d'Ain,  and  I  ac- 
tually dozed  and  slept  all  the  night  afterwards,  and 
a  good  part  of  to-day. 

We  breakfasted  at  Bellegarde  at  eight,  and 
walked  to  see  what  is  called  La  Perte  du  Rhone 
— the  Loss  of  the  Rhone  ;  a  most  curious  pheno- 
menon. The  Rhone  flows  majestically  from  Ge- 
neva, in  a  bed  of  two  or  three  hundred  feet,  till  it 
reaches  a  defile  between  the  mountains  Jura  and 
Vouache,  where  it  has  only  from  sixty  to  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet  width.  The  rocks  then  be- 
come narrower  and  narrower,  till  such  huge  and 
insuperable  masses  present  themselves,  that  the 
river,  unable  to  break  through  them,  has  made 
itself  a  passage  underneath.  The  Rhone  disap- 
pears for  sixty  feet.  Its  breadth  at  this  point  is 
about  fifteen  feet.  It  then  rises  again,  and  soon 
resumes  its  noble  tide.  I  never  saw  any  thing  at 
all  resembling  it :  you  stand  upon  the  bridge,  and 
view  on  one  side  of  it  the  fine  river  flowing  along ; 
and  on  the  other  side,  where  you  expect  it  to  con- 
tinue its  course,  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a 
bed  of  rocks  perfectly  dry.  The  fact  is,  the  river 
engulphs  itself  under  the  ruins  of  the  masses  fallen 
from  the  neighboring  mountains  ;  so  that  you  may 
go  down  by  a  ladder  and  examine  the  vast  defile, 
the  walls  of  which  are  150  feet  deep.  At  the 
point  where  the  rocks  first  narrow  themselves  a 
strong  fort  is  budt,  L'Ecluse,  between  the  moun- 
tains Jura  and  Vouache,  which  Julius  Ctesar  dp 
scribed  one  thousand  eight  hundred  years  ago.* 


*  Iter  angustum  et  difficile  inter  Montem  Jura  el 
flumen  Rhodanum,  vix  qua  singulares  curri  ducc- 
rentur.    De  Bell.    Gall.  1.  i.  c.  6. 


TRAVELS   ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


97 


It  is  the  only  entrance  into  France  from  trie  French 
part  of  Switzerland. 

As  we  drew  near  Geneva  we  passed  Femey, 
and  I  ran  up  to  see  the  chateau  where  Voltaire 
.  and  the  church  which,  in  hypocrisy  the  most 
itable,  he  built  near  it.  The  church  is  low 
;md  moan,  the  shelving  roof  reaching  almost  to 
the  ground.  It  is  inscribed  to  Almighty  God.  The 
usual  sort  of  crucifix  is  within.  Still  it  was  some- 
thing for  Christianity  to  have  forced  such  a  man 
to  acknowledge  in  any  way  her  importance  and 
truth. 

One  of  the  first  effects  of  the  revival  of  true  re- 
ligion, or  even  of  sound  learning,  in  France,  I 
should  think,  would  be  to  lower  the  credit  of  this 
profligate,  crafty,  superficial,  ignorant,  incorrect 
writer.  What  plea  can  the  poignancy  of  wit,  or 
the  force  of  satire,  or  the  talent  of  ridicule,  or  the 
possession  of  a  fascinating  style,  or  the  power  of 
brdliant  description,  or  an  extensive  superficial 
knowledge  of  sciences,  or  an  affected  humanity 
on  a  few  popular  occasions,  form,  in  a  Christian 
country,  for  a  man  who  employed  them  all,  with 
a  bitterness  and  ferocity  of  mind  amounting  almost 
to  madness,  against  the  Christian  religion  and 
the  person  of  the  Saviour?  It  is  an  unhappy  cir- 
cumstance that  the  present  French  government 
has  mingled  party  politics  with  his  name,  and  thus 
attached  a  new  popularity  to  his  impious  works. 
Twenty  years  ago  he  was  comparatively  forgot- 
ten. No  new  edition  of  his  writings  was  thought 
of.  At  the  restoration,  in  1814,  his  tomb  was 
disturbed,  and  indignities  offered  to  his  remains. 
The  consequence  of  this  ill-judged  and  petty  re- 
venge has  been,  that  ten  or  more  large  editions 
of  his  works  have  been  sold  since  ;  some  of  them 
in  the  form  of  small  pamphlets,  by  a  weekly  pub- 
lication, for  the  cottages  of  the  poor.* 

*  When  I  arrived  at  Paris,  one  of  the  first  things 
I  heard  was,  that  a  Bible  Society  had  been  formed 
at  Ferney.  chiefly  by  the  aid  of  the  baron  de  Stael. 
What  a  noble  triumph  for  Christianity  over  the 
most  daring  infidelity  ! 

It  is  delightful  for  me  to  be  able  to  add,  that  a 
Protestant  church  is  about  to  be  built  at  Ferney;  and 
that  so  little  have  the  principles  of  Voltaire  succeed- 
ed in  permanently  effacing  the  memory  of  Chris- 
tianity from  the  minds  of  men,  even  in  his  own  vil- 
lage, that  a  contest  is  likely  to  arise  amongst  the  two 
great  bodies  of  Christians  in  France,  as  to  which 
shall  have  the  honor  of  raising  a  second  edifice  there 
for  the  purposes  of  public  worship  in  the  name  of 
Jesus  Christ  the  Lord.  I  give  the  following  extract 
with  peculiar  feelings  of  joy.  The  patronage  of  the 
French  government  is  a  most  gratifying  circum- 
stance indeed. 

"It  is  intended  to  erect  a  Protestant  church  at 
Ferney,  which  will  be  at  the  same  time  a  monument 
ofthe  triumph  of  Christian  principles,  and  of  the 
progress  of  religious  liberty.  The  French  govern- 
ment has  granted  one  hundred  Napoleons  for  that 
purpose.  The  king  of  the  Netherlands  has  given  a 
donation  of  fifty  Napoleons,  to  promote  the  object. 

'.'Since  it  has  I a  announced  that  a  Protestant 

church  is  in  progress,  the  Roman  Catholics  have  de- 
termined to  erect  a  splendid  structure  there  ;  and  it 
is  '.Teatly  to  be  feared  that  the  completion  of  the 
Catholic  church  will  reproach  the  tardiness  and  in- 
•flerence  of  Protestants  in  affording  the  means  of 

•uple  ^et  unfinished  erection  designed  for 

Protestant  worship." 


I  am  now  at  Geneva,  for  the  purpose  of  inquir- 
ing after  the  translation  of  Scott.  It  is  quite  pain- 
ful to  me  to  be  thus  separated  so  often  from  my- 
dear  family  ;  but  circumstances  cf  duty  render  it 
indispensable.  Before  I  finish  to-night,  tired  as  1 
am,  I  must  tell  you  what  peculiarly  agreeaole 
companions  I  had  on  the  road  ;  a  professor  of  Di- 
vinity at  Lausanne,  a  great  friend  ofthe  Bible  So- 
ciety, and  his  family.  We  soon  became  acquaint- 
ed, and  had  a  great  deal  of  interesting  conversa- 
tion. I  tried  to  do  some  good  to  a  pious,  but  ap- 
parently timid  man.  It  was  an  occasion,  which  I 
endeavored  to  use  to  the  very  best  of  my  judg- 
ment, especially  in  the  way  of  removing  prejudice 
and  stimulating  to  zeal.  I  could  not  but  observe 
the  marked  respect  which  he  paid  to  our  English 
episcopal  church.  Indeed  I  have  often  noticed  that 
the  most  enlightened  and  best  informed  ministers 
of  the  foreign  reformed  churches,  have  no  dislike 
to  the  episcopal  model ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  pre- 
fer it  to  their  own,  as  more  scriptural  in  itself,  and 
as  clearly  supported  by  antiquity  from  the  very 
age  of  the  apostles.  One  most  pious  minister  told 
me,  that  he  believed  if  Calvin  and  Beza  had  adopt- 
ed the  wise  and  moderate  course  of  our  English 
Reformers,  on  these  points,  the  whole  of  France 
would  have  been  Protestant.  In  fact,  I  think  it  is 
now  admitted  generally  by  the  most  competent 
judges,  that  the  violent  rejection  of  the  ancient 
ecclesiastical  government  by  bishops,  and  an  eager 
interference  in  secular  disputes  and  affairs  apper- 
taining to  the  state,  were  amongst  the  chief  ex- 
ternal hindrances  to  the  progress  of  the  Reforma- 
tion.    But  I  must  really  wish  you  good  night. 

Geneva,  Thursday,  October  2,  three  o'clock. — 
Thank  God  I  slept  twelve  hours  last  night. — This 
morning  I  have  been  walking  about  the  town, 
partly  on  the  affair  of  the  translation,  and  partly 
to  obtain  further  information  as  to  the  moral  and 
religious  habits  of  the  town.  In  passing  along 
the  streets,  I  observed  a  procession  of  Catholic 
priests,  and  followed  them  into  the  Catholic 
church.  They  were  celebrating  mass  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  soul  of  the  late  Pope.  An  immense 
kind  of  tomb  was  erected  in  the  middle  of  the 
church,  with  inscriptions  on  each  side,  and  bougies 
lighted  all  around.  Printed  papers  were  given 
about  in  the  church,  with  a  copy  of  the  inscrip- 
tions, and  an  extract  from  an  artful  seductive  let- 
ter, of  the  late  Pope,  relative  to  the  Genevese. 

One  of  the  inscriptions  was  the  famous  text, 
"Thou  art  Peter,  and  on  this  rock  I  will  build  my 
church,  and  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail 
against  it ;" — quite  forgetting,  or  perverting,  the 
whole  scope  of  the  passage ; — for  every  candid 
r  sees  that  our  Lord  spoke  of  Peter,  not  per- 
sonally, but  instrumental!)',  as  confessing  the  deity 
and  mediation  of  Christ,  and  about  to  preach  this 
for  the  conversion  of  mankind ;  and  that  those 
can  claim  the  promise,  and  those  only,  in  each 
succeeding  age,  who  answer  to  the  character  to 
which  it  was  made.  But  any  thing  serves  for  a 
pretext  where  the  holy  Scriptures  are  unknown. 
What  most  struck  me  was,  to  see  this  in  the 
heart  and  centre  of  a  Protestant  city.  It  was, 
however,  the  French  who  first  compelled  the  Ge- 
nevese to  admit  the  Catholics. 

In  coming  from    Lyon  to  Geneva,  I  noticed 
that  the  postillions  and  common  people  rather  ri- : 


08 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


diculed  the  priests  than  otherwise.  At  dinner  to- 
nav,  at  the  table-d'hote,  I  met  three  French  gen- 
tlemen, pretty  well  informed  ;  Bonaparte  was  the 
tonic  of  their  admiration  ;  they  also  much  praised 
England  for  the  unity  which  animated  it  the  mo- 
ment any  common  danger  threatened ;  this  formed, 
in  their  view,  the  greatness  of  our  nation. — The 
environs  of  Geneva  are  very  fine.  I  walked  to- 
aay,  on  the  bastion,  or  promenade  of  the  Rhone, 
at  the  end  of  which  there  is  a  charming  view  of 
the  lake  and  adjoining  country.  La  Treille  is 
another  beautiful  promenade  of  a  similar  kind. 
But  the  town  itself  is  crowded  and  mean,  except 
the  upper  streets  and  buildings  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  which  are  noble  and  handsome.  The 
weather  is  cold — a  good  deal  of  snow  fell  last 
night  on  the  Jura,  over  which  I  passed  on  Tues- 
day; and  on  Mount  St.  Bernard,  I  understand,  it 
lies  four  feet  deep,  with  so  strong  a  wind  as  al- 
most to  carry  away  the  traveller. 

Eight  o'clock. — I  have  had  a  meeting  with  the 
translators  of  Scott,  and  have  been  delighted.  All 
is  going  on  well.  The  chief  translator  has  a  se- 
cretary to  copy  the  manuscript — every  thing  pro- 
mises that  St.  Matthew  will  be  ready  for  the  press 
in  a  few  months.  I  was  introduced  to  a  French 
minister  of  Hamburgh,  of  rare  talents,  and  as  rare 
piety,  who  will,  I  trust,  help  me.  I  shall,  however, 
have  enough  to  do,  both  here  and  at  Paris,  to  ar- 
range details.  As  I  went  to  the  meeting,  I  called 
on  a  gentleman  to  whom  I  had  an  introduction. 
I  was  grieved  at  the  spirit  of  prejudice  and  bigotry 
which  he  showed  against  all  sorts  of  evangelical 
truth — a  harsh,  violent,  unpracticable  man — con- 
fessedly a  Socinian  in  principle.  He  really 
frightened  me  by  his  fierce  attack  on  spiritual  re- 
ligion. What  a  blessing  to  have  been  educated 
in  sounder  views  of  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour,  and  to  have  some  hope  that  we  know  and 
love  that  Saviour  in  sincerity  of  heart !  If  any 
thing  can  be  wrong,  it  must  be  that  unrelenting 
proud  spirit  which  aims  at  dishonoring  the  Lord 
Jesus — to  exalt  whom,  in  his  deity  and  atone- 
ment, was  the  great  scope  of  the  apostolic  wri- 
ters. 

I  forgot  to  say,  that  my  friend,  the  professor  of 
Lausanne,  told  me  that  he  had  distributed  near 
eight  thousand  Bibles  in  his  canton,  and  finds  that 
six  thousand  more  will  be  wanted,  in  order  to  sup- 
ply the  whole  deficiency ;  he  has  also  nearly 
raised  a  fund,  the  interest  of  which  will  supply 
the  poor  of  the  canton  de  Vaud  with  Bibles  in 
perpetuity.  How  much  solid  good  may  one  man 
do,  and  a  man  who,  in  some  respects,  may  be 
deemed  too  fearful ;  and  what  a  public  benefit  is 
the  Bible  Society,  to  present  a  suitable  object  to 
such  a  man  ;  and  what  a  seed  of  future  blessings 
does  the  permanent  circulation  of  Bibles  in  a  whole 
canton,  cast  in  the  earth,  as  it  were,  and  leave 
there  to  vegetate,  and  to  produce,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  in  after  years,  an  abundant  harvest ! 

Friday  evening,  half-past  nine,  October  3. — 
This  morning,  at  nine,  I  accompanied  some  pious 
friends  to  Satigny,  about  six  miles  from  Geneva. 
The  morning  was  wet ;  but  the  ride  was  through 
a  fine  conntry.  Satigny  contains  about  one  thou- 
sand two  hundred  souls  ;  towards  whom  the  mi- 
nister I  went  to  visit  is  a  true  shepherd.  We  had 
a  little  committee  for  four  hours  on  the  affair  of 


Scott »  Bible.  My  friend  from  Hamburgh  has 
agreed  to  undertake  the  translation  of  Milner's 
Church  History,  and  thus  relieve  my  chief  trans- 
lator of  a  work  for  which  he  was  engaged,  and 
leave  him  at  liberty  to  devote  himself  to  Scott. 

We  returned  from  Satigny  about  four,  and  as 
soon  as  I  had  dined,  I  went  to  hear  ar_  excellent 
minister,  who  was  some  time  since  removed  from 
his  office  in  the  college  at  Geneva  on  account  of 
his  evangelical  sentiments.  I  was  pleased.  His 
manner  was  so  pathetic,  so  calm,  so  persuasive, 
and  his  matter,  upon  the  whole,  so  edifying,  that 
I  have  scarcely  heard  any  thing  like  it  since  I  left 
London.  He  is  a  valuable  man,  a  deeply  pious, 
spiritually-minded  Christian,  and  a  preacher  of 
first-rate  powers  :  there  is  an  inexpressible  unc- 
tion in  all  he  delivers.  Still  his  doctrine  is  a  little 
too  high,  in  my  opinion,  to  be  quite  scriptural  or 
safe  in  the  long  run  ;  he  does  not  sufficiently  unite 
the  perceptive  and  cautionary  parts  of  Holy  Writ 
with  the  consolatory  and  elevating — a  fault  not 
important  in  a  single  discourse,  but  momentous 
as  extending  over  the  whole  system  of  a  minister's 
instructions  ;  and  more  especially  if  he  stand  al 
most  alone,  or  be  watched  and  suspected  by  hi? 
superiors  in  the  church,  or  attract  particular  ob- 
servation on  account  of  the  difficulties  of  his  si- 
tuation. 

It  is  one  thing  to  preach  the  fall  of  man,  his: 
impotency  and  ruin,  justification  by  faith  only 
adoption,  salvation  by  grace,  regeneration  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  joy  and  comfort  of  communion 
with  our  heavenly  Father,  the  merciful  will  of  God 
in  our  election  and  in  the  power  and  grace  which 
preserves  to  everlasting  life — in  connection  with 
the  warnings,  alarms,  cautions,  threatenings,  pre- 
cepts, and  general  commands  of  God,  as  they  lie 
in  Holy  Scripture  :  and  to  preach  these  doctrines 
without  such  authoritative  and  indispensable  ac- 
companiments. The  two  things  are  quite  dis- 
tinct. The  one  produces  the  real  fruits  of  holy 
consistent  love  and  obedience  ;  the  other  is  most 
defective  in  this  important  respect,  as  well  as  in 
many  others.  In  short,  the  one  is  scriptural,  un- 
erring truth  ;  the  other  a  human,  fallible  system. 
I  am  sure  the  Reformers  well  understood  this  dis- 
tinction. It  is  quite  surprising  to  observe  the 
wisdom  and  moderation  of  their  writings.  It  was 
not  their  manner  to  push  any  one  particular  doc- 
trine to  excess,  much  less  to  exclude  the  practical 
parts  of  Christianity.  Let  any  one  read  the  pub- 
lications of  Luther  or  Melancthon,  Calvin,  or 
Beza,  Zuingle  or  Bullinger,  Cranmer  or  Jewel — 
especially  let  him  peruse  the  Book  of  Homilies  of 
the  church  of  England,  and  he  will  be  convinced 
of  what  I  say.  In  fact,  one  of  the  sorest  causes 
of  grief  to  these  holy  men  was  the  appearance, 
from  time  to  time,  of  indiscreet  and  unscriptural 
teachers  in  the  Protestant  bodies,  who  "  drew 
away  disciples  after  them." 

Still  the  sermon,  which  has  drawn  forth  all 
these  remarks,  did  me  good.  I  passed  over  what 
I  thought  less  scriptural ;  and  was  edified,  ani- 
mated, cheered  by  the  general  tenor  of  the  ad- 
dress. Whilst  I  was  with  my  friend  and  trans- 
lator, I  looked  for  a  minute  into  Milner's  History, 
and  found,  to  my  delight,  that  the  martyrs  at  Lyon 
were  amongst  the  most  holy  of  the  primitive 
Christians.     I  now  look  back  on  Lyon,  its  amphu 


TRAVELS   ON    THE   CONTINENT. 


19 


theatre,  its  subterraneous  church,  &c.  with  double 
interest. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  the  king  of  the  Netherlands 
has  begun  to  appoint  the  ministers  to  the  Pro- 
testant churches,  when  they  are  vacant ;  because 
the  dissensions  and  animosities  occasioned  by  the 
elections  threw  the  towns  into  confusion.  This 
right  the  king  has  just  claimed,  as  I  am  informed] 
without  asking  any  one's  leave.  Our  king's  pre- 
rogative of  nominating  bishops  and  deans  was 
derived  from  a  different  source.  The  Reforma- 
tion placed  it  in  his  hands  when  the  supremacy  of 
Rome  was  disavowed.  But  the  chapters  of  ca- 
thedrals, I  suppose,  originally  lost  the  choice  from 
similar  mischiefs.  Popular  elections  in  the  church 
are  the  worst  of  all  evils.  In  England  all  these 
appointments  pass  through  the  hands  of  the  known 
and  responsible  ministers  of  the  crown,  which  se- 
cures many  of  the  ends  of  a  free  election  without 
its  attendant  inconveniences.  May  the  grace  of 
God  descend  on  our  happy  country,  and  sway 
public  opinion  more  and  more  on  matters  of  reli- 
gion ;  and  our  sees  will  be  proportionally  adorned 
with  primitive  and  appostolieal  pastors. 

I  observe  everywhere  a  certain  jealousy  of 
England  in  the  breasts  of  the  people  abroad,  and 
even  of  some  good  people.  This  feeling  probably 
would  not  exist  to  the  degree  it  does,  if  English 
travellers  conducted  themselves  with  sound  judg- 
ment, discretion,  and  Christian  affection.  Even 
now  there  are  many  thousand  continental  Chris- 
tians who  feel  and  express  the  sincerest  love  and 
the  strongest  attachment  to  their  British  brethren. 
Still  I  shall  need  much  prudence  in  managing  the 
translation  of  Scott,  and  obtaining  an  entrance 
for  it  amongst  the  great  body  of  Protestants  all 
over  the  continent  who  speak  or  read  French — 
for  my  object  is  nothing  less.  The  English  and 
French  languages  divide  the  civilized  worlj.  I 
see  clearly  that  the  project  could  only  be  safely 
trusted  to  private  hands  ;  a  public  society  would 
not  only  spoil  the  work  as  a  literary  perform- 
ance, but  excite  additional  distrust  and  suspi- 
cion under  the  present  circumstances  of  the  con- 
tinent. 

Saturday  evening,  nine  o'clock,  October  4. — I 
have  had  a  very  long,  interesting,  and  instructive 
day.  I  have  been  out  ten  hours  visiting  the  town. 
The  views  from  Geneva — for  here  I  must  begin 
my  story — are  most  beautiful.  From  the  fortifica- 
tions, you  behold  on  all  sides  a  fruitful  and  varie- 
gated country ;  with  the  Alps  and  nearer  fore- 
ground of  mountains  covered  with  snow.  I  sat 
for  a  minute  on  a  bench,  about  three  o'clock,  just 
out  of  the  town,  and  I  could  not  help  quite  break- 
ing out  into  exclamations  of  surprise  at  the  en- 
chanting prospect  around  me.  I  took  a  boat 
afterwards,  and  rowed  (for  the  last  time)  on  this 
lovely  lake.  I  was  more  delighted,  if  possible, 
than  ever.  But  I  must  really  cease  to  talk  of  my 
impressions  of  Swiss  scenery.  I  am,  perhaps, 
moreenthusiastic  on  this  subject  just  now,  because 
I  have  seen  to-day  an  admirable  model  of  the 
greater  part  of  my  Swiss  tour.  It  was  twenty- 
six  feet  long  by  eighteen.  The  scale  was  small, 
Mont  Blanc  being  only  eleven  inches  high,  in- 
stead of  fifteen  thousand  live  hundred  and  thirty 
feet ;  but  it  was  quite  sufficient  to  recal  all  my 
feehng3  of  pleasure.  It  included  Geneva  on  one 
55—8 


side,  and  the  Grimsel,  Furca,  Lucern,  &c.  on  the 
others.  I  believe  I  told  you  that  I  saw  a  similar 
model  of  the  centre  of  Switzerland,  at  Lucern, 
by  general  Pfyffer. 

The  next  object  I  must  mention  is  the  Cathedral, 
a  fine,  spacious,  unadorned  budding,  with  benches 
only  (like  all  the  Reformed  churches,)  and  the 
names  of  each  proprietor  pasted  on  the  back  of 
his  seat.  It  contains  the  tomb  of  Henry  Due  de 
Rohan  the  chief  of  the  Protestant  party  in  France, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In 
the  time  of  the  Romans,  a  temple  of  the  sun  stood 
on  the  spot.  The  noble  reformers  and  divines  of 
Geneva  who  had  preached  there  two  or  three 
centuries  back,  came  forcibly  to  my  recollection, 
as  I  walked  through  the  solemn  aisles — Farell — 
Viret — Calvin — Beza — Turretin,  &c.  For  after 
all,  it  is  not  the  buildings  but  the  men  who  filled 
them,  and  preached  the  Gospel  of  Christ  to  a  lost 
world,  which  gives  the  real  interest,  and  excites 
the  warmest  and  most  grateful  associations  of 
thought  in  such  visits. 

I  visited  after  this  the  public  library  of  fifty 
thousand  volumes,  which  is  open  to  all  the  city.  It 
is  curious  to  learn  that  haberdashers,  tailors,  watch- 
makers, pastry-cooks,  carpenters,  porters,  journey- 
men, citizens  of  every  class  flock  every  Tuesday 
to  receive  or  change  their  books — four  hundred 
persons  of  the  common  people  on  an  average ; 
and  that  they  take  out,  not  merely  books  of  amuse- 
ment, but  of  history,  phdosophy,  theology.  Ac- 
cordingly most  persons  here  are  savaiis.  Indeed, 
ever  since  the  period  of  the  Reformation,  the  sci- 
ences, the  arts,  and  industry  have  flourished  here 
exceedingly.  There  is  no  city  in  Europe  which  has 
produced  so  great  a  number  of  illustrious  writers, 
in  proportion  to  its  population ;  there  is  none 
where  ease  and  independence  have  so  much  reign- 
ed ;  and  where  knowledge  has  been  so  generally 
diffused.  Even  now  extraodinary  care  is  paid  to 
education ;  and  though  its  incorporation  with 
France  for  sixteen  years  must,  in  various  ways, 
have  been  injurious  to  it,  yet  it  retains  still  the 
habits  of  a  small  and  free  town.  The  effect  of  all 
this  on  real  religion  and  on  the  moral  habits  of  the 
people ;  especially  since  the  infection  of  infidel 
principles  has  tainted  it;  cannot  be  doubted — the 
pride  of  half-learning  is  a  most  dangerous  thing  in 
every  view,  and  most  of  all  as  it  respects  a  real 
submission  of  the  understanding  and  heart  to  the 
doctrines  and  grace  of  the  Gospel. — I  speak  of 
course  generally. 

Amongst  the  curiosities  of  the  library,  I  give 
the  first  place  to  Calvin's  sermons  and  letters, 
which  I  venerated,  though  I  could  not  decipher 
his  hand-writing — it  is  the  most  perplexed  of  any 
I  have  seen ;  that  of  Farell  and  Viret,  his  fellow- 
reformers,  is  much  more  intelligible.  I  forgot  to 
say  that  I  saw  the  spot  where  these  reformers 
first  preached  at  Geneva.  A  letter  of  our  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  pleased  me  in  another  view.  There 
were  collections  also  of  the  letters  of  Beza  and 
Bullinger.  A  volume  of  St.  Austin's  homilies,  on 
papyrus,  of  the  sixth  century,  was  curious.  .'V  copy 
of  Cicero  de  Officiis,  printed  at  Mentz,  in  1465, 
just  after  the  invention  of  printing,  had  a  notice  at 
the  end,  boasting  that  the  work  had  not  been  done 
with  the  pen,  nor  with  ink,  but  accomplished  by  a 
certain  magnificent  art  newly  discovered.     What 


100 


TRAVELS    ON    THE     CONTINENT. 


immense  progress  lias  that  art  since  made — what 
an  engine  of  good  and  of  evil  is  the  press  become 
in  every  free  state  !  A  noble  copy  of  the  vulgate 
of  the  eighth  century  contained  the  disputed  pas- 
sage, 1  John  v.  8,  9.  A  book  of  Philip  le  Bel,  of 
the  year  13i4,  was  on  boards  of  wood,  covered 
with"  black  wax,  and  written  with  a  stylus  or  iron 
pen. 

Let  me  now  mention  some  of  the  persons  whom 
I  have  seen  to-day.  I  have  been  introduced  to 
several  of  the  professors  and  pastors.  One  allow- 
ed me  to  talk  with  him  freely.  He  was  complain- 
ing of  the  new  dissidents  from  the  national  Gene- 
vese  church.  I  told  him,  the  only  way  to  keep  a 
church  united  was  to  preach  plainly  and  simply 
the  Gospel  of  Christ ;  that  if  this  was  not  done  at 
Geneva,  the  dissensions  would  increase  more  and 
more.  He  replied,  that  during  the  last  century, 
Voltaire  was  read  by  every  shop-boy  ;  and  that 
the  clergy,  to  keep  the  people  Christians,  confined 
themselves  to  moral  topics  merely  ;  now,  however, 
the  clergy  were  beginning  to  preach  the  Gospel, 
because  the  times  required  it.  I  observed  upon 
tins,  that  the  Gospel  was  the  same  hi  every  age, 
and  that  truth  and  duty,  not  fashion,  were  the  rule 
of  a  minister's  conduct.  I  added,  that  though  I 
did  not  myself,  in  every  particular,  agree  with 
Calvin,  yet  on  the  points  of  the  proper  and  supreme 
deity  of  Christ,  the  propitiation  of  his  death,  the 
fall  of  man,  justification  by  faith,  the  influences 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  good  works  as  the  fruit  of 
faith,  I  fully  accorded  with  him  ;  and  that  the  first 
men  in  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
and  all  the  English  clergy  (twelve  thousand  or 
more  in  number,)  agreed  with  me  in  the  main  as 
to  these  doctrines,  though  many  would,  undoubt- 
edly, differ  from  me  as  to  the  particular  manner 
of  preaching  and  applying  them.  He  received  all 
I  said  with  perfect  good  temper. 

I  have  not  time  to-night  (for  it  is  half-past  ten) 
to  tell  you  of  several  other  interviews ;  I  will 
only  say,  I  sat  an  hour  in  the  evening  with  my 
friend  from  Hamburgh,  who  delighted  me  with  an 
account  of  the  revival  of  religion  at  that  place — an 
impression  made  in  the  town — numbers  coverted 
— several  young  ministers  raised  up.  My  heart 
was  rejoiced.  The  Gospel,  wherever  it  is  truly 
preached,  is  still  "the  power  of  God  to  salvation." 
Let  us  pray  more  fervently  for  the  attendant  grace 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  ministers  will  not  be  want- 
ing to  preach,  nor  congregations  to  hear  and  re- 
ceive this  blessed  revelation  of  mercy. 

Sunday  afternoon,  three  o'clock,  Oct.  5. — I  went 
this  mornimg  at  ten,  to  hear  a  celebrated  preacher 
of  this  town.  I  was  grieved.  Talent  mis-employ- 
ed, zeal  wasted,  arguments  false  or  insufficient — 
all  fundamentally  wrong.  A  sermon  on  affliction, 
leaving  out  almost  all  the  main  topics,  and  grossly 
mistaking  others.  The  church  was  full — congre- 
gation attentive — delivery  good — matter  ably  ar- 
ranged— all  right,  except  the  entire  doctrine  of 
the  discourse.  This  was  far  more  deficiently  and 
erroneously  treated  than  in  the  Catholic  sermons 
at  Martigny  and  Lyon.  A  Socinian  might  have 
preached  it.  After  the  sermon,  I  had  a  conference 
with  a  pious,  amiable,  aged  minister,  who  mourns 
over  the  state  of  religion  here,  and  prays  and  hopes 
for  a  gradual  improvement  in  the  body  of  pastors. 
He  tells  me,  that  subscription  to  the  Helvetic  con- 


fession, which  resembles  our  thirty-nine  articles, 
was  abolished  about  a  hundred  years  since,  by  the 
council  of  state,  in  consequence  of  the  vehement 
disputes  of  the  pastors  amongst  themselves ;  that 
the  catechism  was  set  aside  in  1788 ;  and  that 
the  Reglement  followed  hi  1817. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  went  to  the  hospital,  and 
heard  an  excellent  sermon  from  an  English  cler- 
gyman. It  did  me  good.  The  matter  of  it  was 
as  much  superior  to  that  which  I  had  heard  ear- 
lier in  the  morning,  as  the  manner,  composition, 
and  delivery,  were  inferior.  The  contrast  was 
striking ;  the  French  sermon,  able,  well-arranged, 
forcible — delivered  with  the  whole  soul  of  the 
preacher  ;  the  English,  feeble,  unimpressive — de- 
livered with  the  indifference  of  a  school-boy.  I 
am  far  from  supposing  my  fellow-countryman  was 
aware  of  this  ;  indeed  I  am  persuaded  he  was  not ; 
but  I  state  the  impression  as  it  was  made  on  my 
mind  at  the  time.  The  minister  of  the  Gospel  has 
not  only  to  deliver  certain  truths,  but  to  deliver 
them  with  solemnity,  the  earnestness,  the  affec- 
tion, the  force  necessary  to  arrest  the  consciences 
and  touch  the  hearts  of  men.  Sermons  carelessly 
or  tamely  delivered  will  never  arouse  a  sleeping 
world. 

At  two  o'clock,  I  attended  another  of  the  pas- 
tors— a  pleasing  sermon,  on  the  omniscience  and 
omnipresence  of  God  ;  nothing  contrary  to  sound 
doctrine — rather  agreeable  to  it.  Thus  far,  then, 
have  I  gone  in  my  sixteenth  silent  Sunday.  My 
dear  family  arrived,  as  I  hope,  at  Dijon  from  Lyon, 
last  night ;  there  I  shall  rejoice  to  meet  them  on 
Tuesday,  that  we  may  proceed  on  to  Paris  to- 
gether, and  return  to  dear,  dear  England. 

Sunday  evening,  10  o'clock. — I  have  spent  a 
most  delightful  evening  at  one  of  the  professors' 
of  the  University.  We  had  family  devotion. — 
During  the  course  of  it  arrived  a  French  Protest- 
ant minister,  from  the  Cevennes  Mountains,  in 
the  department  of  the  Garde,  remarkable  as  the 
retreat  of  the  Protestants  in  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, during  the  persecution  of  Louis  XIV.  Our 
host,  when  he  had  ended  his  own  prayer,  asked 
his  new  guest  to  pray,  and  then  me ;  so  that 
a  minister  of  the  Swiss,  French,  and  English 
churches,  prayed  in  succession.  I  trust  it  was 
truly  in  the  spirit  of  what  our  creed  calls,  "  The 
communion  of  saints."  We  had  then  an  hour 
and  a  half  of  most  edifying  conversation — quite 
delightful.  The  French  minister  complained  loud- 
ly of  the  indiscretion  of  friends  in  England,  in  ad- 
dressing, a  few  years  ago,  circular  letters  to  the 
Protestant  ministers  of  La  Garde,  to  inquire 
whether  they  were  persecuted,  &c.  The  Prefet 
of  his  department  was  extremely  angry,  and  ask- 
ed, what  the  English  would  have  said  if  French 
priests  had  sent  circular  letters  to  the  Catholics 
of  Ireland,  with  similar  inquiries  1 

He  told  me  a  circumstance  that  is  very  inte- 
resting :  at  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
in  1685,  when  Louis  XIV  persecuted  the  Protest- 
ants of  the  Cevennes  with  his  Dragonnades,  he 
pulled  down  their  churches  to  build  forts  :  and 
now  within  a  few  years,  (since  Bonaparte  gave 
liberty  to  the  Protestants)  some  of  these  forts 
have  been  destroyed,  in  return,  to  build  churches. 
Surely  'a  retributive  Providence  rides  the  world 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


101 


and  is  at  times  visibly  apparent ;  persecution, 
especially,  seems  to  be  visited  and  avenged  by  the 
righteous  dispensations  of  the  Most  High.  This 
French  minister  from  the  sequestered  mountains 
of  Cevennes  charmed  me — such  piety,  talent,  viva- 
city, simplicity,  joined  with  an  original  creative 
genius,  that  he  quite  arrested  me.  He  has  left 
that  same  sort  of  powerful  impression  on  my  mind, 
which  my  dear  friends,  the  French  minister  at 
Franckfort,  and  M.  Wyttehbach  at  Bern,  in  dif- 
ferent ways,  did.  But  I  must  absolutely  close — 
the  coach  starts  at  half-past  four  in  the  morning. 
Adieu. 

Monday  morning,  half -past  four. — At  Geneva 
still,  just  going  oft'  for  Dijon.     Farewell  Switzer- 
land !     Morning  cold,  dark,  and  miserable. 
Yours  affectionately, 

D.  W. 

NOTICE  ON  THE  REG  LENIENT  OF  GENEVA. 

This  Reglement  of  the  church  of  Geneva, 
which  was  issued  in  may  1817,  and  which  prohi- 
bits the  clergy  from  inculcating  fully  and  explicitly 
the  divinity  of  Christ,  original  sin,  grace,  and  pre- 
destination, is  one  of  the  most  afflictive  circum- 
stances which  has  occurred  in  any  Protestant 
church  since  the  reformation.  The  open  perse- 
cution at  Lausanne  I  have  already  ventured  to 
notice  with  the  indignation  which  I  conceive  it 
merits.  There,  however,  the  great  articles  of 
Christian  truth  are  not  directly  attacked.  The 
doctrine  of  the  church  remains  untouched — the 
confession,  the  liturgy,  the  other  formularies  of  the 
Reformation  survive.  The  sword  of  intolerance 
is,  indeed,  absurdly  and  wickedly  drawn  against 
those  who  infringe  on  the  ecclesiastical  discipline 
of  the  canton.  But  the  true  faith  may  be  preach- 
ed without  interruption  within  the  pale  of  that 
establishment.  No  doctrines  are  there  proscribed. 
But  at  Geneva,  persecution  is  united  with  an  open 
departure  in  the  church  itself,  from  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  the  Gospel;  the  very  foundations  of  Chris- 
tianity are  dug  up — the  wells  of  salvation  corrupt- 
ed and  poisoned. 

A  labored  apology  for  the  Reglement  has  been 
attempted  by  M.  Simond,  in  his  late  acute  and 
able  work  on  Switzerland.  He  does  not,  indeed, 
scruple  to  regret  that  it  was  issued  ;  but  the  main 
purport  of  his  remarks  is  to  show,  that  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  church,  and 
that  the  ministers  of  Geneva  have  done  right  in 
not  prolonging  fruitless  debates  after  fourteen  cen- 
turies of  contention. 

This  apology  is  exactly  agreeable  to  the  indif- 
ference as  to  religious  opinions,  which  is  so  fa- 
shionable in  the  present  day.  But  the  real  ques- 
tion is,  whether  any  body  of  ministers  have  a  right 
to  alter,  conceal,  or  check  the  full  and  fair  deve- 
lopment of  the  great  truths  of  revelation,  on  the 
plea  of  preserving  peace.  Are  not  the  doctrines 
of  the  deity  and  propitiation  of  the  Son  of  God,  of 
the  lost  and  fallen  condition  of  man,  of  the  neces- 
sity of  efficacious  grace  to  the  conversion  of  the 
heart  from  sin  to  holiness,  and  of  the  ascription  of 
all  we  receive  and  hope  for  to  the  mercy  of  God, 
the  very  sum  and  substance  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion'? And  though  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  will 
in  predestination  be  not  a  tenet  equally  funda- 


mental, yet  it  is  confessedly  found  in  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  is  avowed  and  expounded  in  most 
of  the  Protestant  confessions.  The  Seventeenth 
Article  of  the  English  church  is  expressly  on  this 
topic.  As  to  the  other  three  prohibited  doctrines, 
I  would  ask,  What  is  the  great  mystery  of  godli- 
ness, but  "  God  manifest  hi  the  flesh '!"  What 
the  great  proclamation  of  the  Gospel  itself,  but 
that  "  God  is  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto 
himself  J"  What  the  great  charge  brought  against 
the  human  race,  but  that  "  all  have  sinned  and 
come  short  of  the  glory  of  God,"  that  "  by  one 
man  sin  entered  into  the  world,"  that  we  "  are 
all  by  nature  children  of  wrath,"  and  that  it  is 
"  God  that  worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to  do  of  his 
good  pleasure  )"  What  is  the  main  summary  of 
the  whole  scheme  of  revelation,  but  that  "by 
grace  are  ye  saved  through  faith  ;  and  that  not 
of  yourselves  :  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  of  works, 
lest  any  man  should  boast ;  for  ye  are  his  work- 
manship, created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works, 
which  God  hath  before  ordained  that  ye  should 
walk  in  them  I"  And  what  was  the  chief  glory 
of  the  Reformation,  but  to  have  brought  again 
these  truths  to  light,  and  made  them  the  subjects 
of  public  instruction  ! 

It  is  true,  disputes  and  controversies  have, 
through  the  infirmity  of  man,  arisen  in  various 
ages,  on  questions  connected  with  these  sublime 
mysteries.  But  are  there  not  abundant  remedies 
for  such  evils  provided  in  the  precepts  and  narra- 
tives of  the  New  Testament,  and  especially  in  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Paul  1  Was  it  ever  imagined,  that 
the  remedy  of  such  debates  was  the  annihilation 
of  the  whole  Gospel  itself  ?  Did  St.  Paul,  on  ac- 
count of  the  dissentions  at  Corinth,  cease  to  preach 
"Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified?"  When  the 
Galatians  disputed  so  as  even  to  "  devour  one  an- 
other," did  he  not  the  more  solemnly  inculcate 
the  Gospel  which  he  had  first  delivered!  And 
with  regard  to  peace  in  the  particular  church  of 
Geneva,  did  not  the  Reglement  of  June  1,  1725, 
as  M.  Simond  acknowledges,  require  the  modera- 
tor to  charge  those  who  are  admitted  into  the  sa- 
cred ministry  "  not.  to  treat  in  the  pulpit  of  any 
curious  and  useless  topics,  which  might  disturb 
the  peace  of  the  chinch ;"  whilst  he  nevertheless 
engaged  them  to  "  maintain  the  doctrine  of  the 
holy  apostles  and  prophets,  as  it  is  contained  in 
the  books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  of 
which  doctrine  they  had  a  summary  in  their  Cate- 
chism ?"  Why  was  this  formula,  which  was 
stripped  of  its  last  clause  in  178S,  not  restored, 
as  the  most  natural  and  authoritative  expedient 
for  preserving  peace  1 

M.  Simond  says,  with  a  sort  of  triumph,  that 
the  ministers  are  only  forbidden  to  preach  on 
these  four  proscribed  topics  controversially.  But 
were  the  excellent  discourses  of  the  Regent,  in 
1818,  on  the  fall  of  the  faithful,  and  on  the  faith 
which  saves,  controversial  !  Can  any  discourses 
be  more  simple,  more  practical,  more  solid,  more 
affecting  ?  Why  then  were  the  pulpits  of  Geneva 
closed  against  him  1  Or  were  the  private  instruc- 
tions he  gave  the  children  of  his  class  polemical, 
or  contrary  to  the  peace  of  the  church  ?  Why 
then  was  he  dismissed  arbitrarily  from  his  office, 
and  cast  with  his  wife  and  children  upon  the  wide 
world  ? 


102 


1  f  V  t^  T  < 
, . ' i    »    i  i  In 


THE    CONTINENT. 


M.  Simond  draws  an  extravagant  portrait  of 
the  sentiments  which  he  is  pleased  to  denominate 
methodistical,  as  maintained  at  Geneva.  It  is 
not  my  province  to  defend  every  particular  senti- 
ment or  proceeding  into  which  pious  persons,  un- 
der an  unjust  and  intolerant  inquisition,  may  have 
fallen.  Nothing  can  be  more  unfair  than  to  lay 
hold  on  the  mistakes  or  infirmities  of  those  who 
are  the  objects  of  persecution,  as  a  palliation  of 
such  persecution  itself.  Supposing  these  errors 
to  be  tenfold  greater  than  they  have  been  alleged 
to  be  by  their  bitterest  enemies,  no  reasonable 
man  can  doubt  that  the  pious  Regent  above  re- 
ferred to,  and  the  other  students  at  Geneva,  were 
silenced  and  deprived  of  their  rights,  not  on  ac- 
count of  those  indiscretions,  but  because  they  held 
the  doctrines  of  Farell,  and  Viret,  and  Calvin,  and 
Beza,  and  all  the  Reformers  on  the  fundamental 
tenets  of  the  glorious  Gospel ;  because  they  be- 
lieved and  professed  the  mystery  of  the  eternal 
Trinity,  the  divinity  and  atonement  of  the  Son  of 
God,  the  fall  and  corruption  of  man,  and  his  inca- 
pacity for  any  thing  spiritually  good  without  the 
operation  of  "divine  grace  ;  and  the  ascription  of 
salvation  from  first  to  last  to  the  undeserved  mer- 
cy of  God  in  Christ  Jesus — those  mysteries  within 
which  all  the  truth,  and  holiness,  and  consolation 
of  genuine  Christianity  lie,  and  which,  when  they 
are  excluded,  no  single  instance  can  be  produced 
of  any  real  progress  made  in  Christian  piety  and 
virtue. 

But  M.  Simond  enumerates,  with  much  com- 
placency, the  doctrines  which  the  ministers  of 
Geneva  are  still  allowed  to  preach — the  provi- 
dence of  God,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the 
last  judgment,  the  necessity  of  a  divine  revelation, 
&c.  &c.  ;  and  concludes  by  assuring  us,  that  it  is 
the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  theology  to  make  revealed 
agree  with  natural  religion — the  very  Deism  this, 
colored  over  with  Christianity,  which  marks  the 
fatal  fall  which  I  am  deploring  in  the  church  of 
Geneva.  For  what  are  these  doctrines,  if  sepa- 
rated from  the  great  sacrifice  of  an  Incarnate  Sa- 
viour, and  the  efficacious  operations  of  the  Eternal 
Spirit,  but  a  mockery  of  man's  misery  1  Where 
is  pardon,  where  adoption,  where  peace  of  con- 
science, where  regeneration  and  conversion, 
where  holy  love  to  a  dying  and  glorified  Saviour, 
where  the  influences  of  grace,  where  the  springs 
of  obedience  and  mortification  of  sin,  which  are 
all  necessary  in  order  to  meet  with  comfort  this 
awful  resurrection  and  the  judgment  of  the  last 
day  1  Better,  far  better  that  the  delusive  peace 
of  the  Genevese  church  should  be  troubled,  than 
that  all  the  souls  committed  to  its  care  should 
perish  in  ignorance  of  the  life-giving  truths  of  sal- 
vation. Indeed  real  peace  in  a  church  can  be 
obtained  by  no  such  methods.  The  way  to  that 
great  blessing  is,  by  the  humble,  faithful  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel  in  all  its  fulness,  as  it  was  de- 
livered to  us  by  the  apostles  and  evangelists,  and 
re-asserted  by  the  Reformers  and  Martyrs — then 
would  a  meek  and  docile  temper  be  framed,  and 
all  the  holy  fruits  of  obedience  cultivated,  in  those 
who  received  the  grace  of  the  Saviour  ;  and  thus 
peace  would  flourish  and  abound. 

I  speak  the  more  warmly  on  this  subject,  be- 
cause Geneva  furnishes  many  of  the  Protestant 
churches  in  every  part  of  Europe  with  young  pas- 


tors. The  doctrines  of  her  once  celebrated  uni- 
versity are  preached  at  Paris  and  Lyon,  at  Brussels 
and  Hamburgh,  at  London  and  St.  Petersburgh. 
Let  us  pray,  then,  that  divine  truth  may  again 
revive  amongst  her  ministers,  pastors,  and  pro- 
fessors. Voltaire  and  Rousseau  have  passed  away. 
The  mischievous  and  poisonous  influence  of  their 
writings  is  rapidly  diminishing.  They  live  no  lon- 
ger to  feed  a  prurient  curiosity  with  a  succession 
of  impious  and  licentious  productions.  Let  us 
hope,  then,  that  sound  learning  and  sound  theology 
may  gradually  revive.  Surely  the  pastors  of  Ge- 
neva must  hear  sometimes  of  the  grief  and  con- 
sternation which  fill  Protestant  Europe  at  their 
fall.  Surely  they  must  feel  the  cutting  reproaches 
of  Roman  Catholics,  and  even  of  infidels,  on  their 
inconsistent  and  unmanly  conduct  as  professors  of 
the  religion  of  Christ.*  Surely  they  must  observe 
in  the  incipient  dissenting  bodies  springing  up  in 
the  bosom  of  their  republic,  and  will  probably  in- 
crease till  the  true  doctrine  is  again  preached  in 
the  churches,  that  neither  peace  nor  unity  can  be 
attained  on  their  present  plan.  Surely  that  part 
at  least  of  the  ministers  and  students  whose  pre- 
judices are  less  fixed,  must  see,  in  the  daily  ac- 
counts of  the  progress  of  religion  in  every  part  of 
the  world  by  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
there  is  a  reality  in  the  Gospel,  a  power,  an  effica- 
cy from  on  high,  which  attends  the  humble  preach- 
ing of  the  doctrines  of  grace,  to  which  no  other 
scheme  of  religion  can  pretend. 

May  the  time  be  hastened,  when  Geneva,  hav- 
ing "  repented  and  done  her  first  works,"  shall 
again  resume  her  rank  amongst,  the  Reformed 
churches,  and  become  once  more  the  favorite  uni- 
versity of  continental  Europe  !  The  small  num- 
ber of  her  pastors  (about  thirty  or  forty)  may 
make  a  return  comparatively  easy.  Already  some 
favorable  appearances  present  themselves.  1  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  myself  several  pastors  who 
were  imbued  with  the  genuine  love  of  a  crucified 
Saviour,  and  I  heard  of  others  who  still  "hold  the 
head."  In  the  meantime,  let  it  be  the  care  of 
those  who  are  "  suffering  for  righteousness'  sake" 
to  walk  circumspectly,  to  study  the  meek  and  pas- 
sive character  of  the  primitive  Christians  when 
under  persecution,  to  imbibe  the  eminent  spirit  of 
wisdom  and  humility  which  adorned  the  Reformers 
of  the  Swiss  churches,  and  which  was  more  re- 
markable than  even  their  fortitude  or  zeal;  and, 
above  all, to  "take  heed  to  the  doctrine"  which 
they  preach,  that  it  be  "  sound  speech  that  cannot 
be  condemned" — that  they  dwell  chiefly  on  great 
and  necessary  truths — that  they  avoid  matters  of 


*  M.  Simond  quotes  Rousseau  as  saying,  with 
much  truth,  "  People  ask  the  ministers  of  the  church 
of  Geneva,  if  Jesus  Christ  is  God.  They  dare  not 
reply.  A  philosopher  casts  a  rapid  look  on  them. 
He  penetrates  them,  he  sees  them  to  be  Arians,  So- 
cinians,  Deists;  he  says  this,  with  the  idea  of  doing 
them  honor.  Immediately  they  assemble  in  alarm 
and  terror,  they  discuss,  they  are  agitated,  they  know 
not  on  what  saint  to  call,  and  after  a  variety  of  con- 
sultations, deliberations,  conferences,  all  ends  in  an 
equivoque  in  which  they  neither  say  yes  nor  no.  O 
Genevese,  your  ministers  are  truly  singular  persons; 
people  know  not  what  they  believe,  nor  what  they 
do  not  believe  !  One  knows  not  even  what  they  pre- 
tend to  believe;  their  only  manner  of  establishing 
their  faith  is  by  attacking  that  of  others." 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


103 


confessed  difficulty  or  inferior  moment,  however 
scriptural,  in  their  view,  they  may  be — or  that,  at 
all  events,  they  treat  such  points  with  the  reserve 
which  the  Apostles  constantly  exhibit — and  that 
thus  they  "show  themselves  to  be  workmen  that 
need  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the  word 
of  truth."* 


LETTER  XVII. 

Poligny,  Oct.  7,  1833.— Paris,  Oct.  11, 1823. 

Nyon— Calvin  and  Fletcher — Catholic  Lady— Con- 
versation on  Popery — Geneva — Prohibited  Books 
— An xon no— Irish  Catholics — Dijon — Miraculous 
linage  of  Virgin — Palace  of  ihe  Dukes  of  Bur- 
gundy—  Bossuet  —  Wagons —  Auxerre  —  .Toigny 
— Cardinal  de  Retz — Fontainebleau— Apartments 
of  the  Pope — Bonaparte's  Abdication — Place  of 
Madrid  —  Character  of  Bonaparte  —  Sens — St. 
Bernard — Manners  of  people — Catholics  receiv- 
ing Tracts — Arrival  at  Paris. 

Dole,  Department  of  the  Jura,  110  miles 
from  Geneva,  about  2,522  miles  from 
London  by  my  route,  Tuesday  morning, 
October  7,  1823. 

My  dearest  sister — So  far  have  I  come  in 
this  tiresome  diligence.  We  left  Geneva  at  half- 
past  four  yesterday.  The  day  soon  broke  out. 
beautifully.  We  drove  along  the  lake  to  Nyon, 
which  I  just  named  to  you  as  I  was  first  passing 
to  Geneva  six  weeks  back.  It  is  an  agreeable 
town,  of  eighteen  hundred  souls,  supposed  to  be 
the  Roman  Novodunum,  about  eleven  miles  from 
Geneva.  Marble  urns,  inscriptions,  and  other 
antiquities  are  still  found  in  its  neighborhood.  It 
is  endeared  to  Englishmen  as  having  given  birth 
to  Fletcher  of  Mfdeley — a  name  connected  with 
all  that  is  pure  and  exalted  in  piety,  and  amiable 
and  disinterested  in  benevolence ;  nothing,  I  think, 
in  modern  times  has  equalled  the  habitual  spirit- 
uality of  mind,  the  holy  and  ardent  love,  the  utter 
raction  from  worldly  things,  the  unaffected 
humility,  the  self-denying  and  tender  compassion 
for  souls,  that  distinguished  this  eminent  minister. 
Had  the  great  reformer  of  Geneva,  two  centuries 
previous,  united  the  lovely  and  seraphic  qualities 
of  Fletcher,  with  his  own  prodigious  grasp  of  in- 
tellect, the  Reformation  would  have  gained  incal- 
culably. The  sweetness  and  devotion  of  the  one, 
joined  to  the  penetrating  judgment  and  vast  intel- 
lect of  the  other,  would  have  formed  a  character 
of  surpassing  excellence.!  But  I  have  no  time 
to  enlarge. 

*  I  am  happy,  truly  happy,  to  be  able  to  say,  from 
my  last  accounts  from  Switzerland,  March,  1825, 
t  lint  the  spirit  of  persecution  appears  to  be  much  de- 
clining at  Geneva — that  the  pious  regent  above  re- 
ferred to  is  allowed  to  preach  and  exercise  his  mi- 
nistry in  a  separate  meeting-house  without  molesta- 
tion; and  that  some  hope  may  be  entertained  of  a 
gradual  approximation  once  more  to  the  truth  of  the 
Gospel,  on  the  part  of  the  ministers  and  inhabitants 
of  the  city  and  canton. 

+  Mr.  Fletcher's  name  was  properly  Jean  Guil- 
laume  de  la  Flechere.    He  was  born  at  Nyon,  Sep- 


After  passing  Nyon,  we  ascended  the  Dole 
mountain,  the  highest  of  the  chain  of  the  Jura ; 
five  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty  feet — insuf- 
ferably cold.  We  supped  at  St.  Laurent ;  and, 
at  half-past  four  this  morning,  we  arrived  at  Po- 
ligny,  having  performed  eighty-three  miles  in 
twenty-four  hours,  i.  e.  not  quite  three  miles  and 
a  half  in  the  hour.  The  road  across  the  Jura  was 
surrounded  with  rude,  magnificent  scenery,  and  in 
some  places  was  sublime  and  beautiful.  Snow  lay 
scattered  here  and  there,  and  on  the  summit  pretty 
thickly.  Posts  are  erected  at  short  intervals,  to 
mark  its  depth  in  the  winter.  O-ne  set  of  misera- 
ble horses  drew  us  forty-fcur  miles,  three  stages. 
The  drivers  managed  this,  by  making  them  rest 
while  we  supped,  and  whdst  our  luggage  was 
searched,  which  was  only  three  times  in  nine 
hours  !  Dole,  where  we  are  about  to  breakfast, 
is  a  town  of  eight  thousand  live  hundred  souls,  on 
the  river  Doube,  the  Dubis  of  Caesar,  and  formerly 
the  capital  of  Franche-compte  ;  in  a  tract  which, 
from  its  fertility  and  beauty,  has  received  the  name 
of  the  Vol  d "Amour.  It  contains  some  ruins  of 
a  Poman  amphitheatre  and  of  two  aqueducts. 

I  have  two  English  gentlemen  as  my  compa- 
nions, who  are  very  agreeable;  and  one  Italian 
lady,  who  speaks  good  French.  She  talks  fast  on 
all  sorts  of  subjects,  and  amongst  other  questions, 
asked  me  this  morning,  if  I  was  a  Catholic.  This 
led  to  a  long  conversation.  The  point  I  insisted 
upon  was,  that  the  church  of  Rome  had  gradually 
lost  the  simple  and  scriptural  meaning  of  each 
separate  part  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  had 
substituted  for  it  a  gross  external  sense,  just  suit- 
ed to  the  ignorance  and  corruption  of  the  human 
heart.  Thus,  for  the  spiritual  invisible  church,  it. 
had  substituted  the  outward  church  of  Rome,  and 
for  Christ  its  head,  the  Pope  ;  for  feeding  by  faith 
on  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  transubstantia- 
tion  ;  for  repentance,  penance ;  for  contrition  and 
lowliness  of  heart,  lacerations  and  pilgrimages ; 
for  confession  of  sins  before  God,  auricular  confes- 
sion to  a  priest ;  for  prayer  to  God  from  the  heart, 
endless  repetitions  of  paternosters  ;  for  reverence 
and  honor  to  the  Virgin  Mary  and  the  saints,  reli- 
gious and,  in  fact,  idolatrous  worship  ;  for  secret 
holy  love  to  the  Saviour,  images  and  crucifixes ; 
for  reliance  on  the  satisfaction  and  atonement  of 
Christ  only,  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  prostrations, 
scourgings,  lacerations,  merits  of  saints,  indulgen- 
ces, purgatory,  &c. ;  for  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  merit  of  congruity,  a  mere  external  and  for- 
mal routine  of  ceremonies,  man's  unassisted  ef- 
forts, incense,  lights  ever  burning,  &c. ;  and  so  of 
all  the  rest ! 

She  confessed  that  in  her  heart  she  preferred 
the  Protestant  religion,  as  the  most  pure  and  un- 
adorned ;  but  that  having  been  brought  up  a  Ca- 
tholic, she  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  change.  I 
could  make  no  impression  on  her.  She  said  she 
had  been  once  present  at  the  Protestant  service 
at  Paris,  and  was  charmed  with  the  simplicity  of 


tember  12th,  1729;  and  died  August  14th,  1785.— 
Calvin,  whose  name  originally  was  Jean  Chauvin, 
or  Cauvin,  was  a  native  of  Picardv,  but  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  life  at  the  celebrated  city  of 
Geneva.  He  was  born  July  10.  1509.  and  died 
May  27,  1564. 


104 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


the  prayers;  and,  above  all,  with  the  clear  and 
manly  exposition  of  the  Gospel  given  by  the  mi- 
nister in  his  sermon.  I  found  I  could  not  supply 
what  was  wanting  in  her  state  of  mind — a  deep 
conviction  of  the  value  of  her  soul — a  right  sense 
of  sin  as  committed  against  God — a  holy  dread  of 
giving  that  honor  to  creatures,  which  the  Almighty 
Jehovah  claims  for  himself — and,  above  all,  a  liv- 
ing faith  in  the  all-sufficient  atonement  of  that 
divine  Saviour,  whose  sacrifice  is  in  effect  made 
void  by  the  superstitions  and  human  merits  of 
Popery.  I  thought  it  at  last  most  advisable  to 
urge  her  to  read  the  New  Testament,  and  to  at- 
tend earnestly  to  the  main  essentials  of  religion, 
as  she  found  them  there  enforced ;  repentance  for 
sin,  faith  in  the  merits  of  our  Saviour  Christ,  love 
to  God  and  man,  and  obedience  to  the  divine  law, 
as  flowing  from  these  principles.  This  advice  did 
not  irritate  her.  She  admitted  the  propriety  of 
complying  with  it;  and  we  continued  excellent 
friends  during  the  remainder  of  our  journey. 

The  country,  since  we  have  descended  the  Jura, 
is  tolerably  pleasant,  but  not  fine.  The  villages 
are  rather  miserable.  The  women  wear  wocden 
shoes  without  stockings.  The  lands  are  not  well 
cultivated :  there  are  vineyards  occasionally. 

As  the  breakfast  is  not  ready,  I  may  as  well  in- 
form you  that  trie  ministers  of  Geneva  (for  I  tell 
you  things  as  they  come  to  my  recollection)  have 
the  unfavorable  habit  of  perpetually  changing 
duties  with  each  other;  a  printed  paper  being 
published  in  the  town  every  Saturday,  with  a  list 
of  the  preachers  for  the  week.  Besides  this,  they 
have  months  of  repose,  alternately  with  months 
of  preaching ;  the  consequence,  I  conceive,  must 
be,  that  the  pastoral  feelings  must  be  weakened, 
as  well  as  the  habits  of  painful  diligence  which 
become  the  minister  of  Christ.  But  it  is  all  of  a 
piece.  The  religion  of  too  many  of  the  Gene- 
vese,  and  indeed  of  the  Swiss  generally,  seems 
at  present  to  have  wofully  degenerated  from  the 
dedication  of  the  heart  to  God,  and  the  pervading 
influence  of  Christian  principles  through  the  whole 
life,  to  a  formal  preparation  for  the  first  communion 
and  attendance  on  the  three  or  four  annual  festi- 
vals. Surely  this  is  greatly  to  mistake  the  nature 
of  true  religion,  and  must  bring  down  on  them  the 
marked  displeasure  of  the  Divine  Head  of  the 
church,  who  "  holds  the  stars  in  his  right  hand, 
and  walks  in  the  midst  of  the  golden  candlesticks." 
— Rev.  ii.  1. 

There  is,  however,  much  sincere  and  simple  de- 
votion amongst  many  individuals  at  Geneva,  not- 
witnstanding  the  general  state  of  the  church. 
One  !ady,  the  mother  of  a  large  family,  charmed 
me  with  her  humble  and  yet  ardent  spirit  of  piety. 
It  is  said  that  her  deeds  of  charity  may  be  count- 
ed not  merely  by  the  days,  but  by  •'he  hours  of  her 
life.  She  maintains  in  the  most  admirable  order 
two  orphan  schools  almost  at  her  own  charge. 
Her  love  to  her  Saviour,  her  delight  in  prayer,  her 
meekness,  her  humility  and  teachableness,  her 
zeal  in  every  good  work,  delighted  me,  even  on 
the  short  acquaintance  I  had  thp  opportunity  of 
forming.  I  trust  there  are  many,  many  such  in 
every  class  of  society,  and  that  the  number  will 
increase ;  for  I  hope  my  remarks,  though  appa- 
rently severe,  are  consistent  with  the  most  genu- 
ine charity ;  I  wish  them  to  be  so  ;  sometimes  I 


half  retract  what  I  am  writing,  lest  I  should  over- 
step the  limits  of  that  tenderness  and  love,  which 
Christ  our  Lord  enjoins,  and  which  his  Gospel 
breathes  throughout.  I  can  sincerely  declare  that 
the  unfavorable  reports  I  send  you,  are  most  re- 
luctantly made. 

Prohibited  books  are  introduced  into  the  conti- 
nental states  in  a  curious  way ;  the  title-page 
and  contents  of  Blair's  Sermons,  for  example,  are 
printed  and  inserted  for  those  of  O'Meara's  Bona- 
parte, and  thus  the  fraud  is  concealed.  A  patri- 
otic spirit  is  a  good  deal  cherished  amongst  the 
youth ;  the  students  of  all  the  different  colleges 
and  academies  meet  once  a  year,  at  a  central  spot 
in  Switzerland,  to  encourage  a  love  to  their  coun- 
try ;  about  six  hundred  are  meeting  this  week  at 
Zofingen. 

Dijon,  capital  of  ancient  Burgundy,  eight  o'clock, 
Tuesday  night. — Thank  God,  I  am  safely  arrived, 
after  a  journey  of  one  hundred  and  eighty-two 
miles  from  Geneva,  performed  in  thirty-eight  wea- 
ry hours.  I  left  Dole  at  twelve,  in  another  coach 
which  met  us  from  Besancon,  and  which  consist- 
ed of  three  parts,  a  front  chariot  and  two  bodies 
of  coaches,  most  awkwardly  united  and  placed  on 
the  same  wheels,  (something  like  our  double 
coaches  in  England,)  and  holding  fifteen  persons 
inside  altogether.  I  was  seated  in  the  chariot, 
which  they  call  Le  coupe.  We  had  five  horses, 
and  our  pace  improved  so  astonishingly,  that  we 
went  five  miles  and  a  half  the  hour  !  We  passed 
through  a  fortified  town,  named  Auxonne,  where 
Bonaparte  is  said  to  have  studied  in  the  school  of 
artillery.  I  had  a  companion  in  the  coupe,  who 
was  descended  of  Irish  parents.  He  was  a  sen- 
sible, well-informed,  communicative  man,  a  Ca- 
tholic. You  may  judge  what  was  the  subject  of 
our  discourse — the  conduct  of  our  government  to 
the  Irish  Catholics.  In  fact,  during  the  whole 
course  of  our  tour,  nothing  has  been  so  frequently 
objected  to  me  as  this  topic.  Whatever  observa- 
tions an  Englishman  makes  on  the  laws  or  usages 
of  the  continental  nations,  the  constant  answer  is, 
Look  to  your  own  treatment  of  the  Catholics  of 
Ireland.  I  replied  to  my  companion  as  mildly  as 
I  could,  vindicating  our  government  very  much 
on  the  ground  of  the  violent  prejudices  and  party- 
spirit  which  have  prevented  any  fair  judgment 
from  being  formed,  and  any  impartial  public  mea- 
sures being  carried,  on  such  an  irritated  question ; 
at  the  same  time  observing  to  him  that  foreigners 
often  had  a  very  incorrect  and  inadequate  notion 
of  the  real  situation  of  the  Irish  Roman  Catholics  ; 
and  that  in  a  free  country  like  England,  the  go- 
vernment could  adopt  no  general  arrangements 
with  respect  to  them,  without  the  concurrence  of 
parliament,  and  the  support  of  public  opinion.  I 
told  him  I  was  myself  far  from  joining  in  the  in- 
discriminate hostility  against  all  further  change 
in  the  restrictive  laws,  which  animated  too  many 
of  my  countrymen  ;  but  was,  on  the  contrary,  ra- 
ther inclined  to  the  opinion  that  additional  civil 
privileges  might  be  gradually  granted  the  Catho- 
lics, in  proportion  as  their  loyalty  and  general 
good  conduct  should  seem  to  entitle  them  to  them. 
I  added,  that  as  a  zealous  Protestant,  I  conceived 
the  more  we  could  mix  the  Irish  with  the  rest  of 
the  subjects  of  the  British  crown,  and  fairly  in- 
crease their  stake  in  the  blessings  of  the  British. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


105 


constitution,  the  more  we  should  loosen  the  bands 
of  priestcraft,  and  separate  them  from  their  pre- 
sent guides.  In  reply,  he  assured  me  that  it  was 
his  hrm  opinion  that  a  conscientious  Catholic 
might  be  a  most  loyal  and  faithful  subject  of  a 
Protestant  prince — the  power  of  the  Pope  had  for 
a  long  time  been  so  purely  spiritual,  or  rather  ec- 
clesiastical and  formal — nothing,  he  thought,  but 
a  violent  party-spirit  could  in  any  way  make  it 
dangerous.  I  give  you  the  conversation  exactly 
as  it  occurred.  I  am  far  from  dogmatizing,  as  you 
know,  on  so  complicated  and  difficult  a  point. — 
Popery  I  hate  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  But 
the  obvious  ill  effects  of  the  system  now  acted 
upon  in  Ireland,  and  the  anomalous,  inconsistent 
state  of  the  laws  affecting  the  Catholics,  together 
with  the  uniform  practice  of  the  continental  go- 
vernments, seem  to  advise  the  trial  of  new  and 
more  lenient  proceedings. 

I  found  my  dearest  Mrs.  W.  and  my  daughter 
here,  pretty  well.  They  arrived  from  Lyon  on 
Saturday,  at  noon.  The  dear  boys  set  off  in  one 
of  the  carriages,  for  Paris,  on  Monday  morning, 
because  the  eldest  is  called  to  Oxford,  by  the  com- 
mencement of  the  University  term.  Thus  has  it 
pleased  God  to  preserve  and  bless  us.  We  fol- 
low my  sons  to-morrow  to  Paris.     Adieu. 

Mcason  Neuve,  department  of  Cote  a"*  Or,  43  miles 
from  Dijon,  on  Ike  Auxerre  and  Fontainebleau  road 
to  Paris,  Wednesday  evening,  7  o'clock,  Oct.  8. — 
Such  is  the  place  from  which  I  date  my  letter  to- 
night. We  all  retired  to  rest  last  evening,  at  Di- 
jon, between  eight  and  nine.  I  slept  quite  well 
till  six,  and  then  rose  to  visit  the  town  of  Dijon — 
the  birth-place  of  Bossuet — before  we  set  off.  I 
first  went  to  the  church  of  St.  Benigne,  the  spire 
of  which  has  an  elevation  of  three  hundred  and 
seventy  feet.  It  is  one  of  the  most  elegant  I  have 
ever  seen  ;  the  spires  of  Coventry  and  Worcester 
are  the  only  ones  to  which  I  can  compare  it.  As 
I  walked  along,  I  happened  to  observe  on  all  the 
churches  an  immense  placard.  I  stopped  from 
mere  curiosity  to  see  what  it  was.  It  was  an  ad- 
vertisement of  a  new  edition  of  the  history  of  the 
miraculous  image  of  Notre  Dame  at  Dijon.  I 
thought  this  quite  piquant  ;  I  hurried  to  the 
church,  and  looked  all  around :  a  gaudy,  embel- 
lished building,  filled  with  altars,  and  pictures,  and 
statues ;  but  no  image,  that  I  could  discover.  I 
was  determined  not  to  be  disappointed  ;  and  go- 
ing out  I  met  an  elderly  lady  apparently  approach- 
ing the  church  door,  and  inquired  of  her  if  that 
was  the  church  of  the  miraculous  image.  She  re- 
plied with  a  manifest  feeling  of  pleasure,  that  it 
was  ;  and  immediately  took  me  up  to  an  altar  in 
the  church,  on  which  was  the  statue  of  the  Virgin, 
resembling  that  of  a  blackamoor,  and  decked  out 
with  tawdry  ornaments. 

I  afterwards  bought  the  book :  positively  it  as- 
serts the  various  miracles  performed  by  this 
wretched  figure.  Nay,  more,  indulgences  are 
granted  to  all  who  worship  this  image,  and  a  so- 
ciety is  formed  to  celebrate  feasts  to  her  honor. 
As  the  image  is  black,  the  author  attempts  to 
prove,  very  gravely,  that  the  Virgin  Mary  was  of 
a  swarthy  complexion,  and  applies  to  her  the 
mystical  words  of  the  Canticles,  "I  am  black,  but 
comely."  He  supposes  the  image  to  be  of  the 
eleventh  century.    He  affirms  that  it  is  not  only 


"  the  object  of  the  confidence  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Dijon,  but  that  all  the  province  invokes  it.'"  This 
is  the  language  he  uses.  The  alleged  miracles 
are,  like  all  the  Popish  ones,  more  than  dubious. 
For  instance,  the  Swiss  besieged  Dijon  in  1513 — 
they  were  about  to  storm  the  city — the  whole 
town  betook  itself  to  pray  to  the  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin—  the  enemies  relented,  and  the  siege  was 
raised.  In  such  an  event,  supposing  it  to  be  true, 
every  one  sees  there  is  not  even  a  pretence  to 
that  broad,  direct,  and  palpable  suspension  of  the 
powers  of  nature,  open  to  the  view  of  mankind, 
which  distinguishes  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel. 
I  have  brought  the  book  with  me  to  England. — 
What  can  one  hope  for,  when  such  mummeries 
are  obtruded  upon  France,  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  after  the  attacks  made  by  infidelity  on 
our  common  Christianity'? 

Two-tliirds  of  the  churches  of  Dijon  are  shut  up 
and  used  as  storehouses  and  granaries.  The  place 
royale  is  in  the  form  of  a  horse-shoe  and  contains 
the  provincial  palace  and  the  ancient  house  of 
assembly  of  the  parliament  of  Burgundy.  The 
palace  of  the  governor  general  of  Burgundy  is  now 
occupied  by  a  police  office,  museum,  and  library. 
One  of  the  magnificent  staircases  is  used  as  a  book- 
seller's shop ;  the  arcades  are  built  up,  and  used 
as  shops  likewise.  Such  are  the  transformations 
which  a  few  years  make  in  the  mansions  of  the 
great.  Dijon  was  the  seat  of  one  of  the  ancient  par- 
liaments, and  contains  now  twenty-two  thousand 
souls.  The  Protestants  are  considered  by  some 
of  the  common  people  to  be  Jews,  or  rather,  as  I 
hope,  confounded  with  them,  just  as  they  were  at 
Dunkirk  ;  for  I  cannot  imagine  any  persons  actual- 
ly to  believe  the  Protestants  to  be  Jews. 

But  you  will  be  anxious  for  me  to  come  to  the 
great  Bossuet — I  inquired  of  several  persons 
where  he  lived  ;  but  was  surprised  to  find  no  one 
knew  any  thing  about  him.  At  Lichfield  every 
child  would  have  pointed  out  to  me  the  house 
where  our  great  English  moralist  (Dr.  Samuel 
Johnson)  was  born.  At  last  I  discovered  the 
street  which  bears  his  name,  Rue  dc  Bossuet.  It 
still  took  me  some  time  to  ascertain  the  spot  of 
his  birth.  I  went  from  house  to  house ;  not  a 
creature  could  give  me  any  information  :  with 
great  difficulty  I  at  length  found  the  place,  a 
bookseller's  shop.  The  bookseller  himself  was 
hardly  aware  of  the  distinguished  person  who  had 
formerly  inhabited  his  dwelling.  Two  hundred 
years  had,  in  fact,  effaced  almost  all  traces  ot 
this  prodigious  genius,  except  his  small  ch?oel. 
I  entered  it,  and  examined  every  part,  not  without: 
veneration.  The  house  itself  has  undergone  so 
many  alterations,  as  to  contain  only  a  few  rooms 
of  the  original  building.  Bossuet  is  undoubtedly 
the  first  writer  whom  the  French  possess ;  but  ha 
is  not  one  of  my  greatest  favorites.  I  cannot  di. 
vest  my  mind  of  his  harsh  treatment  of  the  ajr> 
able  Fenelon.  His  haughty  domineering  rp.nl, 
also,  as  he  acquired  weight  in  the  councils  of 
France,  and  the  share  which  I  cannot  but  tl  ink 
he  took,  notwithstanding  the  apologies  of  his 
biographer,  Bausset,  in  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  have  left  an  unfavorable  impres- 
sion on  my  mind  as  to  his  whole  chare  "ler. 

But  his  sermons,  which  were  not  prepared  for 
publication,  and  are  the  first  effusions  of  Ids  heart 


106 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT, 


in  his  early  life,  when  his  piety  seems  to  have  been 
really  fervent  and  sincere,  are  admirable.  They 
were  published  after  his  death.  I  prefer  them  to 
those  of  Massillon  and  Bourdaloue.  There  is 
quite  as  much  of  religious  truth  in  them,  with  more 
of  nature,  force,  energy,  surprising  thoughts,  and 
an  overpowering  eloquence,  negligent  of  exact 
form,  and  quite  bearing  away  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  The  finest  trait  in  his  conduct  at  court 
was  his  writing  to  his  royal  master  when  at  the 
camp  in  Flanders,  to  remonstrate  with  him,  in  the 
most  respectful  but  firm  manner,  on  the  scandal 
of  his  connexion  with  Madame  de  Montespan — 
and  then  his  going  out  to  meet  the  king  when  he 
was  returning  from  the  campaign,  and  alighting 
from  his  carriage,  and  placing  himself  in  the  midst 
of  the  road,  by  which  his  majesty  was  about  to 
pass,  in  order  to  entreat  and  urge  him  to  a 
change  of  conduct,  and  a  conversion  to  God. 
This"  was  noble,  and  as  became  a  Christian 
bishop  especially  towards  an  imperious  tyrant 
like  Louis  XIV. 

But  I  must  not  enlarge.  The  city  of  Dijon  is 
one  of  the  finest  in  France  :  the  streets  are  wide 
and  open,  and  the  buildings  handsome.  It  stands 
on  the  river  Ouche.  I  met  a  young  Catholic 
student  at  a  bookseller's.  He  seemed  tolerably 
well  informed.  The  university  here  is  amongst 
the  most  celebrated  in  France.  We  left  Dijon  at 
hatf-past  nine,  and  came  to  this  village  (Maison 
Neuve,)  where,  finding  no  horses,  we  have  taken 
up  our  abode  for  the  night.  We  have  had  beauti- 
ful weather,  and  good  roads  ;  but  the  horses  and 
postillions  are  so  indifferent,  that  we  have  been 
eight  hours  going  forty-three  miles. 

We  have  met  a  great  many  wagons  to-day  of 
rather  a  curious  construction.  They  are  small 
carriages,  on'  four  wheels,  without  bodies  ;  the 
merchandize  being  packed  with  straw,  on  two 
trunks  of  trees,  which  form  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon.  The  whole  is  covered  with  a  wrapper 
of  white  clean  cloth,  and  kept  close  with  cords. 
One  horse  draws  the  carriage.  A  train  of  ten  or 
twenty  of  them  follow  each  other,  and  there  is  one 
man  to  about  five.  Goods  are  transported  in  this 
way  all  across  France.  The  horse  has  an  enormous 
collar,  and  a  cloth  over  the  harness.  We  met 
numbers  of  these  wagons  in  many  parts  of  Swit- 
zerland. Sometimes  the  pole  of  them  rises  many 
feet  above  the  horse's  head,  in  the  most  awkward 
way  imaginable,  and  then  it  has  two  chains  join- 
ing it  to  the  harness  of  the  animal.  In  fact,  so  far 
as  I  can  judge,  France  is,  in  most  respects,  much 
behind  our  happy  country.  You  see  scarcely  any 
fields,  barns,  and  farm-houses,  in  tins  part  of  the 
Cote  d'Or— all  is  one  common.  The  country 
through  which  we  have  passed  to  day  has  been  far 
from  fine — but  I  must  prepare  for  retiring  to  rest ; 
it  is  past  eight  o'clock.  The  dear  boys,  I  hope, 
arrived  a  Paris  this  afternoon ;  we  are  about  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  off.  We  hope  to 
sleep  to-morrow  night  at  Joigny,  Friday  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  and  Saturday  at  Paris. 

Joigny,  Thursday  evening,  half-past  six. — 
Through  God's  goodness  we  have  arrived  safely 
in  this  town,  after  a  journey  of  seventy-seven 
English  miles.  The  chief  things  which  have 
pleased  us  to-day  are  Avallon  and  Auxerre.  Aval 


celebrated  Theodore  Beza  is  said  to  have  been 
born  in  the  neighborhood.  We  stopped  to  take 
some  refreshment,  and  in  the  salle-a-manger  found 
a  priest  who  was  eating  a  solitary  meal.  He 
seemed  depressed  and  abject,  his  attire  was  mean, 
and  his  whole  appearance  opposite  to  the  general 
air  of  the  priests  whom  we  saw  at  Domo  D'Osola 
and  Milan.  France  and  Italy  are  clearly  two 
different  places  as  it  respects  ecclesiastical  domi- 
nation. 

Auxerre  is  one  of  the  most  beautifully  situated 
cities  which  I  have  seen  since  I  left  England.  It 
is  the  chief  town  of  the  department  of  the  Yonne, 
and  stands  on  the  river  of  that  name ;  it  has  twelve 
thousand  souls.  A  gentle  hill  gives  the  place  a 
lovely  appearance  from  a  distance.  As  you  ap- 
proach, the  view  is  remarkably  fine.  The  fore- 
ground is  covered  with  vineyards  ;  then  the  river 
presents  itself ;  above  is  the  town,  on  the  rising 
ground,  crowned  with  fertile  hills  and  meadows. 
The  sides  are  bounded  by  trees  and  pastures  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  fine  bridge  leading  to  the 
town  on  the  other.  Whilst  we  were  changing 
horses,  I  ran  up  with  my  little  Eliza  to  see  the 
cathedra],  which  is  a  noble,  lofty  structure.  We 
have  been  passing  to-day  through  some  of  the  finest 
vineyards  of  this  part  of  France.  The  vintage  is 
not  yet  begun.  The  vin  ordinaire,  included  in  the 
dinners,  is  now  excellent. 

Friday  evening,  October  10,  half-past  six,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  department  of  Seine  and  Marne,  forty 
miles  from  Paris. — Again  a  day  of  goodness  and 
mercy  from  our  Heavenly  Father.  My  dear  Ann 
and  Eliza  are  now  sitting  by  me  happy  and  com- 
fortable, after  the  hasty  dinner  of  which  we  have 
just  partaken.  They  are  not  over- fatigued.  I 
seem  now  to  be  at  home  ;  we  are  so  near  to  Paris. 
We  have  come  sixty-one  miles  to-day  from  Joig- 
ny ;  and  our  road  and  horses  have  been  so  good, 
that  we  were  somewhat  less  than  nine  hours  upon 
the  route. 

Tliis  morning  I  rose  soon  after  five,  and  was  out 
by  six  visiting  the  town  of  Joigny.  I  was  not 
aware  of  it ;  but  really  we  have  advanced  so  far 
into  the  autumn,  that  I  could  hardly  see  my  way 
about.  The  evenings  seem  yet  more  drawn  in. 
At  half-past  six  yesterday,  when  we  arrived  at 
Joigny,  it  was  rather  later  and  darker  than  we 
could  have  wished.  Joigny  is  a  small  town,  in 
Champagne,  of  five  thousand  souls,  beautifully 
situated  on  the  Yonne.  It  has  a  long  handsome 
quay  along  the  river.  The  culture  of  the  vine  is 
the  principal  object  of  trade.  The  chief  part  of 
the  town  is,  like  Auxerre,  on  the  ascent  of  a  steep 
hill ;  on  the  summit  of  which  stands  a  ruined  cha- 
teau, built  by  Pere  de  Gondi,  father  of  the  too  ce- 
lebrated Cardinal  de  Rentz.  I  walked  through 
the  dilapidated  rooms,  half-enlightened  by  the  ob- 
scure dawn,  with  a  feeling  of  melancholy  on  con- 
sidering the  vanity  of  human  grandeur.  How 
many  instances  have  we  seen  of  the  monuments 
of  proud  ambition  and  magnificent  vice  all  laid  in 
ruin  !  Moral  triumphs  and  the  praises  of  real  and 
exalted  virtue  are,  after  all,  the  only  ones  that  are 
enduring,  even  in  this  world.  The  ambitious  con- 
queror, the  demagogue,  the  leader  of  factions,  the 
heresiarch,  sink  into  neglect  with  the  glare  of 
prosperity — their  palaces  fade  with  their  fame. 


Ion  is  a  romantic  town  on  the  river  Cousin  ;  the  I  The  flower  of  the  field  drops  not  so  quickly.     But 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


107 


the  true  benefactors  of  mankind  live  in  the  me- 
mories of  men;  their  praise  takes  root,  and  spreads 
around  and  flourishes  in  perpetual  bloom  ;  and  if 
truly  Christian  principles  have  guided  their  con- 
duct, the  love  of  their  fellow-creatures  is  crowned 
by  the  favor  and  approbation  of  God. 

But  the  most  striking  lesson  I  have  received  on 
this  subject  is  in  the  superb  chateau  of  Fontaine- 
bleau,  where  we  now  are.  As  soon  as  we  ar- 
rived here  (at  four  this  afternoon,)  I  went  to  visit 
this  celebrated  palace.  All  Europe  is  familiar 
With  it  by  name  ;  it  is  an  immense  mass  of  build- 
ings, containing  five  squares  or  courts  ;  almost 
like  a  town.  It  is  mentioned  in  history  as  a  royal 
palace  ever  since  the  thirteenth  century ;  but  it  is 
indebted  for  its  chief  extension  and  improvement 
to  Francis  I.  It  was  a  favorite  residence  of 
Francis  I.  Henry  IV.  Louis  XIV.  and  Bonaparte, 
just  the  four  persons  most  celebrated  in  French 
history.  There  is  a  spot  where  Henry  IV.  is  said 
to  have  held  his  secret  councils.  The  Pope,  who 
is  just  dead,  was  imprisoned  here  by  Bonaparte 
for  a  year  and  a  half.  The  conscientious  resist- 
ance which  he  made  to  the  demands  of  the  usur- 
per, cast  a  splendor  around  his  character.  We 
walked  through  the  suite  of  apartments,  and  saw 
his  library,  chapel,  saloon,  &c.  The  altar  of  the 
room  which  he  used  as  his  chapel  is  now  set  aside 
and  marked  by  an  inscription.  The  count  d'Ar- 
tois  (now  king)  makes  use  of  the  same  rooms, 
and  had  left  them  only  the  day  before  yesterday  : 
he  conies  to  hunt  in  the  forest,  of  thirty-four  thou- 
sand acres  (twelve  leagues,)  surrounding  the 
chiteau. 

But  I  hasten  to  mention,  what  was  the  most 
affecting  circumstance,  that  I  saw  the  very  table 
on  which  Bonaparte  signed  his  abdication,  April, 
1814,  in  the  very  room  where  he  sat,  and  adjoin- 
ing the  very  bed-room  in  which  he  slept.  Fon- 
taineblcau  was  his  favorite  palace.  Now  all  his 
pictures  are  removed,  and  every  trace  of  him 
effaced — what  a  lesson!  I  was  struck  with  a 
large  model  of  the  city  of  Madrid  placed  in  the 
ball-room,  which  Bonaparte  ordered  to  be  begun 
in  1802,  and  which  took  the  architect  six  years 
to  finish.  The  very  source  of  his  overthrow  seems 
to  have  been  a  darling  object,  years  before  his 
first  invasion  of  Spain  in  1808  ! 

1  Iistory  will  soon  sit  in  judgment  on  this  extra- 
ordinary man.  His  skepticism  as  to  all  religious 
truth,  his  unbounded  ambition,  the  fury  of  his  pas- 
sions, his  waste  of  human  life  and  happiness  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  projects,  the  injustice  and 
treachery  of  his  invasions,  the  iron  yoke  which 
he  imposed  on  the  subject  nations,  his  unmitigated 
hatred  of  England,  his  many  individual  acts  of 
cruelty  and  blood,  are  points  now  generally  ad- 
mitted. But  it  is  impossible  to  travel  on  the  con- 
tinent without  being  compelled  to  witness  the 
proofs  of  his  admirable  policy,  and  of  his  zeal  to 
promote,  in  many  respects,  the  welfare  and  intel- 
lectual advancement  of  the  people  over  whom  he 
reigned.  Not  to  dwell  on  the  liberty  of  public 
worship  which  he  nobly  granted,  from  whatever 
motive,  to  the  Protestants  of  every  confession  : 
there  is  something  so  splendid  in  his  national 
works,  there  are  so  many  monuments  of  his  legis- 
lative wisdom,  so  many  traits  of  grandeur  in  his 
projects,  and  such  a  hardihood  and  perseverance 
5G— 1 


manifest  in  all  his  great  enterprises,  that  you  do 
not  wonder  that  his  name  is  still  everywhere  re- 
vered. Then  the  diversity  and  extent  of  his 
knowledge,  and  the  unbounded  range  of  the  ob- 
jects of  his  attention,  increase  one's  surprise. 
War,  commerce,  the  arts,  science,  literature,  the 
adorning  of  cities  and  towns,  the  education  of 
youth,  religion  itself  as  an  instrument  of  govern- 
ment, every  thing  seemed  to  be  within  liis  grasp, 
or  to  subserve  his  ruling  purposes.  He  brought, 
in  fact,  royalty  and  talent  into  such  close  contact, 
that  there  was  some  danger  of  men  beginning  to 
estimate  the  value  of  a  sceptre  by  the  mere  abi- 
lity of  the  hand  that  wielded  it. 

The  unfavorable  tendency  of  this  seductive 
union  of  splendid  vice  and  successful  ambition,  on 
the  public  morals  and  the  religious  habits  of  Eu- 
rope, is  obvious — it  debases  the  best  principles  of 
the  heart.  Of  Bonaparte,  as  an  unconscious  in- 
strument of  Divine  Providence  for  scourging  guilty 
nations,  for  shaking  the  papacy  to  its  base,  and 
arousing  those  dormant  energies  in  the  mass  of 
the  population  of  Europe,  which  may  probably 
issue  in  the  general  diffusion  of  a  reasonable  li- 
berty, and  of  all  the  blessings  of  the  glorious  Gos- 
pel of  Christ,  I  will  not  trust  myself  to  speak. 
This  view,  though  correct  perhaps,  has  been  too 
exclusively  taken  already  by  religious  persons. 
They  have  allowed  their  horror  of  individual 
crime,  and  even  their  sense  of  personal  respon- 
sibility to  be  lessened,  by  mingling  this  question 
with  the  supposed  purposes  of  the  divine  Provi- 
dence— a  mistake  infinitely  pernicious.  A  hum- 
ble reference,  indeed,  of  every  event  after  it  has 
occurred  and  the  issue  is  known,  to  the  sovereign 
and  mysterious  government  of  God,  is  a  clearly 
Scriptural  duty  ;  but  to  applaud  or  extenuate  the 
guilt  of  man,  and  help  on  a  course  of  criminal 
ambition,  on  the  ground  of  its  conceived  agree- 
ment with  the  order  of  prophecy  and  the  secret 
will  of  God,  is  a  presumptuous  and  fatal  error. 
But  I  check  myself. 

The  country  through  which  we  have  passed 
to-day  has  been  tolerably  fine  ;  but  as  we  are  now 
travelling  north,  just  at  the  turn  of  the  year,  we 
feel  excessively  cold.  As  we  passed  through 
Sens,  we  looked  up  with  interest,  to  the  cathedral 
where  the  pious  and  devotional  Bernard,  the  last 
of  the  fathers  of  the  church,  refuted,  in  1140,  the 
doctrines  of  Abelard.  This  celebrated  heretic, 
you  may  remember,  had  challenged  St.  Bernard 
to  the  conference.  The  saint  went  to  it  in  Chris- 
tian meekness  and  fear.  As  soon  as  the  extracts 
from  Abelard's  writings  had  been  read  before  the 
audience  (where  the  king  of  France,  Louis  VII. 
was  present,  with  his  nobles,  and  the  prelates 
and  clergy  of  the  diocese,)  Abelard  was  over- 
whelmed with  confusion,  at  being  thus  confronted 
with  his  own  writings,  and  suddenly  left  the  as- 
sembly. His  errors  were  then  unanimously  con- 
demned. There  is  something  gratifying  in  visit- 
ing the  spot  where  seven  centuries  before,  the 
name  and  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  were  thus  tri- 
umphant. Many  similar  cases  are  recorded  of 
the  daring  leaders  of  heresies  being  contused  and 
struck  dumb,  as  it  were,  at  the  simple  exposition 
of  their  own  tenets,  in  the  presence  of  the  holy 
and  humble  disciples  of  Christ,, armed  with  the 
sacred  Scriptures  only. 


108 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


We  have  now  passed  through  ahout  sixty  miles 
of  vineyards.  The  vines  are  short,  planted  in 
rows,  and  supported  by  sticks;  not  by  treillises 
and  arbors  as  in  Italy.  As  the  vintage  is  ap- 
proaching, persons  are  set  to  guard  the  grapes. 
They  are  chiefly  red  in  tins  part  of  the  country. 
The  costume  of  the  women  is  not  remarkable  : 
no  bonnets  are  worn  on  any  part  of  the  continent, 
except  by  the  higher  classes.  The  female  pea- 
sants here  wear  a  colored  handkerchief  wrapped 
round  the  head  in  the  form  of  a  turban,  often  of  a 
red  or  scarlet  color.  The  men  affect  a  dirty, 
shabby,  finery ;  a  beggar  comes  up  to  you  with 
a  military  cocked  hat ;  a  stable-boy  has  a  pigtail, 
and  perhaps  powdered  hair,  ear-rings,  and  gene- 
rally a  dirty  night-cap  ;  the  boots  of  the  postillions 
are  of  enormous  and  lumbering  size  ;  some  to- 
day were  ribbed  with  iron,  and  actually  made  the 
feet  of  the  poor  rider  swing  about,  instead  of  his 
being  able  to  guide  them;  then  an  undressed 
sheep's-skin  with  all  its  wool,  enveloping  the 
knees,  is  a  further  addition  to  his  burden. 

The  agriculture  still  appears  wretched.  Al- 
most all  one  common  land.  A  horse,  a  mule,  an 
ass,  draw  the  same  plough,  which  a  woman  drives, 
whilst  a  man  guides  the  ploughshare.  On  the 
roads,  too,  you  meet  a  wagon  heavily  laden,  with 
four  large  fine  horses  like  ours  in  England,  and 
then  an  ass  in  front,  leader  of  the  train  ;  and  this 
ass,  a  mean,  half-starved  creature.  The  fact  is, 
the  proprietors  bring  out  every  animal  they  pos- 
sess of  every  species,  when  they  have  goods  to 
transport  from  place  to  place.  The  number  of 
beggars  is  shocking  ;  their  diseased,  distorted  ap- 
pearance is  often  such,  that  I  am  obliged  to  give 
them  something  before  we  can  get  out  of  the  car- 
riage. The  dirt,  untidiness,  misery,  in  the  private 
habits  of  the  innkeepers  and  ordinary  inhabitants 
of  the  continent,  German,  Swiss,  Italian,  French, 
are  not  to  be  described  on  paper :  one  cannot  ac- 
count for  it :  if  you  go  into  their  rooms,  their 
kitchens,  their  pantries,  you  are  quite  disgusted 
with  the  ill  savor.  The  interior  of  the  abodes  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry  is  often  neat  and  elegant, 
and  I  have  been  in  private  houses  quite  as  com- 
fortable as  any  in  England;  and  generally,  per- 
haps, things  are  gradually  more  and  more  ar- 
ranged on  the  plan  of  English  cleanliness  and 
simplicity.  But  I  speak  of  the  inns  and  houses 
we  meet  with  in  travelling. 

To  many  of  these  inconveniences,  however, 
one  soon  becomes  accustomed ;  others  are  avoided 
in  the  better  lodgings  and  inns  ;  the  rest  you  sub- 
mit to  from  dire  necessity.  The  freedom  of  the 
manners  of  the  people,  and  their  notions  of  equa- 
lity with  you,  at  first  seem  repulsive,  but  after- 
wards appear  so  clearly  to  spring  from  mere  sim- 
plicity, that  you  forgive  it.  I  am  happy  to  say, 
/hat  I  have  found  the  Catholic  peasants  willing 
enough  to  receive  our  religious  tracts  ;  and  that 
when  I  talk  with  them,  they  admit  what  I  say  on 
the  foundations  of  Christianity.*     You  may  judge 


*  As  we  were  changing  horses  at  a  village  on  our 
way  to  Boulogne,  Oct.  2D,  the  carriage  was,  in  three 
minutes,  literally  surrounded  with  villagers,  who 
had  heard  we  had  tracts.  At  least  thirty  or  forty  of 
the  separate  homilies  in  French,  of  the  Prayer-Book 
and  Homily  Society,  are  now  diligently  read,  as  I 
trust,  by  these  poor  people.    Some  of  them  asked 


from  this  interminable  letter  at  so  late  an  hour, 
that  I  am  not  over-fatigued  with  my  journey. 
Adieu. 

Paris,  Hotel  de  Bristol,  Place  Vendome,  half- 
past  two,  Saturday,  Oct.  11,  about  2772  ^nilesfrom 
London  by  our  route* — Through  God's  goodness 
we  are  safe  at  Paris.  We  arrived  here  at  half- 
past  one- o'clock.  We  left  Fontainebleau  a  little 
before  eight,  and  performed  the  journey  of  forty 
miles  in  less  than  six  hours.  The  day  has  been 
rather  wet ;  but  as  we  approached  Paris  it  cleared 
up,  and  we  had  a  fine  view  of  that  noble  city  as 
we  drove  through  it.  We  are  at  the  Place  Ven- 
dome, a  charming  situation,  close  to  the  gardens 
of  the  Thuilleries.  We  found  our  dear  boys,  and 
my  brother  who  is  here,  quite  well.  My  son  will 
bring  this  letter  with  him,  which  will  most  pro- 
bably close  this  series  of  journal-like  epistles, 
which  I  had  no  idea  would  ever  have  extended  to 
such  a  length.  If  they  have  gratified  my  dear 
and  excellent  aged  mother  and  yourself,  in  any 
degree  proportioned  to  the  interest  I  have  gra- 
dually felt  in  writing  them,  I  shall  most  truly  re- 
joice. Whatever  can  lessen  the  pain  of  separa- 
tion to  a  parent  so  dear  to  me,  affords  me  a  double 
pleasure.  May  it  please  God,  to  permit  n:e  to 
rejoin  you  in  England  in  peace,  and  to  retain  the 
recollection  of  the  many  important  lessons  I  have 
learned  during  my  tour,  together  with  that  sense 
of  gratitude  which  the  uninterrupted  blessings  I 
have  received  during  the  course  of  it,  should  so 
deeply  impress  upon  my  heart. 

I  am  your  affectionate 

D.  W. 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Brighton,  April  14,  1824. 

Paris  Bible  Society — Deaf  and  Dumb  Institution — 
French  Preachers — King's  Almoner — Nobleman 
— Tra-nslation  of  Scott — Friends  to  whom  Author 
was  introduced — Baron  de  Sacy — Count  D'Hau- 
terive — Marquis  de  Jaucourt — Reflections  on  the 
whole  Tour:  1st,  Supreme  Providence  of  God — 
2d,  Opposite  Evils  of  Superstition  and  Infidelity — 
3d,  Scenes  of  Reformers'  laborers — Luther — Beza 
— Bucer — Ecolampadius  —  Bullinger — Authenti- 
city of  1  John  v.  7,  8. — 4th,  Duty  of  advancing  the 
Age  of  Charity — 5th,  Importance  of  every  travel- 
ler being  active — Advice  to  Invalids — Anecdotes 
— 6th,  Gratitude  to  God — Revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantes — Origin  of  Vaudois — Expulsion  from 
Valleys — Return — Need  of  Aid — 7th,  Prayer  for 
Grace  of  Holy  Spirit. 

Brighton,  Sussex,  April  14, 1824. 

My  dearest  sister — I  at  length  begin  the 
letter  which  you  were  so  anxious  I  should  have 


Mrs.  W.  if  the  tracts  were  good  for  Catholics  :  she 
replied,  they  were  particularly  suited  for  them.  The 
scene  was  really  quite  affecting.  I  foreret  the  name 
of  the  village.  It  was  not  far  from  Paris.  The 
swiftness  with  which  the  news  of  our  having  tracts 
spread  from  the  persons  to  whom  we  first  gave  them, 
was  surprising. 

*  The  direct  route  from  London  to  Paris  is  about 
300  miles. 


TRAVELS   ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


109 


written  to  you  from  Paris.  I  was  so  hurried  dur- 
ing my  stay  in  that  city,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  do  it ;  and,  indeed,  I  may  perhaps  attempt 
it  with  greater  advantage  now,  because  the  inter- 
val of  a  few  months  will  enable  me  to  add  some 
general  reflections  upon  my  tour  on  the  continent, 
and  to  supply  an  incident  or  two  of  which  I  omit- 
ted to  inform  you  at  the  proper  moment. 

Of  Paris  itself  I  need  not  say  much  ;  every  one 
knows  something  of  the  splendor  of  its   public 
buildings,  and  of  its  various   attractions,  in  point 
of  art  and  taste,  to  travellers  of  every  description. 
I  was  naturally  most  interested  by  its  moral  and 
religious  state.    But  I  have  no  intention  of  enter- 
ing at  large  even  on  this  topic.     A  stranger  has 
out  slight  opportunities  of  forming  a  correct  judg- 
ment ;  and  Paris  is  too  important  a  place,  and  too 
near  England,  for  me  to  venture  a  hasty  opinion. 
I  know,  however,  that  you  will  expect  me  to 
notice  a  few  particulars.     In  the  first  place,  then, 
I  was  gratified,  and  even  affected,  at  attending 
the  committees  of  the  Paris  Protestant  Bible  So- 
ciety.    I  could  not  but  reflect  on  the  efforts  made 
in  the  very  same  spot  by  the  enemies,  or  rather 
conspirators  against  Christianity,  under  Voltaire 
and  D'Alembert,  during  the  preceding  century. 
These,  aided  by  the  extraordinary  profusion  and 
folly  of  the  French  court,  by  the  derangement  of 
the  national  finances,  and  the  corruption  of  gene- 
ral morals,  paved  the  way  for  the  horrors  of  the 
revolution  and  the  military  sway  of  Bonaparte. 
The  zeal  and  superstition  of  the  degenerate  ec- 
clesiastics, so  far  from  preventing,  joined  in  has- 
tening the  overthrow.    Surely,  then,  the  peaceful 
and  holy  distribution  of  The  Book,  in  the  city 
where  it  had  been  so  long  despised,  is  a  real  tri- 
umph of  Christianity,  and  the  best  omen  of  future 
blessings.     About  50,000  copies  of  the  Scriptures 
have  been  issued  by  means  of  the  Paris  Bible  So- 
ciety in  the  last  four  years — about  two  or  three 
hundred  auxiliary  institutions  and  associations  have 
blished  in  different  parts  of  France — and 
a  general  revival  of  religion  seems  to  be  begin- 
ning.    The  vivacity  of  the  French  character,  if 
once  directed  and  sanctified  by  a  principle  of  pure 
religion,  is  capable  of  the  greatest  and  most  bene- 
ficial efforts.     It  is  lamentable  to  think  that  the 
Catholics  frown  on  this  society,  and  that  the  go- 
vernment is  contracting  its  privileges,  and  even 
refusing  it  the  liberty  of  holding  its  annual  assem- 
blies, wherever  it  dares.   The  present  French  mi- 
nistry seem  to  desire  nothing  more  than  to  be  able 
to   suppress   this   and   all   similar   undertakings. 
Such,   however,  i3  the   spirit  of  Popery  almost 
/where. 
I  must  next  give  you  some  account  of  the  cele- 
brated institution  for  the  relief  and  instruction  of 
the  deaf  and  dumb,  which  is  really  one  of  the  most 
interesting  things  in  Paris.     I  took  all  the  pains  I 
was  able,  to  be  present  at  a  lesson  at  the  late 
Abbe  Sicard's  schools  :  but  I  was  unsuccessful. 
I  can,  however,  fully  make  up  to  you  for  this  dis- 
appointment, by  the  kind  communication  of  an  ex- 
cellent friend  who  visited  it  only  the  year  before, 
and  from  whose  notes,  taken  at  the  time,  I  select 
the  following.     There  are  about  eighty  children. 
They  arc  taught  gradually  to  associate  with  the 
objects  of  sight,  certain  signs  by  drawing  and 
writing.  The  quickness  and  acuteness  of  the  cliil- 


dren  are  so  surprising,  that  their  ideas  on  most 
subjects  soon  become  accurate  and  clear.  The 
following  is  the  prayer  used  before  lesson : 

"  O  come,  most  Holy  Spirit,  and  cause  a  ray  of 
thy  light  to  shine  upon  us  !  Come,  Father  of  the 
poor!  Come,  source  of  grace !  Come,  light  of  the 
soul !  O  God,  who  has  taught  the  hearts  of  thy 
faithful  people  by  thelight  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  grant 
us  that  Holy  Spirit,  which  may  dispose  us  to  choose 
and  love  what  is  right,  and  may  shed  abroad  in  us 
its  consolation,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Amen." 

The  prayer  after  lesson  is  equally  beautiful. 
"  O  Lord,  we  entreat  Thee  to  inspire  all  our  ac- 
tions by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  and  to  conduct  them  by 
the  continual  assistance  of  thy  grace  :  so  that  all 
our  prayers  and  all  our  works  may  proceed  from 
Thee  as  their  author,  and  refer  to  Thee  as  their 
only  end,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen." 

Surely  such  prayers  are  the  genuine  dictates  of 
pure  Christianity,  and  testify  the  deep  piety  of 
many  of  our  Catholic  brethren.  My  heart  rejoices 
to  recognize  such  sentiments,  and  honors  those 
who  entertain  them. 

The  children  rise  slowly  and  gradually  from  the 
simplest  to  the  most  abstract  and  complex  ideas, 
as  their  age  and  abilities  permit ;  and  are  divided 
into  several  classes  accordingly.  At  the  lesson  at 
which  my  friend  was  present,  a  gentleman  wished 
to  ask  one  of  the  upper  classes,  What  love  wasT 
The  master  told  him  first  to  make  the  sign  for  in- 
terrogation, by  holding  up  the  fore-finger,  and  then 
to  press  his  hand  strongly  upon  his  heart.  This 
was  understood,  and  several  boys  wrote  the  word 
love.  On  being  told  to  define  it,  one  wrote,  (for 
they  neither  speak  nor  hear,  as  you  will  take  care 
to  bear  in  mind,)  "  Love  is  a  sentiment  of  the  mind, 
by  which  we  incline  to  what  appears  to  us  good, 
useful,  beautiful;  it  is  the  approbation  of  some 
object  that  pleases  us."  Another  wrote,  "  There 
are  many  sorts  of  love ;  first,  the  love  of  God, 
which  is  the  highest  of  all ;  then  the  love  of  men, 
the  love  of  friends." 

They  next  were  asked,  What  was  the  difference 
between  expectation,  hope,  desire,  and  enjoyment! 
A  lad  about  fifteen  wrote,  "Expectation  is  like 
the  branches  of  the  apple-tree  ;  desire  is  like  the 
leaves ;  hope  is  like  the  blossom  ;  and  enjoyment 
is  like  the  fruit." 

After  this  they  were  asked,  What  is  time  ?  One 
replied,  "A  succession  of  moments,  a  point  of 
eternity,  a  measure  of  eternity."  What  is  eter- 
nity ]  "A  day  without  morning  or  evening,  a 
mysterious  duration  which  finite  beings  can  neither 
define  nor  comprehend." 

The  following  question  was  then  proposed,  Is 
speech  the  gift  of  God  or  the  invention  of  men  J 
"  Speech  that  is  the  language  of  men,  is  the  gift 
of  God ;  but  that  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  is  only  a 
human  invention." 

On  the  direct  subject  of  religion,  they  were 
asked,  Whose  existence  comprehends  all  time  1 
Massieu,  an  elderly  man,  who  has  been  twenty 
years  in  the  institution,  and  is  lately  gone  to  con- 
duct a  school  at  Bordeaux,*  wrote  in  answer, 

*  This  extraordinary  man,  when  he  was  asked  at 
another  lesson,  Whether  God  reasons  1  wrote  in  re- 
ply, :<  Reasoning  is  a  process  in  order  to  find  out 


110 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT, 


"  God ;  God  is  the  creator  of  the  earth  and  of 
heaven,  and  of  all  that  they  contain.  He  is  the 
Lord  of  all  things,  the  Author  of  nature,  the  Go- 
vernor of  the  universe."  Who  is  Christ  1  "  It  is 
He  who  is  the  new  Adam ;  He  was  made  man 
by  a  miracle,  for  our  salvation  ;  He  is  the  bruiser 
of  the  serpent's  head,  the  repairer  of  the  human 
race,  and  He  knows  even  our  most  secret 
thoughts."  What  is  faith?  "  Faith  is  a  super- 
natural light,  leading  the  soul  to  believe  what  it 
may  not  fully  comprehend."  What  is  conscience] 
"  It  is  the  voice  of  truth."  Have  all  men  power 
to  do  their  duty  1  "  Yes,  with  grace  and  good 
habits."  Is  man  more  inclined  to  good  than  evil?" 
"  Man  needs  the  grace  of  God  to  keep  him  from 
evil ;  by  evd  passions  men  deprive  themselves  of 
the  grace  of  God  ;  passions  are  above  human 
power."  From  whence  comes  grace  ?  "  In  my 
opinion,  it  flows  from  the  infinite  and  unmeasura- 
ble  goodness  of  a  merciful  God."  May  all  men 
have  grace  ?  "  Yes,  by  means  of  frequent  prayer." 
Was  the  revelation  necessary  to  man  ]  "  Yes,  I 
believe  it  was,  and  it  contains  all  that  is  necessary 
to  salvation." 

There  is  to  me  something  inexpressibly  delight- 
ful in  these  scriptural,  enlightened,  and  judicious 
replies,  made  not  only  by  Catholics,  but  by  Ca- 
tholic children  who  are  deaf  and  dumb. 

The  present  master  is  M.  Pauhnier,  who  takes 
a  parental  interest  in  the  children.  He  had  been 
chief  assistant  to  the  Abbe  Sicard  for  nineteen 
years.  The  boys  are  taught  some  art,  trade,  or 
learned  profession,  as  their  genios  or  choice  seem 
to  direct.  There  is  a  class  who  copy  busts,  draw 
heads,  &c. ;  and  another  where  boxes  and  mea- 
suring-rules, &c.  are  made.  They  all  appeared  as 
happy  as  they  were  intelligent.  Really  humanity 
and  religion  triumph  at  such  a  benevolent  institu- 
tion. One  may  exclaim,  in  a  qualified  sense,  con- 
sidering God  as  the  first  author  of  every  such  bles- 
sing, "  He  hath  done  all  things  well ;  he  maketh 
both  the  deaf  to  hear  and  the  dumb  to  speak." 
And  this  pleasure  is  heightened  by  the  pure  prin- 
ciples of  morals  and  religion  which  seem  to  form 
the  basis  of  their  education.  No  Protestant  could 
have  given  much  more  simple  elementary  instruc- 
tion in  the  Christian  faith,  than  these  children  have 
received.  It  is  most  painful  to  add,  that  the  bishop 
of  Hermopolis,  since  he  has  been  placed  at  the 
head  of  education  in  France,  is  said  to  discourage 
even  this  incomparable  school,  and  that  M.  Paul- 
mier  is  removed,  or  about  to  be  removed,  from  his 
situation.  Thus  the  best  institutions  connected 
with  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  are  not  fostered 
and  encouraged  by  the  leading  authorities,  as  the 
seeds  of  future  improvement,  but  opposed  and  re- 
jected, as  disturbing  the  repose,  and  contrary  to  the 
interests  and  tendencies  of  the  dominant  religion. 
You  will,  perhaps,  next  wish  me  to  say  some- 
thing about  the  French  preachers.  I  was  grieved 
to  find,  that  there  were  only  three  public  services* 


on  the  Sunday  at  Paris,  for  a  population  of  nearly 
30,000  Protestants  of  the  two  confessions  ;  and 
these  services  so  arranged  as  not  to  allow  the 
same  persons  to  attend  conveniently  at  more  than 
one.  But  this  is  not  all :  in  the  sermons  which  I 
heard,  I  wanted  more  of  the  sound,  orthodox, 
Scriptural  divinity  of  the  old  French  Protestant 
school,  who  reared  its  early  churches,  and  nou- 
rished the  first  Hugonots  in  the  faith  of  the  Gospel, 
and  became  an  example  and  guide  to  reformed 
Europe.  I  wanted  more  of  the  close  reasoning 
and  manly  appeals  of  Claude,  the  author,  as  you 
may  know,  of  the  Treatise  on  the  Composition  of 
a  Sermon,  and  of  the  Defence  of  the  Reformation, 
and  the  worthy  antagonist  of  Bossuet  at  the  cele- 
brated conference  in  1682.  I  wanted  more  of  the 
force  and  vigorous  address  of  Dubosc,  in  his  able 
and  most  evangelical  work  en  the  epistle  to  the 
Ephesians — of  whom  Louis  XIV.  said,  that  he 
was  the  first  speaker  in  France.  I  wanted  more 
of  the  piety  and  unction  of  Dkelincourt,  whose 
book  against  the  fear  of  death  is  current  in  Eng- 
land, and  is  indeed  in  almost  every  one's  hands. 

I  was  moreover  much  distressed  to  observe, 
that  in  the  use  of  the  liturgical  prayers  (which  are 
at  best,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  extremely 
brief)  the  most  evangelical  parts  were  actually 
left  out  by  some  of  the  ministers.  For  instance, 
in  the  confession  of  sin,  which  at  Bern  and  Lau- 
sanne was  read  entire,  the  deeper  expressions  of 
original  corruption  and  guilt  were  several  times 
omitted  at  Paris.  So  also  in  the  longer  prayer 
after  sermon,  the  best  parts  were  not  read. — 
Thank  God  for  the  fixed  Liturgy,  Articles,  and 
Homilies  of  the  church  of  England.  The  Luthe- 
ran church  at  Paris  I  was  not  able  to  attend  ;  my 
observations  regard  the  Reformed  only. 

I  must  say,  however,  in  fairness,  that  the  dis- 
courses at  the  Protestant  churches  were  incom- 
parably superior  to  a  most  florid  and  unsatisfactory 
charity  sermon  which  I  heard  on  a  week-day  from 
the  king's'  almoner,  at  the  chapel  of  a  benevolent 
asylum  for  aged  and  destitute  persons  of  family. 
I  never  shall  forget  the  scene  that  day  :  nearly 
all  the  French  court  was  present.  The  Duch- 
esses of  Angouleme  and  Berry,  the  Pope's  Legate, 
the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  the  public  ministers  of 
state,  among  whom  I  noticed  M.  Chateaubriand  ; 
ladies  of  quality  without  end  ;  two  of  whom, 
splendidly  attired,  received  the  collection,  as  we 
went  out,  in  velvet  bags.  I  was  most  courteously 
received  at  the  chapel  by  a  French  nobleman, 
who  entered  into  a  pretty  long  conversation  with 
me  on  the  state  of  England  and  France.  I  was 
of  course  very  inadequate  to  give  him  a  just  ac- 
count of  many  things  which  he  inquired  about,  in 
a  political  point  of  view.  He  seemed  to  have  a 
high  admiration  of  the  sentiments  and  conduct  of 
our  beloved  monarch  since  his  accession  to  the 
throne.  He  classed  together  the  French  Libe- 
raux  and  the  English  Radicals.     But  to  come  to 


truth  ;  but  God  knows  all  truth ;  therefore,  I  should 
think,  God  does  not  reason."  The  same  person  de- 
fined gratitude  to  be  the  memory  of  the  heart ;  hope, 
the  fire  of  love;  and  difficulty,  possibility  with  ob- 
stacle. 

*  May  I  not  add,  that,  considering  the  numerous 
English  who  are  resident  in  Paris,  it  would  be  be- 


coming the  wealth  and  piety  of  our  nation  to  build 
an  English  church  there?  There  are  several  French 
churches  in  London. 

Since  the  above  note  was  written,  I  am  informed 
that  an  English  service  has  been  instituted  in  the 
Salon  of  a  clergyman  resident  at  Paris,  the  Rev. 
Lewis  Way,  with  a  liberality  and  dignity  which 
mark  all  the  proceedings  of  that  excellent  person. 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


Ill 


the  sermon — such  a  vain  tirade  of  compliment  and 
extravagant  attempt  at  eloquence,  I  never  heard 
— without  one  genuine  emotion,  one  affecting  sen- 
timent, one  address  to  the  heart — a  fine  voice  and 
pure  enunciation  were  every  thing — the  only  idea 
I  will  quote  from  the  discourse  is,  "  Charity  makes 
those  who  exercise  it  as  gods .'"  O,  where  are 
the  Bossuets,  the  Bourdaloues,  the  Massillons,  or 
even  the  De  la  Rues,  and  Tcrrassons  of  the 
French  church  !  I  understand  that  M.  Frayssi- 
nous,  the  present  Bishop  of  Hermopolis,  gave, 
some  years  back,  most  interesting  lectures  to  the 
young  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity.  Now 
even  this  kind  of  instruction  is  wanting.  I  could 
hear  of  no  one  energetic  and  able  Catholic  preach- 
er, who  took  the  ground  of  our  common  Chris- 
tianity, and  commended  the  Gospel  to  the  con- 
science and  good  sense  of  mankind.  Infidelity 
or  superstition  reign  supreme.  True  religion  is 
met  with  indifference  or  ridicule. 

But  I  turn  to  another  topic.  I  must  not  omit 
to  tell  you,  that  I  spent  a  large  part  of  my  time 
at  Paris  in  arranging  the  translation  of  Scott's 
Comment  on  the  Scriptures.  I  found  a  competent 
and  pious  minister,  to  whom  I  promised  aid  for 
preparing  an  accurate  text  of  the  Gospel  itself, 
verifying  the  references,  revising  the  translation 
for  the  last  time,  correcting  the  proofs,  and  carry- 
ing St.  Matthew  through  the  press.  I  formed 
also  a  committee  for  settling  terms  with  the 
printer,  drawing  up  a  prospectus,  and  inspecting 
the  due  circulation  of  the  work.  I  found  that  I 
should  be  obliged  to  advance  all  the  expenses  for 
printing  St.  Matthew  ;  and  it  was  agreed  upon, 
to  send  round  this  Gospel  pretty  freely  to  the 
chief  Protestant  ministers  of  the  continent,  gratis, 
with  the  terms  of  subscription  for  the  continuance 
of  the  work  ;  and  to  be  guided  by  the  success  of 
such  subscriptions,  as  to  the  further  translation  of 
the  Comment  or  not.  Since  my  return  home, 
the  revision  and  preparation  for  the  press  have 
been  unremittingly  carried  on,  and  the  conditions 
with  the  printer  and  paper-maker  nearly  settled. 
Some  months  must,  however,  elapse  before  the 
Gospel  can  be  published.  A  literary  undertaking 
of  such  importance  is  continually  impeded  by  un- 
expected difficulties.  It  is  not  like  the  translation 
of  a  temporary  pamphlet — every  thing  demands 
the  utmost  care — not  only  is  a  thorough  know- 
ledge required  of  the  language  from  which,  and 
of  that  into  which,  the  translation  is  to  be  made  : 
but  an  acquaintance  with  theology  in  all  its 
branches,  an  aptitude  at  discovering  suitable 
idioms,  a  faculty  of  expressing  new  and  foreign 
ideas,  a  readiness  to  imitate  the  style  and  manner 
of  the  original  writer,  and  the  talent  of  giving  an 
interest  and  life  to  the  whole  style  of  the  transla- 
tion.*    The  translation  of  Milner's  History  is,  I 

*  It  is  now  nearly  three  years  since  the  above  was 
writien,  and  the  gospel  of  St.  Matthew  is  not  yet 
published.  The  fact  is,  that  after  the  first  imperfect 
sketch  of  a  translation  had  been  revised  and  com- 
pleted, M.  F.  Monod  fils,  who  had  undertaken  to 
superintend  the  work  at  Paris,  was  seized  with  ill- 
ness, and  a  twelvemonth  elapsed  before  he  was  able 
to  resume  his  exertions.  In  May  1826  however  the 
first  sheet  was  printed  off,  and  the  Gospel  has  been 
regularly  proceeding  ever  since.  The  work  how- 
ever is  still  slow  in  its  progress,  because  the  correc- 


hope,  going  on  at  Brussels. — I  forwarded  a  copy 
of  the  original  work  immediately  upon  my  return 
home.  I  consider  this  undertaking  only  second 
in  importance  to  that  of  Scott. 

I  cannot  quit  the  subject  of  Paris  without  men- 
tioning the  pleasure  which  I  derived  from  becom- 
ing acquainted,  however  slightly,  with  some  per- 
sons who  are  its  distinguished  ornaments.  I  place 
first  amongst  these  the  Baron  de  Sacy,  almost  the 
last  of  the  distinguished  .lansenist  body,  and  per- 
haps the  most  accomplished  oriental  scholar  in 
Europe  ;  and  the  Count  de  Ilauterive  of  the  Fo- 
reign Department,  whose  knowledge  of  political 
economy  is  so  highly,  and  I  believe  justly  osteem- 
ed ;  he  was  an  clove  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  and 
knew,  as  he  easily  might,  the  history  of  our  own 
country  better  than  myself;  for  ,the  minute  parti- 
culars of  history  soon  fade  from  the  memory. — 
He,  as  well  as  M.  de  Sacy,  are  warm  friends  of 
the  Bible  Society.  M.  de  Ilauterive  conversed 
with  me  much  on  subjects  connected  with  reli- 
gion. I  was  struck  with  the  warmth  with  which 
he  conndemned  our  conduct  towards  the  Irish 
Catholics,  and  at  the  admiration  he  expressed 
of  the  religious  spirit  of  the  English  nation.  He 
professed  a  high  respect  for  our  National  Protest- 
ant church,  on  account  of  our  tolerant  principles 
and  our  regard  to  ecclesiastical  order.  Amongst 
a  variety  of  other  questions,  he  asked  me  why  so 
eager  a  dispute  should  have  arisen  between  the 
Catholics  and  Protestants  about  the  Eucharist: 
foe,  added  he,  do  you  not  believe  that  our  Saviour 
is  really,  though  invisibly,  present  in  it !  I  re- 
plied, Yes.  And  do  you  not  hold,  he  continued, 
that  it  is  by  faith  this  is  discerned,  and  the  benefits 
of  it  received  ?  Certainly,  was  my  answer.  And 
we  believe,  he  rejoined  quickly,  nothing  more  than 
this.  Upon  this  I  told  him,  that  if  the  Catholic 
Doctors  had  been  half  as  moderate  upon  this  sub- 
ject, and  had  only  abstained  from  the  adoration  of 
the  host,  and  other  usages  which  Protestants  deem 
superstitious  and  idolatrous,  the  separation  on  this 
topic  would  not  have  been  so  wide  between  the 
two  churches  as  it  is.* 

I  may  mention,  also,  that  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  amiable  Catholic  Bishop  Gn'goirc,  a 
truly  liberal  and  respectable  prelate,  both  as  it 
regards  his  sentiments  and  conduct.  lie  seems 
to  spend  his  life  in  attempting  to  lessen  the  differ- 
ences and  heal  the  dissensions  between  Catholics 
and  Protestants,  and  in  promoting  the  interests 
of  religion  and  humanity.     He  is  a  warm  advocate 

tion  of  the  translation  is  found  to  be  extremely  labo- 
rious— each  sheet  costing  twelve  or  sometimes  eigh- 
teen hours  of  close  application.  Half  the  Gospel, 
or  about  fifteen  sheets  (120  pages)  are  now  finished. 

*  I  just  insert  here  the  article  of  the  Creed  of  Pope 
Pius  IV.  on  this  point,  to  show  the  actual  errors  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  church,  so  different  from  the 
charitable  construction  of  individual  laymen,  how- 
ever distinguished  or  well-informed.  "I  profess, 
that  in  the  most  holy  sacrifice  of  the  Eucharist,  there 
is  really  and  substantially  the  body  and  blood,  to- 
gether with  the  soul  and  divinity,  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ;  and  that  there  is  made'a  conversion  of  the 
whole  substance  of  the  bread  into  the  body,  and  of 
the  whole  substance  of  the  wine  into  the  blood; 
which  conversion  the  Catholic  church  calls  transub- 
stanliatioii." 


112 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


for  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade.  I  cannot  omit 
the  name  also  of  the  Marquis  de  Jaucourt,  a  Pro- 
testant nobleman,  and  a  direct  descendant  from 
the  celebrated  Philip  de  Mornay,  the  great  Pro- 
testant friend  and  counsellor  of  Henry  the  Fourth, 
and  the  man  who  openly  protested  against  that 
monarch's  abjuration  of  the  Reformed  religion, 
and  who  during  a  long  life  invariably  maintained 
and  defended  the  evangelical  doctrine,  in  the  faith 
of  which  he  died  with  holy  triumph.  He  ranks, 
perhaps,  next  to  Coligny  and  Sully.  The  Mar- 
quis de  Jaucourt,  with  a  peculiar  propriety,  is 
president  of  the  Paris  Bible  Society.  The  Baron 
de  Stael  I  was  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  find  in 
Paris.  I  had  the  pleasure  however  of  meeting 
him  in  London  upon  my  return  home.  I  do  not 
enumerate  other  distinguished  persons — my  old 
friends  Kieffer,  Stapffer,  &c.  Nor  should  I  have 
mentioned  so  many  as  I  have,  except  with  the 
design  of  recording  my  affectionate  gratitude  to 
some  of  the  many  leading  personages  who  honored 
me  with  their  esteem.  The  names  I  have  given 
you  include  some  of  the  best  men  in  France,  and 
those  on  whom  the  hope  of  great  future  good  rests. 

I  have  found  far  more  to  say  concerning  Paris 
than  I  expected ;  but  I  must  quit  the  subject,  that 
I  may  proceed  to  supply  a  few  incidents,  and  make 
some  general  reflections  as  it  respects  the  whole 
of  my  long  journey. 

1.  Perhaps  the  strongest  impression  which  has 
been  left  upon  my  mind,  is  of  the  unfathomable 
wisdom  of  God  in  his  providential  government 
of  the  affairs  of  men.  I  could  not  but  observe 
continually  his  exuberant  goodness,  on  the  one 
hand,  in  the  frame  and  order  of  the  creation  ;  and 
his  inscrutable  judgments,  on  the  other,  in  the  in- 
fliction of  great  and  overwhelming  calamities. 
These  truths  strike  one  less  forcibly  at  home  ;  but 
they  revive  in  their  full  energy  in  foreign  lands, 
where  all  is  new,  and  curiosity  never  slumbers.  In 
passing  through  different  regions,  and  observing 
their  widely,  varying  habits,  usages,  laws,  consti- 
tutions, governments,  and  religious  advantages — 
in  retracing  the  chief  changes  and  revolutions 
which  in  different  ages  have  marked  the  history  of 
each  country — in  contemplating  the  consequences 
of  remote  and,  at  first,  trifling  causes — in  calling  to 
mind  the  wonderful  deliverances  afforded  in  times 
of  danger,  and  the  present  political,  moral,  and  re- 
ligious state,  in  which  so  many  events  have  ended 
— the  mind  is  led  to  adore  that  mysterious  Provi- 
dence, which,  unseen,  guides  and  directs  all  the 
events  of  this  lower  wTorld,  and  overrules  even  the 
passions  of  men  to  accomplish  its  own  purposes. 
As  we  travel  from  place  to  place,  history  is  localiz- 
ed, as  it  were,  to  the  mind.  Our  contracted  views 
become  insensibly  enlarged,  and  we  acquire  a  firm- 
er faith  in  the  unfailling  goodness  of  God  towards 
those  who  fear  him. 

And  surely,  these  feelings  are  aided  by  the  con- 
templation of  the  sublime  and  grand  features  of 
the  Divine  Majesty  which  we  trace  in  His  works 
of  creation — the  profuse  bounty  scattered  at 
every  footstep — the  loveliness,  the  variety,  the 
simplicity,  and  the  magnificence,  which  continu- 
ally burst  upon  us.  I  can  truly  say,  the  chief  natu- 
-al  wonders  in  our  tour  along  the  Rhine  and 
through  Switzerland  have  scarcely  ever  been  ab- 
sent from  my  mind  since  I  first  witnessed  them. 


Nor  are  the  traces  of  God's  wrath  less  awaken- 
ing. I  think  I  never  was  more  affected  than  in 
hearing  the  tragic  story  of  Goldau  and  the  Dranse 
— in  riding  over  the  remains  of  whole  villages, 
and  reflecting  that  under  the  very  feet  of  my  mule 
lay  the  bodies  of  my  fellow-creatures,  brushed  by 
an  instantaneous  ruin. 

And  here  I  am  reminded  of  a  still  more  awful 
destruction  which  occurred  near  the  Grisons  about 
two  centuries  ago,  and  which  I  ought  to  have 
mentioned  in  a  former  letter.  The  town  of  Piuri 
or  Pleurs,  two  or  three  miles  from  Chavennes,  was 
totally  overwhelmed  in  1618.  On  the  4th  Sep- 
tember of  that  year  an  inhabitant  came  in  haste 
and  urged  the  people  to  escape  without  delay,  for 
he  had  seen  the  adjoining  Alp  actually  cleaving 
asunder.  His  warning,  for  some  reason  which 
does  not  appear,  was  neglected.  The  same  even- 
ing, an  immense  fragment  of  the  mountain  fell  in 
a  moment,  and  buried  the  whole  town,  so  that  not 
a  soul  escaped  except  three  persons  who  were  ab- 
sent, and  the  individual  who  had  given  the  alarm ; 
even  the  daughter  of  this  last  person,  returning 
for  an  instant  to  lock  up  the  door  of  a  cabinet,  was 
buried  with  the  rest.  Two  thousand  four  hundred 
and  thirty  persons  perished,  and  the  channel  of  the 
river  was  so  filled,  that  the  first  tidings  which  the 
inhabitants  of  Chavennes  received  of  the  calamity, 
was  by  the  falling  of  their  river.  I  mention  this 
case  the  rather,  because  the  town  was  given  up 
to  voluptuousness  and  vice — filled  with  mansions 
and  palaces, — the  favorite  summer  resort  of  the 
most  wealthy  persons  in  Italy.  The  Protestant 
minister  there  had  often  warned  the  people  of  the 
terrible  consequences  of  their  sins,  and  of  the  judg- 
ment of  God,  which  he  believed  would  suddenly 
break  out  upon  them. 

Similar,  though  less  extensive,  calamities  are 
perpetually  occurring  in  Switzerland,  and  add  ex- 
ceedingly to  the  impression  which  a  stranger  re- 
ceives from  a  journey  through  that  wonderful 
country.  He  will  be  cautious  indeed  of  presum- 
ing to  interpret  the  Divine  judgments  in  particular 
instances :  but  he  will  not  fail  to  derive  from  them 
the  solemn  and  general  instruction  inculcated  by 
our  Saviour ;  "  Think  ye  that  those  eighteen  on 
whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell  and  slew  them, 
were  sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  at  Jerusa- 
lem 1  I  tell  you,  Nay :  but  except  ye  repent,  ye 
shall  all  likewise  perish." — Luke  xiii.  4,  5. 

2.  I  pass  on  to  make  a  second  reflection  on  the 

LAMENTABLE,  THOUGH  OPPOSITE,  EVILS  OF  SUPER- 
STITION and  indifference,  whicli  met  us  every 
where  on  our  tour.  It  quite  astonished  me,  in  passing 
through  the  Netherlands,  to  witness,  for  the  first 
time,  the  multiplied  and  unscriptural  pomp  and  idola- 
try of  the  church  of  Rome.  The  surprise  was  lessen- 
ed, but  not  the  grief  and  shame,  as  I  prosecuted  my 
tour.  One  would  think  it  incredible,  that  men  pro- 
fessing to  believe  in  the  New  Testament  should 
venture  to  impose  such  burdens,  or  that  the  people 
should  submit  to  them.  The  various  and  open  in- 
vasions which  Popery  has  made  in  all  ages  on  the 
liberties  and  peace  of  mankind,  are  recorded  in 
every  history. 

One  of  its  most  fearful  attempts  for  instance,  to 
stop  all  reformation,  and  bind  people  hi  the  galling 
chains  of  superstition,  occurred  in  Switzerland  at  the 
time  when  Zuinsrle  and  the  other  Reformers  were 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


113 


awakening  and  persuading  the  minds  of  the  free 
and  generous  inhabitants  of  the  different  cantons. 
Those  which  remained  Popish,  passed  laws  that  it 
should  be  capital  to  any  to  change  their  religion  ; 
and  that,  on  a  set  day  in  every  year,  they  should 
all  go  to  mass,  and  the  masters  of  families  swear 
to  continue  true  to  the  state,  and  firm  in  their  re- 
ligion to  their  lives'  end.  Afterwards  they  punish- 
ed those  who  fell  into  what  they  called  heresy, 
with  death  and  confiscation  of  goods,  on  the  pre- 
tence of  its  being  a  violation  of  the  faith  thus  so- 
lemnly sworn  to   their  country. 

It  is  very  observable,  that  where  Popery  is  now 
reviving  in  its  influence,  after  the  French  revolu- 
nary  struggles  or  the  iron  laws  of  Bonaparte,  it  re- 
turns with  all  its  folly  about  it.  It  is  not  learning 
a  lesson  of  wisdom,  and  silently  following  its  Bor- 
romeos,  and  Pascals,  and  Fenelons,  and  dropping 
some  of  its  grosser  corruptions ;  but  it  re-assumes 
>  all  its  arts,  its  impositions,  its  ceremonies,  its  in- 
cense, its  processions,  its  pilgrimages,  its  image 
worship,  its  exclusive  claims,  its  domination  over 
the  conscience,  its  traditions,  its  opposition  to  the 
Bible,  its  hatred  of  scriptural  education,  its  resist- 
ance to  all  the  first  principles  and  blessings  of  ge- 
nuine liberty — in  short,  its  united  tyranny,  super- 
stition, and  idolatry — and  this  in  the  full  face  of 
day  and  in  the  nineteenth  century  and  with  infi- 
delity watching  for  objections  to  Christianity  ge- 
nerally.* 

And  what  is  the  general  moral  effect  of  this  sys- 
tem 3  It  neither  sanctifies  nor  saves.  The  poison 
of  vice,  glossed  over  with  outward  forms  of  de- 
cency, eats  as  doth  a  canker.  The  whole  atten- 
tion of  man  is  directed  to  superstitious  ceremonies 
as  a  substitute  for  spiritual  obedience.  Morality 
is  compromised  and  exchanged  for  an  adherence 
to  ecclesiastical  rites.  Voluptuousness,  impurity, 
dishonesty,  cunning,  hypocrisy,  every  vice,  pre- 
vails and  is  connived  at,  just  as  Popery  has  the 
more  complete  sway.  The  dreadful  profanation 
of  the  Sabbath  by  prescription  becomes  fixed.  All 
the  holy  ends  of  it  are  forgotten,  unknown,  obli- 
terated. It  is  the  habitual  season  of  unrestrained 
pleasure.  I  speak  of  effects  generally  ;  for  there 
are  multidudes  of  individual  Catholics,  who  serve 
God  in  sincerity  and  truth  ;  and  who,  disregarding 
the  accumulations  heaped  on  the  foundation  of  the 
faith,  build  on  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified. 

There  is,  indeed,  one  class  of  persons  in  Catho- 
lic countries,  which  I  compassionate  from  my  heart. 

*  The  Pope  has  lately  issued  two  Bulls,  one  to 
denounce  and  proscribe  the  Bible — the  oilier  to  ap- 
point the  present  year  to  be  observed  as  a  Jubilee, 
and  promi  ion  of  sins  to  sach  as  should,  in 

the  course  of  it,  make  a  pilgrimage  10  Ro 

"These  two  documents  should  be  circulated 
throughout  the  whole  Christian  world.  From  be  in 
nin«  to  end,  they  demonstrate  that  Popery  is,  at  this 
moment,  as  utterly  opposed  as  it  ever  was  to  all 
freedom  of  conscience  and  intelligent  use  of  the 
Scriptures;  and  that  all  hope  of  its  having  been,  as  a 
hi,  improved  or  meliorated,  by  the  course  of 
events  and  the  advancement  of  knowledge,  is  at  an 
end.  It  is  fa  that  scriptural  Christians  all  over  the 
world  shoul  their  minds,  that  Popery,  a-  a 

system,  never  has  departed,  a  ad  never  likely  to 

depart,  from  that  which  is  its  predicted characti 

— BLASPHEMOUS  USURPATION  OF  THE  PLACE  OfGod!" 

Miss.  Reg.  Jan.  1825. 


They  are  not  sunk  in  superstition,  and  yet  they 
have  not  imbibed  the  piety  of  true  disciples  of 
Christ ;  but  having  been  educated  during  the  re- 
volution, have  acquired  a  general  boldness  and  li- 
berality of  sentiment ;  see  through  much  of  the 
mummery  of  Popery ;  detect  the  spirit  and  aims 
of  a  worldly-minded  priesthood  ;  are  disgusted  at 
the  revival  of  the  Jesuits,  the  opposition  to  the 
Bible  Society,  the  resistance  to  education,  the  dis- 
turbance and  removal  of  the  most  pious  and  wor- 
thy masters  and  professors,  and  the  persecution  of 
the  Protestants.  And  yet  they  are  not  in  earnest 
enougli  about  religion  to  take  a  decided  part;  the 
objections  of  infidels  dwell  upon  their  minds — they 
shrink  from  ridicule — the  fear  of  reproach  prevents 
their  quitting  the  Roman  communion — there  is  no- 
thing in  the  Protestantism  they  are  acquainted 
with,  to  show  them  a  "more  excellent  way."  The 
value  of  the  soul  and  the  paramount  duty  of  seeking 
their  own  salvation,  are  considerations  which  uo 
not  enough  rouse  their  minds.  Thus  they  glide 
down  the  fatal  stream  with  others,  dissatisfied  and 
yet  unconverted.  These  are  persons  to  be  won 
by  the  friendly  conversation  of  true  Christians,  to 
be  invited  to  read  suitable  books  on  the  evidences 
and  nature  of  true  Christianity,  and  to  be  encour- 
aged to  seek,  and  to  follow  and  obey  the  truth. 

But  I  turn  to  the  Protestantism  which  we  have 
met  with  in  our  tour ;  and  alas,  I  see  deism,  infidel- 
ity, indifference,  a  secret  contempt  of  religion, 
too  widely  diffused  in  many  quarters.  I  observe 
a  cold  celebration  of  a  few  great  festivals  :  but  the 
Sabbath  desecrated — holiness  of  life  too  little  ex- 
emplified— the  principles  of  grace,  from  which 
only  it  can  spring,  forgotten — the  Reformation, 
with  its  glorious  truths,  corrupted  and  obscured. 
1  see  a  vain  human  philosophy — skepticism — poli- 
tical views — Ihe  interests  of  a  corrupt  literature — 
levity  and  inconstancy  as  to  the  faith  of  the  Gospel, 
too  prevalent.  I  see  persecution  itself,  the  most 
odious  part  of  Popery,  transplanted  to  some  Pro- 
testant bodies,  and  an  open  defection  from  the 
Gospel  avowed  in  the  city  winch  was  once  the 
praise  of  the  churches.* 

Still,  after  all,  we  must  thank  God  that  things 
are  in  many  places  greatly  improving  both  am 
Catholics  and  Protestants — that  the  opened  Bible, 
the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  after  truth,  the  power  of 

*  The  tendency  of  dominant  churches  to  impose 
on  the  consciences  of  others  has  appeared  even 
amongst  the  most  pious  and  orthodox.  About  150 
years  since,  this  very  church  of  Geneva  united  with 
those  of  Bern  and  Zurich,  in  condemning  all  persons 
who  held  the  universal  extent  of  our  Lord's  death  ; 
with  whom  they  strangely  joined  those  who  impugn- 
ed tbe  power  ami  authority  of  the  Hebrew  vowel 
points!  [need  not  say,  that  the  paramount  autho- 
rity of  these  vowel  points  has  long  been  given  np 
by  every  scholar ;  and  that  the  doctrine  of  Christ 
having  given  "himself  a  ransom  for  all,"  is  now 
lly  admitted  as  an  undoubted  verity  of  the 
New  Testament.  Such  is  the  folly  of  excess  in  re- 
ligious legislation,  to  say  nothing  of  the  danger  i 
vulsion — of  opening  the  door  to  such  reglemens  as 
that  of  1817.  It  was  observed  by  a  memb  r  i 
3  Louse  of  Commons  last  session,  from  Lord  Claren- 
don, that  "  he  had  observed  in  his  progress  th)  i 
life,  that  of  all  classes  of  men,  the  clergy  took  the 
worst  measure  of  human  affairs."  An  acute  and 
poignant  remark. 


114 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


conscience,  the  intercourse  of  different  Protestant 
states,  the  operations  of  various  religious  societies, 
the  judgments  of  God  which  have  been  abroad  in 
the  earth,  and,  above  all,  the  divine  mercy  visit- 
ing and  subduing  the  hearts  of  men,  are  producing 
a  wonderful  change.  In  some  quarters  the  purity 
of  the  Gospel  has  flourished  without  interruption 
or  decay.  But  taking  a  view  of  the  present  state 
of  the  continent  generally,  in  its  two  great  families 
of  Catholics  and  Protestants,  the  Christian  travel- 
ler cannot  but  be  affected,  even  to  depression, 
with  the  prevailing  degeneracy. 

3.  But  let  me  turn  to  a  more  pleasing  topic, 
and  one  that  may  cheer  us  with  the  prospect  of 
the  kevival  of  keligion.  For  who  raised  up 
the  Reformers  in  the  sixteenth  century  !  Were 
they  not  men  of  "  like  passions  with  ourselves  ]" 
Cannot  a  similar  race  of  men  be  again  formed  by 
the  mercy  of  God  now  1  Nay,  are  there  not 
reasonable  hopes  that  such  will  be  the  case  ?  For 
a  visit  to  the  continent  leads  the  traveller  over 
those  scenes  where  the  Reformers  began  their 
blessed  labors.  And  this  is  the  third  observation 
which  I  wish  to  offer.  Nothing  afforded  me,  I 
think,  such  unmixed  pleasure,  as  entering  the  very 
towns,  visiting  the  houses,  and  reading  the  letters 
of  those  great  and  able  men.  I  did  not  penetrate 
far  enough  into  Germany  to  see  Eisenach,  Wit- 
temberg,  or  Worms,  where  the  magnanimous  Lu- 
ther met  his  papal  antagonists  ;  but  I  was  at  Ge- 
neva, where  Beza,  after  the  death  of  Luther  and 
Calvin,  so  admirably  led  the  Reformation. 

It  was  Beza  who  conducted  the  discussions  of 
Polssy  in  1561,  where  in  the  presence  of  the  king 
of  France,  (Charles  IX.)  the  king  of  Navarre, 
(Henry  IV.)  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  and  the 
French  court,  he  almost  affected  the  reception  of 
the  reformed  doctrines  in  that  vast  kingdom. — 
The  Reformed  church  in  France  had  then  reach- 
ed its  widest  limits.  The  Protestants  had  two 
thousand  one  hundred  and  fifty  churches,  some  of 
which  contained  ten  thousand  members.  In  fact, 
nearly  half  of  France  was  Protestant  in  the  16th 
century ;  whilst  in  the  present,  the  19th,  not  more 
than  a  thirtieth  part  follows  the  reformed  doc- 
trines. The  valuable  MS.  of  the  Gospel  which 
bears  the  name  of  Beza,  (Codex  Beza?)  was  his 
gift  to  the  University  of  Cambridge.  He  died  in 
1603,  aged  86. 

I  was  also  at  Strasburg,  where  Martin  Bucer, 
for  twenty-six  years,  was  a  model  of  evangelical 
holiness.  Our  great  Cranmer  brought  him  over 
with  Fagius  in  1549,  and  fixed  him  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge,  where  he  read  lectures 
with  infinite  applause,  on  St.  John's  Gospel.  He 
aied  in  1551,  and  was  buried  with  the  utmost 
respect,  in  the  University  church,  the  Vice  Chan- 
cellor and  the  members  of  all  the  colleges  attend- 
ing. 

I  saw  at  Basle,  the  cathedral,  and  school,  and 
library,  where  Ecolampadius,  from  1515  to  his 
death  in  1531,  labored  in  establishing,  with  equal 
acuteness  and  moderation,  the  reformed  doctrines. 
He  was  joined  with  Erasmus  in  composing  the 
annotations  on  the  New  Testament,  which  so 
much  aided  the  infant  cause  of  truth.  His  name 
was  indicative  of  his  character  ;  he  was  indeed 
Ecolampadius,  "  the  lamp  of  the  house,"  a  burn- 
ing and  a  shining  light  in  the  Temple  of  the  Lord. 


I  visited  likewise  the  abode  of  Bullinger,  who, 
after  the  death  of  Zuingle,  was  for  above  forty 
years  at  the  head  of  the  churches  at  Zurich.*  I 
walked  in  the  streets,  I  saw  the  churches,  I  en- 
tered the  college,  I  was  in  the  very  house,  I  saw 
the  hand-writing  of  this  blessed  man,  who,  in 
1538,  received  with  affectionate  hospitality  some 
noble  Englishmen,  and  wrote,  at  their  request,  to 
our  Henry  VIII.,  in  support  of  the  perfection  and 
authority  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and  in  1554,  in  the 
reign  of  the  atrocious  queen  Mary,  welcomed 
Jewel,  afterwards  bishop  of  Salisbury,  Sandys, 
afterwards  archbishop  of  York,  and  others  ;  gave 
them  lodgings  in  the  Cathedral-Close  ;  and  when 
Elizabeth  ascended  the  throne,  continued  a  con- 
stant correspondence  with  them  till  his  death,  in 
1575.  Few  measures  in  our  English  Reformation 
were  taken  without  his  advice. 

All  this  I  should  have  mentioned  to  you  before. 
I  have,  indeed,  alluded  frequently  to  the  names  of 
some  of  these  Reformers.  But  I  ought  to  have 
dwelt  more  on  their  piety  and  talents,  their  wis- 
dom and  courage,  their  zeal  and  disinterestedness. 
For  my  mind  is  deeply  penetrated  with  the  con- 
viction that  the  best  hope  of  a  general  revival 
of  religion  now,  is  by  studying  and  imitating  such 
bright  examples.  Men  like  these,  wise,  holy,  ar- 
dent, devoted  to  God,  raised  above  a  spirit  ot 
party  in  religion,  purified  from  petty  passions,  se- 
parated from  the  politics  of  this  world,  thoroughly 
grounded  in  the  doctrine  of  holy  Scripture,  and 
working  by  genuine  humility  and  lowliness,  rather 
than  by  heat  and  obstinacy — men,  animated  above 
all  with  the  ardent  love  of  "  Christ  and  him  cru- 
cified"— such  persons  would  soon  be  the  means  ot 
restoring  decayed  religion  in  the  Popisli  and  Pro- 
testant churches.  To  produce  sucli  men,  the 
silent  circulation  of  the  Bible  seems  the  first  step. 
Of  all  inventions  the  noble  idea  of  giving  through- 
out the  world  the  inspired  volume  of  revelation 
appears  to  me  the  most  happy,  the  most  pure,  and 
the  most  important.  It  is  like  the  works  of  na- 
ture, as  simple  as  it  is  majestic  and  efficacious. 
It  has  the  impress  of  God.  I  do  not  wonder  at 
the  open  and  violent  opposition  which  the  Bible 
Society  has  provoked.  This  might  be  expected, 
if  I  am  right  in  the  immense  importance  which  I 

attach  to  it.     The  Pope  and  the  church  of  Rome 

know  that  the  Bible  is  against  them.     They  act 


*  Bishop  Burnet  mentions  that  he  saw  at  Zurich 
a  Latin  MS.  of  the  New  Testament  of  the  ninth 
century,  in  which  a  preface  of  St.  Jerome  prefixed 
to  the  Catholic  epistles,  stated  that  "he  had  been 
more  exact  in  that  translation,  that  he  might  disco- 
ver the  fraud  of  the  Arians,  who  had  struck  out 
that  passage  (viz.  1  John  v.  7,  8.)  concerning  the 
Trinity."  If  this  be  correct,  it  seems  to  confirm  the 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  authenticity  of  the  pas- 
sage. Surely  Jerome,  who  was  born  in  A.D.  331, 
and  lived  for  nearly  a  century,  must  be  a  competent 
witness  to  such  a  fact.  The  present  bishop  of  Sa- 
lisbury's tracts  on  the  authenticity  of  this  text,  are 
entitled  on  all  accounts  to  the  attention  of  the  Bib- 
lical student.  He  informs  us  that  Walafrid  Stra- 
bo,  Erasmus,  Socinus,  Le  Clerc,  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Mill,  and  Dorhout,  consider  that  the  prologue  above 
referred  to  was  Jerome's ;  and  that  it  proves  the 
existence,  in  his  time,  of  the  Greek  text  of  the  se- 
venth verse. — See  Bishop  Burgess's  Vindication. 
1823,  p.  46,  &c. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


115 


in  character  in  the  Bulls  issued  against  it.  The 
opposition  of  some  Protestants  would  be  much 
more  painful  and  mysterious,  if  we  did  not  remem- 
ber the  effects  of  misrepresentation  and  contro- 
versy, in  perverting  the  judgment  of  men  in  spite 
of  their  better  principles.  Let  only  the  friends  of 
the  Bible  institutions  persevere  in  that  meek  and 
peaceable  temper  which  has  hitherto  so  much  dis- 
tinguished them.  They  are  invulnerable  so  long 
as  the  spirit  of  love  goes  on  to  preside  over  their 
proceedings  and  conduct.  There  is  nothing  which 
I  do  not  expect  ultimately  by  their  means.  Wher- 
ever the  Bible  meets  with  characters  like  Lean- 
der  Van  Ess  or  the  pastor  Henhofer,  it  works  its 
way  with  irresistible  might ;  or  wherever  the 
grace  of  God  makes  it  the  means  of  first  training- 
such  characters,  it  soon  leads  to  like  results. 
Truth,  in  the  very  words  dictated  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  enters  the  mind,  and  sheds  its  own  glory 
there.  And  it  is  impossible  to  say  in  how  many 
hearts  that  process  is  actually  going  on — how 
many  latent  Luthers,  Malancthons,  Calvkis,  Zuin- 
gles,  Bucers,  Ecolampadiuses,  and  Bullingers,  are 
now  preparing,  by  a  painful  study  of  the  Bible, 
for  future  usefulness. 

4.  The  example  of  those  Protestant  churches 
which  have  the  widest  influence,  may  also  have  a 
great  effect,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  pro- 
duce and  help  forward  such  a  revival.  Let  us  aid 
the  inquiring.  Let  us  embody  and  exhibit  the 
Christianity  of  which  they  read  in  their  Bibles. 
Let  us  endeavor  to  advance  the  age  or 
true  Christian  charity,  founded  on  the  doc- 
trines of  the  grace  of  Clirist.  This  is  my  fourth 
remark.  I  entreat  my  countrymen,  and  especially 
the  ministers  of  religion,  to  cultivate  both  at  home 
and  in  their  visits  to  the  continent,  che  spirit  of 
forbearance,  wisdom,  moderation,  and  love,  which 
marked  the  Reformers.  Our  books  are  read 
abroad,  our  sentiments  have  a  considerable  influ- 
ence. England  is  the  hope  of  the  world.  Let 
then  the  law  of  Christian  kindness  be  apparent  in 
all  we  write  and  teach.  We  have  had  in  the 
church  the  age  of  superstition — thirteen  cen- 
turies have  witnessed  the  fatal  effects  of  this  on 
true  religion.  We  have  seen,  since  the  revival  of 
letters,  our  ages  of  daring  inquiry,  human  rea- 
soning, controversy  ;  and  we  have  tasted  the  bit- 
ter fruits  which  they  have  produced.  Surely  at 
length  it  is  time  for  the  age  of  charity,  of  the 
love  of  God  and  man,  to  begin — love  which  re- 
ceives and  uses  to  their  proper  end,  all  the  great 
mysteries  of  redemption  ;  which  dwell  on  every 
doctrine  and  duty  in  a  holy,  practical  manner; 
which  assimilates  every  thing  to  its  own  pure  and 
heavenly  temper ;  which  conforms  us  to  the  di- 
vine image,  and  unites  us  to  God  himself.  The 
scheme  of  reducing  all  men  to  one  confession  is 
vain  and  hopeless.  On  minor  questions,  the  best 
course  is  to  hold  with  moderation  and  firmness 
our  own  sentiments,  whilst  we  respect  those  of 
others.  To  meet  men  in  anger,  and  attempt,  to 
subdue  them  by  controversy,  is  the  way  to  aug- 
ment, instead  of  lessening,  existing  evils.  Love, 
then,  is  the  truest  wisdom.  The  few  command- 
ing doctrines  and  duties  of  Christianity  may  be 
best  recommended  in  this  spirit.  Where  these 
are  received  and  practised,  remaining  disagree- 
ments wdl  lose  half  their  mischief,  by  being  de- 
56—2 


prived  of  all  their  asperity.  Differences  of  judg- 
ment are  the  infirmity  of  the  militant  church. 
If  all  men  could  be  brought  to  one  mind,  the  world 
would  be  in  a  state  not  to  need  the  new  law  of 
charity  which  our  Saviour  left  us,  as  the  badge  of 
his  followers,  and  the  healing  medicine  of  their 
feverish  heats  and  irritations.  I  can  truly  say 
that  if  I  have  erred  against  the  law  of  peace  in 
any  thing  I  have  said  in  my  series  of  letters  I 
heartily  retract  it.  My  intention  and  my  prayer 
is  to  unite  truth  with  charity. 

5.  But  I  must  not  dwell  on  these  topics.  I  just 
mention  a  further  thought  in  connexion  with  them, 
which  frequently  occurred  to  me  on  my  journey — 
the  importance  of  every  Christian  travel- 
ler, WHETHER  MINISTER  OR  NOT,  CORDIALLY  CO 
OPERATING,    IN    SOME    WAY    OR    OTHER,     IN     THIS 

great  work.  Let  not  the  beauties  of  nature 
withdraw  his  mind  from  the  duties,  unostentatious 
but  important,  which  he  may  connect  so  easily, 
so  agreeably  with  them.  Let  not  the  hurry  of 
his  movements,  the  novelty  of  his  circumstances, 
the  imperfection  of  his  knowledge  of  the  conti- 
nental tongues,  the  infirmity  of  his  health,*  deter 
him  from  attempting  a  little.  Such  labor  for  the 
good  of  souls  elevates  and  sanctifies  a  tour  under- 
taken for  health  or  instruction.  A  conversation 
with  a  peasant  on  the  road,  a  visit  to  a  poor  or 
sick  family,  the  gift  of  a  suitable  tract  or  a  New 
Testament,  a  word  dropped  at  a  table-d'hote,  the 
encouraging  of  the  more  candid  and  pious  clergy, 
the  assisting  of  Bible  and  Missionary  Societies, 
the  consecration  of  the  Sabbath,  the  daily  devo- 
tions of  the  family,  are  duties  neither  difficult  nor 
rare.  Examples  continually  occur  of  the  good 
thus  produced. 

A  gentleman  of  Scotland,  who  had  a  good  deal 
forgotten  his  French,  came  to  Geneva,  about  se- 
ven years  since,  and  in  a  few  months,  by  simply 
dwelling  on  the  authority  and  manifest  "truths  of 
the  New  Testament,  was  the  means  of  attracting 
the  attention  and   regard  of  a   whole   circle  of 


*  I  would  here  offer  a  remark  or  two  to  invalids. 
I  found  in  my  own  instance,  that  whilst  I  was  mov- 
ing gently  from  place  to  place,  my  health,  which  had 
been  undermined  by  a  long  series  of  over-exertion, 
was  sensibly  improved.  The  fine  air,  the  changes 
of  scene,  the  freedom  from  ordinary  cares  and  du- 
ties, the  conversation  of  my  family,  the  curiosity 
awakened  at  every  turn,  my  inquiries,  wherever  I 
came,  into  the  moral  and  religious  state  of  the  dif- 
ferent towns  and  countries,  my  interviews  with 
pious  ministers  and  professors,  and  especially  the 
mountain  tonrs,  all  contributed,  under  God's  bles- 
sing, to  my  recovery.  When  I  arrived  at  Lyon  in 
September,  after  a  journey  of  three  months  and 
about  two  thousand  rive  hundred  miles,  I  was  not 
like  the  same  person  as  when  I  quitted  England. 
The  over-hurry  of  the  lew  Inst  weeks  of  my  tour 
was  the  first  thing  that  injured  me,  so  far  as  I  can 
judge.  I  travelled,  in  consequence  of  my  son's  ill- 
ness, too  rapidly  to  Geneva  the  last  time.  Again, 
when  I  arrived  at  Paris,  I  was  not  enough  on  my 
guard.  I  saw  too  marly  friends,  and  attended  too 
many  societies.  The  hours  also  were  late,  compared 
with  what  I  had  been  accustomed  to.  The  con- 
sequence was,  that  when  I  arrived  in  England,  and 
returned  to  my  usual  clerical  duties,  I  soon  found 
myself  indisposed.  The  extremely  wet  weather  on 
my  first  arrival  added  to  my  complaints ;  and  in 


116 


TRAVELS  ON  THE   CONTINENT. 


young  students,  and  imbuing  their  minds  with  its 
evangelical  doctrine. 

An  American  merchant,  settled  some  time  since 
at  Paris,  became  the  centre  of  really  most  exten- 
sive good,  by  kindness,  piety,  liberality,  fearless- 
ness, simplicity  of  heart ;  though  he  knew  French 
very  imperfectly.  The  multitude  of  tracts  he 
gave  away  was  incredible. 

Again,  an  English  lady  at  Lausanne  was  the 
means  of  inconceivable  benefit,  by  occupying 
every  moment  of  a  pretty  long  residence,  in  aid- 
ing the  cause  of  her  God  and  Saviour,  though  in 
no  way  at  all  inconsistent  with  the  modesty  and 
humility  of  her  sex. 

Another  lady  was  at  Montanvert,  on  the  way 
to  the  Mer  de  Glace,  a  few  years  since.  She 
wrote  in  her  guide's  book  the  usual  attestation  to 
his  attention  and  skill ;  and  then  added,  "  You 
have  often  said  to  me,  Lean  upon  me,  follow  my 
steps,  and  fear  nothing.  This  is  what  I  say  to 
you  as  to  our  true  Guide  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 
Lean  upon  Him,  follow  his  steps,  ai\d  fear  nothing. 
He  will  conduct  you  safely  in  the  road,  yet  more 
difficult,  of  eternal  life."  This  advice  gratified 
the  man  beyond  conception ;  and  several  years 
after  it  was  written,  he  showed  it  with  undimi- 
nished pleasure  to  a  visitor,  who  copied  it  out,  and 
furnished  me  with  a  transcript. 

Once  more,  one  of  my  friends  at  Rome  showed 
a  passage  in  the  New  Testament  to  an  Italian 
gentleman — it  was  a  consolatory  chapter  under 
afflictions — he  was  struck  even  to  admiration,  and 
entreated  the  loan  of  the  sacred  book ;  adding, 
that  his  own  Bible  was  in  thirty  or  more  volumes, 
so  that  he  could  scarcely  find  the  text  amidst  the 
overwhelming  notes. 

I  only  add,  that  an  Englishman  of  high  family 
opened  his  hotel,  during  a  tour  on  the  continent, 
for  the  celebration  of  divine  service  on  Sundays. 
He  engaged,  from  time  to  time,  some  clergyman  to 
preach,  and  sent  cards  of  invitation  to  all  the  per- 
sons to  whom  he  had  access  at  the  towns  where 
he  rested.  The  curiosity  excited  was  prodigious. 
In  many  of  the  chief  places  in  Italy,  his  salon 

three  weeks  I  was  totally  laid  by,  with  all  the  indis- 
position, in  an  aggravated  form,  from  which  I  had 
suffered  before  I  entered  upon  my  tour.  I  mention 
my  own  case  thus  at  length  as  a  caution  to  others. 
I  would  especially  recommend  them  to  avoid  hurry 
towards  the  close  of  their  journey,  to  return  at  a 
season  whf.n  the  weather  is  likely  to  be  fine,  to  watch 
over  the  first  effects  of  the  change  of  climate  and 
food,  and  to  resume  laborious  and  anxious  duties 
slowly  and  gradually.  This  subject  leads  me  to 
suggest  to  pious  travellers  to  take  with  them  some 
tracts  suitable  to  the  sick  and  dying.  So  many 
English  become  ill  abroad,  that  many  a  tour  begun 
in  vanity,  may  end,  under  God's  blessing,  in  serious- 
ness and  piety,  by  the  aid  of  a  striking  tract,  or  a 
copy  of  the  New  Testament.  It  is  possible  even 
that  the  last  solemn  scenes  of  life  may  be  cheered 
by  the  doctrine  of  repentance  and  remission  of  sins 
in  the  name  of  Christ,  thus  conveyed.  T  should 
perhaps  add,  that  we  found  great  difficulty  in  having 
our  English  prescriptions  made  up  abroad.  I  ex- 
plained to  a  druggist  at  Spaa  very  simple  one,  which 
he  assured  me  he  understood,  addin?  that  he  had 
continually  made  up  similar  ones.  The  medicine, 
however,  was  so  different  from  what  we  had  been 
used  to,  that  I  could  not  venture  to  let  Mrs.  W. 
take  it. 


was  crowded.  The  Catholics  were  astonished  at 
an  English  nobleman  appearing  to  be  really  in 
earnest  about  religion. 

But  in  all  these  attempts  to  do  good,  the  cha- 
rity which  I  have  just  been  recommending,  must 
reign.  Benevolence  is  an  universal  language. 
Those  who  may  not  at  first  understand  your  sen- 
timents, can  feel  and  appreciate  your  kindness. 
All  airs  of  superiority  must  be  avoided,  all  boast- 
ing of  England's  liberty,  riches,  power ;  all  inter- 
meddling in  politics,  all  controversy  about  differ- 
ent churches — I  had  almost  said  about  different 
doctrines.  Love  must  be  the  key  to  open  the 
heart — Christian  love,  which  delights  in  truths 
common  to  all  churches,  and  interesting  to  every 
soul  of  man,  and  which  knows  how  to  make  large 
allowances  for  dulness,  prejudices  of  education, 
early  habits,  and  slow  obedience  to  truth. 

If  any  should  doubt  the  obligation  of  our  thus 
carrying  our  religion  wherever  we  travel,  let  him 
learn  it  from  the  word  of  God,  which  demands  the 
dedication  of  all  we  have,  and  under  all  circum- 
stances, to  his  service.  I  need  only  quote  one  or 
two  declarations  from  the  New  Testament  to  re- 
call this  point  to  the  mind  of  the  pious  reader. 
"  Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word  or  deed,  do  all  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  "  Whether  therefore 
ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the 
glory  of  God."  "  As  we  have  therefore  oppor- 
tunity let  us  do  good  unto  all  men,  and  especially 
to  them  that  are  of  the  household  of  faith."  "  For 
ye  are  not  your  own,  but  ye  are  bought  with  a 
price ;  wherefore  glorify  God  in  your  bodies  and 
in  your  spirits,  which  are  God's."* 

These,  and  similar  passages,  are  quite  decisive. 
I  know  the  objections  which  are  raised  by  timid 
and  worldly-minded  persons  against  this  introduc- 
tion of  religion  into  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life. 
I  know  the  charges  of  enthusiasm  which  they  ad- 
vance. I  know  that  ridicule — irresistible  ridicule 
— is  the  weapon  they  constantly  employ — and 
that  they  do  all  this  on  the  plea  of  not  degrading 
religion  and  exposing  it  to  contempt — but  I  also 
know  that  these  same  kinds  of  objections  have 
been  made  in  all  ages  against  every  holy  effort  of 
truly  sincere  Christians  in  benefitting  their  fellow- 
creatures.  Such  objections  commonly  amount  to 
nothing.  Similar  ones  might  be  raised  against 
any  grave  and  zealous  undertaking  in  the  usual 
pursuits  of  mankind.  Errors  against  taste  should 
be  avoided  indeed,  where  they  can ;  but  such  er- 
rors furnish  no  argument  against  the  commanding 
duties  of  "  loving  our  neighbor  as  ourselves,"  and 
of  "going  about"  like  our  Saviour,  "doing  good." 
The  immensely  important  concerns  of  eternity 
are  not  to  be  governed  by  such  trifling  considera- 
tions. It  only  requires  a  ray  of  holy  illumination 
from  above,  to  discern  and  feel  something  of  the 
claim  which  our  divine  Lord  has  upon  all  our  love, 
all  our  efforts,  all  our  time,  all  our  influence.  No- 
thing is  so  truly  rational  and  dignified — nothing  so 
elevated,  and  in  the  highest  degree  philanthropic 
and  philosophical,  as  the  benevolent  endeavor  to 
raise  and  purify  the  minds  and  habits  of  our  fellow- 
men.  In  doing  this  we  claim  no  miraculous  pow- 
ers, we  insert  no  infallibility  of  judgment,  we  pre- 
sume on  no  immediate  or  peculiar  care  of  the 

*  Col.  iii.  17.    1  Cor.  x.  31.    I  Cor.  vi.  19,  20. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


117 


Divine  Providence,  we  supersede  no  just  use  of 
prudence  and  foresight,  we  advance  no  pretences 
to  an  interpretation  of  the  mysterious  scheme  of 
the  government  of  God,  we  lessen  no  motive  to 
activity  in  ordinary  duties — but  we  plainly  main- 
tain that  the  Bible  reveals  a  religion  founded  on 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  and  the  operations  of  the 
Holy  Spirit — that  this  religion  is  to  change  the 
whole  moral  bias  of  the  affections  ;  and  that  when 
the  heart  is  thus  renewed,  man  feels  the  imperious 
obligation  of  laboring  to  glorify  God  in  every  pro- 
ject and  every  action  of  his  life.  The  honor  of 
God  and  the  good  of  men  are  his  object,  his  pas- 
sion, his  joy.  He  takes  a  far  warmer  interest  in 
this  high  pursuit,  than  the  scholar,  the  artist,  the 
warrior,  the  statesman  do  in  theirs — is  more  sure 
of  the  value  of  the  good  he  communicates,  and 
more  persuaded  of  the  ultimate  success  which 
will  crown  his  labors — for  he  reposes  on  the  ever- 
present  providence  of  that  God  who  "  clothes  the 
grass  of  the  field  ;"  without  whom  "  not  a  spar- 
row falls  to  the  ground  ;"  and  who  has  conde- 
scended to  say,  that  the  "very  hairs  of  our  head 
are  all  numbered." 

6.  But  GRATITUDE  TO  GoD  FOR    THE    BLESSINGS 

which  we  enjoy  in  England,  is  a  further 
general  sentiment  powerfully  awakened  by  a 
foreign  tour.  Never  was  I  so  impressed  with 
thankfulness  to  God  for  the  moral,  religious,  free, 
prosperous,  happy  state  of  my  own  country,  as 
when  I  had  the  opportunity  of  comparing  it  with 
that  of  the  nations  of  the  continent.  At  home 
murmers,  objections,  difficulties,  are  sometimes 
heard  and  propagated.  Men  are  restless  and  dis- 
contented. But  let  any  one  travel  abroad,  and  he 
must  be  ungrateful  indeed  if  his  complaints  are 
not  changed  into  admiration.  I  am  far  from  de- 
nying the  errors  of  our  rulers,  or  the  imperfections 
still  adhering  to  our  legislation  and  system  of 
laws — this  is  human.  I  am  still  further  from  de- 
nying, that  in  our  public  religious  conduct,  as  a 
nation,  there  is,  abstractedly  speaking,  very  much 
evil  to  deplore.  I  would  be  the  last  to  dissemble 
the  many  sins  amongst  us  which  provoke  the 
anger  of  God,  and  which  are  the  more  criminal  in 
proportion  to  our  knowledge  and  ample  means 
of  instruction — the  luxury,  the  pride,  the  sad 
mixture  of  infidelity  and  contempt  of  the  Gospel ; 
the  departure  of  too  many  of  our  clergy  from 
the  reformed  doctrines ;  the  low  standard  of  mo- 
ral and  religious  feeling  in  our  senate  ;  our  divi- 
sions and  party-spirit  on  every  question ;  our  ne- 
glect of  adequate  means  of  education  for  our  poor, 
and  of  accommodation  for  the  public  worship  of 
God  ;  our  encouragement  of  the  sale  of  pernicious 
liquors ;  our  licentious  and  blasphemous  press ; 
the  scandalous  disorder  of  our  public  places  of 
amusement ;  our  Sunday  newspapers,  Sunday 
dissipation,  and  Sunday  travelling  ;  our  apathy  at 
the  oppression  of  the  innocent  African  in  our 
West  India  Islands  ;  these  and  other  public  evils 
no  one  is  more  sensible  of  than  myself.  No  doubt 
we  have  causes  to  look  at  home.  Still,  thank  God, 
England  is,  on  the  whole,  as  superior  to  other 
lands  in  the  practice  of  morals,  as  in  the  extent 
and  success  of  her  commerce  and  her  arms.  Her 
faults  are  not  of  the  peculiar  malignity  which 
mark  Popish  countries — we  do  not  shut  up  the 
Bible — we  do  not  corrupt  religion  with  open  idola- 


try and  superstition — we  do  not  oppose  the  tradi- 
tions of  men  to  the  inspired  word  of  God — we  do 
not  tyrannize  over  the  conscience — we  do  not 
crush  the  civil  and  religious  liberty  of  mankind. 
There  never  was  a  time  when  England  stood 
more  free  from  these  darker  shades  of  guilt.  As 
a  country,  notwithstanding  all  I  have  just  been 
saying,  every  thing  moral  and  religious  is  advanc- 
ing. The  abolition  of  the  trade  in  slaves — the 
renunciation  of  Sunday  drilling — the  mitigation  of 
our  criminal  code — the  relinquishment  of  lotteries 
— the  improvement  of  prison  discipline — the  esta- 
blishments for  national  education — the  grants  tor 
missions  abroad  and  for  erecting  new  churches  at 
home  — the  parliamentary  committees  for  investi- 
gating various  abuses — the  honorable  discharge 
of  our  pledges  and  engagements  to  other  states, 
are  all  so  many  proofs  of  the  high  religious  feeling 
of  England,  compared  with  the  continental  nations. 

Especially  the  religious  freedom  of  our  beioved 
country  ought  to  excite  our  warmest  gratitude  to 
the  Giver  of  all  good.  We  are  too  apt  to  forget 
our  actual  blessings,  in  this  respect.  But  if  we 
recal  the  past  circumstances  of  Protestant  Europe, 
or  even  reflect  on  her  present  situation,  we  shall 
receive  a  deeper  impression  of  our  own  advan- 
tages. Consider,  for  example,  the  sufferings  of 
the  Protestants  of  France  the  century  before  last, 
after  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes — tens, 
yea  hundreds  of  thousands  of  fugitives  escaping 
with  the  loss  of  every  thing,  to  England,  Holland, 
and  Switzerland — so  that  in  the  small  town  of 
Lausanne  only,  in  the  year  1685,  there  were  2,000 
of  the  laity  and  more  than  200  ministers,  whom 
some  even  of  the  Catholic  cantons  joined  the  Pro- 
testant in  succoring.  But  these  exiles  were  hap- 
py compared  with  their  brethren  who  were  de- 
tained in  their  own  country.  The  cruelties  of  the 
dragonnades  of  Louis  XIV.  were  so  much  beyond 
all  the  common  measures  of  persecution,  that 
bishop  Burnet,  who  witnessed  them  in  his  travels, 
declares  that  there  never  was  such  a  violation  of 
all  that  is  sacred,  either  with  relation  to  God  or 
man. 

But  why  should  I  speak  of  times  that  are  past, 
in  order  to  awaken  our  thankfulness  to  God  for 
the  actual  state  of  things  in  England?  Consider 
the  present  situation  of  the  churches  in  the  valleys 
of  Piedmont — 18  or  19,000  of  the  most  humble, 
industrious,  hospitable,  kind-hearted,  simple,  obe- 
dient, and  pious  persons  of  Christendom  under  the 
iron  yoke  of  oppression.  Every  one  knows  tho 
history  of  these  churches  of  the  Waldenses  or 
Vaudois,  possibly  founded  by  the  apostle  Paul ; 
and,  in  all  probability,  the  primitive  Christians  of 
the  west,  as  the  Syrian  Christians  are  of  the  past. 
Who  has  not  read,  almost  with  tears,  the  heart- 
rending story  of  the  cruelties  they  endured  from 
the  Papal  see  during  the  dark  ages?*  I  just  men- 
tioned the  names  of  these  sufferers  to  you  when 
writing  from  Turin.  But  I  dwell  a  moment  on 
their  history  to  awaken  us  to  gratitude.  The 
truth  is,  that  when  Christianity  was  almost  lost 

*In  the  fourteenth  century  80,000  were  martyred 
in  Bohemia  only.  I  add  here  a  single  trait  of  their 
deeppiety,  asan  example  not  unsuitable  to  ourselves. 
It  is  recorded  by  an  enemy.  Before  they  go  to  meat, 
the  elder  amongst  tbe  company  says,  "  God,  who 
blessed  the  five  barley  loaves  and  two  fishes  before 


118 


TRAVELS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 


under  the  Roman  Catholic  corruptions,  it  remained 
in  much  purity  amongst  these  beloved  people, 
who  had  spread  themselves  before  the  sixteenth 
century,  from  the  borders  of  Spain,  throughout  the 
south  of  France,  amongst  and  below  the  Alps, 
along  the  Rhine  on  both  sides  of  its  course,  even 
to  Bohemia.  They  reached  also  to  Bulgaria, 
Croatia,  Dalmatia,  and  Hungary  ;  communicated 
their  doctrine  as  far  as  England ;  and  in  Italy 
stretched  down  to  Calabria.  They  numbered, 
about  the  year  1530,  above  800,000  souls. 

It  was  at  the  accursed  revocation  of  the  edict 
of  Nantes,  in  1685,  that  Louis  XIV.  engaged  the 
the  court  of  Turin  to  attempt  then  utter  extermi- 
nation from  the  valleys  of  Piedmont.  The  Vau- 
dois  fled  their  country  in  bodies  of  five  or  six  hun- 
dred, some  to  the  Palatinate,  others  to  Branden- 
burg, others  to  different  parts  of  Switzerland,  de- 
siring only  a  little  bread  at  different  towns  to  carry 
them  on  their  way.  A  few  years  afterwards,  a 
band  of  900,  under  one  of  their  ministers,  recon- 
quered their  native  valleys  ;  and  from  this  handful 
of  Christian  heroes,  the  present  Vaudois  sprung. 
From  the  year  of  their  return,  in  1689,  till  they 
became  the  subjects  of  France,  in  1800,  they  en- 
dured with  all  long-suffering,  the  cruel  oppressions 
of  the  Sardinian  government.  Bonaparte  first 
granted  them  religious  liberty — this  was  his  policy 
everywhere ;  he  placed  all  his  subjects  on  the 
same  footing ;  at  Paris  he  granted  the  Protestants 
the  use  of  four  of  the  Catholic  churches  ;  three  of 
which  they  occupy  still — those  of  Sainte  Marie, 
L'Oratoire,  and  Les  Billettes — so  in  the  other 
cities  of  France,  Rouen,  &c. 

Will  it  be  believed,  that  when  the  late  Victor 
Emmanuel  reascended  the  throne  of  Sardinia  in 
1814,  his  first  measure  was  to  re-enact  all  the 
persecuting  edicts  against  this  unoffending  people. 
They  are  now  again  compelled  to  desist  from 
work  on  Catholic  festivals,  forbidden  to  exercise 
the  profession  of  pnysician  or  surgeon,  prohibited 
from  purchasing  land,  required  to  take  off  their 
hats  when  the  host  is  carried  about,  denied  a 
printing-press,  and  were  refused  for  several  years 
even  the  liberty  of  building  a  hospital  for  their 
sick  ;  whilst  their  public  schools,  in  which  the 
Bible  was  taught,  were  put  down,  and  their 
children  often  stolen  from  them  in  order  to  be 
educated  in  Popery.  In  the  meantime,  the  sup- 
port of  their  ministers,  which  was  chiefly  derived 
from  England,. has  of  late  very  much  failed;  and 
the  royal  bounty,  begun  by  queen  Mary,  has  been 
withheld  since  the  year  1797. 

But  I  am  drawn  on  too  far.  I  dwell  on  the  cir- 
cumstances of  these  churches,  not  only  to  excite 
our  thankfulness  to  God,  who  has  made  us  in 
England  so  much  to  differ,  but  also  to  take  oc- 
casion to  point  out  the  obligation  which  we  are 
under,  to  give  a  proof  of  that  gratitude,  by  our 
aid  to  our  suffering  brethren.  I  found  as  I  passed 
through  Brussels,  an  excellent  Christian  friend, 
who  spent  five  months  amongst  them  a  year  or 


his  disciples  in  the  wilderness,  bless  this  table  and 
that  which  is  se',  upon  it,  in  the  name  of  the  Father, 
the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  after  meat,  he 
says,  "  The  God  which  has  given  us  bodily  food, 
grant  us  his  spiritual  life ;  and  may  God  be  with  us, 
end  we  always  with  him !  " — See  Milner  in  loc. 


two  since,  and  who  revisited  them  last  summer  in 
company  with  a  pious  and  amiable  clergyman, 
who  had  been  there  about  ten  years  before.  The 
inquiries  of  these  friends  will  probably  soon  be 
laid  before  the  British  public,  and  their  benevolent 
assistance  solicited — an  appeal,  which,  I  am  sure, 
cannot  be  made  in  vain.* 

It  seems  to  me,  that  the  returns  which  the  con- 
tinental sovereigns  have  in  too  many  instances 
made  to  Almighty  Goodness  for  the  restoration 
of  peace,  by  persecution,  cruelty,  injustice,  tyran- 
ny, and  opposition  to  Scriptural  light  and  know- 
ledge, must  assuredly  incur  the  wrath  of  the  Most 
High.  May  England  be  ever  preserved  from  co- 
pying the  tyranny  and  spirit  of  persecution  which 
in  all  ages  have  marked  the  church  of  Rome  ! 
May  she  keep  as  far  as  possible  from  relapsing 
into  that  bitter,  merciless  temper,  which  the  glo- 
rious Reformation  tended  to  extinguish,  but  which 
is  ever  apt  to  revive  under  some  disguise  or  an- 
other, unless  jealously  watched  and  repressed. — 
The  danger  of  all  dominant  churches,  though  ever 
so  pure  in  their  principles,  is  formality  and  pride 
— a  secular  spirit — false  dignity — decay  as  to  spi- 
ritual religion — eagerness  in  pressing  matters  of 
externa]  discipline — the  loss  of  the  true  spirit  of 
the  Gospel,  and  a  haughty  oppressive  intolerance 
substituted  in  its  place. f 

I  will  only  add,  that  I  was  exceedingly  grieved 
to  be  unable  to  visit  myself  these  devoted  and 
persecuted  Vaudois.  At  one  point  of  our  excur- 
sion to  Turin,  we  were  within  twenty-four  miles 
of  then-  valleys,  and  this  has  led  me  to  speak  of 
them  ;  but  other  indispensable  duties  made  it  im- 
practicable for  me  to  devote  the  time  which  such 
a  visit  would  have  demanded. 

7.  I  mention  as  my  seventh  and  last  general 
reflection  upon  my  journey,  the  duty  of  exciting 
ourselves   and  others,    at  home  and  abroad,   to 

FERVENT  AND  PERSEVERING  PRAYER  FOR  THE 


*  Already  has  120Z  been  collected  for  their  relief 
amongst  the  English  at  Rome,  after  a  sermon  by  the 
Rev.  Lewis  Way.  Something  has  also  been  begun 
by  friends  in  England. 

Since  the  appearance  of  the  second  edition  of  this 
work,  the  Rev.  W.  S.  Gilly  has  published  a  most 
interesting  narrative  of  his  visit  to  the  Vaudois. — 
He  has  given  a  very  lively  description  of  the  man- 
ners and  present  circumstances  of  that  extraordi- 
nary people.  Some  parts  of  his  narrative  are  really 
most  affecting.  I  trust  the  benevolent  designs  of  the 
able  writer  will  be  seconded  by  the  liberality  of  the 
English  government  and  people.  A  handsome  pri- 
vate subscription  has  been  begun,  at  the  head  of 
which  are  the  names  of  His  Majesty  the  king,  and 
of  the  Bishops  of  London  and  Durham.  The  bank- 
ing houses  of  Messrs.  Glyn,  Messrs.  Bosanquet,  and 
Messrs.  Masterman,  are  appointed  for  receiving 
donations. 

t  I  add  a  thrilling  caution  from  the  pen  of  our 
great  practical  commentator. 

"  It  may  also  be  very  well  worth  inquiring 
whether  there  be  not  some  remains  of  Papal  super- 
stition and  corruption  even  in  Protestant  churches  : 
and  how  far  they  whose  grand  object  it  seems 
to  be  to  contend  most,  and  most  vehemently,  not  to 
say  virulently,  for  that  which  admits  of  the  least 
Scriptural  proof,  or  no  Scriptural  proof,  keep  at  a 
distance  from  this  tremendous  wo."  Scott's  City 
rrentary. — Rev.  xiv.  9 — 11. 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


iiy 


EFFUSION  OF  THE  GRACE  OF    THE  HOLY    SPIRIT  ON 

the  Universal  Church.  The  experience  of 
every  thoughtful  tourist  confirms  that  of  the  ser- 
vants of  God  in  all  ages,  that  man  can  do  nothing 
of  himself;  the  torrent  of  human  corruption  rolls 
too  wide  and  too  strong  for  his  puny  arm  to  stop 
its  course.  After  all  the  means  we  can  use,  su- 
perstition and  infidelity — or.  in  the  words  of  Scrip- 
ture, "  the  minding  of  the  flesh" — will  carry  away 
the  various  petty  boundaries  which  can  be  reared 
against  them.  God  alone  has  the  key  of  the  hu- 
man heart — Our  Lord  Christ  was  "manifested  to 
destroy  the  works  of  the  devil" — The  Divine 
Spirit  is  "  the  Lord  and  Giver  of  Life." 

What  we  want  is  a  larger  gift  of  the  in- 
fluences of  grace.  I  speak  not  of  the  miracu- 
lous powers  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  these  ceased  by 
the  close  of  the  third  century.  We  renounce  all 
pretensions  to  them.  I  speak  not  of  dreams  or 
visions,  or  sensible  influxes,  or  direct,  inspirations, 
or  new  and  extraordinary  revelations.  All  these 
we  utterly  disclaim.  I  speak  of  the  ordinary,  se- 
cret, sanctifying  work  of  God  the  Spirit,  in  illumi- 
nating, converting,  and  consoling  fallen  man  ;  that 
work  which  unlocks  the  understanding,  which 
liberates  the  will,  which  purifies  the  affections, 
which  unites  the  whole  soul  to  Christ  in  faith, 
love,  and  obedience.  The  gifts  of  this  blessed 
agent  have  been  bestowed  from  time  to  time  in  a 
peculiar  manner  on  the  church. 

Such  a  period  was  that  of  St.  Augustine  in  the 
fifth  century,  to  whose  conversion  I  have  already 
referred.  Again,  under  Claudius  of  Turin,  in  the 
ninth  century,  and  Peter  Waldo,  of  Lyon,  in  the 
twelfth,  a  considerable  light  burst  forth,  and  the 
followers  of  Christ,  under  the  name  of  the  Wal- 
denses,  were  plante\throughout  Europe.  The 
era  of  grace  and  truth  returned  at  the  glorious 
Reformation.  Gradually  weakened  and  obscured 
by  human  darkness  since,  it  is  again  needed  as 
much  as  ever  in  the  present  day.  Nay,  may  I 
not  say  it  has  commenced? 

Are  there  not  blessed  indications  that  the  grace 
of  the  Spirit  is  revisiting  the  churches  1  Does  not 
the  revival  of  the  doctrines  of  St.  Austin  and  of 
the  Reformation,  or  rather  of  the  Bjble,  mark 
this  ?  Dies  not  the  present  general  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the 
wide  circulation  of  that  rook  which  He  inspired 
and  never  fails  to  bless,  indicate  it !  Do  not  the 
increasing  number  of  awakened  and  converted 
clergymen  in  every  communion,  the  diffusion  of 
religion-'  feeling  and  interest  in  the  higher  ranks 
of  society  in  our  own  country,  the  rise  and  asto- 
nishing progress  of  our  religious  institutions,  mark 
this  i  Especially,  does  not  the  blessed  temper  of 
love  and  charity  which  is  so  much  prevailing, 
denote  it  ?  Do  not  the  favor  and  aid  afforded  to 
pious  efforts  by  our  own  and  other  governments, 
the  eagerness  ot  mankind  to  welcome  the  benefits 
we  offer  them,  the  men  raised  up  suited  for  va- 
rious difficult  duties,  the  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures into  all  tin'  languages  of  the  earth,  the  dis- 
persion of  missionaries  amongst  the  heathen  and 
Mahommedan  nations,  betoken  this!  Does  not 
the  surprising  success  of  the  Bible  Society  in  the 
world  generally,  and  of  the  various  missionary  bo- 
dies in  their  particular  labors  in  Western  Africa, 


in  the  South  Seas,  in  the  East  and  West  Indies, 
and  in  Caffraria,  lead  to  the  same  conclusion  1 

Is  is  true,  there  is  much  remaining  to  be  done 
— we  overrate,  perhaps,  the  comparative  amount 
of  what  is  performed.  Deduct  as  much  as  you 
please  on  this  account ;  I  take  the  remainder,  and 
then  ask,  whether  there  is  not  still  enough  con- 
fessedly accomplished,  to  assure  us  that  a  new  era 
of  grace  has  begun,  and  to  encourage  us  to  fer- 
vent prayer  for  that  larger  effusion  of  the  holy 
spirit  which  can  effect  every  thing  we  yet  de- 
sire !  Already  has  the  attention  of  the  Protestant 
churches  been  called  to  this  momentous  subject- 
In  many  parts  of  England,  Ireland,  Germany, 
Switzerland,  America,  treatises  have  been  widely 
circulated,  courses  of  sermons  preached,  and  meet- 
ings for  prayer  instituted,  to  excite  attention  to 
the  importance  of  this  great  blessing.  Were  it 
once  granted,  it  would  include  every  other.  And 
surely  the  position  of  the  spiritual  church,  espe- 
cially in  England,  in  parts  of  Germany,  and  in 
America  ;  the  feverish  state  of  many  of  the  nations 
of  the  continent ;  the  open  and  surprising  suc- 
cesses in  Greece  and  the  Southern  Americas  : 
the  commotions  and  discontent  throughout  Spain 
and  Italy ;  the  rapid  diffusion  of  literature  and  of 
religious  knowledge  over  the  world  ;  the  general 
strain  of  divine  prophecy  ;  the  spirit  of  inquiry 
excited  among  the  Jews  ;  and  the  impenetrable 
obstinacy  and  corruption  of  the  eastern  and  west- 
ern apostacies,  as  connected  with  the  near  flow- 
ing out  of  the  three  prophetic  synchronical  periods 
of°1260  years — surely  all  this  may  lead  us  to  "lift 
up  our  heads  because  our  redemption  draweth 
nigh."  For  the  three  great  events  of  the  fall  of 
Papal  Antichrist,  the  overthrow  of  the  Mahom- 
medan imposture,  and  the  conversion  and  return 
of  the  houses  of  Israel  and  Judah,  are  considered 
by  most  Protestant  expositors — Joseph  Mede,  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  Bishop  Newton,  Hurd  and  Ilors- 
ley  ;  Mr.  Scott,  Mr.  Faber,  &c. — as  approaching, 
yea,  as  at  the  doors. 

But  to  leave  this  general  view  of  the  subject,  I 
observe  that  prayer  for  the  Holy  Ghost  would,  at 
all  events,  tend  to  sanctify  and  bless  our  own 
hearts,  our  families,  our  houses,  our  children,  our 
projects,  our  labors  amongst  others.  It  would 
thus  make  us  a  blessing  wherever  we  travelled. 
I  knew  not  that  any  reflection  was  more  frequently 
excited  in  my  mind  during  my  tour  than  this,  of 
the  necessity  of  prayer  for  divine  grace.  What 
I  could  myself  actually  do,  was  little  ;  but  where 
I  could  not  help  by  my  efforts,  I  could  pray. — 
Many  painful  scenes  of  superstition  or  infidelity, 
I  could  only  lament  over — but  God  I  knew  could 
bring  the  remedy  for  them.  The  divine  doctrines 
which  I  wished  to  hear  from  Christian  pulpits,  I 
could  not  supply — but  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  believed, 
could  implant  them  in  the  heart,  and  pour  them 
from  the  tongue  of  every  individual  minister. — 
The  moral  chains  of  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands I  could  not  break — but  I  was  assured  the 
blessed  Spirit  could  dissolve  them  gradually,  or 
even  at  once,  by  his  secret  power.  The  miseries, 
and  sufferings,  and  persecutions,  which  1 
around  me,  I  could  not  alleviate — but  the  [To! 
Ghost,  I  doubted  not,  could  effectually  am  ' 
heal  them. 

Prayer,  therefore,  for  God's  Spirit,  is  'ho  dify, 


120 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


the  interest,  the  happiness  of  every  Christian,  hoth 
at  home  and  abroad.  If  Englishmen  travel  in 
this  temper,  the  more  intercourse  they  have  with 
the  continent  the  better ;  they  will  benefit  all 
whom  they  visit — a  fragrance,  so  to  speak,  yea, 
"  the  savor  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ"  will  be 
diffused  around  them,  and  incalculable  good  be 
communicated  and  received.  In  any  other  tem- 
per than  that  of  prayer,  let  no  one  venture  on  a 
ground  which  must  be  to  him  sown  with  dangers 
and  temptations.  He  will  injure,  instead  of  as- 
sisting, both  himself  and  others.  The  prejudices 
against  the  Protestant  doctrine  and  evangelical 
truth,  which  the  ill  conduct  of  Englishmen  abroad 
has  implanted  or  confirmed,  are  deplorable :  whilst 
the  mischiefs  which  many  young  Protestants  have 
brought  home  with  them,  as  to  moral  and  religious 
habits,  are  perhaps  still  more  to  be  lamented.  I 
cannot,  therefore,  conclude  this  series  of  Letters 
more  suitably,  than  by  saying  that,  if  the  Chris- 
tian needs  the  support  of  prayer  and  the  grace  of 
the  Blessed  Spirit  at  home,  where  he  is  surround- 
ed with  pious  friends,  aided  by  habit,  and  stimu- 
lated to  his  duty  by  abundant  means  of  grace  ; 
much  more  will  he  require  this  assistance  abroad, 
where,  many  of  his  usual  safe-guards  being  re- 
moved, and  numberless  distractions  and  snares 
presenting  themselves,  he  will  often  find  that  his 
only  effectual  means  of  safety  are  the  solitude  of 
his  closet,  meditation  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  prayer 
for  the  sacred  Spirit  of  God. 

I  am,  yours  affectionately, 

D.  W. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

The  delay  in  the  publication  of  the  French 
Translation  of  Mr.  Scott's  Comment  on  St. 
Matthew  has  not  only  arisen  from  the  causes 
stated  in  the  note,  (p.  Ill)  :  but  from  the  neces- 
sity of  each  sheet  being  sent  to  London,  and  the 
impracticability  of  finding  type  sufficient  to  allow 
of  this  journey,  without  intervals  in  the  progress 
of  the  work.  Four  sheets  are  set  up  together 
(the  type  required  for  which  is  immense)  and  the 
proofs  are  worked  of  on  their  return  to  Paris  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  the  type  released  for  the 
subsequent  parts  of  the  copy.  But  still  about  six- 
weeks  elapse  between  the  printing  of  a  first  proof 
and  the  final  working  of  it  off.  A  portion  of  the 
delay  arises  from  the  numerous  corrections  in  each 
sheet,  demanding  twenty  or  thirty  hours  of  intense 
application.  In  the  meantime,  what  is  done,  is, 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  well  done  ;  and 
in  a  work  of  so  much  importance,  I  have  preferred 
the  inconvenience  of  delay  to  the  ruin  of  the  whole 
enterprise  by  an  inaccurate  translation.  Half  the 
Gospel,  or  nearly  so,  is  now  printed  off;  and  the 
subscribers  may  rely  on  no  exertion  being  spared 
on  my  part  to  see  this  first  division  of  the  work — 
the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew,  actually  published  this 
summer. 

I  have  thought  it  right,  in  the  meantime,  to  place 
this  undertaking  under  the  care  of  a  public  society 
with  a  responsible  committee.  The  Spanish  and 
French  Translation  Society,  (instituted  in 
1825,  and  of  which  the  monthly  meetings  are  held 


for  the  present  at  No.  13,  Guildford  street,)  has 
the  disposal  of  the  funds  in  hand  and  conducts  the 
design. 

Whether  the  Gospel  when  published  will  excite 
public  attention  and  be  attended  with  any  consi- 
derable benefit,  must  depend  on  the  Divine  Mercy 
which  alone  can  produce  such  an  effect.  But  I 
have  a  confidence  that  great  good  may  be  expect- 
ed ultimately  to  follow  from  it.  The  inconsiderate 
objections  raised  on  the  ground  of  the  levity  of  the 
French  character,  and  the  solid,  ponderous  quali- 
ties of  Mr.  Scott's  writings,  have  little  weight. — 
It  is  not  for  the  nation  of  France  or  its  general 
readers  that  any  comment  would  be  designed  but 
for  the  ministers  and  Pastors  of  churches,  for  the 
serious  and  inquiring  scholars  and  students,  for  the 
sedate  and  pious  heads  of  families.  And  does  any 
one  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  the  writings  of 
Mestrezat,  Faucheur,  Dobose,  Drelincourt,  and 
others  of  the  French  Protestant  school,  doubt 
whether  long  and  grave  discourses  on  religion  can 
fix  the  attention  of  French  Protestants  and  engage 
their  esteem  ?  Or  can  any  one,  who  looks  into 
the  mass  of  comment  in  De  Sacy  or  Calmet — the 
one  in  32  thick  8vo.  volumes,  of  8  or  900  pages 
each,  the  other  in  9  folios,  and  both  of  them 
unwieldly  compilations  of  mystical  and  feeble  and 
inapplicable  religious  glosses,  without  any  ap- 
proach to  an  evangelical,  manly,  sensible,  clear 
exposition  of  the  mind  of  the  Spirit  throughout 
the  Holy  Scriptures, — doubt  of  the  success  of  a 
work  not  by  any  means  so  heavy  in  its  form,  and 
in  its  matter  so  incomparably  superior  ?  A  revival 
of  religion  is  a  revival  of  seriousness,  of  solidity  of 
character,  of  readiness  to  study,  and  solemnity 
of  mind  to  examine,  the  Holy  Word.  The  frivolity 
of  Voltaire  is  the  frivolityy>f  irreligion.  But  I 
need  not  enlarge — the  deliberate  opinion  of  all  the 
leading  scholars  and  ministers  whom  I  have  met 
with  in  France  and  Switzerland,  and  the  500  sub- 
scribers already  obtained  to  this  first  publication, 
are  at  the  least  a  sufficient  authority  for  the  essay, 
the  trial,  the  experiment  of  circulating  throughout 
every  part  of  the  world  where  the  French  lan- 
guage is  spoken,  the  best  practical  comment  which 
has  appeared  in  these  later  ages  of  the  Christian 
church. 

The  proposed  Translation  of  Milner's  Church 
History  into  French,  has,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  been 
suspended  by  the  continued  inroads  of  illness 
and  pressure  of  engagements  on  the  friend  who 
had  undertaken  the  work  at  Brussels.  But  into 
the  Spanish  language  the  first  volume  is  already 
translated  by  the  society  which  I  have  mentioned, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Spanish  American  ;  and  the 
French  Translation  will  be  prosecuted  as  the  funds 
may  allow,  and  suitable  translators  present  them- 
selves. 

As  I  am  giving  these  explanations,  I  will  just  add 
that  the  state  of  the  German  Protestant  churches 
to  which  I  have  alluded  in  my  account  of  Franckfort 
(p.  20)  has  been  fully  developed,  since  the  pub- 
lication of  the  third  edition  of  this  tour,  by  a 
masterly  work  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rose 
of  Horsham.  I  had  no  conception,  from  the  brief 
remarks  which  my  valuable  Franckfort  friend  made 
to  me,  of  the  extent  and  inveteracy  of  the  evil. 
What  a  portentous  defection  from  the  faith !  What 
a  feeple,  corrupt,  wayward  thing  is  the  human 


TRAVELS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 


121 


mind,  when  it  once  leaves  the  plain  rule  of  the 
divine  word!  I  rejoice  to  hear  that  things  arc  on 
the  whole  again  improving.  In  the  meantime,  let 
no  young  Christian  he  moved  in  his  faith  by  these 
pretended  discoveries  of  a  spurious  philosophy  in 
the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  any  more 
than  the  reformers  were  three  centuries  back,  by 
the  pretended  discoveries  of  a  spurious  religion 

AS  TO  THE  RULE  OF  FAITH  AND  THE  AUTHORITY 

of  tradition.  Skepticism  and  superstition  are 
but  two  diseases  of  the  same  fallen  heart.  To 
explain  away  by  sophistry  the  obvious  meaning 
of  the  Scriptures — and  to  forbid  the  reading  of 
them  by  a  claim  of  authority  over  the  conscience, 
are  evils  of  a  kindred  nature.  Satan  our  great 
enemy  works  by  the  folly  of  human  learning  now, 
as  he  did  by  the  folly  of  human  ignorance  three 
or  four  centuries  back.  The  Primary  Teacher 
will  guide  sincere  and  humble  souls  through  the 
mazes  of  eacli  kind  of  error,  to  the  truth  and  bles- 
sedness of  redemption  in  the  divine  person  and 
sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  mighty 
transforming  operations  of  his  grace. 

I  may  as  well  add,  on  the  subject  of  the  Wal- 
deness  before  mentioned,  that  a  valuable  work  * 
just  published  by  the  Rev.  T.  Sims  will  give  the 
reader  the  latest  accounts  of  these  important 
churches.  The  renewal  of  the  royal  grant,  the 
endowment  of  an  hospital,  the  establishment  of 
schools,  and  the  supply  of  books,  are  all  benefits  of 
the  very  last  moment,  obtained  for  them  by  the 
exertions  of  the  committe  to  which  I  have  refer- 
red— the  amount,  of  subscription  is  between  £4000 
and  £5000.     The  excellent  volume  of  the  Rev. 


*  "  An  historical  defence  of  (he  Waldeness  or  Van- 
dois,  inhabitants  of  the  Valley  of  Piedmont,  by  Jean 
Rodolphe  Peyran,  late  pastor  of  Pomaret  and  Mo- 
derator of  Waklenesian  church,  with  an  introduction 
and  appendixes  bv  the  Rev.  Thomas  Sims,  M.  A. 
Rivingtons.  182G." 


J.  Scott  in  continuation  of  Milner's  Church  His 
tory,  gives  a  most  in! cresting  summary  of  the 
History  of  the  Vaudois  at  the  time  of  the  Re  forma 
tion. 

If  I  were  to  say  any  thing  further  before  I  con- 
clude this  postscript,  it  would  be  to  express  my 
regret  if  any  expressions  in  the  course  of  the  work 
have  unnecessary  wounded  the  feelings  of  indi- 
viduals. I  have  endeavored  to  guard  against  any 
reproach  on  this  score  by  omitting  such  circum- 
stances as  would  lead  to  the  fixing  of  any  of  my  re- 
marks on  particular  persons.  But  it  is  possible 
that  some  reflections  when  read  in  the  circles 
where  they  are  supposed  to  be  most  applicable, 
may  still  be  regarded  as  personal  and  severe.  I 
can  only  therefore  thus  in  general  testily  my  sor- 
row if  I  have  unintentionally  laid  myself  open  to 
such  misinterpretations.  My  desire  has  been  to 
speak,  frankly  indeed,  and  honestly,  without  dis- 
guise or  concealment,  but  still  with  the  considera- 
tion due  to  the  just  feelings  of  every  individual 
with  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  any  intercourse 
when  abroad.  Perhaps  the  language  which  I  have 
occasionally  used  on  the  subject  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  superstitions  may,  after  all,  be  thought  the 
most  liable  to  objection — as  being  both  too  general 
and  too  strong.  After  an  interval  of  nearly  four 
years,  I  will  confess  that  I  think  such  an  objection 
is  not  without  its  force.  At  the  same  time,  truth 
is  truth ;  and  the  warmth  of  a  description  flowing 
from  the  heart,  at  the  first  witnessing  of  the  cor-> 
ruptions  of  the  great  apostate  church,  is  perhaps 
excusable,  so  far  as  the  motive  is  concerned.  And 
possibly  the  very  strong  language  used  in  the  Di- 
vine Revelations  of  St.  John,  as  to  this  portentous 
defection  from  the  faith,  may  warrant  much  of 
that  language  of  adhorrence  which  might  other- 
wise be  excessive,  or  harsh  and  unkind.  But  in 
this,  as  well  as  in  every  thing  else,  the  candid 
reader  will  judge. 

Islingttn  March,  1827. 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  I. 

Calais,  June  21. — Grand,  June  23,  1823. 

Dover.  Dunkirk.  Pave.  Mount  Cassel.  General 
Vandamme.  Lille.  Duke  of  Marlborough. 
Oourtray.  Pulpits.  Sunday  at  Grand.  Popery. 
Foreign  Travel.     King  of  England  ...     10 


LETTER  II. 

Brussels,  June  27. — Liege,  July  1,  1823. 

Grand.  Nunnery.  Chrysostom.  Louis  XVIII. 
Lord  Gambier.  Antwerp.  Bonaparte.  Scheld. 
Brussels.  St.  Gudule.  Popery.  The  Martyr 
Tyndale.  Namur.  Village  of  Waterloo.  King 
of  England.  Coster.  Battle  of  Waterloo.  Huy. 
Liege 12 

LETTER  III. 
Spa,  July  l.—CoUeniz,  July  10,  1823. 

Road  to  Spa.  Verviers.  Aix  la  Chapelle.  Charle- 
magne. Relics.  King  of  England.  Juliers.  St. 
Austin.  Sunday  at  Bergheim.  Cologne.  St. 
Ursula.    Tomb  of  Magi.    Bonn.    University  of 

i  Catholics  and  Protestants.  The  Rhine.  Drach- 
ensfels.  Remagen.  Andernach.  Coblentz. 
Timber-float.    Spy 15 

LETTER  IV. 

St.  Goar,  July  11.— Carlsruh,  July  19, 1823. 

Scenery  of  Rhine.  Ehrenbreitstein.  French  Mo- 
nument of  Campaign  in  Russia.  Discontent. 
Hirtzenach.  Jew.  Bingen.  Vineyard.  Weisba- 
den.  Violation  of  Sabbath.  Mentz.  Franckfort. 
English  Newspapers.  Conversation  of  Priest. 
Gothe.  Revival  of  Religion.  Darmstadt.  Le- 
ander  Van  Ess.  Oppenheim.  Storks'-nests. 
Heildenberg.  Martin  Luther.  Professor.  Cas- 
tle. Manheim.  Flying  Bridge.  Schwetzingen. 
Carlsruh.    Floods 18 

LETTER  V. 

Rastadt,  July  20.—Schqffhausen,  July  27,  1823. 

Union  of  Lutherans  and  Calvinists.  Pastor  Hen- 
hbfer.  Importance  of  Gospel.  Rastadt.  Ulm. 
Kehl.  Strasburg.  Cathedral.  Letters  of  Re- 
formers. Emmendingen.  Manner  of  Travelling. 
Food.  Hoellenthal.  Bad  Inn.  Black  Forest. 
Donaueschingen.  Danube.  Mr.  Canning.  Swit- 
zerland. Schaff  hausen.  Innkeeper.  Fall  of 
Rhine.    Swiss  Sunday 22 


LETTER  VI. 

Zurich,  Jidy  18. — Basle,  August  1,  1823. 

Bridge.  Swiss  Customs.  State  of  Religion.  Pro- 
fessor. Fall  of  Rhine.  Eglisau.  First  View  of 
Alps.  Zurich.  Reformers.  Inn  L'Epee.  An- 
tistes  Hess.  Mr.  Wilberforce.  Zuingle.  Do- 
cuments of  Reformation.  Clergy.  Bible  Society. 
Lavater's  Forgiveness  of  his  Murderer.  Aarau. 
Good  done  by  an  English  Clergyman.  Balse. 
M.  Blumhardt.  Stoves.  Fountains.  A  Divine. 
Tombs  of  Erasmus  and  Ecolampadius.  Holy 
Alliance.  Council  of  Basle.  Likeness  of  Eras- 
mus   27 


LETTER  VII. 

Moutiers,  August  4. — Bern,  August  11,  1823. 

Sunday  at  Basle.  View  from  table-d'bote  Room. 
Valley  of  Moutiers.  Anabaptists.  Soyhier. 
Court.  Cormoret.  Rock  Pierre  Pertuis.  Ob- 
servations on  Swiss  Government.  Neufchatel. 
Reformer  Farel.  Bienne.  Island  of  St.  Pierre. 
J.  J.  Rousseau.  Seedorf.  Bern.  Voiturier.  M. 
Wyttenbach.  The  great  Haller.  Swiss  Diet. 
Sunday  at  Bern.     Pastor  Henhdfer      .     .     31 

LETTER  VIII. 

Lauterbrunnen,   August  12.  —  Grimsel,  August 
17, 1823. 

View  from  Inn  at  Lauterbrunnen.  Lake  of  Thun. 
Interlacken.  Unterseen.  St.  Beat.  Staubbach. 
Anecdote.  WengenAlp.  Chalets.  Avalanches 
from  Jungfrau.  Grindelwald.  Anecdotes.  Gla- 
ciers. Sheideck  Alp.  Miserably  wet  Journey. 
Reichen-bach.  Valley  of  Meyringen.  Lake  of 
Brientz.  Fall  of  Giessbach.  Mud  Torrents. 
Handeck.  Grimsel.  Sunday  Reflections.  Ita- 
lian Nobleman.    Lord  Byron 37 

LETTER  IX. 

Furca  Alp,  August  18. — Bern,  August  24,  1823. 

Glacier  of  Rhone.  Furca  Alp.  Realp.  Capuchin 
Friar.  Hospital.  Cold.  Valley  of  Reuss.  De- 
vil's Bridge.  Amstag.  New  Road.  Altorf. 
William  Tell.  Fluellen.  Lake  of  four  Cantons. 
Switz.  Mount  Righi.  Storm.  Mount  Pilate. 
Ruin  of  Goldau.  Strangers'  Book.  King  of 
England.  Italians  and  Russians.  Kiissnacht. 
Lucern.  William  Tell.  Wooden  Bridges.  Pere 
Girard.  Luther.  Zofingen.  Herzogenbuchs. 
Bern.  Sunday.  Fast.  English  Service.  Go- 
vernment of  Bern  and  England  ....     42 


CONTENTS. 


123 


LETTER  X. 

Morat,  August  25. — Lausanne,  August  31,  1823. 

Battle  of  Morat.  Avenche.  Payerne.  Lausanne. 
Reformation.  Translation  of  Scott.  Lake  of 
Geneva.  Lodgings.  Calvinism.  Nyon.  Cop- 
pet.  M.  Neckar.  Madam  de  Stael.  Geneva. 
Rhone.  Steam  Boat.  Death  of  Missionaries 
Johnson  and  Palmer.  The  Pope.  Ferney.  Vol- 
taire. Sunday  at  Lausanne.  Preachers.  Per- 
secution.   Calvin's  Will.    Arrete  at  Lausanne. 

51 

LETTER  XI. 

Geneva,  Sept.  2.— Martigny,  Sep.  6,  1823. 

Translation  of  Scott.  Cathedral  at  Lausanne. 
Pere  Girard.  Mont  Blanc.  Conversation  with 
Genevese.  Savoy.  Bonneville.  Valley  of  Cluse. 
Goitres.  St.  Martin's.  Chede.  Servoz.  De 
Saussure.  Chamouny.  Glacier  of  Bossons.  Ac- 
cident in  Ascent  of  Mont  Blanc.  Italian  Gen- 
tlemen. Montanvert.  Couvercle.  Mer  de 
Glace.  Alps.  Infamous  Sentence  in  Strangers' 
Book.  Tete  Noire.  Trient.  French  Emigrants. 

61 

LETTER  XII. 

Great  St.  Bernard,  Sept.  Q.—Brieg,  Sept.  10, 1823. 

Jardin  of  Mer  de  Glace.  Forclaz.  Bas  Valais. 
Martigny.  Deluge  of  the  Dranse.  Sunday  at 
Martigny.  Sermon.  Popery.  Orsieres.  Ly ri- 
des. Pious  Admonition  on  Eternity.  Great 
St.  Bernard.  Dogs.  Monks.  Chapel  for  Dead. 
Lives  saved.  Provost.  Sion.  Valais.  Prayers 
at  Great  St.  Bernard.     Catholic  Admonition. 

67 

LETTER  XIII. 

Simplon,  Sept.  11.     Milan,  Sept.  14,  1823. 

Brieg.  Simplon.  Road.  Persal.  Descent  into 
Italy.  Domo  d'Osola.  Priests.  Contrast  be- 
tween Switzerland  and  Italy.  Lago  Maggiore. 
Borromean  Isles.  Colassal  Satue  of  Borro- 
meo.  Milan.  Scale  of  Vegetation  on  Alps. 
Marble  Cathedral.   St.  Ambrose.     St.  Austin. 

73 

LETTER  XIV 

Milan,  Sept.  13.— Chamberry,  Sept.  19,  1823. 

Sunday  at  Milan.  Sunday  Schools.  Punch. 
Virgin  Mary.  Noisy  Festival.  Popery  like 
Paganism.  Church  of  St.  Ambrose.  Library. 
Amphitheatre  of  Bonaparte.  Unfinished  Tri- 
umphal Arch.  Remains  of  Roman  Baths, 
Mint.  Po.  Tesin.  Turin.  Churches.  Pa- 
lace, Ambioggio.  Lans-le-bourg.  Ancient 
Arch  at  Susa.  Mount  Cenis  Road.  Reflec- 
tions. St.  Michael.  Aigue-belle.  Chamberry. 
Life  of  Borromeo.     Extracts  from  Writings. 

79 
56-3 


LETTER  XV. 

Pont-beau-voisin,  Sept.  20. — Lyon,  Sept.  28, 1823 

Chamberry.  A  Bookseller.  Pont-beau-voisin. 
Roads.  Bishop  Berkeley.  Sunday  at  Lyon. 
Catholic  Sermon.  Gibbon.  Rivers  Saone  and 
Rhone.  Fourviore.  Hotel  de  Ville.  Revolu- 
tionary horrors  at  Lyon.  Speech  of  Emperor 
Claudius.  Roman  Amphitheatre.  Martyrs  of 
Lyon.  Cimetiere.  Arseual.  Death  of  Rev. 
S.  Arnott.  Chamberry  Peasant.  Notice  of 
Martyrs  in  Second  Century 88 

LETTER  XVI. 

Lyon,  September  28. — Geneva,  October  6, 1823. 

Second  Sunday  at  Lyon.  Library.  Hotel  Dieu. 
Hotel  de  la  Charite.  Sick  Family.  Journey 
to  Geneva.  Professor  of  Lausanne.  Perte  du 
Rhone.  L'Ecluse.  Ferney.  Voltaire.  Ca- 
tholics at  Geneva.  Fine  Walks.  Translation 
of  Scott.  Satigny.  Rejected  Regent.  Re- 
ligious Doctrine.  Plan  of  Central  Switzerland. 
Cathedral.  Library.  English  Clergy.  Sun- 
day at  Geneva.  Minister  from  Les  Cevennes. 
Reglement.     M.  Simond's  Defence  answered. 

95 

LETTER  XVII. 

Poligny,  Oct.  7,  1823.— Paris,  Oct.  11,  1823. 

Nyon.  Calvin  and  Fletcher.  Catholic  Lady. 
Conversation  on  Popery.  Geneva.  Prohibited 
Books.  Auxonne.  Irish  Catholics.  Dijon. 
Miraculous  Image  of  Virgin.  Palace  of  the 
Dukes  of  Burgundy.  Bossuet.  Waggons. 
Auxerre.  Joigny-  Cardinal  de  Retz.  Fon- 
tainebleau.  Apartments  of  the  Pope.  Bona- 
parte's Abdication.  Place  of  Madrid.  Cha- 
racter of  Bonaparte.  Sens.  St.  Bernard. 
Manners  of  People.  Catholics  receiving  Tracts. 
Arrival  at  Paris 103 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Brighton,  April  14,  1824. 

Paris  Bible  Society.  Deaf  and  Dumb  Institution. 
French  Preachers.  King's  Almoner.  Noble- 
man. Translation  of  Scott.  Friends  to  whom 
Author  was  introduced.  Baron  de  Sacy. 
Count  d'llauterive.  Marquis  de  Jaucourt. 
Reflections  on  the  whole  Tour :  1.  Supreme 
Providence  of  God.  2.  Opposite  Evils  of  Su- 
perstition and  Infidelity.  3.  Scenes  of  Re- 
formers' Labors.  Luther.  Beza.  Bucer. 
Ecolampadius.  Bullinger.  Authenticity  of  1 
John  v.  7,  8.  4.  Duty  of  advancing  the  Age 
of  Charity.  5.  Importance  of  every  Travel- 
ler being  active.  Advice  to  Invalids.  Anec- 
dotes. 6.  Gratitude  to  God.  Revocation  of 
the  Edict  of  Nantes.  Origin  of  Vaudois. 
Expulsion  from  Valleys.  Return.  Need  of 
Aid.    7.  Praver  for  Grace  of  Holt  Spirit. 

108 


SACRA    PRIVATA: 


OK  TIDE 


PRIVATE    MEDITATIONS    AND    PRAYERS 


it  THK 


Sf'JHT  REV.  THOMAS  WILSON,  D,  O 


J^OftD  BISHOP  Or  SODOR  AND  d»W, 


PREFACE. 


The  truly  Reverend  Doctor  Thomas  Wilson,  fif- 
ty-eight years  Bishop  of  Sodor  and  Man,  was  blessed 
with  the  spirit  of  prayer  in  a  very  uncommon  mea- 
sure :  of  which  his  Sacra  Privata,  or  Private  Me- 
ditations and  Prayers,  are  an  eminent  instance. 

The/  have  hitherto  been  locked  up  from  the 
world  in  an  expensive  book  ;  and  are  mixed  through- 
out with  so  much  meditation  and  prayer  that  can 
come  properly  from  the  clergy  only,  (to  whom  they 
are  an  invaluable  treasure,)  as  to  unfit  them  for  ge- 
neral use. 

They  are  now  presented  to  the  public  in  a  sepa- 
rate volume:  so  that  pious  Christians  may,  at  a  rea- 
sonable expense,  distribute  them  amongst  such  peo- 
ple as  either  will  not  or  cannot  buy  them  ;  and  the 
petitions  peculiar  to  the  clergy  onry  are  all  thrown 
out. 

The  pious  reader  will  find  those  Meditations  and 
Prayers  too  long,  according  to  the  present  division 


of  them,  which  there  is  no  occasion  to  adhere  to. — 
He  may  take  them  up,  and  lay  them  down,  at  his 
own  discretion  and  convenience.  It  is  recommend- 
ed to  him  to  go  through  them  regularly,  and  to  con- 
tinue the  use  of  them  his  whole  life  ;  selecting  such 
parts  for  more  frequent  meditation,  as  are  best 
adapted  to  his  necessity  and  disposition. 

As  prayer  is  one  of  the  most  important  works  a 
man  can  be  engaged  in,  and  few  find  themselves 
able  to  discharge  it  in  the  manner  they  wish  to  do ; 
it  is  humbly  hoped,  that  this  book,  if  duly  attended 
to  as  it  deserves,  may  with  God's  assistance  teach 
them  to  pray ;  may  lead  our  thoughts  to  meditate 
on  religious  subjects;  and  habituate  us  to  clothe  our 
meditations  in  the  language  of  decent,  pious,  and 
fervent  prayer. 

That  this  valuable  book  may  have  this  effect,  is 
the  intention  and  the  earnest  prayer  of 

Ths  Editor. 


SACRA  PRT.VATA 


ON  DEVOTION  AND  PRAYER. 

True  Devotion  consists  hi  having  our  hearts  always 
devoted  to  God  as  the  sole  Fountain  of  all  happiness, 
and  who  is  ready  to  hear  and  help  his  otherwise  help- 
less, miserable  creatures. 

It  is  to  be  attained, 

1st.  By  earnest  prayer.     He  that  hungers  after 

RIGHTEOUSNESS,  WILL  CERTAINLY  BE  FILLED. 

2dly.  By  possessing  our  hearts  with  a  deep  sense 
of  our  own  misery,  our  icants,  and  danger  :  'Phis  is  the 
grace  of  humility. 

3dly.  By  considering  God's  goodness,  power,  and 
readiness  to  help  ns  :  This  is  called  faith  in  God. 

Lastly;  By  convincing  our  hearts  of  the  vanity  of 
every  thing  else  to  afford  us  any  real  help  or  comfort: 
This  is  to  be  effected  by  self-denial. 

Dying  persons  are  generally  more  devout  than  others, 
because  they  then  see  their  own  misery,  that  nothing 
in  this  world  can  help  them,  and  that  God  is  their  only 
refuge. 

We  must  change  our  lives  if  we  desire  to  change 
our  hearts.  God  will  have  no  regard  to  the  prayers 
of  those  who  have  none  to  his  commands. 

The  spirit  of  God  will  not  dwell  in  a  divided  heart. 
We  cannot  feel  the  pleasure  of  devotion  while  the 
world  is  our  delight.  Not  that  all  pleasures  are  crimi- 
nal ;  but  the  closer  union  we  have  with  the  world,  the 
less  is  our  union  with  God.  A  Christian,  therefore, 
who  strives  after  devotion,  should  taste  sensual  plea- 
sures very  sparingly;  should  make  necessity,  not 
bodily  delight,  his  rule. 

In  order  to  dispose  our  hearts  to  devotion,  the  ac- 
tive life  is  to  be  preferred  to  the  contemplative. 

To  be  doing  good  to  mankind,  disposes  the  soul 
most  powerfully  to  devotion.  And  indeed  we  are 
surrounded  with  motives  to  piety  and  devotion,  if  we 
would  but  mind  them. 

The  poor  are  designed  to  excite  our  liberality; — the 
miserable,  our  pity; — the  sick,  our  assistance; — the 
ignorant,  our  instruction; — those  that  are  fallen,  our 
In  (ping  hand.  In  those  thatarecain,  we  see  the  vanity 
of  this  world.  In  those  that  are  iciclted,  our  own  frailly. 
When  we  see  good  men  rewarded,  it  confirms  our 
hope  ;  and  when  evil  men  are  punished,  it  excites  us 
to  fear. 

He  that  would  be  devout  must  beware  of  indulging 
an  habit  of  wandering  in  prayer.  It  is  a  crime  that 
wiil  grow  upon  us,  and  will  deprive  us  of  the  blessings 
we  pray  for. 

Avoid,  as  much  as  may  be,  multiplicity  of  business  : 
Neither  the  innocency  nor  the  goodness  of  the  employ- 
ment will  excuse  us,  if  it  possess  our  hearts  when  we 
are  praying  to  God. 

When  our  Lord  bids  us  to  takf.  no  thought  for 
the  MORROW,  he  intended  to  hinder  those  cares  and 
fears  which  are  apt  to  distract  our  devotions, — which 
are  the  more  unreasonable,  because  they  can  never 
change  the  state  of  things. 

Never  be  curious  to  know  what  passes  in  the  world, 
any  further  than  duty  obliges  you ;  it  will  only  distract 
the  mind  when  it  should  be  better  employed. 

Never  intermit  devotion,  if  you  can  help  it;  you 
will  return  to  your  duty  like  Sampson  when  his  locks 
were  cut,  weak  and  indifferent  as  other  people  of  the 
world. 


The  oftener  we  renew  our  intercourse  with  God, 
the  greater  will  be  our  devotion. 

Frequent  prayer,  as  it  is  an  exercise  of  holy  thoughts, 
is  a  most  natural  remedy  against  the  power  of  sin. 

Importunity  makes  no  change  in  God,  but  it  creates 
in  us  such  dispositions  as  God  thinks  fit  to  reward. 

Make  it  a  law  to  yourself  to  meditate  before  you 
pray  ;  as  also  to  make  certain  pauses,  to  see  whether 
your  heart  goes  along  with  your  lips. 

They  whose  hearts  desire  nothing,  pray  for  nothing. 

(Jive  me,  U  God,  the  spirit  of  true  devotion,  such 
as  may  give  life  to  all  my  prayers,  so  that  they  may 
find  acceptance  in  thy  sight,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 
Amen. 


SACRA  PRIVATA. 

Mat.  vi.  6.    Thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy 

closet,  and  ichen  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy 

Father  which  is  in  secret;  and  thy  Father  ichich  sect.'t 

in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly. 

How  good  is  God  !  who  will  not  only  give  us  what 
we  pray  for,  but  will  reward  us  for  going  to  him,  and 
laying  our  wants  before  him. 

May  I  always  present  myself  before  God, — with  a 
firm  faith  and  hope  in  his  promises  and  mercy  ; — with 
great  reverence  to  his  infinite  majesty ;— with  the  hu- 
mility of  an  offender; — and  with  a  full  purpose  of 
keeping  all  God's  commandments  ! 

May  the  thoughts  of  eternity  quicken  my  devo- 
tions;— my  wants  make  me  earnest; — my  backslidings 
make  me  persevere; — and  may  I  never  wilfully  give 
way  to  any  distracting  thoughts. 

May  I  wait  with  patience,  and  leave  it  to  Thee,  my 
God  and  Father,  hoic  and  when  to  grant  my  petitions. 

He  that  has  learned  to  pray  as  he  ought,  has  got  the 
secret  of  an  holy  life. 

It  is  a  greater  advantage  to  us  than  we  imagine,  that 
God  does  not  grant  our  petitions  immediately.  We 
learn  by  that,  that  whereunto  we  have  already  attained, 
it  was  the  gift  of  God. 

The  best  way  to  prevent  wandering  in  prayer  is, 
not  to  let  the  mind  wander  too  much  at  other  times; 
but  to  have  God  always  in  our  minds  in  the  whole 
course  of  our  lives.  The  end  of  prayer  is  not  to  inform 
God,  but  to  give  man  a  sight  of  his  own  misery;  to 
raise  his  soul  towards  heaven,  and  to  put  him  in  mind 
that  there  is  his  Father  and  his  inheritance. 

Matt.  vii.  7.  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you." 

Grant  me,  Lord,  a  faith  which  shall  make  me  know 
my  wants,  that  I  may  ask  thein  with  earnestness  and 
humility,  and  depend  upon  thy  gracious  promise. 

the  duties  of  a  christian. 

That  man  leads  a  sincere  Christian  life, 

1st.  Who  endeavors  to  serve  and  obey  God  to  the 
best  of  his  understanding  and  power. 

2dly.  Who  strives  to  please  his  neighbor  to  edifica- 
tion. 

3dly.  Who  endeavors  to  do  his  duty  in  that  state  of 
life  into  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  him. 

Whoever  would  continue  in  the  practice  of  these 
things  unto  his  life's  end,  it  is  necessary  that  he  should, 
— call  himself  often  to  an  account,  whether  he  does  so 
or  not ; — constantly  pray  for  grace  to  know,  and  !odn, 
his  duty  ;-^-and  preserve  himself  in  such  a  teachable 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


temper  as  to  be  always  ready  to  receive  the  truth  when 
it  is  fairly  proposed  to  nim. 

It  is  a  rudeness  amongst  men  to  ask  a  favor,  and 
not  stay  for  an  answer.  And  do  we  count  it  no  fault 
to  pray  for  blessings, — and  never  to  think  of  them 
afterwards, — never  to  wait  for  them, — never  to  give 
God  thanks  for  them  ? 

Let  us  make  prayer  familiar  to  us,  for  without  the 
help  of  God,  we  are  every  hour  in  danger. 

The  Devil  knows,  that  when  we  have  a  relish  for 
prayer,  and  apply  ourselves  in  good  earnest  to  it,  we 
are  in  the  way  of  life  ;  he  therefore  strives  by  all  ways 
possible  to  divert  us. 

Let  us  not  run  over  our  prayers  with  an  insensible 
and  distracted  mind. 

Let  your  prayers  be  as  particular  as  may  be,  against 
the  sins  of  your  particular  state,  and  for  the  graces 
which  you  in  particular  do  most  stand  in  need  of. 
This  is  the  best  preservative  against  sin; — makes  us 
best  acquainted  with  our  condition  ;  puts  us  continual- 
ly in  mind  of  mending  what  is  amiss  ;  lets  us  see  what 
particular  graces  we  most  want,  what  are  most  need- 
ful for  the  cure  of  our  own  particular  corruption  and 
disorder:  and  is  the  best  trial  of  our  hearts.  For  ex- 
ample ;  if  I  pray  for  charity,  and  for  every  instance 
which  is  necessary  to  render  me  truly  charitable,  I  pray 
for  grace — to  avoid  evil  speaking ;  to  pray  for  my 
enemies ;  to  do  them  good,  &c,  and  so  of  all  other 
sins  and  graces. 

God  grant  that  I  may  never  seek  his  face  in  vain  ! 

Luke  xi.  1.  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray.  Pour  upon  us 
the  spirit  of  supplication  and  prayer. 

God  will  deny  us  nothing  that  we  ask  in  the  name 
of  his  Son. 

PRAYERS  THROUGH  JESDS  CHRIST. 

When  we  offer  our  prayers  through  his  mediation, 
it  is  then  he  that  prays,  his  love  that  intercedes,  his 
blood  that  pleads,  it  is  he  who  obtains  all  from  his  Fa- 
ther. 

PREPARATORY  PRAYER. 

O  Holy  Spirit  of  grace  !  give  us  a  true  sight  of  our 
miseries,  and  a  sincere  shame  j.nd  sorrow,  when  we 
make  confession  of  our  sins ;  a  feeling  sense  of  our 
need  of  mercy,  and  an  hope  of  obtaining  pardon,  when 
wo  beg  it  for  thy  Son's  sake.  May  we  resign  our 
wills  to  Thee,  and  to  thy  goodness,  when  we  pray  for 
temporal  things;  and  when  we  pray  for  spiritual 
graces,  may  we  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness. 
Give  us  a  real  love  for  thy  holy  Word,  and  grace  to  hear 
it  with  attention.  May  we  thankfully  close  with  all  the 
means  of  grace  and  salvation.  When  we  praise  thee 
for  thy  works  of  nature  and  of  grace,  and  give  Thee 
thanks  for  thy  mercies,  let  us  do  it  with  high  esteem 
and  gratitude.  Cause  us  to  hear  thy  holy  Word  with 
faith  and  attention,  and  to  profit  by  what  we  hear,  that 
we  may  return  from  thy  church  with  a  blessing. 


MORNING  PRAYER. 

JoEhua  xxiv.  15.  Choose  you  this  day  whom  you  will 
serve. 

Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee,  O  Lord?  and 
there  is  none  on  earth  that  I  desire  besides  Thee. — 
Thou  art  my  God,  and  I  will  thank  thee;  Thou  art 
my  God,  and  I  will  serve  thee.  Be  thou  my  only  ruler 
and  governor. 

They  that  have  a  convenient  place  to  sleep  in,  and 
they  that  have  the  comfort  to  sleep,  have  both  great 
reason  to  be  thankful.  And  even  they  that  want 
these  mercies,  ought  to  bless  God,  if  in  the  midst  of 
these  afflictions  he  is  pleased  to  refresh  them  with  the 
comforts  of  grace. 


Gracious  God,  continue  to  me  these  favors  so  long, 
and  in  such  measure,  as  shall  most  contribute  to  thy 
honor,  and  my  salvation.  And  in  great  mercy  sup- 
port and  relieve  all  that  want  these  blessings. 

What  shall  I  offer  unto  the  Lord  for  his  mercies  re- 
newed unto  me  every  morning?  "The  sacrifice  of 
God  is  a  troubled  spirit ;  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart 
God  will  not  despise."* 

But  most  unfit  is  mine  to  be  to  God  presented,  until 
I  have  obtained  his  pardon,  through  the  merits  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  for  the  many  sins  by  which  it  hath  been 
defiled. 

Jer.  iii.  12.  "  I  am  merciful,  saith  the  Lord,  and  I 
will  not  keep  anger  for  ever.  Only  acknowledge 
thine  iniquity,  that  thou  hast  transgressed  against  the 
Lord  thy  God." 

Psa.  xxxii.  5.  "I  acknowledge  my  sin  unto  thee,  O 
God,  and  mine  iniquities  will  I  not  hide." 

I  do  therefore  implore  thy  pardon,  and  plead  thy 
gracious  promises,  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  by  the  as- 
sistance of  thy  grace,  never  again  to  return  to  folly. 

Jer.  xvii.  9.  "  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
and  desperately  wicked:  who  can  know  it?" 

I  cannot  answer  for  mine  own  heart ;  but  there  is 
no  word,  O  Lord,  impossible  with  thee.  In  Thee  do  I 
put  my  trust;  let  me  never  be  put  to  confusion. 

Keep  it  ever  in  the  heart  of  thy  servant,  that  it,  is  in- 
deed an  evil  thing  and  hitler  to  offend  the  Lord. 

Keep  me  from  presumptuous  sins,  that  I  may  never 
grieve  thy  Holy  Spirit,  nor  provoke  Thee  to  leave  me 
to  myself. 

Matt.  xxvi.  41,  "  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation." 

Lord,  make  me  ever  mindful  of  my  infirmities  and 
backslidings,  that  I  may  be  more  watchful,  and  more 
importunate  for  grace,  for  the  time  to  come. 

1  Peter  v.  8.  "  Be  sober,  be  vigilant,  because  your 
adversary  the  Devil,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about 
seeking  whom  he  may  devour." 

O  Lord,  grant  that  this  adversary  of  our  souls  may 
never  find  me  oft"  my  guard,  or  from  under  thy  pro- 
tection. 

Matt.  xvi.  24.  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let 
him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow 
me." 

O  my  Saviour  !  how  long  have  I  professed  to  fol- 
low Thee,  without  following  the  blessed  steps  of  thy 
most  holy  life  ;  thy  -patience  and  humility;  thy  great 
disregard  for  the  world,  its  pleasures,  profits,  honors, 
and  all  its  idols  ! 

O  Lord,  obtain  for  me  the  spirit  of  mortification 
and  self-denial,  that  I  may  follow  Thee,  as  I  hope  to 
live  with  Thee  for  ever.  Amen. 

Matt.  vi.  24.  "  No  man  can  serve  two  masters.  Ye 
cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon." 

May  my  fear  and  love  never  be  divided  between 
Thee  and  the  world.  May  I  never  set  up  any  thing, 
O  God,  in  competition  with  thee  in  the  possession  of 
my  heart.  May  I  never  attempt  to  reconcile  thy  ser- 
vice with  that  world  which  is  at  enmity  with  Thee,  my 
God  and  Father. 

Mark  x.  17.  "  What  shall  I  do,  that  I  may  inherit 
eternal  life  ?" 

"  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

O  that  this  love  of  God  may  be  the  commanding 
principle  of  my  soul !  May  I  always  have  this  com- 
fortable proof  of  his  love  abiding  in  me,  that  I  study  to 
please  him,  and  to  keep  his  commandments.  And 
may  my  love  to  my  neighbor  be  such  as  he  has  com- 
manded, that  I  may  forgive,  and  give,  and  love,  as  be- 
comes a  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ.  Amen. 

Eccles.  xii.  13.  "  Fear  God,  and  keep  his  command 


*  Psalm  li.  17. 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


ments,  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man  :;'  that  is,  the 
happiness  of  man. 

May  I,  great  God,  continue  in  thy  fear  all  the  day 
long.     May  I  keep  thy  statutes,  and  observe  thy  laws. 

Heb.  iv.  13.  "  All  things  are  naked  and  open  unto 
the  eyes  of  him  with  whom  we  have  to  do." 

Grant  that  I  may  always  live  and  act  as  having  Thee, 
O  God,  the  constant  witness  of  my  conduct,  for  Jesus 
Christ's  sake. 

Eccles.  ix.  10.  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do, 
do  it  with  all  thy  might:  for  the  night  cometh  when  no 
man  can  work." 

Make  me,  O  God,  ever  sensible  of  the  great  evil  of 
delaving  the  work  in  its  season,  which  thou  hast  ap- 
pointed, lest  the  night  surprise  me  unawares. 

1  John  v.  14.  "  This  is  the  confidence  we  have  in 
God,  that  if  we  ask  any  thing  according  to  his  will,  he 
heareth  us." 

That  it  may  be  unto  thy  servant  according  to  his 
word,  I  beseech  Thee,  to  hear  me  in  the  full  impor- 
tance of  that  holy  prayer  which  thy  blessed  Son  hath 
taught  us : 

Our  Father,  ichich  art  in  Ilcarcn  : 

In  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being; 
grant  that  I.  and  all  Christians,  may  live  worthy  of  this 
glorious  relation,  and  that  ice  may  not  sin;  knotting 
that  tee  are  accounted  thine. 

We  are  thine  by  adoption  O  make  us  thine  by  the 
choice  of  our  will. 

Halloiced  be  thy  name. 
O  God,  whose  name  is  great,  wonderful,  and  holy, 
grant  that  I  and  all  thy  children  may  glorify  Thee,  not 
only  with  our  lips,  but  in  our  lives;  that  others,  seeing 
our  good  works,  may  glorify  our  Father  which  is  in 
heaven. 

Tlty  kingdom  come. 

May  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  become  the  king- 
doms of  the  Lord  and  of  his  Christ.  And  may  all  that 
own  Thee  for  their  King,  become  thy  faithful  subjects, 
and  obey  thy  laws.  Dethrone,  O  God,  and  destroy 
Satan,  and  his  kingdom  ;  and  enlarge  the  kingdom  of 
grace. 

Thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven. 
We  adore  thy  goodness.  O  God,  in  making  thy  will 
known  to  US  in  thy  holy  Word.  May  this  Thy  Word 
be  the  rule  of  our  will,  of  our  desires,  of  our  lives,  and 
actions.  May  we  ever  sacrifice  our  will  to  thine;  he 
pleased  with  all  thy  choices  for  ourselves  and  others; 
and  adore  thy  providence  in  the  government  of  the 
world. 

Give  its  this  day  our  daily  bread. 

O  Heavenly  Father,  who  knowest  what  we  have 
need  of.  give  us  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  this 
life  with  thy  blessing  ;  but  above  all  give  us  the  bread 
that  nourisheth  to  eternal  life. 

Acts  xvii.  "OGod,  whogivestto  all  life,  and  breath, 
and  all  things;  give  us  grace  to  impart,  to  such  as  are 
in  want,  of  what  thou  hast  given  more  than  our  daily 
bread. 

And  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we  forgive  them  that 
trespass  against  us. 

Make  us  truly  sensible  of  thy  goodness,  and  mercy, 
and  patience  towards  us,  that  we  may  from  our  hearts 
forgiv    every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses. 

May  my  enemies  ever  have  place  in  my  prayers 
und  in  tny  mercy. 

And  lead  us  not  into  temptation. 

Support  ns,  O  Heavenly  Father,  under  all  our  sav- 
ing trials,  ami  giant  that  they  may  yield  us  the  peace- 
able fruits  of  righteousness 


But  deliver  us  from  ceil. 

From  all  sin  and  wickedness,  from  our  spiritual 
enemy,  and  from  everlasting  death,  good  Lord  deliver 
us. 

Deliver  us  from  the  evil  of  sin,  and  from  the  evil  of 
punishment. 

Deliver  us,  O  Heavenly  Father,  from  our  evil  and 
corrupt  nature;  from  the  temptations  and  snares  of  an 
evil  world ;  and  from  falling  again  into  the  sins  we 
have  repented  of. 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.     Amen. 

By  thy  Almighty  power,  O  King  of  Heaven,  fortho 
glory  of  thy  name,  and  for  the  love  of  a  Father,  grant 
us  all  these  blessings  which  thy  Son  hath  taught  us  to 
pray  for. 

Unto  him  that  is  able  to  do  for  us  abundantly  more 
than  we  can  ask  or  think,  unto  him  be  glory  in  the 
church  by  Christ  Jesus,  throughout  all  ages,  world 
without  end.  Amen. 

To  God  the  Creator,  the  Preserver,  and  Disposer 
of  all  tilings,  be  the  glory  of  all  the  good  wrought  iii  us, 
by  us,  and  upon  us. 

Blessing,  and  glory,  and  wisdom,  and  thanksgiving, 
and  honor,  and  power,  and  might,  be  unto  our  God  for 
ever  and  ever.  Amen. 

Thine  infinite  power,  icisdom,  goodness,  faithfulness, 
and  truth,  are  the  only  sure  foundation  on  which  we 
may  depend.  O  give  us  a  firm  faith  in  these  thy  glo- 
rious perfections. 

With  angels  and  archangels,  and  all  the  company  of 
Heaven,  we  laud  and  magnify  thy  glorious  name, 
evermore  praising  Thee,  and  saying,  Holy,  holy,  holy 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  heaven  and  earth  are  full  of  thy 
glory.     Glory  be  to  Thee,  O  God  most  High.  Amen. 

Jude  24,  25.  Now  unto  him  that  is  able  to  keep  you 
from  falling,  and  to  present  you  faultless  before  the 
presence  of  his  glory  with  exceeding  joy  ;  to  the  only 
wise  God  our  Saviour,  be  glory  and  majesty,  dominion 
and  power,  both  now  and  ever.    Amen. 

Rom.  xi.  36.  For  of  Him,  and  through  Him,  and 
to  Him,  are  -ill  things;  to  whom  be  glory  for  ever. 
Amen. 

Rom.  xvi.  27.  To  God  only  wise,  be  glory  through 
Jesus  Christ,  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 

Mark  ix.  23.  "  All  things  are  possible  to  him  that 
believeth.'' 

Yes,  Lord,  and  therefore  I  beg  that  faith  of  Him  to 
whom  all  things  are  possible,  that  I  may  be  able  to  dis- 
cover, to  avoid,  to  resist,  and  to  root  out,  whatever  is  evil 
in  me. 

0  Jesus,  obtain  this  grace  for  thy  otherwise  helpless 
creature. 

Grant  that  I  may  this  day  escape  all  the  snares  laid 
for  me  by  the  devil,  the  world,  or  mine  own  corrupt 
heart. 

Grant  that  I  may  this  day  omit  no  part  of  my  duty. 

1  Tim.  iv.  15.  "  Give  thyself  wholly  to  these  things, 
that  thy  profiting  may  appear  to  all." 

God  grant  that  I  may  do  so;  and  I  pray  God  pre- 
serve me  from  ease,  idleness,  and  trifling  away  my  pre- 
cious time. 

Philemon  4.  "  I  thank  my  God,  making  mention 
of  thee  always  in  my  prayers." 

Extend  and  suit  thy  graces  to  all  conditions  of  men. 
that  we  may  all  be  upright  in  our  dialings,  obedient  to 
our  governors,  peaceable  in  our  lives,  sober,  honest, 
temperate,  chaste  in  our  conversation,  and  charitable 
to  the  poor,  and  one  towards  another. 

Increase  the  number  and  the  graces  of  all  such  as 
love  and  fear  Thee,  enlighten  the  minds  of  the  igno- 
rant, awaken  the  consciences  of  the  careless,  silence 
the  gainsayers,  convert  the  profane,  and  all  that  hold 
the  truth  in  righteousness. 

Rebuke  the  spirit  of  antichrist,  idolatry,  and  liber- 


SACRA  PR    VA1  A. 


tifism, — the  sins  of  intemperance,  licentiousness,  liti- 
gi  nisness,  and  defrauding  the  public. 

in  tender  mercy  remember,  O  God,  all  sick  and  dy- 
ing persons,  that  they  may  omit  nothing  that  is  neces- 
sary to  make  their  peace  with  Thee.  Be  gracious  unto 
all  that  are  under  any  affliction  of  mind  or  body,  or 
nn-ier  any  pressing  calamity,  all  desolate  widows  and 
fatherless  children, — all  that  call  upon  Thee  in  their  dis- 
tress, and  have  none  else  to  help  them. 

Prov.  xxi.  1.  "  The  king's  power  is  in  the  hand  of 
the  Lord ;  as  the  rivers  of  waters,  he  turneth  it 
whithersoever  he  will ' 

Let  this  thy  power,  O  Lord,  be  magnified  on  all  that 
are  in  authority.  That  we  may  be  governed  with  truth 
and  justice,  by  men  fearing  and  honoring  God,  pro- 
tecting the  Christian  Religion,  and  punishing  evil 
doers.  To  this  end  vouchsafe  them,  I  beseech  Thee, 
all  the  graces  necessary  for  their  high  station,  and  for 
their  eternal  happiness. 

Col.  iv.  1.  "  Masters  give  unto  your  servants  that 
which  is  just  and  equal,  knowing  that  ye  also  have 
a  Master  in  heaven." 

O  heavenly  Lord  and  Master,  bless  me  with  good 
and  faithful  servants.  Let  thy  blessing  be  upon  them, 
and  upon  my  affairs  committed  to  theircare;  and  may 
I  never  be  wanting  in  my  duty  to  them,  for  Jesus 
Christ's  sake. 

RELATIONS,  BENEFACTORS,  &C. 

Be  gracious,  O  God,  to  all  my  relations,  benefac- 
tors, enemies,  and  all  that  have  desired  my  prayers ; 
all  who,  by  their  own  labors,  do  minister  to  our  neces- 
sities, together  with  all  our  known  and  unknown  bene- 
factors. Render,  O  God,  a  good  reward,  and  a  plen- 
tiful return,  to  all  those  who  have  been  kind  and  chari- 
table. Grant  that  we  may  all  so  live  here,  as  that  we 
may  meet  hereafter  in  the  Paradise  of  God. 

John  xvi.  23.  "Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Whatsoever 
ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in  my  name,  he  will  give  it 
you." 

These  are  what  I  ask  O  God  and  Father,  above  all 
.hings,  for  myself,  and  for  all  that  have  desired  my 
prayers  :  That  we  may  be  restored  to  thy  likeness,  and 
never  deface  it  by  our  sins;  that  the  image  of  Satan 
may  be  destroyed  in  us  ;  that  all  carnal  affections  may 
die  in  us;  and  that  all  things  belonging  to  the  Spirit 
may  dwell  in  our  hearts  by  faith;  That  thy  name,  and 
the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  may  be  glorified  in 
us,  and  we  in  him ;  that  our  hearts  may  be  entirely 
thine  ;  that  we  may  never  grieve  thy  Holy  Spirit ;  but 
that  we  may  continue  thine  for  ever,  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake.    Amen. 

Ephes.  iv.  29.  "  Let  no  corrupt  communication 
proceed  out  of  your  mouth,  but  that  which  is  good 
to  the  use  of  edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace 
unto  the  hearers." 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  delight  in  thy  Law;  that 
my  conversation  may  be  truly  Christian. 

May  I  never  hear  with  pleasure,  nor  ever  repeat, 
such  things,  as  may  dishonor  God,  or  injure  my  neigh- 
bor, or  my  own  character. 

James  iv.  11.     "  Speak  not  evil  one  of  another." 

Ephes.  v.  4.  "  Foolish  talking  or  jesting  are  not  con- 
venient, but  rather  giving  of  thanks." 

Ps.  exxxiii.  3.  "  Set  a  watch.  O  Lord,  before  my 
mouth,  and  keep  the  door  of  my  lips." 

Matt.  xii.  34.  "  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart 
the  mouth  speaketh.  How  can  ye,  being  evil, 
speak  good  things?" 

O  Holy  Spirit  of  grace,  enable  me  to  overcome  the 
shame  of  a  degenerate  age,  which  will  hear  of  nothing 
with  delight,  but  what  concerns  this  world.  O  touch 
my  heart  with  the  true  love  of  God,  the  excellences  of 
his  laws,  the  pleasantness  of  his  service,  and  the  won- 
ders of  his  providences.  This  I  beg  for  Jesws  Christ's 
take. 


John  xv.  7.    "Ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  ba  1cj» 
unto  you." 

These,  O  Jesus,  are  the  things  that  I  ask.  JntttCodc 
forme  !  that  I  may  be  truly  sensible  of  the  diseases  I 
labor  under,  and  thankfully  embrace  the  means  which 
thy  goodness  hath  ordained  for  my  recovery. 

Grant  that  the  end  of  all  my  actions  and  designs  may 
be  the  dory  of  God. 

Enable  me  to  resist  all  the  sinful  appetites  of  my 
corrupt  nature. 

Grant  that  I  may  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteous- 
ness. 

Vouchsafe  me  the  spirit  of  adoption, — of  supplica 
tion  and  prayer, — of  praise  and  thanksgiving. 

Obtain  for  me,  O  Jesus,  the  graces  of  mortification 
and  self-denial ;  the  graces  of  a  true  humility,  and  the 
fear  of  God. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  never  knowingly  live  one 
moment  under  thy  displeasure,  or  in  any  known  sin. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  as  I  have  been  regenerate,  and 
made  thy  child  by  adoption  and  grace,  I  may  daily  be 
renewed  by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

Enable  me,  gracious  God,  to  escape  the  corruption 
that  is  in  the  world  through  lust,  that  I  may  be  partaker 
of  the  Divine  nature. 

Lord,  grant  me  grace  to  withstand  the  temptations 
of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil ;  and  with  a  pure 
heart  and  mind  to  follow  Thee,  the  only  God,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

Let  thy  love,  O  God  be  shed  abroad  in  my  heart,  by 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  grant  that  it  may 
appear  in  my  life,  my  conversation,  my  words,  and 
actions,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

Blessed  be  God  that  I  was  admitted  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  Christ's  religion.  Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may 
avoid  all  those  things  that  are  contrary  to  my  profes- 
sion, and  follow  all  such  things  as  are  agreeable  to  the 
same,  for  Jesus  Christ  s  sake. 

Keep  me,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  heavenly  Father,  unae 
the  protection  of  thy  good  providence,  and  make  me 
to  have  a  perpetual  fear  and  love  of  thy  holy  name 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Put  away  from  me  all  hurtful  things,  and  give  me 
those  things  that  be  profitable  for  me,  through  Jesus 
Christ. 

Mercifully  grant  unto  me,  O  God,  such  a  measure 
of  thy  grace,  that  running  the  way  of  thy  command- 
ments, I  may  obtain  thy  gracious  promises,  and  be 
made  partaker  of  thy  heavenly  treasure  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

Forgive  me  those  things  whereof  my  conscience  is 
afraid,  and  give  me  th>se  good  things  which  we  are 
not  worthy  to  ask,  but  through  the  merits  and  media- 
tion of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ. 

That  I  may  obtain  that  which  thou  dost  promise, 
make  me  to  love  that  which  thou  dost  command, 
through  Jesus  Christ. 

Keep  me  from  all  things  hurtful,  and  lead  me  to  all 
things  necessary  to  my  salvation,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

The  Lord  deliver  me  from  every  evil  work,  and  pre 
serve  me  to  his  heavenly  kingdom :  To  whom  be  glory 
for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 

O  that  thy  Holy  Spirit  may  direct  and  rule  my  heart, 
O  God,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

Of  thy  bountiful  goodness,  O  Lord,  keep  me,  I  be- 
seech Thee,  from  all  things  that  may  hurt  me,  that  I 
may  cheerfully  accomplish  those  things  which  thou 
wouldst  have  done,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  be  cleansed  from  all  my 
sins,  and  serve  thee  with  a  quiet  mind,  through  Jesus 
Christ. 

Deliver  me,  O  Lord,  from  the  bonds  of  those  sins, 
which  through  my  frailty  I  have  committed,  for  Jems 
Christ's  sake. 

FAITH. 

0  that  I  may  believe  in  thee,  O  God,  and  pui  xaf 


SACRA  PRIVATA. 


whole  trust  and  confidence  in  Thee  alone,  and  not  in 
any  tiling  that  I  myself  can  do. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  so  perfectly,  and  without 
all  doubt,  believe  in  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ,  that  my  faith 
in  thy  sight  may  never  be  reproved,  for  the  sake  of  the 
same  Jesus  Christ. 

AGAINST   WAVERING. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  we  may  not  be  carried  about  with 
every  blast  of  vain  doctrine,  but  that  we  may  be  tirmly 
established  in  the  truth  of  thy  holy  gospel,  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  perfectly  know  thy  Son 
Jesus  Christ. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  perfectly  know  thy  Son 
Jesus  Christ  to  be  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life  ; 
the  Author  of  the  Way,  the  Teacher  of  the  Truth,  and  the 
Giver  of Life;  that  I  may  steadfastly  walk  in  the  way  that 
leadeth  to  eternal  life,  through  the  same  Jesus  Christ. 

COVETOUSNESS. 

Give  me  grace  to  forsake  all  covetous  desires,  and 
inordinate  love  of  riches  and  pleasures  through  Jesus 
Christ. 

Grant  that  I  may  both  perceive  and  know  what 
things  I  ought  to  do,  and  also  may  have  grace  and 
power  faithfully  to  fulfil  the  same,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

Grant  me,  O  God,  the  true  circumcision  of  the  Spi- 
rit, that  my  heart,  and  all  my  members,  being  mortified 
from  all  carnal  lusts,  I  may  in  all  things  obey  thy  blessed 
will. 

O  that  we,  who  know  Thee  now  by  faith,  may,  after 
this  life,  have  the  fruition  of  thy  glorious  Godhead. 

In  all  our  dangers  and  necessities,  stretch  forth  thy 
right  hand  to  save  and  defend  us. 

CHARITY. 

O  send  thy  Holy  Ghost,  and  pour  into  my  heart  that 
most  excellent  gift  of  Charity,  that  very  bond  of  peace 
and  of  all  virtue,  without  which,  whosoever  liveth  is 
counted  dead  before  thee. 

Grant,  I  do  most  humbly  beseech  Thee,  O  God,  that 
as  by  thy  special  grace,  Thou  dost  put  into  my  mind 
good  desires,  so  by  thy  continual  help  I  may  bring  the 
same  to  good  effect,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

0  everlasting  God,  grant,  that  as  thy  Holy  Angels  do 
thee  service  in  heaven,  so  by  thy  appointment  they 
may  succor  and  defend  us  on  earth,  through  Jesus 
Christ. 

Grant  me  grace  so  to  follow  thy  blessed  Saints  in 
virtuous  and  godly  living,  that  I  may  come  to  those 
unspeakable  joys  which  thou  hast  prepared  for  them 
that  unfeignedly  love  Thee. 

1  pray  God,  my  whole  spirit,  (my  understanding, 
will,  and  conscience,)  my  soul,  (my  appetites,  affec- 
tions, and  passions,)  and  my  body,  (the  tabernacle  of 
:ny  soul,)  be  preserved  blameless  unto  the  coming  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

May  I  take  pleasure  in  abiding  in  thy  presence,  O 
God;  in  depending  upon  Thee;  in  leaving  myself 
entirely  to  thy  disposal,  as  a  continual  sacrifice  to  thy 
will. 

Give  me  a  victory  over  all  my  sins  and  imperfec- 
tions ;  increase  in  me  the  grace  of  faith,  hope,  and  chari- 
ty, of  humility,  meekness,  patience,  and  resignation,  and 
all  other  Christian  virtues  :  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

Preserve  me,  gracious  God,  from  spiritual  pride; 
from  ascribing  anything  I  have  done,  or  can  do,  to 
myself,  and  robbing  Thee  of  the  glory  of  saving  me 
from  eternal  ruin. 

Take  possession,  O  Jesus,  of  thy  right  in  my  soul, 
which  thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  most  precious 
blood  ;  and  root  out  all  self-righteousness,  self-interest, 
and  self  will;  that  thou  mayest  be  my  righteousness, 
and  all  in  me 

«EPFNTANCE. 

Giv«  iv     \.',  up*,  sach  a  true  sorrow  for  my  sins,  as 


shall  enable  me  to  embrace  all  the  necessary  means, 
how  bitter  soever,  for  rooting  sin  out  of  my  soul. 

HUMILITY. 

1  Pet.  v.  5.    God  resistcth  the  proud,  and  giveth  grace  to 

the  humble. 

I  have  all  the  reason  in  the  world  to  be  humble. 
Without  God  I  am  nothing.  Without  his  help  and 
grace  I  can  do  nothing  that  is  good.  Without  his 
word  I  know  nothing.  Of  myself,  I  deserve  nothing 
but  punishment.  Of  my  own,  I  have  nothing  but 
faults,  imperfections,  and  sins,  an  inclination  to  evil, 
an  aversion  to  good,  unruly  senses,  ungovernable  pas- 
sions, unreasonable  affections. 

1  Cor.  i.  30.  "  O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  art  made 
unto  us  of  God,  our  wisdom  by  revealing  him  and  his 
glorious  perfections;  our  righteousness,  by  satisfying 
the  justice  of  God  in  our  nature;  our  sanclification, 
by  procuring  for  us  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  by  restoring 
us,  being  sinners,  to  God's  favor;  our  redemption,  by 
redeeming  us  from  death  eternal.  O  Jesus,  for  these 
mighty  favors,  all  love  and  glory  be  to  Thee,  with  the 
Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost  for  ever.    Amen. 

THE  WAY  OF  AN  HAPPY  LIFE. 

Lay  nothing  too  much  to  heart;  desire  nothing  too 
eagerly — rejoice  not  excessively,  nor  grieve  too  much 
for  disasters;  be  not  violently  bent  on  any  design  ;  nor 
let  any  worldly  cares  hinder  you  from  taking  care  of 
your  soul;  and  remember,  that  it  is  necessary  to  be  a 
Christian  (that  is,  to  govern  one's-self  by  motives  of 
Christianity)  in  the  most  common  actions  of  civil  life. 

Col.  iii.  17.  "  Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word  or  in  deed, 
do  all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  giving  thanks 
to  God  the  Father  by  him." 

He  that  would  not  fall  into  temptation,  must  have  a 
presence  of  mind,  a  watchful  eye  over  himself;  he 
must  have  great  things  in  view ;  distinguish  betwixt 
time  and  eternity  ;  or  else  he  will  follow  what  passion, 
not  what  reason  and  religion  suggest. 

CHRISTIAN  PERFECTION. 

Whosoever  aspires  after,  (being  so  united  to  God,  as 
to  be  one  spirit  with  him,)  must  resolve  to  do  all  things 
with  this  sole  view,  to  please  God.  This  I  purpose, 
this  I  forbear,  this  I  undertake,  this  I  do,  this  I  suffer 
in  obedience  to  the  will  of  God.  This  should  be  our 
express  purpose,  at  all  times,  when  we  have  time  to 
make  it;  and  should  be  often  renewed,  lest  our  own 
will  come  to  be  the  ruler  of  our  actions.  If  I  am  care- 
ful to  do  this,  I  shall  always  have  my  end,  whether  I 
succeed,  or  be  disappointed,  being  convinced  it  is 
God's  will. 

Rom.  xvi.  14.  "  Put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
make  not  provision  for  the  flesh,  to  fulfill  the  lusts 
thereof." 

Grant,  O  Lord,  that  "  I  may  keep  under  my  body, 
and  bring  it  into  subjection,  lest  by  any  means  1  should 
be  a  cast-away."* 

"  Be  ye  all  of  one  mind,  having  compassion  one  of 
another.  Be  pitiful,  be  courteous  :  not  rendering  evil 
for  evil,  nor  railing  for  railing,  but  contrariwise  bles- 
sing. For  he  that  will  love  life,  and  see  good  days,  let 
him  refrain  his  tongue  from  evil,  and  his  lips  that  they 
speak  no  guile.  Let  him  eschew  evil,  and  do  good. 
Let  him  seek  peace,  and  ensue  it."t 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  wise,  a  sober,  a  serious,  a  reli- 
gious heart. 

Preserve  me  from  evil  councils,  and  rash  enterprises. 
0  make  thy  way  plain  before  my  face. 

Support  me  this  day  under  alt  the  difficulties  I  shall 
meet  with. 

I  offer  myself  to  thee,  O  God,  this  day,  to  do  in  mo, 
and  with  me,  as  to  Thee  seems  most  meet. 

Vouchsafe  me,  gracious  God,  the  spirit  of  adoption, 


*  1  Cor.ix.27. 


t  1  Pet.  iii.  8,  9,  &c 


SACRA   PRIVATA. 


whereby  I  may  cry  Abba,  Father,  and  apply  to  Thee, 
through  Jesus  Christ,  not  as  an  angry  judge,  but  as  to 
a  merciful  and  loving  father. 

Remember,  that  the  life  of  man  is  only  to  be  valued 
for  its  usefulness. 

John  xv.  12,  "  This  is  my  commandment,  that  ye 
lore  one  another." 

O  Thou,  who  hast  given  me  this  command  and  pat- 
tern, give  me  a  sincere  desire  of  following,  and  grace 
and  power  to  do  it. 

James  v.  15.  "  And  the  prayer  of  faith  shall  save 
the  sick  ;  and  the  Lord  shall  raise  him  up  :  and  if 
he  have  committed  sins,  they  shall  be  forgiven 
him." 

O  Lord  of  life  and  death  !  have  mercy  upon  all  those 
who  are  visited  with  sickness  ;  sanctify  this  thy  father- 
ly correction,  that  they  may  search  their  ways,  and 
see  whence  this  visitation  cometh.  Have  mercy  upon 
all  that  are  appointed  to  die,  and  grant  that  they  omit 
nothing  that  is  necessary  to  make  their  peace  with 
Thee,  and  that  they  may  be  delivered  from  death  eter- 
nal. And  God  grant  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  to 
that  holy  and  heavenly  wisdom,  while  we  live  here, 
which  may  in  the  end  bring  us  to  life  everlasting, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen. 


NOON. 

1  Tim.  ii.  1.  /  exhort,  that  first  of  all  supplications, 

prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made 
for  all  men. 

Acts  xvii.  26.  "  For  we  are  all  of  one  blood."  And 
Charity,  that  more  excellent  way,  is  a  tender  affection 
for  the  whole  creation  of  God. 

O  God,  almighty  and  merciful,  let  thy  fatherly  kind- 
ness be  upon  all  whom  thou  hast  made.  Hear  the 
prayers  of  all  that  call  upon  Thee;  open  the  eyes  of 
them  that  never  pray  for  themselves  ;  pity  the  sighs  of 
such  as  are  in  misery  ;  deal  mercifully  with  them  that 
are  in  darkness  :  and  increase  the  number  of  the  graces 
of  such  as  fear  and  serve  Thee  daily.  Preserve  this 
land  from  the  misfortunes  of  war;  thy  church  from  all 
dangerous  errors ;  this  people  from  forgetting  Thee, 
their  Lord  and  benefactor.  Be  gracious  to  all  those 
countries  that  are  made  desolate  by  the  sword,  famine, 
pestilence,  or  persecution.  Bless  all  persons  and 
places  to  which  thy  providence  has  made  me  a  debtor; 
all  who  have  been  instrumental  to  my  good  by  their 
assistance,  advice,  or  example:  and  make  me  in  my 
turn  useful  to  others.  Let  none  of  those  that  desire 
my  prayers  want  thy  mercy ;  but  defend,  and  comfort, 
and  conduct  them  through,  to  their  lives'  end. 

"  In  every  thing  give  thanks ;  for  this  is  the  will  of 
God,  in  Christ  Jesus,  concerning  you." 

Cause  us,  O  God,  to  profit  by  all  the  visitations  of 
thy  grace  and  mercy. 

•'It  becometh  we'll  the  just  to  be  thankful." 

O  Lord  and  Father,  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  least 
of  all  thy  mercies,  which  thou  hast  showed  thy  servant, 
neither  can  I  render  due  thanks  and  praise  for  them  ; 
but,  O  Lord,  accept  of  this  my  sacrifice  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving. 

For  all  the  known,  and  for  all  the  unobserved  favors, 
deliverances,  visitations,  opportunities  of  doing  good, 
chastisements,  and  graces  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  vouch- 
safed to  me,  I  bless  thy  good  providence;  beseeching 
thee  to  pardon  my  ingratitude,  that  I  have  passed  so 
many  days  and  years  without  observing,  and  without 
acknowledging,  thy  great  goodness  to  thy  unworthy 
servant. 

For  when  I  soberly  consider  my  dependance  upon 
Thee,  for  my  life,  welfare,  health  of  body,  peace  of 
mind,  grace,  comfort,  and  salvation,  I  ought  to  be  very 
thankful. 

Glory  be  to  God,  my  Creator;  glory  be  to  Jesus, 


my  Redeemer;  glory  be  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  my  sanc- 
tifier,  my  Guide,  and  Comforter:  all  love, all  glory, be 
to  God  most  high.  Amen. 

Let  us  never  ascribe  any  thing  to  ourselves,  but  all 
to  the  grace  of  God,  and  render  to  him  all  the  glory  of 
his  works. 

Preserve  me,  O  God,  from  the  insensibility  of  those 
who  receive  thy  favors  without  being  affected  with 
them,  and  from  the  ingratitude  of  those  who  look  upon 
them  as  a  debt. 

Psal.  xc.  1,  2  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks 
unto  the  Lord;  and  to  sing  praises  unto  thy  name,  O 
Most  High !  To  show  forth  thy  loving  kindness  in  the 
morning  :  and  thy  faithfulness  every  night." 

Many  and  great  have  been  the  favors  and  blessings 
which  Thou  hast  bestowed  on  this  nation  ;  for  which, 

0  Lord,  in  conjunction  with  those  who  praise  Thee 
for  them,  and  in  the  stead  of  those  who  forget  to  praise 
Thee,  I  bless  and  praise  thy  holy  name.  Bless  the 
Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits. 

Our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven. 

Acts  xvii.  28.  "  In  Thee  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being." 

Grant  that  we  may  love  Thee  with  all  our  heart,  and 
mind,  and  soul,  and  strength. 

Blessed  be  God,  who  dealeth  with  us  with  the  ten- 
derness of  a  father. 

0  that  we  may  remember  that  our  Father  and  our 
inheritance  is  in  heaven  ! 

1  commit  myself,  and  all  that  belongs  to  me,  to  thy 
fatherly  care  and  love. 

Verily,  whatever  ye  ask  the  Father  in  my  name,  he 
will  give  to  you.*  This  is  the  great  support  and 
comfort  of  sinners.  Hear  us,  for  thy  Son's  sake ;  for 
as  sinners  we  have  no  right  to  ask  any  favor. 

What  manner  of  love  is  it,  that  we  should  be  called 
the  sons  of  Godlt 

Halloiced  be  thy  name. 

"  Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive  honor,  and 
power,  and  glory,  for  Thou  hast  created  all  things." 

"  In  this  is  my  Father  glorified,  that  ye  bring  forth 
much  fruit." 

May  thy  children  have  a  great  regard  for  every  thing 
that  belongs  to  Thee. 

May  I  never  dishonor  Thee,  O  Heavenly  Father, 
by  word  or  deed. 

May  I  glorify  Thee  daily  by  a  good  life.  Fill  my 
heart  with  a  great  concern  and  zeal  for  thy  glory." 

"  Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord." 

"  They  that  honor  me,  I  will  also  honor." 

How  little  have  I  done  to  promote  thy  glory  !  God 
be  merciful  unto  me. 

Thy  kingdom  come. 

May  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  obey  thy  laws, 
and  submit  to  thy  providence,  and  become  the  king 
doms  of  the  Lord,  and  of  his  Christ. 

Bless  the  pious  endeavors  of  all  those  who  strive  to 
propagate  the  gospel  of  thy  kingdom. 

Vouchsafe  to  reign  in  my  heart;  and  let  not  Satau 
ever  have  dominion  over  me. 

Fit  us  O  God,  for  the  coming  of  thy  kingdom.    May 

1  submit  and  rejoice  to  be  governed  by  Thee. 

0  that  thy  Holy  Spirit  may  direct  and  rule  my  heart ; 
subdue  in  me  all  pride  and  covetousness.  hatred,  ma- 
lice, envy,  lust,  and  all  uncleanness,  and  whatever  shall 
offend  Thee. 

Thy  icill  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven. 

1  Thess.  iv.  3.  "  This  is  the  will  of  God,  even  our 
sanctification." 

Thou  hast  sent  us  into  the  world,  not  to  do  our  own 
will,  but  thine. 


*  John  xvi  23. 


t  John  iii.  1. 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


O  subject  my  will  to  thine.  j  and  health,  and  grace,  and  salvation,  that  religion, 

May  iliy  name   be   honored   by  the  good  lives  of  J  may  be  my  delight,  as  well  as  my  duty. 


Christians 

0  that  I  may  have  respect  unto  all  thy  commands. 

May  thy  will  revealed  to  us  in  thy  holy  word,  be  the 
rule  of  my  will,  of  rny  desires,  my  words,  life,  and 
actions. 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread. 

John  vi.  27.  "  Labor  not  for  the  meat  which  perish- 
eth,  but  for  that  meat  which  endureth  unto  everlasting 
life." 

Lord,  give  us  evermore  this  bread.  Give  us  the 
necessaries  of  life  ;  but  above  all,  the  bread  that  nou- 
risheth  to  eternal  life. 

And  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that 
trespass  against  us. 

Luke  vi.  37.     "  Forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  forgiven." 

Grant  O  Heavenly  Father,  that  I  may  close  with  this 
merciful  condition  of  pardon. 

Thou  hast  been  all  mercy  to  me,  O  God,  grant  that 
I  may  be  so  to  all  others. 

Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  hast  put  our  salvation  into 
our  own  hands.  May  thy  grace,  O  Father,  give  me 
an  heart  ever  ready  to  forgive. 

And  lead  us  not  into  temptation. 

1  Cor.  x.  13.  "Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth 
(firm)  take  heed  lest  he  fall." 

Let  not  any  confidence  in  ourselves  provoke  Thee, 
O  God,  to  leave  us  to  ourselves. 

2  Pel.  ii.  9.  "  The  Lord  knoweth  how  to  deliver 
the  godly  out  of  temptation." 

Thou  O  Father,  knovvest  my  infirmities,  and  the 
power  of  my  enemies;  be  not  wanting  to  me  in  the 
hour  of  temptation. 

.Matt.  xxvi.  41.  "  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation. 

Make  me  mindful  of  my  weakness,  that  I  may  be 
more  watchful  and  importune  for  grace. 

Fortify  my  soul  against  the  temptations  of  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 
But  deliver  us  from  evil. 

1  Pet.  v.  8.  "Be  sober,  be  vigilant,  because  your 
adversary  the  devil,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about, 
seeking  whom  he  may  devour." 

Grant,  O  Heavenly  Father,  that  this  adversary  may 
never  find  me  off  my  guard,  or  from  under  thy  protec- 
tion. 

In  all  my  saving  trials,  give  me  grace  and  power  to 
overcome  to  thy  glory. 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 

To  Thee,  to  Thee  alone,  and  to  thy  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit,  be  glory  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 


EVENING. 

Psal.  cxli.  2.  Let  my  prayers  he  set  forth  in  thy  sight, 
as  the  incense ;  and  lei  the  lifting  vp  of  my  hands  be  as 
an  evening  sacrifice. 

That  it  hath  pleased  God  to  add  another  day  to  the 
years  of  my  life  ;  that  none  of  his  judgments,  to  which 
for  my  sins  I  am  liable,  have  fallen  upon  me  ;  that  by 
his  grace  he  hath  kept  me  from  all  scandalous  sins,  and 
from  the  dangers  of  an  evil  world  ;  that  he  has  given 
me  occasions  of  doing  good,  and  grace  to  make  use  of 
them;  that  he  hath  supplied  me  and  my  family  with 
the  necessaries  of  this  life,  and  with  means  of  attain- 
ing abetter: — Accept,  O  God,  of  my  unfeigned  thanks 
for  these,  and  for  all  thy  mercies  from  day  to  day  be- 
stowed upon  me.  Add  this  to  all  my  favors.  I  beseech 
Thee,  that  I  may  never  forget  to  be  thankful. 

Possess  my  heart  with  such  a  deep  sense  of  my 
obligations  to  and  dependence  upon  Thee  for  life, 


But  that  I  may  serve  Thee  with  a  quiet  mind,  for- 
give me  the  things  whereof  my  conscience  is  afraid, 
and  avert  the  judgments  which  I  have  justly  de- 
served. Remember  not  the  offences  of  my  youth ; 
and  in  mercy  blot  out  those  of  my  riper  years.  Par- 
don my  sins  of  the  day  past,  and  of  my  life  past,  and 
grant  that  they  may  never  rise  up  in  judgment  against 
me.     Amen. 

1  John  ii.  1.  "If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  ad- 
vocate with  the  Father.  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous, 
and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins." 

O  most  powerful  advocate,  I  put  my  cause  into  thy 
hands,  let  thy  blood  and  merits  plead  for  me  :  and  by 
thy  mighty  intercession,  procure  for  me  a  full  dis- 
charge of  all  my  sins. 

John  v.  14.  "  Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing 
come  unto  thee." 

Lord,  the  frailty  of  man  without  Thee  cannot  but 
fall.  In  all  temptations,  therefore,  I  beseech  Thee  to 
succor  me,  that  no  sin  may  ever  get  the  dominion  over 
me." 

Psal.  xci.  1.  "  Whoso  dwelleth  under  the  defence 
of  the  Most  High,  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty." 

May  the  Almighty  God  take  me,  my  family,  my  re- 
lations, my  friends,  my  benefactors,  and  my  enemies, 
under  his  gracious  protection;  give  his  holy  angels 
charge  concerning  us ;  preserve  us  from  the  prince 
and  powers  of  darkness,  and  from  the  dangers  of  the 
night;  and  keep  us  in  perpetual  peace  and  safety: 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

Hear  me,  O  God,  not  according  to  my  weak  under- 
standing, but  according  to  the  full  importance  of  that 
Holy  Prayer,  which  Jesus  Christ  has  taught  us,  and 
which  I  presume  to  offer: — 

"  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  &c." 


Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  he  thy  name. 

God  will  be  glorified  in  the  salvation  of  souls. 

If  the  Almighty  God  were  not  my  Father,  I  might 
expect  vengeance  instead  of  mercy. 

May  I  show  by  my  life  that  God"  is  my  father! 

This  earth  is  not  the  inheritance  of  the  children  of 
God. 

Blessed  be  God,  who  dealeth  not  with  us  with  ihe 
authority  of  a  lord  over  his  servants,  but  with  the  ten- 
derness of  a  father  over  his  children. 

Thy  kingdom  come. 
I  own  Thee  for  my  king  ;  do  Thou  make  and  own 
me  for  thy  faithful  subject.  Enlarge  thy  kingdom,  for 
the  honor  of  thy  great  name.  May  I  preserve  thy 
kingdom  within  me,  the  government  of  thy  Spirit. 
Bring  me  into  subjection  to  thyself,  by  thy  grace. 

Thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven. 

That  thou  mayest  have  a  church  on  earth  as  obedi- 
ent to  thy  will  as  that  is  in  heaven. 

O  Heavenly  Father,  subdue  in  me  whatever  is  con- 
trary to  thy  holy  will.  Grant  that  I  may  ever  study  to 
know  thy  will,  that  I  may  know  how  to  please  Thee. 

Thy  will,  O  God,  is  the  perfection  of  justice!  let 
me  never  prescribe  to  Thee  what  thou  oughtest  to 
give  me.  What  Thou  wiliest,  we  may  be  sure,  is  best 
for  us;  we  cannot  be  sure  of  what  we  will  for  our- 
selves. Hearken  not  to  the  corrupt  desires  of  my 
heart,  but  to  the  voice  of  thy  own  mercy. 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  braid. 

Yes,  my  God,  I  will  have  recourse  to  Thee  daily; 
for  on  Thee  I  depend  daily  for  life,  and  breath,  and 
grace,  and  all  things. 

Give  me  a  true  understanding  and  love  for  thy 
Word,  the  bread  which  nourished;  !:>  eternal  life. 


6 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


For  Thou.  (>  Lord,  has  taught  us,  not  to  seek  that 
bread  which  perishetb,  but  that  which  endureth  to 
eternal  life. 

A ud  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that 
trespass  against  us. 

May  I  ever  show  mercy  to  men,  that  I  may  receive 
it  from  Thee,  my  God. 

Do  I  value  my  soul,  and  think  this  too  hard  a  con- 
dition ? 

Thou  art  all  mercy  to  me;  grant  that  I  may  be  all- 
merciful  to  my  brethren,  for  thy  sake,  O  Father. 

And  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil. 

For  thou  knowest  our  infirmities,  and  the  power 
and  malice  of  our  enemies. 

Thou  knowest  how  to  deliver  the  godly  out  of 
temptation. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  never  run  into  those 
temptations,  which  in  my  prayers  I  desire  to  avoid  ! 

Vouchsafe  me  the  gift  of  perseverance,  on  which 
my  eternal  happiness  depends. 

Lord,  never  permit  my  trials  to  be  above  my 
strength. 

O  Holy  Spirit  of  Grace,  be  not  wanting  to  me  in 
the  hour  of  temptation.  And,  in  all  temptations,  give 
us  power  to  resist  and  overcome.  Leave  us  not  in 
the  power  of  evil  spirits  to  ruin  us.  Support  us  un- 
der all  our  saving  trials  and  troubles. 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.     Amen. 

Let  thy  fatherly  compassion  grant  what  the  Son  of 
thy  love  has  encouraged  us  to  pray  for. 

By  thy  Almighty  power,  make  good  whatever  is 
defective  in  me. 


EXAMINATION. 

Eccles.  xviii.  20.      Before  judgment,  examine  thyself: 
and  in  the  day  of  visitation  thou  shall  find  mercy. 

Discover  to  me,  O  Thou  searcher  of  hearts,  what- 
ever is  amiss  in  me,  whether  in  life  or  principle. 


From  sudden,  from  unprepared  death,  good  Lord, 
deliver  me,  my  family,  and  all  that  desire  my  prayers. 
May  we  never  be  surprised  in  sin ;  and  may  thy 
mercy  supply  whatever  shall  be  wanting  in  our  pre- 
paration for  death. 

For  myself,  with  the  submission  of  a  penitent  sin- 
ner under  the  righteous  sentence  of  death  passed 
upon  all  mankind,  I  beg  that  I  may  so  live,  as  that  I 
may  with  joy  resign  my  life  to  Thee,  O  Father,  trust- 
ing in  thy  mercy  and  goodness,  and  promises  in  Je- 
sus Christ,  at  the  hour  of  death,  and  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment.    Amen. 

Ephes.  iv.  6.  "  Let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon 
your  wrath." 

Lord,  grant,  that  I  may  lie  down  to  sleep  with  the 
same  charitable  dispositions  witli  which  I  desire  and 
hope  to  die. 

I  beseech  Thee  for  all  that  are  my  enemies,  not  for 
judgment  and  vengeance,  but  for  mercy,  for  the  remis- 
sion of  their  sins,  and  for  their  eternal  happiness. 

Psal.  xiii.  3.  "  Lighten  my  eyes,  0  Lord,  that  I  sleep 
not  in  death. 

Deliver  me  from  the  terrors  of  the  night,  and  from 
the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness. 

Let  my  sleep  be  free  from  sin ;  preserve  me,  O 
Lord,  from  evil  dreams,  and  evil  spirits. 

Into  thy  hands  I  commend  myself,  my  spirit,  my 
soul,  and  body,  O  Lord,  thou  God  of  truth. 

Grant  that  I  may  remember  Thee  upon  my  bed. 

Psal.  iv.  9.     /  will  lay  me  down  in  peace,  and  take 


my  rest;  for  it  is  Thou,  Lord,  only  that  makest  me  dicdl 
in  safety. 

May  the  Saviour  and  Guardian  of  my  soul  take  me 
under  his  protection  this  night  and  evermore. 


SUNDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

FRAYERS,    THANKSGIVINGS,    &C. 
A  Daily  Form  of  Thanksgiving. 

O  Almighty  God,  and  most  merciful  Father,  who 
day  after  day,  dost  minister  to  sinful  man  infinite 
occasions  of  praising  Thee,  accept  of  my  unfeigned 
thanks  for  all  the  blessings  I  have  and  every  day  re- 
ceive from  thy  good  providence. 

That  of  thine  own  mere  goodness,  and  without  any 
merit  of  mine,  or  of  my  forefathers,  Thou  hast  given 
me  a  being  from  honest  and  religions  parents,  and 
in  such  a  part  of  the  world  where  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  purely  taught,  and  thy  Sacraments  duly  ad- 
ministered. 

That  thou  didst  endue  me  with  reason  and  perfect 
senses;  and  to  make  these  more  comfortable  to  me, 
didst  give  me  a  sound  and  healthful  body. 

That  Thou  gavest  me  an  early  knowledge  of  Thee, 
my  Creator  and  Redeemer. 

That  Thou  hast  preserved  me  ever  since  my  birth, 
and  hast  vouchsafed  me  health  and  liberty,  and  a  com- 
petency of  means  to  support  me. 

That  Thou  hast  redeemed  me  by  thy  Son,  and  given 
me  a  share  in  his  merits  ;  sanctified  me  by  thy  Holy 
Spirit;  and  has  heaped  many  favors  upon  me. 

That  Thou  hast  given  me  honest  friends  to  admon 
ish,  to  counsel,  to  encourage  and  to  support  me,  by 
their  interest  and  advice. 

That  Thou  hast  been  my  refuge  in  tribulation,  and 
my  defence  in  all  adversities;  delivering  me  from 
dangers,  infamy,  and  troubles.  For  all  known  or  un- 
observed deliverances,  and  for  the  guard  thy  holy  an- 
gels keep  over  me,  I  praise  thy  good  providence. 

When  I  went  astray,  Thou  didst  bring  me  back  ; 
when  I  was  sad,  Thou  didst  comfort  me ;  when  I  of- 
fended Thee,  Thou  didst  forbear  and  gently  correct 
me,  and  didst  long  expect  my  repentance;  and  when, 
for  the  grievousness  of  my  sins,  I  was  ready  to  des- 
pair, Thou  didst  keep  me  from  utter  ruin  ;  Thou  hast 
delivered  me  from  the  snares  and  assaults  of  the  devil ; 
Thou  hast  not  only  preserved  my  soul,  but  my  body, 
from  destruction,  when  sickness  and  infirmities  took 
hold  of  me. 

O  Lord  and  Father,  I  cannot  render  due  thanks  and 
praise  for  all  these  mercies  bestowed  upon  me  :  Such 
as  I  have  I  give  Thee;  and  humbly  beseech  Thee  to 
accept  of  this  my  daily  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving. 

Pardon,  OGod,  all  my  former  ingratitude  ;  and  that 
I  have  passed  so  many  days  without  observing,  with- 
out admiring,  without  acknowledging  and  confessing, 
thy  wonderful  goodness  to  the  most  unworthy  of  thy 
servants. 

For  (now  I  soberly  consider  my  dependence  upon 
Thee)  as  there  is  no  hour  of  my  life  that  I  do  not  en- 
joy thy  favors,  and  taste  of  thy  goodness,  so  (if  my 
frailty  would  permit)  I  would  spend  no  part  of  my 
life  without  remembering  Thee. 

Praise  the  Lord,  then,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is 
within  me  praise  his  Holy  name. 

Glory  be  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  my  Creator.  Glory  be 
to  Thee,  O  Jesus,  my  Redeemer.  Glory  be  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  my  Sanctifier,  my  Guide,  and  Comforter. 

All  love,  all  glory,  be  to  the  high  and  undivided 
Trinity,  whose  works  are  inseparable,  and  whose  do 
minion  endureth  world  without  end.     Amen. 

When  I  seriously  consider,  great  God,  my  depend 
ence  upon  thy  Providence,  and  that  the  favors  and 
mercies  I  have  received  are  infinitely  more  in  number 
than  the  acknowledgments  I  have  made,  I  am  justly 


SACRA    PRIVAT  A. 


ashamed  of  my  ingratitude,  find  afraid  lest  my  un- 
thankfulness  should  provoke  Thee  to  hinder  the  cur- 
rent of  thy  blessings  from  descending  upon  me. 

Forgive,  O  merciful  Father,  my  past  negligences, 
and  Give  me  grace  for  the  time  to  come  to  observe  and 
to  value  thy  kindness,  as  becomes  one  who  lias  received 
so  much  more  than  he  deserves. 

Preserve  in  my  soul,  O  God,  such  a  constant  and 
clear  sense  of  my  obligations  to  Thee,  that  upon  the 
receipt  of  every  favor,  I  may  immediately  turn  my 
eyes  to  him  from  whom  Cometh  my  salvation.  That 
my  manifold  blessings  may  fix  such  lasting  impressions 
upon  my  soul,  that  I  may  always  praise  Thee  faithfully 
here  on  earth,  until  it  shall  please  Thee,  of  thy  un- 
bounded mercy,  to  call  me  nearer  the  place  of  thy  hea- 
venly habitation,  to  praise  my  Lord  and  deliverer  to  all 
eternity. 

PROVIDENCE. 

God  has  more  ways  of  providing  for  ns,  of  helping 
US,  than  we  cati  possibly  imagine  ;  it  is  infidelity  to  de- 
sire to  confine  him  to  our  ways  and  methods. 

Matt.  viii.  25.      "  Lord,  save  us,  we  perish." 

Nothing  can  better  express  our  own  inability,  and 
our  whole  dependence  upon  God  :  two  sure  conditions 
of  obtaining  help. 

Since  thy  mercy,  O  God,  is  ever  ready  to  help  all 
that  call  upon  Thee  in  time  of  distress,  let  thy  good- 
ness answer  my  wants. 

Keep  me  under  the  protection  of  thy  good  provi- 
dence, and  make  me  to  have  a  perpetual  fear  and  love 
of  thy  holy  name,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

The  more  destitute  we  are  of  human  aid,  the  more 
ought  we  to  trust  to  that  providence  which  God  is 
pleased  to  exert  in  extreme  necessity. 

O  God,  give  me  grace  never  to  condemn  thy  provi- 
dence ;  let  me  adore  the  wisdom  of  thy  conduct,  the 
holiness  of  thy  ways,  and  the  power  of  thy  grace. 

How  many  sins  should  we  commit,  if  God  did  not 
vouchsafe  to  oppose  our  corrupt  will !  Blessed  be  his 
holy  name,  for  not  leaving  me  to  my  own  choices. 

Psal.  xc.  12.  "  So  teach  us  to  number  our  days, 
that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 

EIRTH-DAY. 

Blessed  be  God  for  my  creation  and  birth  :  forgiving 
me  a  being  from  honest  parents  fearing  God,  and  in  a 
Christian  and  Protestant  country  ;  for  giving  me  per- 
fect members  and  senses,  a  sound  reason,  and  an 
healthful  constitution — for  the  means  of  grace,  the  as- 
sistances of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  for  the  hopes  of  glory  ; 
for  all  the  known  or  unobserved  favors,  providences, 
and  deliverances,  by  which  my  life  hath  hitherto  been 
preserved;  most  humbly  beseeching  Thee,  my  God 
and  Father,  to  pardon  my  neglect  or  abuse  of  any  of 
thy  favors,  and  that  I  have  so  very  much  forgotten 
Thee,  in  whom  I  live  and  move,  and  have  my  being. 

Good  Lord,  forgive  me  the  great  waste  of  my  pre- 
cious time ;  the  many  days  and  years  of  health,  and  the 
many  opportunities  of  doing  good,  which  1  have  lost; 
and  give  me  grace,  that  for  the  time  to  come  I  may  be 
truly  wise,  that  I  may  consider  my  latter  end,  and 
work  out  my  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  ever 
remembering  that  tlie  night  cometh  ichcn  no  man  can 
work;  and  that  the  day  of  my  death  may  be  better  to 
me  than  the  day  of  my  birth. 

O  gracious  God,  grant  that  before  Thou  takest  from 
me  that  breath  which  Thou  gavest  me,  I  may  truly  re- 
pent of  the  errors  of  my  life  past;  that  my  sins  may  be 
forgiven,  and  my  pardon  sealed  in  heaven ;  so  that  I 
may  have  a  place  of  rest  in  Paradise  with  thy  faithful 
servants,  till  the  general  resurrection  ;  when  the  good 
Lord  vouchsafe  me  a  better  and  an  everlasting  life, 
through  Jesus  Christ     Amen. 

new-year's  day. 

Blessed  be  God,  who  has  brought  me  safe  to  the  be- 
ginning of  another  year. 


Blessed  he  God,  that  I  am  of  the  number  of  those 
who  have  time  and  space  for  repentance  yet  given 
them. 

My  God,  make  me  truly  sensible  of  this  mercy,  and 
give  me  grace  to  consider  often  how  short  and  how 
uncertain  my  time  is  ;  that  there  is  one  year  more  of  a 
short  life  passed  over  my  head  ;  and  that  1  am  so  much 
nearer  eternity,  that  1  may  in  good  earnest  think  oi 
another  life,  and  be  so  prepared  for  it,  as  that  death 
may  not  overtake  me  unawares. 

Lord,  pardon  all  my  misspent  time,  and  make  me 
more  diligent  and  careful  to  redeem  it  for  the  time  to 
come,  and  when  I  come  to  the  end  of  my  days  I  may 
look  back  with  comfort  on  the  days  that  are  past. 

Grant  that  I  may  begin  this  new  year  with  new  reso- 
lutions of  serving  Thee  more  faithfully  ;  and  if,  through 
infidelity  or  negligence,  I  forget  these  good  purposes, 
the  good  Lord  awaken  in  me  a  sense  of  my  danger. 

My  heart  is  in  thy  hands,  O  God,  as  well  as  my  time ; 
O  make  me  wise  unto  salvation  ;  that  I  may  consider  in 
this  my  day  the  things  that  belong  unto  my  peace  ;  and 
that  I  may  pass  this,  and  all  the  years  I  have  yet  to  live, 
in  the  comfortable  hope  of  a  blessed  eternity,  for  the 
Lord  Jesus' sake.    Amen. 

lord's-day. 

Amos  viii.  4.  "  When  will  the  Sabbath  be  gone, 
that  we  may  sell  wheat?" 

Deliver  us,  gracious  God,  from  this  sin  of  covetous- 
ness ;  from  being  weary  of  thy  sabbaths,  which  are 
ordained  to  preserve  in  our  hearts  the  knowledge  of 
Thee,  and  of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ. 

O  that  we  may  desire  and  rejoice  in  the  return  of 
this  day,  and  serve  Thee  faithfully  on  it ;  and  that  we 
may  enjoy  an  everlasting  sabbath  with  thy  saints,  for 
Jesus  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 

0  that  I  maybe  glad,  when  they  say  unto  me,  Come, 
let  us  go  to  the  house  of  God! 

prayer  for  all  mankind. 

1  Tim.  ii.  1.  "  I  exhort,  that  first  of  all,  supplica 
tions,  prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be 
made  for  all  men." 

O  God,  almighty  and  merciful,  let  thy  fatherly  good- 
ness be  upon  all  that  Thou  hast  made. 

Have  mercy  upon  all  Jews,  Turks,  infidels,  and 
heretics;  and  grant  that  none  may  deprive  themselves 
of  that  happiness  which  Jesus  Christ  has  purchased 
by  his  death. 

Bless  the  pious  endeavors  of  all  those  that  strive  to 
propagate  the  gospel  of  Christ;  and  may  its  saving 
truths  be  received  in  all  the  world! 

Preserve  thy  Church  in  the  midst  of  the  dangers 
that  surround  it:  purge  it  from  all  corruptions,  and 
heal  its  divisions,  that  all  Christian  people  may  unite 
and  love  as  becomes  the  disciples  of  Christ. 

Grant  that  all  bishops  and  pastors  may  be  careful  to 
observe  the  sacred  rites  committed  to  their  trust :  That 
godly  discipline  may  be  restored  and  countenanced: 

That  Christians  may  not  content  themselves  with 
bare  shadows  of  religion  and  piety,  but  endeavor  after 
that  holiness  without  which  no  man  can  see  the  Lord. 

That  such  as  are  in  authority  may  govern  with  truth 
and  justice;  and  that  those  whose  duty  it  is  to  obey, 
may  do  it  for  conscience  sake. 

Let  all  that  sincerely  seek  the  truth,  be  led  into  it  by 
the  Holy  Spiiit;  and  to  all  such  as  are  destitute  ot 
necessary  instruction,  vouchsafe  a  greater  measure  of 
thy  grace. 

Support  and  comfort  all  that  labor  under  trials  and 
afflictions,  all  that  suffer  wrongfully  :  and  by  thy  mighty 
grace  succor  all  those  that  are  tempted. 

Give  unto  all  sinners  a  true  sense  of  their  unhappy 
state,  and  grace  and  strength  to  break  their  bonds. 

Visit,  with  thy  fatherly  comforts,  all  such  as  are 
now  in  their  last  sickness,  that  they  omit  nothing  that 
is  necessary  to  make  their  peace  with  Thee. 


10 


SACRA    P  R I V  A  T  A  . 


Be  gracious  to  all  those  countries  that  are  made  de- 
solate by  the  sword,  famine,  pestilence,  or  persecu- 
tion. And  sanctify  the  mseries  of  this  life,  to  the 
everlasting  benefit  of  all  that  suffer. 

Preserve  this  land  from  the  miseries  of  war;  this 
church  from  persecution,  and  from  all  wild  and  danger- 
ous errors ;  and  this  people  from  forgetting  Thee,  their 
Lord  and  Benefactor. 

Avert  the  judgments  which  we  have  justly  deserved ; 
and  mercifully  prevent  the  ruin  that  threatens  us;  and 
grant  that  we  may  be  ever  prepared  for  what  thy  Pro- 
vidence shall  bring  forth. 

Bless  all  persons  and  places  to  which  thy  Providence 
has  made  me  a  debtor  ;  all  who  have  been  instrumen- 
tal to  my  good,  by  their  assistance,  advice,  or  example ; 
and  make  me  in  return  useful  toothers. 

Let  none  of  those  who  cannot  pray  for  themselves, 
and  desire  my  prayers,  want  thy  mercy  ;  but  defend, 
and  comfort,  and  conduct  them  through  this  dangerous 
world,  that  wo  may  meet  in  paradise,  to  praise  our 
God  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 

Enlighten  the  minds  and  pardon  the  sin  of  all  that 
err  through  simplicity. 

Lot  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked  come  to  an  end, 
but  guide  Thou  the  just. 

Relieve  and  comfort  all  that  are  troubled  in  mind  or 
conscience; — all  that  are  in  darker  of  falling  into  des- 
pair ; — all  that  are  in  dangerous  error ; — all  that  aic  ir, 
prison,  in  slavery,  or  under  persecution  for  a  righteous 
cause  : — all  that  are  in  any  distress  whatever,  that  all 
may  improve  under  their  sufferings. 

Have  mercy  upon  and  reclaim  all  that  are  engaged 
in  sinful  courses,  in  youthful  lusts,  in  unchristian  quar- 
rels, and  in  unrighteous  lawsuits. 

Direct  all  that  are  in  doubt,  all  that  seek  the  truth. 

O  God  the  Creator  and  Redeemer  of  all,  have  mercy 
upon  all  whom  thou  hast  made  and  redeemed.  Amen. 


MONDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

RESIGNATION. 

Luke  xxii.  42.     Nevertheless,  not  my  will,  hut  thine  he 
done. 

0  God,  who  takest  delight  in  helping  the  afflicted, 
help  a  soul  too  often  distressed  with  an  inward  rebel- 
lion against  thy  just  appointments. 

Who  am  I,  that  I  should  make  exceptions  against  the 
will  of  God,  infinitely  great,  wise,  and  good ! 

[  know  not  the  things  that  are  for  my  own  good. 

My  most  earnest  desires,  if  granted,  may  prove  my 
ruin. 

The  things  I  complain  of  and  fear,  may  be  the  effects 
of  the  greatest  mercy. 

The  disappointments  I  meet  with  may  be  absolutely 
necessary  for  my  eternal  welfare. 

1  do  therefore  protest  against  the  sin  and  madness  of 
desiring  to  have  my  ivill  done,  and  not  the  will  of  God. 

Grant  gracious  Father,  that  I  may  never  dispute  the 
reasonableness  of  thy  will,  but  ever  close  with  it,  as  the 
best  that  can  happen. 

Prepare  me  always  for  what  thy  providence  shall 
bring  forth. 

Let  me  never  murmur,  be  dejected,  or  impatient,  un- 
der any  of  the  troubles  of  this  life  ;  but  ever  find  rest 
and  comfort  in  this,  this  is  the  will  of  my  father, 
and  of  jiv  God:  grant  this  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake 
Amen. 

To  the  glory  of  God,  and  justification  of  his  infinite 
good,  I  do  here  acknowledge,  that  in  all  the  dispensa- 
tions of  providence  which  have  befallen  me  to  this  day, 
however  uneasy  to  flesh  and  blood,  I  have  notwith- 
standing, experienced  the  kindness  of  a  father  for  his 
chi.d  ;  and  am  convinced,  that  it  would  have  been  much 
worse  for  me  had  I  had  my  own  choices. 

O  God.  grant  that  for  the  time  to  come  I  may  yield 
a  cheerful  obedience  to  all  thy  appointments.    Amen 


Corrupt  nature  cannot  comprehend  that  afflictions 
are  the  effects  of  the  divine  love.  It  must  be  tnv  gr..c>'. 
O  Lover  of  Souls,  which  must  work  in  me  this  coin  ic- 
tion,  which  I  beseech  Thee  to  vouchsafe  me. 

Never  set  a  greater  value  upon  this  world  than  it 
deserves. 

If  a  man  be  not  eager  or  positive  in  his  desires,  he 
will  more  readily  embrace  the  appointments  of  Provi- 
dence. 

If  we  place  our  hopes,  or  our  dependence  upon  the 
power,  the  icisdom,  the  counsel,  or  the  interest,  we  have 
in  man,  and  not  in  God  only,  we  shall  surely  be  disap 
pointed. 

Job  xiii.  15.  "  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  him." 

0  my  crucified  King  and  Saviour,  let  my  submission 
to  whatever  afflictions  shall  befall  me,  for  thy  sake,  or 
by  thy  appointment,  be  to  me  a  pledge  and  an  assur- 
ance of  my  fidelity  to  Thee,  and  conformity  to  thy 
sufferings. 

It  is  a  favor  to  be  punished  and  to  suffer  in  this  life, 
when  a  man  makes  a  good  use  of  his  sufferings.  But 
to  suffer  by  constraint,  is  to  suffer  without  comfort  and 
without  benefit. 

Our  union  and  conformity  with  the  will  of  God 
ought  to  be  instead  of  all  consolation. 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  always  accept  of  the  pu 
nis'.iaioat  of  my  sins  with  resignation  to  thy  good  plea- 
sure. 

Remember  me,  O  Lord,  in  the  day  of  trouble  ;  keep 
me  from  all  excess  of  fear,  concern,  and  sadness 

Grant  me  an  humble  and  resigned  heart,  that  with 
perfect  content  I  may  ever  acquiesce  in  all  the  methods 
of  thy  grace,  that  I  may  never  frustrate  the  designs  of 
thy  mercy,  by  unreasonable  fears,  by  sloth,  or  self-love. 
Amen. 

Think  often  of  God,  and  of  his  attributes,  his  mer 
cy,  compassion,  fidelity,  fatherly  care,  goodness,  pro- 
tection. Dwell  on  these  thoughts  till  they  produce 
such  a  well-grounded  confidence  as  will  support  us 
under  all  difficulties,  and  assure  us  that  he  cannot  pos- 
sibly forsake  those  that  depend  on  him. 

When  God  deprives  us  of  any  thing  that  is  most 
dear  to  us ;  health,  ease,  conveniences  of  life,  friends, 
wife,  children,  &c. — we  should  immediately  say. 
This  is  God's  will;  I  am  by  him  commanded  to  part 
with  so  much ;  let  me  not  therefore  murmur  or  be  de- 
jected, for  then  it  would  appear  that  I  did  love  that 
thing  more  than  God's  will. 

When  God  thus  visits  us,  let  us  immediately  look 
inwards  ;  and  lest  our  sins  should  be  the  occasion,  let 
us  take  care  that  we  seriously  repent,  and  endeavor  to 
make  our  peace  with  God :  and  then  he  will  either  de- 
liver or  support  us,  and  will  convince  us,  that  we  suf- 
fer in  justice  for  our  faults;  or  for  our  trial,  and  to  hum- 
ble us ;  for  God's  glory,  and  to  sanctify  us. 

1  Pet.  v.  5.  "  Ce  clothed  with  humility  :  for  God 
resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble." 

Give  me  grace,  O  God,  to  study,  to  love,  to  adore, 
and  to  imitate  that  humility,  which  thy  blessed  Son  hath 
taught  us  both  by  his  word  and  by  his  most  holy  exam- 
ple. 

BUSINESS. 

Ephes.  v.  17.  "  Understanding  what  the  will  of  the 
Lord  is." 

To  engage  in  any  business  of  importance  without 
knowing  this,  and  taking  counsel  of  God,  may  cost  us 
dear. 

Isaiah  xxx.  1.  "  Wo  to  them  that  take  counsel,  but 
not  of  me,  saith  the  Lord." 

But  then,  let  a  man  take  heed,  that  when  he  goes  to 
inquire  of  the  Lord,  he  does  not  set  up  idols  in  his  own 
heart,  lest  God  answer  him  according  tn  his  idols. 

We  are  to  pray  for  the  direction  of  Goil's  Spirit, 
upon  all  great  occasions;  especially,  we  are  humbly 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


11 


to  depend  on  his  direction,  and  cheerfully  to  expect  it, 
which  he  will  manifest,  either  by  some  plain  event  of 
his  providence,  or  by  suggesting  such  reasons  as  ought 
to  determine  the  will  to  a  wise  choice. 

But  to  follow  the  inclinations  of  the  will  without  rea- 
son, only  because  we  find  ourselves  strongly  inclined 
to  this  or  that,  is  a  very  dangerous  way,  and  may  en- 
gage us  in  ver"  dangerous  practices. 

MASTER.      SERVANT. 

Death,  in  a  very  little  time,  may  make  the  master 
and  the  servant  equal.  Let  us  anticipate  this  equality, 
by  treating  our  servants  with  compassion  ;  having  res- 
pect to  Christ  in  the  person  of  our  servant ;  to  Christ, 
who  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant  for  our  sakes. 


TUESDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

TROUBLE,  PERSECUTION,  AFFLICTIONS,  &C. 

Psal.  1.  15.    Call  upon,  me  in  the  time  of  trouble,  so 
icill  i  hear  thee,  and  thou  thalt  praise  me. 

0  God.  who  seest  all  our  weakness,  and  the  troubles 
we  labor  under,  have  regard  unto  the  prayers  of  thy 
servant,  who  stands  in  need  of  thy  comfort,  thy  direc- 
tion, and  thy  help. 

Grant  that  I  may  suffer  like  a  Christian,  and  not 
grieve  like  an  unbeliever  ; — that  I  may  receive  troubles 
as  a  punishment  due  to  my  past  offences;  as  an  exer- 
cise of  my  faith,  and  patience,  and  humility  ;  and  as 
a  trial  of  my  obedience; — and  that  I  may  improve  all 
my  afflictions,  to  the  good  of  my  soul,  and  thy  glory. 

Thou  alone  knowest  what  is  best  for  us ;  Let  me  ne- 
ver dispute  thy  wisdom  or  thy  goodness. 

Direct  my  reason,  subdue  my  passions,  put  a  stop 
to  my  roving  thoughts  and  fears,  and  let  me  have  the 
comfort  of  thy  promise,  and  of  thy  protection,  both 
now  and  ever,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 

Hob.  xii.  7.  "  If  ye  endure  chastening,  God  deal- 
eth  with  you  as  with  sons  ;  for  what  son  is  he  whom 
the  father  chasteneth  not  ?  But  if  ye  are  without  chas- 
tisement whereof  :.ll  are  partakers,  then  are  ye  bas- 
tards and  not  sous." 

Micah  vii.  9.  "  1  will  bear  the  indignation  of  the 
Lord,  because  I  have  sinned  against  him." 

If  I  am  despised  or  slighted,  I  ought  to  consider  it 
as  a  favor,  since  this  is  a  mark  of  God's  children;  and 
therefore  I  ought  to  thank  him  for  it,  and  not  be  angry 
with  those  whom  he  makes  his  instruments  to  subdue 
and  mortify  my  pride. 

1  ret.  iv.  13.  "  Rejoice,  in  as  much  as  ye  are  made 
partakers  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ ;  that,  when  his 
glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye  may  be  glad  also  with  ex- 
ceeding joy  ;  viz.  because  your  reward  will  be  propor- 
tionable to  your  sufferings." 

Matt.  v.  11,  12.  "  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall 
revile  you,  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say  all  man- 
ner of  evil  against  you  falsely  for  my  sake.  Rejoice, 
and  be  exceeding  glad  ;  for  great  is  your  reward  in 
heaven :  for  so  persecuted  they  the  prophets  which 
were  before  you." 

The  mystery  of  the  cross  is  to  be  learned  under  the 

Matt.  x.  23,  29,  30.  "  Fear  not  them  which  kill  the 
body,  but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul ;  but  rather  fear 


It  is  just,  Great  God,  it  should  be  so ;  for  who  shall 
govern  the  world  but  he  that  made  it?  And  yet  we 
poor  creatures  repine,  when  any  thing  crosses  our 
hopes  or  designs.  What  strange  unthoughtfulness! 
what  presumption  is  'his  !  And  it  is  thy  great  mercy 
that  any  one  of  us  are  sensible  of  this  folly,  and  be- 
come willing  to  be  governed  by  Thee. 

With  all  my  heart  and  soul,  O  God,  I  thank  Thee, 
that  in  all  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life,  I 
can  look  up  to  Thee,  and  cheerfully  resign  my  will  to 
thine. 

It  is  the  desire  of  my  soul,  and  my  humble  petition, 
that  I  may  always  be  ready  and  willing  to  submit  to 
thy  providence,  that  thou  mayest  order  what  thou 
judgest  to  be  most  convenient  for  me. 

I  have  trusted  Thee,  O  Father,  with  myself;  my 
soul  is  in  thy  hand,  which  I  verily  believe  Thou  wilt  pre- 
serve to  eternal  happiness;  my  body,  and  all  that  be- 
longs to  it,  are  of  much  less  value.  I  do,  therefore, 
with  as  great  security  and  satisfaction,  trust  all  I  have 
to  Thee  ;  hoping  thou  wilt  preserve  me  from  all  things 
hurtful,  and  lead  me  to  all  things  profitable  to  my  sal- 
vation. 

I  will  love  Thee,  O  God ;  being  satisfied  that  all 
things,  however  strange  and  irksome  they  appear, 
shall  work  together  for  good  to  those  that  do" so. 

I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed  ;  I  have  a  Saviour 
at  thy  right  hand,  full  of  kindness,  full  of  care,  full  of 
power;  he  has  prayed  forme,  that  this  faith  fail  me 
not;  and  by  this  faith  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither 
tribulation,  nor  anguish,  nor  persecution,  nor  famine, 
nor  nakedness,  nor  peril,  nor  sword,  nor  death  which 
I  may  fear,  nor  life  which  I  may  hope  for,  nor  things 
present  which  I  feel,  nor  things  to  come  which  I  may 
apprehend,  shall  ever  prevail  so  far  over  me,  as  lo 
make  me  not  to  resign  my  will  entirely  to  Thee. 

In  an  humble,  quiet,  and  dutiful  submission,  let  me 
faithfully  run  the  race  that  is  set  before  me,  looking 
unto  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith,  who, 
for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  despised  the  shame, 
endured  the  cross,  and  is  now  seated  at  the  right  hand 
of  God ;  to  whom  I  most  humbly  beseech  Thee  to 
bring  me  in  thy  good  time;  and  for  whatever  shall  fall 
out  in  the  mean  while,  Thy  willbedonc.    Amen. 

LOOK    UNTO    JESUS. 

He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men ; — his  life  was 
sought  for  by  Ilerod  ; — He  was  tempted  by  Satan  ; — 
hated  by  the  world  which  he  came  to  save ; — set  at, 
nought  by  his  own  people  ; — called  a  deceiver,  and  a 
dealer  with  the  devil ; — was  driven  from  place  to  place, 
and  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head  ; — betrayed  by  one 
disciple,  and  forsaken  by  all  the  rest; — falsely  accused, 
spit  upon,  and  scourged; — set  at  nought  by  Herod  and 
his  men  of  war; — given  up  by  Pilate  to  the  will  of  his 
enemies; — and  a  murderer  preferred  before  him; — 
was  condemned  to  a  most  cruel  and  shameful  death  ; — 
crucified  between  two  thieves; — reviled  in  the  midst  ot 
his  torments; — then  had  gall  and  vinegar  given  him  to 
drink;  suffered  a  most  bitter  death,  submitting  with 
patience  to  the  will  of  his  Father. 

O  Jesus,  who  now  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
to  succor  all  who  suffer  in  a  righteous  way:  be  Thou 
my  Advocate  for  grace,  that  in  all  my  sufferings,  I  may 
follow  thy  example,  and  run  with  patience  the  race 


Him  which  is  able  to  destroy  both  body  and  soul  in    that  is  set  before  me.    Amen 


hell.  Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing?  and 
one  of  them  shall  not  fall  to  the  ground  without  your 
Father.  The  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  number- 
ed." 

1  Pet.  v.  6,  7.     "Humble  yourselves  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,  (under  great  afflictions  which 


Take  all  things  that  befall  you  as  coming  from  God's 
providence,  for  your  particular  profit.  And  though 
they  are  evil  in  themselves,  yet  as  he  permits,  or  does 
not  think  fit  to  hinder  them,  they  may  be  referred  to 
him. 

God  no  sooner  discovers  in  your  heart  an  ardent 


he  suffers  to  befall  you,)  that  he  may  exalt  you  in  due  desire  of  well-doing,  and  of  submitting  to  his  wdl 
time  :  casting  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  carcth  for  but  he  prepares  for  you  occasions  of  trying  your  vir- 
you"  tue;    and   therefore,   confident  of  his   love,  receive 

Matt.  vi.  10.    "Thy  will  be  done."  I  cheerfully  a  medicine  prepared  b'-     •>liysbi*H',ia'  ia» 


SACRA    PRIVj*  TA 


12  

not  be  mistaken,  and  caJiaot  give  you  any  thing  but 
what  will  be  for  your  good.— See  Lecles.  chap.  ii. 

Lord,  prepare  my  horm.  that  no  afflictions  may  ever 
so  surprise,  as  to  overbear  me. 

Dispose  mo  at  ai!  tiows  to  a  readiness  to  suffer  what 
thv  providence  shall  order  or  permit. 

'it  is  the  same  cup  which  Jesus  Christ  drank  of ;  it 
is  he  sends  it.  He  sees  it  absolutely  necessary  that  I 
must  be  first  partaker  of  his  sufferings,  and  then  of  his 
glory. 

Matt.  x.  22.  "  And  ye  shall  be  hated  of  all  men  for 
my  name's  sake;  but  he  that  shall  endure  to  the  end 
shall  be  saved." 

It  is  indeed  grievous  to  nature  to  be  thus  treated  ; 
but  when  it  is  for  thy  name's  sake,  O  Jesus,  and  for  the 
sake  of  thy  truth,  and  for  being  true  to  Thee;  how 
lo  ,Av  i  i  ui  3  hatred,  and  how  advantageous,  when  sal- 
vation is  the  reward! 

ISff  tt.  i.  2 1.  "  Tho  disciple  is  not  above  his  master, 
nor  the  servant  above  his  Lord." 

He  who  keeps  this  saying  in  his  heart,  will  never 
complain  of  what  he  suffers,  nor  seek  for  any  other 
way  to  save  himself  but  by  humiliation  and  the  Cross. 

SUFFERING. 

O  Lord,  grant  that  whenever  I  suffer  it  may  be  fol 
being  faithful  to  Thee,  and  without  drawing  it  unsea 
sonably  upon  myself. 

We  are  in  God's  hands;  we  often  take  ourselves 
out  of  his  hands,  by  trusting  to  the  help  and  protection 
of  men,  more  than  that  of  God. 

God  can  render  none  miserable  but  those  whom  he 
finds  sinners.  Let  us  apply  this  to  ourselves  when  in 
affliction,  but  not  unto  others,  or  to  their  personal 
faults. 

Rev.  hi.  19.  "  As  many  as  I  love,  1  rebuke  and 
chasten  :  be  zealous,  therefore,  and  repent." 

Blessed  be  God,  who  vouchsafes,  by  salutary  chas- 
tisements, to  awaken  us  when  we  fall  asleep  through 
sloth  and  lukewarmnes'' 

Grant  O  God,  that  I  T°y  r/we»  murmur  at  thy  ao 
pointments,  nor  be  exasperated  at  the-  r.,:.i.sitrs  cF  i\.y 
providence. 

In  Thee,  0  Jesus,  we  find  matter  of  consolation  in 
every  affliction  that  can  possibly  bef**?!  us- 

All  visitations  are  from  God.  Ho  is  not  delighted 
with  the  miseries  of  his  poor  creatmos;  afflictions  a.-e 
therefore  designed  for  our  good.  He  will  either  show 
us  the  reason  of  his  visitation,  or  make  us  reap  the 
fruits  of  it." 

People  that  may  be  well  disposed,  may  yet  live  un- 
der the  power  of  some  evil  custom,  which  is  displeasing 
to  God ; — a  man  may  have  been  guilty  of  some  great 
sin  which  he  has  yet  never  truly  repented  of,  or  been 
truly  humbled  for.  This  was  the  case  of  the  sons  of 
Jacob  ; — they  had  attempted  the  life  of,  and  afterwards 
sold,  their  brother,  and  endangered  the  life  of  their  aged 
father;  under  which  guilt  they  passed  their  life  well 
enough  for  many  years,  till  God  visited  them  ;  and  then 
they  thought  of  their  sin,  confessed,  and  repented, 

God,  by  afflictions,  often  fits  us  for  greater  degrees 
of  grace  which  he  is  going  to  bestow, 

Though  I  suffer,  yet  I  am  well,  because  I  am  what 
God  would  have  me  to  be. 

Lord,  do  not  permit  my  trials  to  be  above  my 
strength;  and  do  Thou  vouchsafe  to  be  my  strength 
and  comfort  in  the  tice  of  trial. 

Give  me  grace  to  taao  in  good  part  whatever  shall 
befall  me  ;  and  let  mj  *  r  -  acknowledge  it  to  be  the 
Lord's  doing,  and  to  come  from  thy  providence,  and 
not  by  chance. 

God  makes  use  of  afflictions — sometimes  by  way  of 
prevention;  lest  I  should  be  exalted,  said  St.  Paul;* — 
To  reform  them;  before  I  was  afflicted,  1  went  astray  ;\ 


To  perfect  them  ;  patience,  courage,  submission  to  the 
will  of  God,  are  graces  not  so  much  as  understood  by 
people  who  meetwitb  no  adversaries;  tee  must  through 
much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  * — To 
prove  men,  and  show  them  for  examples;  if  a  man 
had  no  enemies,  how  could  he  show  his  charity  in  for- 
giving them  ? 

John  xi.  5.  Afflictions  are  no  marks  of  God's  dis- 
pleasure. Jesus  loved  Mary  and  Lazarus,  yet  they  were 
both  afflicted. 

Punishment  is  due  to  sin.  We  must  be  punished 
here  or  hereafter ; — it  is  the  cause  of  all  afflictions,  and 
designed  by  our  gracious  God  to  bring  us  to  repent- 
ance. 

Prosperity  is  a  most  dangerous  state :  we  fancy  it  is 
owing  to  our  merit,  and  it  is  followed  with  pride,  ne- 
glect of  duty,  fearlessness. 

It  is  happy  for  us  wb*3»?  God  counts  us  worthy  to 
suffer  for  his  name'j  sakt- 

Afflictions,  undergone  with  resignr  tior:,  a.e  t  i  I  g:  eat 
test  of  our  love  of  God  ;  when  we  love  him,  then  he 
chastens  us.  May  God  sanctify  all  our  afflictions  tius 
all. 

May  I  receive  every  thing  from  thy  hand  with  pa- 
tience and  with  joy. 

Remember  me,  O  God,  in  the  day  of  trouble,  Se- 
cure me  by  thy  grace,  from  all  excess  of  fear,  concern, 
and  sadness. 

Let  the  afflictions  I  meet  with  be  in  some  measure 
serviceable  towards  the  appeasing  of  thy  wrath.  Let 
'•em  prove  the  happy  occasion  of  forwarding  my  con 
version  and  salvation. 

TEMPTATION 

We  are  exposed  to  temptation  all  our  days.  Men 
are  never  more  dangerously  tempted,  than  when  they 
think  themselves  secure  from  temptations.  This  is  a 
proof  of  the  power  the  devil  has  over  them.  We 
tempt  God  when  we  expose  ourselves  unnecessarily  to 
dangers,  through  a  false  confidence  of  his  assistance 


Grant  O  God,  that,  amiust  all  the  discouragements, 
difficulties,  dangers,  distress,  and  darkness  of  this  mor- 
tal life,  I  may  depena  urpon  thy  mercy,  and  on  this 
bull  I  rry  b^^s,  as  on  a  sure  foundation. 

Let  thine  infinite  mercy  :.i  Christ  Jesus  deliver  me 
from  despair,  Doth  now  and  at  the  hour  of  my  death. 

RESIGNATION. 

Grant  that  I  may  receive  the  punishment  of  my  sins 
with  patience  and  resignation. 

INJURIES.       PERSECUTION. 

Give  me,  O,  God,  an  heart  to  consiaer,  that  man 
could  have  no  power  against  me,  unless  it  were  given 
from  above. 

ENEMIES. 

A  Christian  should  not  discover  that  he  has  enemies 
any  other  way  than  by  doing  more  good  to  them  than 
to  others.  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him :  if  he  thrist, 
give  him  drink.  He  will  therefore  be  careful  not  to 
lose  such  occasions. 

0  Jesus !  whose  charity  all  the  malice  of  thy  bitter- 
est enemies  could  not  overcome,  shed  abroad  in  my 
heart  that  most  excellent  gift  of  charity  ;  the  very  bond 
of  peace,  and  of  all  virtues. 

Eccles.  viii.  7.  "  Reioice  not  over  thy  greatest  ene- 
my being  dead ;  but  remember  that  we  die  all." 

Our  enemies  are  oar  benefactors,  procuring  for  us 
a  new  right  to  heaven. 

1  pray  God  convert  all  t.Ltose  who  hate  us  v.  tthout  a 
cause. 

I  beseech  Thee  for  my  enemies,  not  for  vengeance 


*  2  Cor.  xii.  &c. 


f  Psalm  cxix. 


*  Acts  xiv.  22. 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


13 


hnt  for  rr.ercy  ;  that  thou  wouldst  change  their  hearts 
by  thy  grace,  or  restrain  their  malice  by  thy  power. 

IN    TIME   OF    WAR. 

O  Sovereign  Lord  !  who  for  our  sins  art  justly  dis- 
pleased, I  prostrate  myself  hefore  Thee,  confessing 
my  own  sin  and  the  sin  of  this  people  ;  acknowledg- 
ing the  justice  of  any  scourge  which  Thou  shalt  think 
fit  to  bring  upon  us ;  and  trembling  to  think  how  much 
I  may  have  contributed  towards  it. 

Thou  hast  already  spoken  to  us,  both  by  thy  judg- 
ments and  mercies,  both  by  the  scarcity  and  plenty  of 
bread,  aud  we  have  not  regarded  it.  Thou  hast  taken 
away  the  lives  of  many,  very  many,  in  their  very  sins, 
by  which  numerous  widows  and  fatherless  children 
have  been  left  miserable. 

The  sins  of  licentiousness  and  drunlcenness,  of  swear- 
ing, lying,  and  ■perjury ;  of  liligiousness,  injustice,  and 
defrauding  the  public;  are  made  light  of. 

The  sins  of  impiety,  of  profaneness ;  of  despising 
the  means  of  grace  and  salvation,  are  too  common 
amongst  us. 

What  shall  we  say  to  prevail  with  God  to  avert  the 
judgments  which  these  sins  deserve  ? 

God  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  put  a  stop  to  this 
torrent  of  wickedness,  put  thy  fear  into  all  our  hearts, 
that  we  may  return  to  Thee  ;  that  we  may  repent,  and 
bring  forth  fruit  meet  for  repentance  ;  and  that  ini- 
quity may  not  be  our  ruin. 

May  the  dread  of  thy  now  threatened  judgments 
deter  us  from  evil; — may  thy  goodness  and  patience 
lead  us  to  repentance: — weaken  the  power  of  Satan; 
— take  from  among  us  the  spirit  of  slumber,  of  igno- 
rance, and  inconsideration. 

Let  every  one  of  us  see  and  feel  the  plague  of  his 
own  heart,  and  say.  xcltat  have  I  done  to  bring  these  evils 
upon  us?  So  that  bringing  forth  fruits  answerable  to 
amendment  of  life,  we  may  escape  the  judgment 
now  hanging  over  us ;  and  above  all,  thy  judgment 
against  sinners  in  the  world  to  come.  And  this  I  beg 
for  Jesus  Christ  his  sake.  Amen. 

JUDGMENT   DAY. 

Grant.  O  Lord,  that  I  may  be  of  the  number  of  those 
that  shall  find  mercy  at  that  day. 

ZACCHEUS. 

The  good  Lord  grant  that  I  may  give  a  proof  of  tne 
sincerity  of  my  conversion  by  a  change  of  life. 


WEDNESDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

COVETOCSXESS.      FASTINGS.       DIFFICULTIES.      SELF- 
DKXIAL. 

Matt.  iv.  9,  10.  All  these  things  will  I  site  lliec. — Get 
thee  hence,  Satan;  for  it  is  written.  Thou  shalt  wor- 
ship the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him  only  shalt  thou  serve. 
Great  and  glorious  God,  who  alone  art  worthy  of 

our  love  and  service,  cure  me  of,  and  preserve  me 

from,  the  sin  and  vanity  of  admiring  tliis  world. 

Give  me  grace  to  renounce  all  covetous  desires,  all 

Jove  of  riches,  and  pleasures; — to  desire  only  what  is 

necessary,  and  to  be  content  with  what  Thou,  O  Lord, 

thinkest  so. 
Not  to  be  troubled  at  the  loss  or  want  of  any  thing 

besides  thy  favor : 

That  no  business,  no  pleasures,  may  divert  me  from 

the  thoughts  of  the  world  to  come: 

That  I  may  cheerfully  part  with  all  these  things, 

when  thou  requirest  it  of  me. 

And  that  I  may  be  ever  prepared  to  do  so,  dispose 

me  to  a  temperance  in  all  things,  and  to  lay  up  my 

treasures  in  heaven  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.  Amen. 
Luke  vi.  24.  "  Wo  unto  you  that  are  rich,  for  ye 

nave  received  your  consolation." 


A  man  must  have  but  little  faith,  who  can  re.idtheso 
words,  and  yet  love  riches,  and  the  pleasures  thov  af- 
ford. 

Lord,  grant  that  1  may  resta  every  temptation  to  th<i 
love  of  creatures;  lest  they  steal  my  heart  from  Thee, 
my  God,  whom  I  desire  to  love  with  ali  toy  *i>til. 

I  know  that  I  must  in  a  great  measure  renounce  all 
other  objects  of  my  affection,  in  order  to  love  Thee 
with  all  my  heart.  Lord,  give  me  grace  and  strength 
to  put  this  in  practice. 

1  John  ii.  15,  "  Love  not  the  world,  nor  the  things 
that  are  in  the  world  ;  if  any  man  love  the  world,  the 
love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him." 

Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  never  hope  to  reconcile 
two  things  so  inconsistent  as  the  love  of  Thee  and  the 
world. 

Matt.  v.  3.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit :  for  theirs 
is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

To  be  poor  in  spirit — is  to  be  disengaged  from 
wealth,  to  look  upon  it  as  a  burthen  or  a  trust. 

1  Tim.  vi.  8.  "  Having  food  and  raiment,  let  us  be 
therewith  content." 

And  yet  even  the  Christian  world  is  not  content 
without  superfluities  and  excess.  These  disorders  are 
not  less  criminal,  because  so  common. 

Give  me,  O  God,  the  eyes  of  faith,  that  I  may  see 
the  world  just  as  it  is; — the  vanity  of  its  promises,  the 
folly  of  its  pleasures,  the  unprofitableness'  of  its  re- 
wards, the  multitude  of  its  snares,  and  the  dangers  of 
its  temptations. 

FASTING. 

Jesus  Christ  spared  not  his  innocent  flesh,  but 
fasted  ;  the  sinner  cherisheth  his  continually,  refus- 
ing it  nothing. 

Fasting  is  in  some  sense  a  punishment,  a  remedy 
for  present  temptations,  and  a  preservative  against 
future. 

Psal.  cii.  4.  "  My  heart  is  smitten  and  withered 
like  grass ;  so  that  I  forget  to  eat  my  bread." 

The  humble  and  afflicted  soul  is  not  much  con- 
cerned to  please  the  appetite. 

Luke  vi.  25.  "  Wo  unto  you  that  are  full,  for  ye 
shall  hunger;"  that  is,  Ye  whose  daily  meals  are 
feasts,  who  make  profession  of  a  life  of  sensuality, 
who  know  not  what  it  is  to  fast ;  wo  to  such  Chris- 
t-ians ! 

If  we  judge  ourselves  with  severity,  we  shall  be 
judged  with  mercy. 

in  time  of  trouble. 

Psal.  xxxix.  11  ''When  thou  with  rebukes  dost 
correct  man  for  iniquity,  thou  makest  his  beauty  to 
consume  away  like  a  moth." 

0  merciful  God,  who  in  thy  wise  providence  dost 
so  order  even  natural  events,  that  they  serve  both 
for  the  good  of  the  universe,  and  for  the  conviction 
of  particular  sinners,  so  that  men  shall  have  reason 
to  acknowledge  thy  glorious  attributes; — I  do  with 
great  sorrow  of  heart,  but  with  all  submission  to  thy 
good  pleasure,  confess  thy  mercy  as  well  as  justice 
to  me  in  the  judgments,  afflictions,  sorrows  of  this  day. 

1  acknowledge  thy  voice,  O  merciful  God  ;  I  ac- 
knowledge my  own  transgressions,  which  have  pro- 
voked Thee  to  speak  to  me  after  this  manner,  and. 
at  this  very  time. 

O  Lord,  give  me  true  repentance  for  all  the  errors 
of  my  life,  and  particularly  for  that  which  was,  in 
all  probability,  the  occasion  of  this  affliction. 

Blessed  be  God,  that  my  punishment  was  not  as 
great  as  my  crime. 

Blessed  be  God,  that  he  has  given  me  time  to  re- 
pent of  the  sin  that  provoked  him  to  deal  with  me 
after  this  manner. 

Blessed  be  God,  that  when  he  spake  to  me  once, 
yea  twice,  that  I  regarded  it  at  last. 

Good  God  of  mercy,  give  me  grace  that  I  may  not 


14 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


provoke  Thee  any  more  to  repeat  this  word  to  me, 
but  that  I  may  faithfully  perform  those  vows  which 
are  upon  me.  This  I  cannot  do  without  thy  gra- 
cious assistance,  which  I  most  humbly  beseech  Thee 
to  vouchsafe  me,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  who  by  his 
merits  has  purchased  this  grace  for  all  that  faithfully 
ask  it  of  Thee ;  for  his  sake,  O  merciful  God,  grant 
me  this  grace.     Amen. 

I  do  in  all  humility  accept  of  the  punishment  of 
mine  iniquities. 

I  will  hold  my  peace,  and  not  open  my  mouth,  be- 
cause it  is  thy  doing  and  my  deservings. 

I  know,  O  Lord,  that  it  is  good  for  me  to  be  in 
trouble,  or  thou  wouldst  not  suffer  it  to  be  so. 

Let  thy  merciful  kindness  be  my  comfort  accord- 
ing to  thy  promise  to  all  that  love  and  serve  Thee. 

DIFFICULTIES. 

We  are  to  pray  for  the  particular  direction  of 
God's  Holy  Spirit  upon  all  great  occasions ;  we  are 
humbly  to  depend  upon,  and  cheerfully  to  expect  it. 

IN  A  LAWSUIT. 

Convince,  me,  O  God,  if  I  am  under  any  mistake 
in  this  affair. 

Direct,  assist,  and  support  me  under  all  the  diffi- 
culties I  shall  meet  with. 

Put  an  happy  end,  in  thy  good  time,  to  this  trouble- 
some controversy. 

Dispose  the  hearts  of  those  with  whom  we  have 
to  do,  to  peace  and  justice. 

Give  me  grace  to  rest  satisfied  with  whatever  shall 
be  the  issue,  believing  assuredly,  that  God  can  make 
good  any  loss  I  may  sustain,  or  sanctify  it  to  my 
eternal  welfare. 

Lord,  in  this,  and  in  all  other  things  I  undertake, 
Thy  will  be  done,  and  not  mine. 

O  manifest  thy  will  to  me,  preserve  me  from  evil 
counsels,  and  from  rash  enterprises. 


Grant,  O  God,  that  I  may  with  humility  receive, 
and  with  perseverance  hold  fast,  all  those  truths 
which  Thou  hast  revealed. 

I  thank  Thee,  O  God,  for  thy  Holy  Word,  and  for 
that  Thou  hast  not  left  us,  in  the  affairs  of  eternity, 
to  the  uncertainty  of  our  own  reason  and  judgment. 

Defend  me  against  all  delusions  of  error;  the 
snares  of  wit  and  learning ;  the  railleries  of  profane 
men;  and  from  deserting  the  truth.  Grant,  O  God, 
chat  neither  education,  interest,  prejudice,  or  pas- 
sion, may  ever  hinder  me  from  discerning  the  truth. 

Open  the  eyes  of  all  that  are  in  error;  heal  the 
wounds  of  the  divided  church  ;  that  we  may  be  one 
fold  under  one  shepherd.     Amen. 

John  xvi.  13.  "  The  Holy  Spirit  shall  guide  vou 
into  all  truth." 

O  Holy  Spirit,  make  me  to  understand,  embrace, 
and  love  the  truths  of  the  gospel. 

Give,  O  God,  thy  blessing  unto  thy  word,  that  it 
may  become  effectual  to  my  conversion  and  salva- 
tion, and  to  the  salvation  of  all  that  read  and  hear  it. 

Give  me  grace  to  read  thy  Holy  Word  with  re- 
verence and  respect,  becoming  the  gracious  mani- 
festation of  thy  will  to  men  ;  submitting  my  under- 
standing and  will  to  thine. 

Let  thy  gracious  promises,  O  God,  contained  in 
thy  word,  quicken  my  obedience.  Let  thy  dreadful 
threatenings  and  judgments  upon  sinners  frighten 
me  from  sin,  and  oblige  me  to  a  speedy  repentance, 
for  Jesus  Christ  his  sake. 

Cause  me,  O  God,  to  believe  thy  word,  to  obey 
thy  commands,  to  fear  thy  judgments,  and  to  hope 
in,  and  depend  upon,  thy  gracious  promises,  con- 
tained in  thy  Holy  Word,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

Give  me  a  full  persuasion  of  those  great  truths 
which  Thou  hast  revealed  in  thy  Holy  Word. 


The  gospel  will  not  be  a  means  of  salvation  to  him 
who  reads,  or  hears  it  only,  but  to  him  who  reads, 
loves,  remembers,  and  practises  it  by  a  lively  faith. 

Cause  me,  O  God,  rightly  to  understand,  and  con- 
stantly to  walk  in,  the  way  of  thy  commandments. 

Grant  us  in  this  world  knowledge  of  thy  truth, 
and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting,  for  Jesus 
Christ's  sake. 

From  hardness  of  heart,  and  contempt  of  thy  word, 
good  Lord,  deliver  us. 

Give  us  grace  to  hear  meekly  thy  word,  to  receive 
it  with  pure  affection,  and  to  bring  forth  the  fruits 
of  thy  Spirit,  to  amend  our  lives  according  to  thy 
Holy  Word.    Amen. 

SELF-DENIAL. 

Eccles.  xix.  5.  "  He  that  resisteth  pleasure  crown- 
eth  his  life." 

Vouchsafe  me,  gracious  God,  the  graces  of  morti- 
fication and  self-denial,  that  my  affections  and  flesh 
being  subdued  unto  the  spirit,  and  my  heart  and  all 
my  members  being  mortified  from  all  carnal  and 
worldly  lusts,  I  may  ever  obey  thy  blessed  will, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

All  mankind  being  under  the  sentence  of  death, 
certain  to  be  executed,  and  at  an  hour  we  know  not 
of;  a  state  of  repentance  and  self-denial,  of  being 
dead  and  crucified  to  the  world,  is  certainly  the  most 
suitable,  the  most  becoming  temper  that  we  can  be 
found  in,  when  that  sentence  comes  to  be  executed  ; 
that  is,  when  we  come  to  die  : — Especially  when  we 
consider,  that  this  short  and  uncertain  time,  allowed 
us  betwixt  the  sentence  and  execution,  will  deter- 
mine our  condition  for  eternity. 

If  this  be  the  case  of  fallen  man,  as  most  certainly 
it  is,  then  thoughtless  unremitting  pleasure  is  the 
greatest  indecency  ; — a  fondness  of  the  world,  the 
greatest  folly  ; — and  self-indulgence,  downright 
madness. 

And  consequently,  the  contrary  to  these,  namety, 
a  constant  seriousness  of  temper,  an  universal  care 
and  exactness  of  life,  and  indifference  for  the  world, 
self-denial,  sobriety,  and  watchfulness,  must  be  oui 
greatest  wisdom. 

And  this  discovers  to  us  the  reason  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  all  the  duties  of  Christianity,  and  of  God's 
dealings  with  fallen  man  in  this  state  of  trial. 

For  instance  : — Jesus  Christ  commands  us  to  deny 
ourselves,  and  to  take  up  our  cross  daily,  not  because 
he  can  command  what  he  pleases,  (for  he  is  infinite 
goodness,  and  can  command  nothing  but  what  is 
good  for  his  creatures,)  but  because  the  corruption 
of  our  nature  requires  that  we  should  be  forbidden 
every  thing  which  should  increase  our  disorder. 

And  because  this  disorder  has  spread  itself  through 
all  the  powers  of  our  souls  and  bodies,  and  inclines 
to  evil  continually,  he  requires  that  our  self-denial 
should  reach  as  far  as  our  corruption. 

He  commands  us,  therefore,  to  deny  our  own  wis- 
dom, because  we  are  really  blind  as  to  what  con- 
cerns our  own  true  good,  and  should  infallibly  ruin 
ourselves,  if  left  to  our  own  choices. 

He  commands  us  to  deny  our  appetites,  because 
intemperance  would  ruin  us. 

He  forbids  us  to  give  way  to  our  passions ;  because 
a  thousand  evils  will  follow,  if  we  should  do  so. 

He  obliges  us  to  keep  a  very  strict  watch  over  our 
hearts  ;  because  from  thence  proceed  hypocrisy, 
covetousness,  malice,  and  many  other  evils. 

We  are  forbid  to  set  our  hearts  upon  the  world, 
and  every  thing  in  it,  because  our  eternal  happiness 
depends  upon  our  loving  God  with  all  our  heart  and 
soul. 

We  are  obliged  to  love  our  neighbor,  and  our 
very  enemies,  and  are  forbid  to  hate,  to  contend  with, 
to  hurt,  to  go  to  law  with  him,  because  this  would 
exasperate  our  minds,  and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit  of 


SACRA    PR I VAT A 


God,  by  which  we  are  sanctified  ;  being  against  that 
charity  which  God  delights  in. 

We  are  forbid  ail  repining  when  God  afflicts  us, 
because,  as  sinners,  suffering  is  due  to  us.  And  be- 
muse our  bodies  have  a  very  great  influence  over 
)ur  souls,  we  are  commanded  to  fast,  and  to  be 
strictly  temperate  at  all  times,  and  to  deny  ourselves 
the  love  of  sensual  pleasures  and  self-indulgence. 

We  are  commanded  to  deny  all  the  ways  of  folly, 
vanity,  and  false  satisfactions,  that  we  may  be  able 
to  take  satisfaction  and  pleasure  in  the  ways  of  God. 

In  short  ; — in  whatever  instances  we  are  com- 
manded to  deny  ourselves,  it  is  because  it  is  abso- 
lutely necessary,  either  to  cure  our  corruption,  or 
to  qualify  us  for  the  grace  of  God,  or  to  hinder  us 
from  grieving  God's  Holy  Spirit,  and  forcing  him 
to  forsake  us. 

The  more  we  deny  ourselves,  the  freer  we  shall 
be  from  sin,  and  the  more  dear  to  God. 

God  appoints  us  to  sufferings,  chat  we  may  keep 
close  to  Him  ;  and  that  we  may  value  the  sufferings 
of  his  Son,  which  we  should  have  but  a  low  notion 
of,  did  not  our  own  experience  teach  us  what  it  is  to 
suffer. 

They  that  deny  themselves  will  be  sure  to  find 
their  strength  increased,  their  affections  raised;  and 
their  inward  peace  continually  advanced. 

1  Tim.  vi.  8.  "  Having  food  and  raiment,  let  us 
therewith  be  content." 

Let  us  not  imagine  that  excess,  luxury,  and  super- 
fluity, and  the  love  of  pleasures,  are  less  criminal, 
because  they  are  so  eommcr. 

TAKE  UP  THE  CROSS. 

This  is  designed  as  a  peculiar  favor  to  Christians, 
as  indeed  are  all  Christ's  commands.  Miseries  are 
tne  unavoidable  portion  of  fallen  man.  All  the 
difference  is,  Christians  suffering  in  obedience  to 
the  will  of  God,  it  makes  them  easy;  unbelievers 
suffer  the  same  things,  but  with  an  uneasy  will  and 
mind. 

To  follow  our  own  will,  our  passion,  and  our 
sense,  is  that  which  makes  us  miserable.  It  is  for 
this  reason,  and  that  we  have  a  remedy  for  all  our 
evils,  that  Jesus  Christ  obliges  us  to  submit  our  will, 
our  passion^,  &c.  to  God. 

The  good  Christian  is  not  one  who  has  no  incli- 
nation to  sin,  (for  we  have  all  the  seed  of  sin  in  us ;) 
but  who,  being  sensible  of  such  inclinations,  denieth 
them  continually,  and  suffers  them  not  to  grow  into 
evil  actions. 

Every  day  deny  yourself  some  satisfaction  ;  your 
eyes,  objects  of  mere  curiosity; — your  tongue,  every 
thing  that  may  feed  vanity,  or  vent  enmity ;— the 
palate,  dainties  ; — the  ears,  flattery,  and  whatever 
corrupts  the  heart; — the  body,  ease  and  luxury; — 
bearing  all  the  inconveniences  of  life,  (for  the  love 
of  God,)  cold,  hunger,  restless  nights,  ill  health, 
unwelcome  news,  the  faults  of  servants,  contempt, 
ingratitude  of  friends,  malice  of  enemies,  calumnies, 
our  own  failings,  lowness  of  spirits,  the  stru. 
overcoming  our  corruptions  ;  bearing  all  the 
patience  and  resignation  to  the  will  of  God.  Do  all 
this  as  unto  God,  with  the  greatest  privacy. 

All  ways  are  indifferent  to  one  who  has  heaven 
in  his  eye,  as  a  traveller  does  not  choose  the  plea- 
santest,  but  the  shortest  and  safest  way  to  his  jour- 
ney's end  :  and  that  is,  the  way  of  the  cross,  which 
Jesus  Christ  made  choice  of,  and  sanctified  it  to  all 
his  followers. 

Matt.  viii.  20.  "  The  Son  of  Man  has  not  where 
to  lay  his  head." 

This  should  fill  us  with  confusion,  whenever  we 
are  overmuch  concerned  for  the  conveniences  of  life. 

Our  affections  being  very  strongly  inclined  to  sen- 
sible good,  for  the  sake  of  which  we  are  often  templ- 
ed to  evil,  and  fall  into  great  disorders,  we  should 
52* 


resolve  to  sacrifice  our  will  to  reason,  and  reason  io 
the  will  of  God. 

God  does  not  require  it  of  us,  that  we  should  not 
feel  any  uneasiness  under  the  cross,  but  that  we 
should  strive  to  overcome  it  by  his  grace. 

VIRTUES  OF  AN  HOLY  LIFE. 

Fervency  in  devotion  ; — frequency  in  prayer ; — 
aspiring  after  the  love  of  God  continually ; — striving 
to  get  above  the  world  and  the  body  ;  loving  silence 
and  solitude,  as  far  as  one's  condition  will  permit ; 
humble  and  affable  to  all  ; — patient  in  suflering 
affronts  and  contradictions; — glad  of  occasions  of 
doing  good  even  to  enemies;  doing  the  will  of  God, 
and  promoting  his  honor  to  the  uttermost  of  one's 
power  ; — resolving  never  to  offend  him  willingly, 
for  any  temporal  pleasure,  profit,  or  loss.  These  are 
virtues  highly  pleasing  to  God. 

Self-denial  does  not  consist  in  fasting  and  other 
mortifications  only,  but  in  an  indifference  for  the  icurla, 
its  profits,  pleasures,  honors,  and  its  other  idols. 

It  is  necessary  that  we  deny  ourselves  in  little  and 
indifferent  things,  when  reason  and  conscience, 
which  is  the  voice  of  God,  suggests  it  to  us,  as  ever 
we  hope  to  get  the  rule  over  our  own  will. 

Say  not,  it  is  a  trifle,  and  not  fit  to  make  a  sacri- 
fice of  to  God.  He  that  will  not  sacrifice  a  little 
affection,  will  hardly  offer  a  greater.  It  is  not  the 
thing,  but  the  reason  and  manner  of  doing  it ;  name- 
ly, for  God's  sake,  and  that  I  may  accustom  myself 
to  obey  his  voice,  that  God  regards,  and  rewards 
with  greater  degrees  of  grace. 

The  greater  your  self-denial,  the  firmer  your  faith, 
and  more  acceptable  to  God.  The  sincere  devotion 
of  the  rich,  the  alms  of  the  poor,  the  humility  of  the 
great,  the  faith  of  such  whose  condition  is  desperate, 
the  contemning  the  world  when  one  can  command 
it  at  pleasure,  continuing  instant  in  prayer,  even 
when  we  want  the  consolation  we  expected  :  These, 
and  such-like  instances  of  self-denial,  God  will  great- 
ly bless. 

They  who  imagine  that  self-denial  intrenches 
upon  our  liberty,  do  not  know  that  it  is  this  only 
that  can  make  us  free  indeed,  giving  us  the  victory 
over  ourselves,  setting  us  free  from  the  bondage 
of  our  corruption,  enabling  us  to  bear  afflictions, 
(which  will  come  one  time  or  other,)  to  foresee 
them  without  amazement,  enlightening  the  mind, 
sanctifying  the  will,  and  making  us  to  slight  those 
baubles  which  others  so  eagerly  contend  for. 

Mortification  consists  in  such  a  sparing  use  of  the 
creatures,  as  may  deaden  our  love  for  them,  and 
make  us  more  indifferent  in  the  enjoyment  of  them. 
This  lessens  the  weight  of  concupiscence  which  car- 
ries us  to  evil,  and  so  make  the  grace  of  God  more 
effectual  to  turn  the  balance  of  the  will.* 

Carnal  man  cannot  comprehend  that  God  loves 
those  whom  he  permits  to  suffer;— but  faith  teacheth 
us,  that  the  cross  is  the  gift  of  his  love,  the  founda- 
tion of  our  hope,  the  mark  of  his  children,  and  the 
title  of  an  inheritance  in  heaven.  But  unless  God 
sanctify  it  by  his  Spirit,  it  becomes  an  insupportable 
burthen,  a  subject  of  murmuring,  and  an  occasion 
of  sin. 

He  that  loveth  life  (that  is,  is  fond  of  it)  for  tha 
sake  of  the  pleasures  and  advantages  it  afford*,  will 
soon  lose  the  love  of  heavenly  things;  toe  love  of 
God,  of  his  soul,  and  of  the  duty  he  owei  to  them: 
he  hates  it,  who  does  not  value  it  in  comparison  of 
eternal  life,  which  he  hopes  for.  A  Christian  gives 
proof  of  this  by  mortifying  himself. 

Those  whom  God  loves,  in  order  to  an  happ7 
eternity,  he  weans  from  the  pleasures  of  this  pre- 
sent life. 

Temperance  consists  in  a  sober  use  of  all  earthlv 

*  Norris's  Christian  Prudence,  p.  300. 


16 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


visible  things,  and  in  confining  ourselves  within  the 
compass  of  what  is  necessary. 

WITH   GOD   ALL   THINGS    ARE   POSSIBLE. 

The  Almighty  God  enable  me  to  conquer  the 
temptation  of  riches,  and  to  get  above  the  allure- 
ments of  this  present  life ! 

Christian  self-denial  is,  to  resist  and  crucify  in 
ourselves  the  spirit  and  inclinations  of  Adam  -the 
flesh,  its  affections  and  lusts, — to  die  to  our  pas- 
sions, in  order  to  follow  the  motions  of  the  Spirit. 


Necessary  to  bring  our  hearts  to  a  penitent,  holy, 
and  devout  temper;  and  to  perform  the  vows  that 
are  upon  us. 

By  fasting,  by  alms,  and  by  prayers,  we  dedicate 
our  bodies,  goods,  and  souls,  to  God  in  a  particular 
manner. 


THURSDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

Epbes.  iv.  29.  Let  no  corrupt  communication  pro- 
ceed out  of  your  mouth,  but  that  which  is  good  to 
the  use  of  edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace  unto 
the  hearers. 

Ephes.  v.  4.  Foolish  talking,  and  jesting,  are  not 
convenient. 

Preserve  me,  0  God,  from  a  vain  conversation. 
Give  me  grace  never  to  be  ashamed  or  afraid  to 
speak  of  Thee,  and  of  thy  law. 

Give  me  a  lively  sense  of  the  value  of  religion, 
and  make  it  the  delight  of  my  heart;  that  I  may 
speak  of  it  with  judgment,  seriousness,  and  affec- 
tion, and  at  all  seasonable  times. 

May  that  good  Spirit,  which  appeared  in  the  like- 
ness of  tongues  of  fire,  warm  my  heart,  and  direct 
my  thoughts. 

Matth.  xii.  34.  "  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh.  How  can  ye,  being 
evil,  speak  good  things  1  By  thy  words  thou  shalt 
be  justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  con- 
demned." 

Ps.  cxli.  3.  "  Set  a  guard,  O  Lord,  upon  my 
mouth,  and  keep  the  door  of  my  lips." 

Ps.  xxxvii.  30.  "  The  mouth  of  the  righteous 
ipeaketh  wisdom,  and  his  tongue  talketh  of  judg- 
ment." 

Hearts  truly  touched  with  the  love  of  God,  will 
communicate  "light  and  heat  to  each  other, — will 
speak  honorably  of  God,  of  his  perfections,  his  jus- 
tice, goodness,  wisdom,  and  power, — the  excellency 
of  his  laws, — the  pleasantness  of  his  service, — the  in- 
stances of  his  love, —  the  rewards  he  has  promised 
to  his  friends,  and  the  punishments  he  has  prepared 
for  his  enemies. 

Matth.  v.  16.  "Let  your  light  so  shine  before 
men,  that  they  may  see  your  good  works,  and  glo- 
rify your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

1  Thess.  v.  11.  "  Wherefore  comfort  yourselves 
together,  and  edifv  one  another." 

Heb.  x.  14.  "  Let  us  consider  one  another,  to 
provoke  unto  love,  and  to  good  works." 

And  let  us  join  a  good  life  to  our  religious  con- 
versation ;  and  never  contradict  our  tongue  by  our 
deeds. 

We  always  do  good  or  harm  to  others  by  the 
manner  of  our  conversation  ;  we  either  confirm 
them  in  sin,  or  awaken  them  to  piety. 

It  is  too  true  that  some  evil  passion  or  other,  and 
to  gratify  our  corruption,  is  the  aim  of  most  conver- 
sations. We  love  to  speak  of  past  troubles; — ha- 
tred and  ill-will  make  us  take  pleasure  in  relating 
'the  t.TC.  actions  of  our  enemies.  We  compare, 
.wi-ii  „r:rie  degree  of  pride,  the  advantages  we  have 
*rer  others.    We  recount,  with  too  sensible  a  plea- 


sure, the  worldly  happiness  we  enjoy.  This  strength- 
ens our  passions,  and  increases  our  corruption.  God 
grant  that  I  may  watch  against  a  weakness  which 
has  such  evil  consequences. 

May  I  never  hear,  never  repeat  with  pleasure, 
such  things  as  may  dishonor  God,  hurt  my  own 
character,  or  injure  my  neighbor. 
James  iv.  11.  "  Speak  not  evil  one  of  another." 
Truly  humility  makes  us  see  our  own  faults, 
Avithout  concerning  ourselves  with  the  faults  of 
others. 

AGAINST   ANGER. 

Eccles.  vii.  9.  "  Be  not  hasty  in  thy  spirit  to  be 
angry,  for  anger  resteth  in  the  bosom  of  fools." 

O  Lord,  who  art  a  God  ready  to  pardon,  slow  to 
anger,  and  of  great  kindness,  remove  far  from  me 
all  occasions  and  effects  of  causeless  and  immode- 
rate anger;  all  pride  and  prejudice,  and  too  much 
concern  for  the  things  of  this  world  :  all  intemper- 
ate speeches  and  indecent  passions. 

Give  me,  O  God,  a  mild,  a  peaceable,  a  meek, 
and  an  humble  spirit,  that  remembering  my  own  in- 
firmities, I  may  bear  with  those  of  others: — That  I 
may  think  lowly  of  myself,  and  not  be  angry  when 
other,;  think  lowly  of  me;  that  I  may  be  patient  to- 
wards all  men;  gentle  and  easy  to  be  entreated 
that  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  may  be  so  towards  me. 
Amen. 

Ephes.  iv.  26.  "  Be  angry,  and  sin  not :  Let  not 
the  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath." 

Prov.  xix.  11.  "The  discretion  of  a  man  defer- 
reth  his  anger." 

A  soft  answer  turneth  away  strife. 

Prov.  xvi.  32.  "  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  bet- 
ter than  the  mighty;  and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit, 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

Rom.  xii.  20.  "  Be  kindly  affectioned  one  towards 
another." 

Suppress  the  very  beginnings  of  anger. 

Do  not  use  to  indulge  it  even  where  there  are 
real  faults ;  but  try  the  gentle  way,  which  may  pro- 
bably succeed  better,  and  to  be  sure  with  more  ease 
by  far. 

Seldom  do  people  vex  us  on  purpose,  and  yet  pre- 
judice very  often  makes  us  think  that  they  do. 

A  sense  of  one's  own  integrity  will  make  one 
pass  by  injuries  more  easily. 

Be  hot  too  much  concerned  to  tell  the  injuries  you 
have  received. 

Accustom  yourselves  to  silence,  if  you  would 
learn  to  govern  your  tongue. 

Deliver  me,  0  God,  from  all  violent  and  sinful 
passions,  and  give  me  grace  to  stand  against  them. 

Matth.  v.  4.     "  Blessed  are  the  meek." 

Instruct  me,  Lord,  in  this  Christian  virtue  ;  Thou 
who  art  the  master  and  teacher  of  it. 

FOR   FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

Luke  vi.  37.  "  Forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  for- 
given." 

O  God,  who  alone  canst  order  the  unruly  wills 
and  affections  of  sinful  men,  show  mercy  to  thy 
servant,  in  forcing  my  corrupt  nature  to  be  obedient 
to  thy  commands. 

O  God,  who  hast  made  it  my  everlasting  interest, 
as  well  as  my  duty,  to  forgive  my  neighbor  what- 
ever wrong  he  hath  done  me  ;  help  me  to  overcome 
all  the  difficulties  I  have  to  struggle  with,  ail  pride, 
prejudice,  and  desire  of  rendering  evil  for  evil, 
that  I  may  not  deprive  my  soul  of  that  mercy  which 
thine  infinite  goodness  has  offered  to  sinners. 

James  ii.  13.  "  He  shall  have  judgment  without 
mercy,  that  hath  shown  no  mercy." 

O  blessed  God,  help  me  in  this  great  concern,  that 
I  may  never  fall  under  thy  wrath,  for  want  of 
showing  mercy  to  others ;  but  grant,  0  blessed  Je- 


»  a  ^  n.  ±\.   r 

■  ;r.5  that  in  this  I  may  be  thy  disciple  indeed. — 
Amen. 


Matth.  xt.  19.  "  The  Son  of  Man  came  eatin? 
and  drinking,  and  they  say,  Behold  a  man  glutton- 
ous and  a  wine-bibber,  a  friend  of  publicans  and 
sinners." 

Whatever  measure  a. good  man  takes,  he  will 
hardly  escape  ths  censures  of  the  world;  the  best 
way  is,  not  io  be  concerned  at  them. 

It  is  an  instance  of  humility  silently  to  bear  the 
calumnies  which  are  raised  against  us,  when  they 
relate  to  ourselves  only ;  but  it  is  a  duty  of  prudence 
and  charity  modestly  to  vindicate  ourselves,  when 
the  honor  of  God  and  the  church  is  concerned. — 
Both  Jesus  Christ  and  John  the  Baptist  were  slan- 
dered :  who  then  will  complain  that  they  cannot  sa- 
tisfy the  world,  and  stop  men's  months  ? 

Psal.  cxx.  2.  "  Deliver  my  soul,  O  Lord,  from 
lying  lips,  and  from  a  deceitful  tongue. 


SACRA   PRIVATA. 


17 


UXCHARJTABLENESS. 


Envy  makes  us  see  Avhat  will  serve  to  accuse 
others,  and  not  perceive  what  may  justify  them.  A 
truly  good  man  is  always  disposed  to  excuse  what 
is  evil  in  his  brethren  as  far  as  truth  will  sutler 
him. 


FRIDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

PENITENCE. 

Luke  xviii.  3.  The  publican,  standing  afar  off, 
would  not  so  much  as  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  but 
smote  upon  his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful  to 
mc  a  sinner. 

What  would  become  of  me,  if  Thou,  0  God, 
shouldst  not  have  mercy  upon  me  ? 

When  I  seriously  consider  these  dreadful  truths, 
—  That  all  they  are  accursed,  who  do  err,  and  go 
astray  from  thy  commandments, —  That  the  unprofita- 
ble servant  iv as  cast  into  outer  darkness ; — When  I 
think  of  these  things,  I  cannot  but  fear  for  myself, 
and  tremble  to  think  of  the  account  I  have  to  give. 

Isaiah  lxvi.  2.  "  To  this  man  will  I  look,  even 
to  him  that  is  poor,  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and 
trembleth  at  my  word." 

Psal.  xxxiv.  11.  "  The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  them 
that  are  of  a  contrite  heart:  and  will  save  such  as 
be  of  an  humble  spirit." 

Look  upon  me,  gracious  Lord,  with  an  eye  of 
mercy. 

Psal.  xxv.  2.  "  For  thy  name's  sake,  O  Lord, 
pardon  my  iniquities,  for  they  are  great." 

My  only  comfort  is,  they  are  not  too  great  for 
thy  mercy. 

And  the  Lord  Jesus  our  advocate  has  assured  us 
even  with  an  oath,  That  all  sin  shall  be  forgiven 
unto  the  sons  of  men.  That  is,  if  with  hearty  repent- 
ance and  true  faith  they  turn  unto  God. 

O  most  powerful  advocate  !  I  put  my  cause  into 
thy  hands; — let  it  be  unto  thy  servant  according  to 
this  word: — let  thy  blood  and  merits  plead  for  my 
pardon  ; — say  unto  me,  as  thou  didst  unto  the  peni- 
tent in  thy  gospel,  Thy  sins  are  forgiven.  And 
grant  that  I  may  live  to  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for 
repentance. 

Matt.  vi.  14.  "If  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses, 
your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive  your  tres- 
passes." 

Even  the  power  to  perform  this  most  kind  condi- 
tion must  be  from  thy  grace,  O  Jesus! 

And  I  trust  thou  wilt  grant  me  this  grace,  be- 
cause the  very  will  to  ask  it  is  from  Thee,  and  from 
thy  will,  which  wills  nothing  in  vain. 

Perfect,  therefore,  0  my  Saviour,  the  work  which 


Thou  hast  begun  in  me;  and  let  me  feel  the  effects 
of  thy  grace,  in  the  constancy  of  my  devotion, — in 
the  care  of  my  soul, — in  the  faithful  discharge  of 
my  duty, — and  in  all  such  acts  of  righteousness,  pi- 
ety, and  charity,  by  which  I  shall  be  judged  at  the 
last  day. 

John  v.  14.  "  Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing 
come  unto  thee." 

Make  me,  O  Lord,  ever  mindful  of  my  infirmi- 
ties and  backslidings,  that  I  may  be  more  watchful 
and  more  importunate  for  grace,  for  the  time  to 
come. 

Matt.  v.  7.  "Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they 
shall  obtain  mercy." 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  true  compassion  for  the 
wants  and  miseries  of  others,  thai  thou  mayst  have 
compassion  upon  me. 

Luke  xvi.  10.  "  There  is  joy  in  the  presence  of 
God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth." 

Lord,  increase  the  number  of  penitents,  and  the 
joys  of  heaven,  in  delivering  me  and  all  sinners 
from  the  power  of  the  devil,  and  in  vouchsafing  us 
the  grace  of  a  true  conversion. 

Matt.  v.  4.  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn :  for 
they  shall  be  comforted.-' 

O  Lord,  grant  that  I  may  seek  for  comfort  not  in 
the  things  of  this  world,  but  by  a  sincere  repentance 
for  my  sins,  by  which  God  is  dishonored,  and  his 
judgments  hanging  over  my  head. 

Luke  xix.  10.  "  The  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  seek 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost." 

O  comfortable  words  for  lost  sinners;  God  him- 
self seeks  to  save  them.  O  thou,  who  sought  me 
when  I  was  astray,  save  me  for  thy  mercy's  sake, 
and  preserve  that  which  thou  hast  sought  and 
found. 

Matt.  ix.  28.  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

O  Jesus,  conduct  and  keep  me  to  thyself,  or  I 
may  surely  miss  the  way. 

Phil.  ii.  12.  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling;  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in 
you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure. 

It  was  not  in  myself,  O  God,  to  begin  the  work 
of  my  conversion; — finish,  I  beseech  Thee,  that 
which  Thou  hast  begun  in  me ;  may  I  close  with 
thy  grace  and  persevere  unto  my  life's  end. 

Micah  vii.  18.  "  God  retaineth  not  his  anger  for 
ever,  because  he  delighteth  in  mercy." 

Ezra  ix.  15.  "  O  Lord  God,  behold,  we  are  before 
thee  in  our  trespasses;  we  cannot  stand  before  thee 
for  this." 

Numb.  xiv.  19.  "  Pardon,  I  beseech  Thee,  the 
iniquity  of  thy  servant,  according  to  the  greatness 
of  thy  mercy." 

0  say  unto  me,  as  thou  didst  unto  Moses,  I  have 
pardoned  thee. 

Ezek.  xviii.  22.  "  All  his  iniquities  that  he  hath 
committed,  they  shall  not  be  mentioned  unto  him." 

Lord,  be  merciful  unto  us,  for  we  have  sinned  in 
the  midst  of  light,  and  even  against  light. 

1  John  i.  9.  "  If  we  confess  our  sins,  God  is 
faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to 
cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness." 

These  are  comfortable  words  to  one  whom  the 
sight  of  his  sins  has  cast  into  a  dread  of  the  judg- 
ments of  God.  Both  that  dread,  and  the  hatred  of 
sin,  and  the  dependence  upon  the  promise  of  God, 
and  the  love  that  that  produces  in  the  soul,  are  ow- 
ing entirely  to  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 

2  Sam.  ix.  8.  "  What  is  thy  servant,  that;  thou 
shouldst  look  upon  such  a  dead  dog  as  I  am  V 

My  only  support  is,  that  my  sins  have  not  put  me 
out  of  the  reach  of  that  mercy  which  is  infinite. 

Who  can  understand  his  errors?  O  cleanse  Thou 
me  from  my  secret  faults. 


a 


SACRA    PR  IV  AT  A. 


O  Lord,  be  favorable  unto  me;  pardon  and  de- 
liver me  from  all  my  sins. 

Grant  that  my  sins  may  never  rise  up  in  judg- 
ment against  me,  nor  bring  shame  and  confusion  of 
face  upon  me. 

My  soul  truly  vvaiteth  still  upon  God,  for  of  him 
cometh  my  salvation. 

John  vi.  20.    <:  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

Lord  Jesus,  in  all  the  troubles  that  shall  befall 
me,  speak  these  comfortable  words  to  my  soul,  It  is 
I,  be  not  afraid ;  and  then  I  shall  be  secure  both 
from  presumption  and  despair. 

John  viii.  24.  "  If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  he, 
(that  is,  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  God,)  ye  shall  die 
in  your  sins." 

O  Jesus,   the   only  refuge  of  sinners,   does  the 

world  know  what  it  is  to  die  in  sinl 1  believe, 

Lord,  increase  my  faith,  and  deliver  us  all  from  the 
dreadful  state  of  final  impenitency. 

31.  "  If  ye  continue  in  my  word,  then  are  ye  my 
disciples  indeed." 

May  I,  O  Jesus,  love  the  truths  of  thy  word ; 
make  the  gospel  my  delight;  and  continue  in  the 
practice  of  them  to  my  life's  end. 

51.  "  If  a  man  keep  my  saying,  he  shall  never 
see  death." 

0  Jesus,  Thou  hast  made  known  to  us  another 
death,  besides  that  which  separates  the  soul  from 
the  body.  O  may  thy  grace  and  mercy  secure  us 
from  the  bitter  pains  of  eternal  death. 

Luke  vii.  7.  "  Say  the  word,  and  my  servant 
shall  be  healed." 

1  acknowledge,  O  Jesus,  the  almighty  power  of 
thy  grace  to  heal  all  the  disorders  of  my  soul ;  O 
deal  with  me  according  to  the  multitude  of  thy  mer- 
cies, and  heal  my  soul  of  its  sad  disorders. 

John  iii.  24.  "  God  is  a  spirit ;  and  they  that  wor- 
ship him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

Give  me,  O  Jesus,  an  inward  disposition  to  holi- 
ness, an  humble  and  contrite  heart,  a  dependence 
un  the  will  of  God,  an  acknowledgment  of  his  good- 
ness, and  a  zeal  for  his  glory  ;  to  which  all  the  ordi- 
nances of  his  law  and  gospel  should  lead  us. 

GOOD   USE    OF    TIME. 

Grant,  O  Lord,  that,  as  I  have  but  a  short  time 
to  live,  and  an  eternal  interest  depending,  I  may  not 
squander  away  one  moment  in  vanity,  or  in  that 
which  will  not  profit  me  in  the  day  of  adversity. 

Rom.  xi.  16.  "Blindness  in  part  is  happened  to 
Israel,  until  the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles  be  come  in, 
and  so  all  Israel  shall  be  saved." 

O  God,  the  God  of  Abraham,  look  upon  thine 
everlasting  covenant;  cause  the  captivity  of  Judah 
and  of  Israel  to  return.  They  were  thy  people ; 
O  be  Thou  their  Saviour,  that  all  who  love  Jerusa- 
lem, and  mourn  for  her,  may  rejoice  with  her  for 
Jesus  Christ's  sake,  their  Saviour  and  ours. — 
Amen. 

IN   TIME   OF   PUBLIC   DISTRACTIONS. 

O  Sovereign  Lord !  I  prostrate  myself  before 
Thee,  confessing  my  own  sin,  and  acknowledging 
the  justice  of  any  scourge  which  Thou  shalt  bring 
upon  us;  and  trembling  to  think  how  much  I  may 
have  contributed  towards  it ; — beseeching  Thee  to 
have  compassion  on  u.>,  in  these  days  of  confusion. 

O  Lord,  prevent  the  judgments  that  threaten  us; 
— purge  this  nation  from  all  suck  crimes  as  may  be 
the  cause  of  thy  heavy  displeasure  against  us, — 
from  licentiousness  and  drunkenness ; — from  swear- 
ins;,  lying,  &nd  perjury  ; — from  sacrilege,  injustice, 
fraud,  disobedience,  malice,  and  uncharitableness. — 
Take  from  us  the  spirit  of  atheism,  irrcligion,  and 
profaneness ;  and  in  mercy  rebuke  and  convert  all 
such  as  give  encouragement  or  countenance  to  any 
of  these  vices,  which  may  provoke  Thee  to  give  us 
up  to  infidelity  or  destruction.     0  let  thy  anger  be 


turned  away  from  us;— give  us  not  over  unto  the 
will  of  our  adversaries,  and  unto  such  as  strive  to 
bring  all  things  into  confusion.  Preserve  this 
Church  in  the  midst  of  all  dangers;  and  restore 
unto  us  peace  and  unity;  and  grant  us  grace  to 
make  a  better  use  of  these  blessings  for  the  time  to 
come,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 

Isaiah  lxii.  6.  "  Ye  that  are  the  Lord's  remem- 
brancers, keep  not  silence:  give  him  no  rest,  till  he 
establish  and  till  he  make  Jerusalem  (his  Church,) 
a  praise  on  the  earth." 

Thy  kingdom  come. — Though  we  are  altogether 
unworthy  of  the  good  times  Thou  hast  promised 
thy  Church,  yet  we  beseech  Thee  deprive  us  not  of 
them. 

O  Lord,  hear;  O  Lord,  forgive;  O  Lord, 
hearken,  and  do  not  defer  these  good  days,  for  thine 
own  sake,  oh!  our  God. 

We  hope  a  day  is  coming,  when  all  the  world 
will  come  and  worship  thee,  O  God. — See  Jer.  xxxi. 

Christ's   patience. 

What  sorrows  did  he  undergo,  and  with  what 
patience  did  he  suffer  them!  Patient,  when  Judas 
unworthily  betrayed  him  with  a  kiss, — patient, 
when  Caiaphas  despitefully  used  him; — patient, 
when  hurried  from  one  place  to  another ; — patient, 
when  Herod  with  his  men  of  war  set  him  at 
naught; — patient,  when  Pilate  so  unrighteously 
condemned  him ; — patient,  when  scourged  and 
crowned  with  thorns ; — patient,  when  his  cross  was 
laid  upon  him,  when  he  was  reviled,  reproached, 
scoffed  at,  and  every  way  abused.  Lord  Jesus, 
grant  me  patience,  after  this  example,  to  bear  thy 
holy  will  in  all  things. 

Christ's  love  and  charity. 

Where  shall  we  take  our  pattern,  but  from  Thee  1 
— Thou  calledst  thy  followers  thy  friends.  Thou 
didst  stoop  down  to  wash  their  feet,  who  were  not 
worthy  to  untie  thy  shoe.  Thou  didst  forgive  and 
restore  Peter,  when  he  had  abjured  Thee.  Thou 
didst  vouchsafe  to  satisfy  Thomas,  who  would  not 
believe  but  upon  his  own  terms.  Thou  didst  for- 
give and  pray  for  thy  bloody  persecutors.  O  thou 
Fountain  and  Pattern  of  Love,  grant  that  I  may 
love  Thee  above  all  things,  and  my  neighbor  as 
myself! 


SATURDAY  MEDITATIONS. 

preparation  for  death. 

Deut.  xxxii.  29.     O  that  they  were  wise,  that  they 

would  consider  their  latter  end. 
John  ix.  4.   The  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can 

work. 

A  very  gracious  intimation.  Lord,  grant  that  1 
may  never  forget  it ;  and  that  note,  now  is  the  time, 
in  which  to  provide  for  eternity. 

What  a  wise  man  then,  when  he  comes  to  die 
would  wish  he  had  done,  that  he  ought  to  do  forth- 
with; for  death  is  at  hand,  and  the  consequences  of 
a  surprise  most  dreadful.  He  will  then  wish,  if  he 
has  not  done  it,  with  all  his  soul. 

First.  That  he  had  made  a  just  and  Christian 
settlement  of  his  wordly  concerns;  so  as  not  to  be 
distracted  with  the  cares  of  this  world,  when  all 
his  thoughts  should  be  upon  another. 

Secondly.  That  he  had  made  his  peace  with  God 
by  a  timely  repentance. 

Thirdly.  That  he  had  faithfully  discharged  the 
duties  of  his  calling. 

Fourthly.  That  he  had  weaned  his  affections 
from  things  temporal,  and  loosened  the  ties  which 
fasten  us  to  the  world. 

Fifthly.    That  he  had  crucified  the  flesh  with  its 


SACRA    PR  I  VAT  A 


19 


affections  and  lusts;  so  that,  being  weary  of  this 
life,  he  might  be  more  desirous  of  a  better. 

Sixthly-  That  he  had  got  such  habits  of  patience 
and  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  during  his 
health,  as  may  render  death,  with  all  the  train  of 
miseries  leading  to  it,  less  frightful  and  amazing. 

Seventhly,  and  lastly.  That  by  a  constant  prac- 
tice of  devotion  preparatory  for  death,  he  had  learn- 
ed what  to  pray  for,  what  to  hope  for,  what  to  de- 
pend on  in  his  last  sickness. 

And  this,  gracious  Lord,  is  what  I  wish  for,  what 
I  pray  for,  and  what  I  purpose  shall  be  the  con- 
stant practice  of  my  life.    Amen. 

2  Kings  xx.  1.  "Set  thine  house  Tfia  order,  for 
thou  shall  die  and  not  live." 

May  God,  who  has  every  way  provided  for  me, 
and  put  it  into  my  power  to  be  just  to  all  men,  cha- 
ritable to  the  poor,  grateful  to  my  friends,  kind  to 
my  servants,  and  a  benefactor  to  the  public  :  may  he 
add  this  to  all  his  favors,  and  grant  that  in  making 
my  last  will,  I  may  faithfully  discharge  all  these 
engagements;  and  that  for  want  of  that,  no  curse 
may  cleave  to  myself,  or  to  any  thing  I  shall  leave 
behind  me.    Amen. 

But,  above  all  things,  I  beg  of  Thee,  O  God,  to 
enable  me  to  set  my  inward  house,  my  soul,  in  or- 
der, before  I  die. 

Give  me  true  repentance  for  all  the  errors  of  my 
life  past,  and  steadfast  faith  in  thy  Son  .'  x 
Christ:  that  my  sins  may  be  done  away  b)  thy 
mercy,  and  my  pardon  sealed  in  heaven. 

Prov.  xxvii.  13.  "  Whoso  confesseth  and  for- 
sakethhis  sin  shall  have  mercy." 

Behold,  O  God,  a  creature,  liable  every  moment 
to  death,  prostrate  before  Thee,  begging  for  Jesus 
Christ's  sake,  that  faith  and  repentance  to  which 
Thou  hast  promised  mercy  and  pardon. 

Discover  to  me,  O  Thou  Searcher  of  Hearts,  the 
charge  that  is  against  me;  that  I  may  know,  and 
confess,  and  bewail,  and  abhor,  and  forsake,  and 
repent  of  all  the  evils  I  have  been  guilty  of. 

Have  mercy  upon  me,  have  mercy  upon  me,  mo^t 
merciful  Father,  who  desireth  not  the  death  of  a 
sinner;  for  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  forgive  me 
all  that  is  past. 

And,  O  blessed  Advocate,  who  art  able  to  save 
them  for  ever  who  come  unto  God  by  Thee,  seeing 
Thou  ever  livest  to  make  intercession  for  us,  I  put 
my  cause  into  thy  hands:  let  thy  power  defend  me  ; 
thy  blood  and  merits  plead  for  me ;  supply  all  the 
defects  of  my  repentance;  procure  for  me  a  faV 
discharge  of  all  my  sins  before  I  die:  and  by  Ofy 
mighty  grace,  confirm  and  strengthen  me  in  all 
iess  during  the  remainder  of  my  life,  that  my 
death  may  be  a  blessing  to  me,  and  that  I  may  find 
mercy  at  the  great  day.    Amen. 

Ephes.  iv.  24.  "  Put  on  the  new  man,  which 
after  God  is  created  in  righteousness  and  true  ho- 
liness." 

This,  O  God,  is  what  I  desire  and  purpose,  by 
thv  grace,  to  do;  and  do  again  renew  the  vows 
which  I  have  so  often  made,  and  too  often  broken. 

I  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works;  the  vain 
of  the  world,  with  all  covetous  de- 
sires' of  the  same,  and  the  carnai  desires  of  the 
flesh,  resolving,  by  thy  grace,  neither  to  follow  nor 
be  led  by  them. 

And,'0  God,  assist  me,  that  neither  sloth  nor  cor- 
ruption may  ever  make  me  lay  aside  or  forget 
these  resolutions;  but  that  I  may  live  to  Thee  — 
be  an  instrument  to  thv  glory,  by  serving  Thee 
faithfully  ;  and  that  I  may  be  found  so  doing  when 
thou  art  pleased  to  call  me  hence,  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake.    Amen. 

Col.  iii.  2.  "Set  your  affections  on  things  above, 
not  on  things  on  the  earth." 

And  may  Almighty  God.  who  alone  can  do  it, 


effectually  convince  me  of  the  vanity  of  all  that  is 
desirable  in  this  present  life,  that  I  may  not,  like  an 
unbeliever,  look  for  happiness  here. 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  perfect  indifference  for  the 
world,  its  profits,  pleasures,  honors,  fame,  and  all  its 
idols. 

Represent  thyself  unto  me  as  my  true  happiness, 
that  1  may  love  Thee  with  all  my  heart,  and  soul, 
and  strength  ;  so  that  when  1  am  called  out  of  this 
world,  I  may  rejoice  in  hope  of  going  to  the  para- 
dise of  God,  where  the  souls  of  the  faithful  enjoy 
rest  and  felicity,  in  hopes  of  a  blessed  resurrection, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour.  Amen. 

Luke  ix.  23.  "If  any  man  will  come  after  me 
let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily 
and  follow  me." 

Blessed  Jesus,  who  pleasest  not  thyself,  but  took- 
est  upon  Thee  the  form  of  a  servant,  give  me  reso- 
lution to  deny  my  inclinations; — to  subdue  my  cor- 
rupt affections,  and  to  show  the  fruits  of  repentance  ; 
— for  misspending  my  time,  by  retirement ; — for  the 
errors  of  my  tongue,  by  silence; — ami  for  all  the 
sins  of  my  life,  by  a  deep  humiliation  patiently  sub- 
mitting to  all  the  troubles  with  which  Thou  shak 
think  fit  to  exercise  or  punish  me;  so  that  being  ef- 
fectually weaned  from  this  wor/d,  and  weary  of  its 
corruptions,  I  may  long  to  repose  myself  in  the 
grave,  in  hopes  of  a  better  life,  through  thy  mercy 
and  merits,  O  Lord  Jesus  Christ.    Amen. 

1  Pet.  iv.  8.  "Charity  covereth  a  multitude  of 
sins." 

Possess  my  soul,  O  God,  with  a  sincere  love  f<  r 
Thee,  and  for  all  mankind. 

Let  no  malice  or  ill-will  abide  in  me.  Give  me 
grace  to  forgive  all  that  have  offended  me ;  and  for- 
give my  many  offences  against  Thee,  and  against 
mv  neighbor. 

Make  me  ever  ready  to  give,  and  glad  to  distri- 
bute that  thv  gif(S  passing  through  my  hands,  may 
procure  (or  me  the  prayers  of  the  poor;  and  that  I 
may  lay  vp  in  store  for  myself  a  good  foundation 
against  -'he  time  to  come,  that  I  may  attain  eternal 
life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.    Amen. 

Thy  will  be  done. 

Fortify  my  soul,  blessed  Jesus,  with  the  same 
spirit  of  submission  with  which  Thou  underwentest 
tie  death  of  the  cross,  that  I  may  receive  all  events 
with  resignation  to  the  will  of  God; — that  1  may 
receive  troubles,  afflictions,  disappointments  sick- 
ness, and  death  itself,  without  amazement;  thes" 
being  the  appointment  of  thy  justice  for  the  pu- 
nishment of  sin,  and  of  thy  mercy  for  t.ie  salvation 
of  sinners. 

Let  this  be  the  constant  practice  of  my  life,  to  be 
pleased  with  all  thy  choices,  that  when  sickness  and 
death  approach,  I  may  be  prepared  to  submit  my 
will  to  the  will  of  my  Maker. 

And  O  that,  in  the  mean  time,  my  heart  may 
always  go  along  with  my  lips  in  this  petition, —  Tin 
will  tit:  done.     Amen. 

Ileb.  ix.  27.  "  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to 
die  ;  but  after  this  the  judgment." 

May  the  thoughts  of  death,  and  of  what  must  fol- 
low by  the  grace  of  God,  mortify  in  me  all  carnal  se- 
curity, and  fondness  for  this  world,  and  all  that  is 
in  it,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and 
the  pride  of  life.  And  0  that  I  may  make  my  call- 
ing and  election  sure,  that  I  may  die  in  peace,  and 
rest  in  the  mansions  of  glory,  in  hopes  of  a  blessed 
resurrection  and  a  favorable  judgment  at  the  great 
day. 

And  may  the  consideration  of  a  judgment  to 
comeyoblige  me  to  examine,  to  try,  and  to  jY 
myself,  that  I  may  prevent  a  severe  judgment  of 
God  by  a  true  repentance,  and  lead  a  life  answera- 


20 


SACRA    PRIVATA 


b'e  to  amendment  of  life,  and  that  I  may  find 
mercy  at  the  great  day. 

John  v.  28.  "All  that  are  in  the  graves  shall 
hear  his  voice  and  come  forth;  they  that  have  done 
good,  unto  the  resurrection  of  life;  and  they  that 
have  done  evil,  unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation." 

May  that  dreadful  word  oblige  me  to  work  out 
my  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  that,  through 
the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  may  escape  that  dread- 
ful doom ! 

And  may  the  hopes  of  heaven  and  happiness 
sweeten  all  the  troubles  of  this  mortal  life  ! 

O  Lord  Jesus,  who  hast  redeemed  us  with  thy 
precious  blood,  make  me  to  be  numbered  with  thy 
saints  in  glory  everlasting.     Amen. 

0  let  my  name  be  found  written  in  the  Lamb's 
Book  of  Life  at  the  great  day  ! 

1  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  for  all  the  favors  of  my 
life,  and  especially  for  that  Thou  hast  vouchsafed 
me  lime  and  a  teill  to  think  of  and  prepare  for  death, 
while  I  am  in  my  full  strength,  while  I  may  redeem 
my  misspent  time,  and  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for 
repentance. 

Let  us  consider  death  as  a  punishment,  to  which, 
as  sinners,  we  are  justly  condemned. 

My  God,  I  humbly  submit  to  it,  and  to  thy  justice  ; 
and  trust  in  thy  mercy,  and  goodness,  and  promises, 
both  now,  and  at  the  hour  of  death. 

Death  is  inevitable  ;  the  time  uncertain ;  the  judg- 
ment, which  follows,  without  appeal ;  and  followed 
by  an  eternity  of  happiness  or  misery. 

Lord,  grant  that  I  may  consider  this  as  I  ought 
to  do. 

Let  me  remember  that  I  shall  come  forth  out  of 
the  grave,  just  as  I  go  in  ;  either  the  object  of  God's 
mercy,  or  of  his  wrath,  to  all  eternity. 

He  lives  to  no  purpose  who  is  not  glorifying  God. 
Our  greatest  hopes  should  lie  beyond  the  grave. 
No  man  must  go  to  heaven  when  he  dies,  who 
has  not  sent  his  heart  thither  while  hq  lives. 

Our  greatest  security  is  to  be  derived  from  duty, 
and  our  only  confidence  from  the  mercy  of  God 
through  Jesus  Christ. 

Sickness,  if  you  consider  it  as  painful  to  nature, 
and  not  as  a  favor  from  God,  will  be  a  torm°nt  to 
you.  To  make  it  really  comfortable,  believe  it  to 
be  ordered  by  a  loving  Father,  a  wise  Physician  ; 
that  it  is  the  effect  of  his  mercy  for  our  salvation-  | 
that  being  fastened  to  the  cross,  you  become  dearer' 
to  God,  as  being  most  like  his  own  Son.  God  will 
loose  you  when  it  is  best  for  you. 

"We  often  hin  ier  our  recovery  by  trusting  to  phy- 
sic more  than  to  God  :  means  succeed  just  as  far  as 
God  pleases ; — if  he  send  diseases  as  a  remedy  to 
cure  the  disorders  of  the  soul,  he  only  can  cure 
them  ; — while  you  are  chastened,  you  are  sure  God 
loves  you  ; — you  are  not  sure  of  that,  when  you  are 
without  chastisement. 

A  timely  preparation  for  death  frees  us  from  the 
fear  of  death,  and  from  all  other  fears. 

A  true  Christian  is  neither/<wr£  of  life,  nor  weary 
of  it. 

The  sting  of  death  is  sin ;  therefore,  an  holy  life 
is  the  only  cure  for  the  fear  of  death.     We  ought  to 
fear  sin  more  than  death,  because  death  cannot  hurt 
us  but  by  sin. 
Phil.  i.  21.  "  To  me  to  die  is  gain." 
O  that  I  may  be  able  to  say  this,  when  I  come  to 
die ;  and  so  I  shall  if  I  live  as  becomes  a  Christian. 
Holiness  being  a  necessary  qualification  for  hap- 
piness, it  follows  that  the  holiest  man  will  be  the 
happiest,  (for  there  are  certain  degrees  of  glory,) 
therefore  a  Christian  should  lose  no  time  to  gain  all 
the  degrees  of  virtue  and  holiness  he  possibly  can  ; 
and  he  that  does  not  do  so,  is  in  a  fair  way  of  not 
being  happy  at  all. 


It  concerns  us  more  than  our  life  is  worth,  to  know 
what  will  become  of  us  when  we  dis. 

Who  will  pretend  to  say  that  he  is  not  in  a  very 
few  days  to  die  1 

The  only  happiness  of  this  life  is  to  be  secure  of  a 
blessed  eternity. 

Now  is  the  time  in  which  we  are  to  choose  where 
and  what  we  are  to  be  to  all  eternity  ;  there  is,  there- 
fore, no  lime  to  be  lost  to  make  this  choice. 

No  kind  of  death  is  to  be  feared  by  him  who  lives 
well. 

If  we  consider  death  as  the  night  of  that  day  which 
is  given  us  to  work  in,  in  which  to  work  out  our 
salvation  ;  and  that  when  the  night  is  come,  no  man 
can  work  ;  how  frightful  must  death  be  to  such  as 
are  not  prepared  for  it !  And  if  we  consider  it  as 
the  beginning  of  eternity,  it  is  still  more  dreadful. — 
It  is  for  this  reason  called  the  King  of  Terrors; 
and  the  Psalmist,  when  he  would  express  the  worst 
of  evils,  saith,  The  terrors  of  death  are  fallen  upon 
me. 

Judges  xiii.  23.  "  If  the  Lord  were  pleased  to  kill 
us,  he  would  not  have  received  a  burnt-offering  at 
our  hands,  neither  would  he  have  showed  us  all 
these  things." 

This  is  the  comfort  of  all  God's  servants :  if  he 
gives  them  opportunities  of  renewing  their  vows, 
and  a  will  to  do  them  ; — if  he  accepts  their  alms  and 
their  good  deeds,  that  is,  gives  them  a  heart  to  do 
such ; — if  he  touches  their  hearts  with  a  sense  of 
their  un  worthiness ; — if  he  chastens  them  with  afflic- 
tions ; — if  he  visits  them  with  his  Holy  Spirit,  &c. ; 
— all  these  are  reasons  for  a  Christian  to  hope,  that 
these  graces  are  not  in  vain,  but  that  God  will  crown 
them  with  pardon,  favor,  and  happiness  eternal. 

Matt.  xxv.  6.  "  And  at  midnight  there  was  a  cry 
made,  Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh,  go  ye  out  to 
meet  him." 

A  terrible  voice  to  all  such  as  shall  meet  him,  not 
as  a  bridegroom,  but  as  an  inexorable  Judge. 

Grant,  O  Lord,  that  I  may  not  be  of  the  number 
of  those  who  dread  thy  coming,  who  cannot  but  with 
regret  submit  to  the  necessity  of  dying,  and  who 
have  neglected  to  prepare  for  death  till  the  last  hour. 
Matt.  xxv.  10.  "  And  the  door  was  shut." 
Death  shuts  the  door.  No  more  to  be  done.  It 
is  then  too  late  to  repent,  to  resolve,  to  promise,  and 
to  do  any  thing. 

Matt.  xxv.  13.  "  Watch,  therefore,  for  ye  know 
neither  the  day  nor  the  hour  wherein  the  Son  of 
Man  cometh." 

A  person,  whose  life  is  full  of  good  works,  who^e 
heart  is  devoted  to  God,  whose  faith  and  hope  are 
pure  and  sincere,  will  never  be  surprised  by  death. 
Matt,  xxvii.  50.  Jesus  Christ  yielded  up  the  Ghost. 
And  so  his  death  became  a  yoluntary  sacrifice.  Let 
mine  be  so,  O  blessed  Jesus  !  Let  thy  death  sanctify 
me  ;  and  let  my  spirit  be  received  with  thine  ! 

Rom.  v.  1.  "Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have 
peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Give  me,  0  Lord,  that  desire  and  earnest  longing, 
which  I  ought  to  have,  for  that  happy  moment  which 
is  to  release  me  from  this  state  of  banishment,  and 
translate  me  to  a  better  place  ;  and  grant  that  I  mav 
never  lose  the  sight  of  that  important  moment. 

Let  me,  O  God,  hive  my  lot  and  portion  with  thy 
saints. 

When  we  come  to  die,  the  great  enemy  of  our 
souls  will  then  attack  us  with  all  his  stratagems.  It 
is  good,  therefore,  to  be  prepared. 

If  he  attacks  your  faith,  say  with  St.  Paul,  "  I 
know  whom  I  have  believed  ;  and  I  am  persuaded 
that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed 
unto  him  against  that  day." 

I  believe  in  God  the  Father,  who  hath  made  me 
and  all  the  world. 


ACRA    PRIVATA. 


21 


I  believe  in  God  the  Son,  who  hath  redeemed  me 
and  all  mankind. 

I  believe  in  God,  the  Holy  Ghost  who  sanctifiefh 
me,  and  all  the  people  of  God. 

I  give  Thee  hearty  thanks,  O  heavenly  Father, 
that  thou  hast  vouchsafed  to  call  me  to  the  know- 
ledge of  thy  grace  and  faith  in  Thee.  Confirm  this 
faith  in  me  evermore, — grant  that  I  may  die  in  this 
faith,  and  in  the  peace  and  communion  of  thy  Holy 
Church  ;  and  that  I  may  be  united  to  Jesus,  the  head 
of  this  Church,  and  to  all  his  members,  by  a  love 
that  shall  never  end.    Amen. 

John  iii.  15.  "  Whosoever  belie veth  in  Jesus  Christ 
shall  not  perish,  but  have  eternal  life." 

I  believe : — Lord,  increase  my  faith :  and  let  it  be 
unto  thy  servant  according  to  this  word. 

Luke  xxiii.  43.  "  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me 
in  paradise." 

O  blessed  Jesus  !  support  my  spirit  when  I  come 
to  die,  with  this  comfortable  promise.  This  day 
shalt  thou  be  in  paradise. 

We  indeed  suffer  justly  the  sentence  of  death.  O 
Thou,  who  didst  nothing  amiss,  and  yet  didst  suffer 
for  me  ;  remember  me,  O  Lord,  now  that  Thoit  art  in 
Thy  kingdom. 

What  terror,  what  affliction,  can  equal  that  of  a 
Christian,  who  has  never  thought  of  weaning  his 
heart  from  the  world  till  he  comes  to  die ;  who  can 
find  nothing  in  this  life,  but  what  must  render  him 
unworthy  of  mercy  !  But  the  greatest  of  all  mise- 
ries would  be  to  despair  of  mercy,  and  not  to  have 
recourse  to  it. 

Need  a  person,  who  has  received  the  sentence  of 
death,  be  persuaded  to  prepare  for  death  1  And  is 
not  this  our  case  1 

Luke  xii.  36.  "  And  ye  yourselves  like  unto  men 
that  wait  for  their  Lord." 

He  who  waits  for  his  master  will  always  endeavor 
to  be  in  that  state  in  which  he  desires  to  be  found. 

A  Christian  should  not  look  upon  death  with 
anxiety,  but  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  good  servant, 
who  waits  with  impatience  for  his  master's  return, 
in  hopes  of  being  approved  of. 

Luke  xii.  40.  "  Be  ye  ready  also,  for  the  Son  of 
Man  cometh  at  an  hour  when  ye  think  not." 

And  are  not  so  many  sudden  deaths  sufficient  to 
convince  us  of  the  folly  of  assuring  ourselves  of  one 
day  1  Let  every  one  of  us,  therefore,  count  himself 
of  the  number  of  those  that  are  to  be  surprised  by 
death;  this  will  make  us  watchful. 

Luke  xii.  43.  "  Blessed  is  that  servant,  whom  nis 
Jjord  when  he  cometh  shall  find  so  doing  ;"  (hat  is, 
doing  his  duty. 

And  then,  miserable  will  he  be,  whom  death  sur- 
priseth  either  doing  evil,  or  doing  nothing,  or  doing 
that  which  God  does  not  require  of  him.  C<in  one 
imagine,  that  the  generality  of  Christians  believe 
this  truth  ;  suffer  me  not,  O  God,  to  fall  into  a  for- 
getfulness  of  it. 

We  complain  (saith  Seneca)  of  the  shortness  of 
life;  he  answers,  Vita,  si  sciasvti,  longa  est — Life 
is  Ions,  if  you  know  how  \p  u^e  it.  But  then  it  is 
Christianity  only  can  teach  us  how  to  use  our  life ; 
namelv,  in  working  out  our  own  salvation:  And  we 
are  sure  it  is  long  enough  for  that,  because  God  has 
appointed  it  for  that  very  end. 

'  As  Christianity  alone  can  take  from  us  the  love 
of  life,  so  it  is  this  alone  that  can  free  us  from  the 
fear  of  death. 

Eternity  adds  an  infinite  weight  to  all  our  actions, 
whether  good  or  bad. 

If  we  desire  that  our  death  should,  like  that  of 
Jesus  Christ,  be  a  sacrifice  of  love  and  obedience, 
we  must  take  care  to  make  our  life  so  too. 

Acts  ix.  39.  "  This  woman  was  full  of  good  works 
and  alms-deeds;  and  she  died." 

Happy  that  soul  which  death  finds  rich,  not  in 


gold,  furniture,  learning,  reputation,  or  barren  pur- 
poses and  desires,  but  in  good  works. 

Acts  vii.  59.  "  And  they  stoned  Stephen,  calling 
upon  God,  and  saying,  'Lord  Jesus,  receive  my 
spirit." 

O  my  God,  enable  me  to  live  to  Thee  ;  that  when 
the  hour  of  death  shall  come,  I  may  thus  with  confi- 
dence offer  up  my  spirit  to  Jesus  Christ. 

Rev.  iii.  3.  "  Thou  shalt  not  know  what  hour  I 
will  come  upon  thee." 

Is  it  not,  then,  the  highest  presumption  to  persuade 
ourselves  that  we  have  always  time  sufficient,  when 
Jesus  Christ  himself  declares  that  we  have  not  one 
moment  certain  1 

It  is  purely  for  want  of  faith,  that  we  tremble  at 
the  approach  of  our  deliverer  ;  and  which  is  to  de- 
stroy in  us  the  reign  of  sin,  and  instate  us  in  that  of 
glory. 

Let  us  resign  up  ourselves  to  God,  as  to  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  shall  please  him  to  determine  our 
lives,  praying  only  that  it  may  be  to  his  glory  and 
our  salvation. 

What  does  it  signify  how  this  house  of  clay  pe- 
risheth,  which  hinders  the  perfect  renovation  of  the 
soul,  and  the  sight  of  God1? 

2  Cor.  v.  1.  "  For  we  know,  that  if  our  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a 
building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  w;th  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens." 

We  know,  we  believe,  we  promise  ourselves  this, 
but  we  think  too  seldom  of  it,  and  we  still  make  less 
use  of  what  we  know,  in  order  to  wean  our  hearts 
from  this  world. 

Would  we  look  upon  our  bodies  as  houses  of  clay 
just  ready  to  fall,  we  should  think  of  that  eternal 
house,  we  should  sigh  after  our  native  country,  and 
be  willing  to  leave  a  place  of  misery  and  banishment. 

Remember  that  death  is  the  punishment  of  sin  ; 
we  ought  therefore  to  resign  ourselves  up  to  it  in  a 
Christian  manner,  looking  upon  ourselves  as  con- 
demned to  it  in  Adam. 

He  who  has  lived  and  looked  on  earth,  as  in  a 
place  of  banishment,  will  look  upon  death  as  a  gra- 
cious deliverance  from  it. 

Consider  well,  that  life  is  given  and  continued 
for  no  other  end,  but  to  glorify  God  in  working  out 
our  own  salvation. 

A  man  goes  with  confidence  to  meet  the  bride- 
groom, when  he  has  been  faithful  to  him,  and  be- 
lieves him  to  be  his  friend. 

Heb.  ii.  15.  "  And  deliver  them  who  through  fear 
of  death  were  all  their  life  long  subject  to  bondage." 

Bondage  is  the  sentence  of  rebellious  slaves ;-- 
we  were  condemned  to  it  in  Adam ;  and  being  un- 
der this  sentence  of  death  and  the  Divine  Justice, 
we  ought  to  expect  it  with  submission,  and  be  al- 
ways preparing  for  ii.  This  is  the  only  way  to  be 
secure,  and  from  fearing  death  when  it  comes. 

Gather  us,  O  God,  to  the  number  of  thine  own, 
at  what  time  and  in  what  manner  Thou  pleasest : — 
only  let  us  be  without  reproach,  and  blameless; — 
let  faith,  and  love,  and  peace  accompany  our  last 
periods. 

We  look  upon  a  body  without  a  soul  with  horror. 
We  can  see  a  body  with  a  soul,  which  is  like  to  die 
eternally,  without  concern. 

Wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death  1  I  thank  God,  (I  am 
delivered,)  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Grant,  O  Lord,  that  though  my  outward  man  de- 
cay daily,  yet  that  my  inward  man  may  grow  and 
increase  in  piety  and  virtue  unto  the  day  of  my 
death. 

He  that  hath  lived  best  will  stand  in  need  of 
mercy  at  the  hour  of  death,  and  in  the  day  ofjudg- 
ment ;  and  he  that  hath  lived  the  worst,  has  not 


22 


SACRA    PRIVATA 


sinned  beyond  the  efficacy  of  the  blood  of  Christ, 
provided  his  repentance  be  sincere. 

My  God  !  let  thy  glory  be  magnified  by  saving  a 
sinner,  by  redeeming  a  captive  slave,  by  enlighten- 
ing a  heart  overwhelmed  in  darkness,  by  changing 
a  wicked  heart,  by  pardoning  innumerable  trans- 
gressions, iniquities,  and  sins. 

If  my  hopes  were  placed  upon  any  thing  but  the 
infinite  mercies  of  God,  in  Jesus  Christ,  which  can 
never  fail,  I  should  utterly  despair. 

Acts  ii. 21.  "Whosoever  shall  call  on  the  name 
of  the  Lord,  shall  be  saved." 

These,  my  God,  are  thine  own  words; — give  me 
leave  to  trust  in  them,  to  depend  on  them,  both  now, 
and  at  the  hour  of  death. 

John  xvii.  4.  "  I  have  finished  the  -work  which 
thou  gavest  me  to  do." 

O  Lord,  the  very  best  of  men  come  infinitely 
short  of  this  pattern  ;  how  then  shall  I,  an  unprofit- 
able servant,  appear  before  my  Lord  and  Judge! 

Gen.  iii.  15.  "  The  seed  of  the  woman  shall  bruise 
the  serpent's  head." 

This,  my  God,  is  thy  sure,  thy  eternal  promise; 
I  believe  it ;  I  trust  in  it;  I  will  hold  me  fast  by  it. 

Luke  xxii.  42.  "  Nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but 
thine  be  done." 

May  I,  O  blessed  Jesus,  when  my  death  ap- 
proaches, breathe  out  my  last  with  these  words,  and 
Avith  the  same  spirit  of  submission. 

DEATH   or   FRIENDS. 

Let  us  cast  our  eyes  upon  sin,  which  is  the  cause 
of  death,  and  then  we  shall  weep  with  reason. 

Preserve  in  us  a  lively  sense  of  the  world  to 
come. 

And  when  I  shall  not  be  able  to  pray  for  myself, 
the  good  Lord  favorably  hear  the  prayers  of  his 
Church  for  me. 

Grant  that  in  the  day  of  the  general  resurrection, 
1  may  then  hear  those  joyful  words  of  thy  Son, — 
Come  ye  blessed  children  of  my  Father,  inherit  the 
kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  beginning  of  the 
vjorld. 

Grant  that  I  may  have  a  perfect  conquest  over 
the  world,  sin,  and  death,  through  Christ,  who  by 
his  death  hath  overcome  him  who  hath  the  power 
of  death. 

Luke  xxiii.  43.  "  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me 
in  paradise." 

Oh  Jesus,  Mho  hadst  compassion  on  this  thief, 
even  at  the  hour  of  death,  have  mercy  upon  me, 
who  now  repent  of  all  my  misdoings.  Suffer  not 
the  gates  of  paradise  to  be  shut  against  me  when  I 
die,  Thou  hast  opened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all 
believers. 

Restore  my  soul,  at  the  great  day  to  life  eternal. 

Give  me  the  patience  of  Job,  the  faith  of  Abra- 
ham, the  courage  of  Peter,  and  the  comfort  of  Paul, 
and  a  true  submission  to  thy  will. 

Apply  to  my  soul  all  the  wholesome  medicines 
of  thy  Son's  passion,  death,  and  resurrection,  against 
the  power  of  Satan,  against  all  unreasonable  fears 
and  despair,  and  ease  my  fearful  conscience. 

Hear  the  prayers  of  thy  Church  for  me,  and  for 
all  in  my  condition,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

Psa.  lxxi.  9.  "  Cast  me  not  away  in  the  time  of 
age  ;  forsake  me  not  when  my  strength  faileth  me." 

Grant,  O  Lord,  that  the  end  of  my  life  may  be 
truly  Christian;  without  sin,  without  shame,  and 
if  ii  so  please  Thee,  without  pain. 

Psa.  lxxiii.  26.  "  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth; 
but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion 
for  ever." 

1  Sam.  iii.  18.  "  It  is  the  Lord;  let  him  do  what 
seemeth  him  good." 


Lord  be  merciful  unto  me,  heal  my  soul,  for  I 
have  sinned  against  Thee. 

I  confess  my  wickedness,  and  am  sorry  for  my  sin . 

For  thy  name's  sake,  O  Lord,  be  merciful  unto 
my  sin  for  it  is  great. 

The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  them  that  are  of  a  contrite 
heart,  and  will  save  such  as  are  of  an  humble  spirit. 

Psa.  xxxix.  8.  "  And  now,  Lord,  what  is  my 
hope  ;  truly  my  hope  is  in  Thee." 

Psa.  ciii.  14.  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  whereof  we 
are  made  ;  that  we  are  but  dust." 

Let  my  misery,  my  fear,  my  sorrow,  move  Thee 
to  compassion. 

Despise  not,  O  Lord,  the  work  of  thine  own 
hands. 

I  freely  forgive  all  that  have  offended  me. 

Oh  Thou,  that  never  failest  them  that  seek  Thee, 
have  pity  on  me. 

Nevertheless,  though  I  am  sometimes  afraid,  yet 
put  I  my  trust  in  Thee. 

O  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee,  deliver  my  soul,  Gra- 
cious is  the  Lord,  and  righteous ;  yea,  our  God  is 
merciful. 

O  go  not  far  from  me,  for  trouble  is  at  hand,  and 
there  is  none  to  help  me. 

The  sorrows  of  my  heart  are  enlarged:  O  bring 
Thou  me  out  of  my  troubles. 

O  keep  my  soul,  and  deliver  me  ;  let  me  not  be 
confounded,  for  I  have  put  my  trust  in  Thee. 

Withdraw  not  thy  mercy  from  me,  O  Lord  ;  let 
thy  loving  kindness  and  thy  truth  always  preserve 
me. 

O  Lord,  let  it  be  thy  pleasure  to  deliver  me ; 
make  haste,  O  Lord,  to  help  me.  ^ 

Show  thy  servant  the  light  of  ray  countenance, 
and  save  me  for  thy  mercy's  sake. 

O  deliver  me,  for  I  am  helpless  and  poor,  and 
my  heart  is  wounded  within  me. 

Wherefore  hidest  Thou  thy  face,  and  forgettesf 
our  misery  and  trouble  1 

My  God !  save  thy  servant,  who  putteth  his  trust 
in  Thee. 

Thou,  O  Lord,  art  full  of  compassion  and  mercy, 
long-suffering,  plenteous  in  goodness  and  in  truth. 

When  I  am  in  heaviness,  I  will  think  upon  God; 
when  my  heart  is  vexed  I  will  complain. 

Will  the  Lord  absent  himself  for  ever  1  Will  he 
be  no  more  entreated  ? 

Hath  God  forgotten  to  be  gracious  1  And  I  said, 
it  is  mine  own  infirmity;  but  I  will  remember  the 
years  of  the  right  hand' of  the  most  High. 

Luke  xii.  33.  Sell  all  that  ye  have,  and  give  to  the 
poor.  That  is,  renounce  all  the  pleasures  that  wealth 
affords,  raher  than  defraud  the  poor  and  distressed 
of  their  riglat : — It  is  utterly  impossible  to  take  de- 
light in  weahh,  and  love  God  with  all  the  soul. 

Matt.  xxv.  40.  "  For  as  much  (for  as  often)  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my 
brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 

As  often: — Who  then  would  miss  any  occasion'? 
Tlie  least: — Who  then  would  despise  any  object? 
To  me  ■. — So  that  in  serving  the  poor,  we  serve  Je- 
sus Christ.     O  comfortable  declaration ! 

Mark  ix.  41.  "  Whosoever  shall  give  you  a  cup 
of  water  to  drink  in  my  name,  because  ye  belong  to 
Christ :— verily,  (with  an  oath  he  assures  us,)  he 
shall  not  lose  his  reward." 

This  should  always,  if  possible,  be  our  intention: 
This  poor,  oppressed,  miserable  man  belongs  to  Christ. 
This  would  wonderfully  enhance  the  value  of  our 
good  deeds  before  God. 


1  Cor.  xiii.  2.  And  though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to 

feed  the  poor,  and  have  not  charity,  itprofiteth  me  nothing. 

If  external  acts  of  charity  do  not  proceed  frosc 


SACRA    PRIVATA 


23 


charity,  that  is,  from  a  love  of  God,  and  of  our 
neighbor  for  his  sake,  they  are  as  nothing  in  the 
sight  of  God.  My  God,  pour  into  my  heart  the 
most  excellent  gift  of  charity,  the  very  bond  of 
peace  and  of  all  virtue. 

Gal.  vi.  10.  "  Let  us  do  good  unto  all  men." 

He  who  seeks  for  Jesus  Christ  in  the  poor,  in  or- 
der to  relieve  and  assist  him,  will  not  be  too  solicitous 
to  find  any  other  merit  in  them  than  that  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

For  our  earthly  things,  O  Lord,  give  us  heaven- 
ly ;  for  temporal,  eternal. 

Luke  iii.  11.  "He  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him 
impart  to  him  that  hath  none." 

That  is,  let  him  that  hath  plenty,  and  to  spare, 
of  the  necessaries  of  life,  let  him  give  to  him  that 
wants. 

The  proportion  of  charity  appointed  by  God  him- 
self to  his  own  people,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
was  every  year  a  thirtieth  part  of  all  their  income, 
or  a  tenth  every  third  year. 

This  was  the  Jews'  proportion.  He  that  came 
short  of  this  was  a  breaker  of  the  law,  and  without 
repentance  and  restitution,  had  no  hopes  of  pardon. 

The  Christian's  proportion  ought  to  be  greater,  as 
his  hopes  and  reward  will  be  greater. 

We  should  in  all  our  charities  direct  our  eyes  to- 
wards Christ  and  his  members;  it  is  this  which 
heightens  the  smallest  gifts.  Men  reward  what  is 
done  on  human  motives;  God,  such  as  are  done  for 
his  sake. 

He  that  for  his  good  actions  expects  the  applause 
of  men,  runs  the  hazard  of  losing  the  reward  of 
God. 

The  poor  are,  as  it  were,  the  receivers  of  the 
rights  and  dues  belonging  unto  God;  we  must  have 
a  care  of  defruading  them. 

Luke  xi.  41.  But  rather  give  alms  of  such  things  as 
you  have,  (or  as  you  are  able,)  and  all  things  are  clean 
to  you.  That  is  proportion  your  alms  to  your  estate, 
lest  God  proportion  your  estate  to  your  alms. 

It  is  a  necessary  Christian  duty,  (whatever  men 
think  of  it,)  to  part  with  our  worldly  enjoyments  for 
the  sake  of  Christ. 

The  very  best  of  men  are  only  instruments  in 
God's  hands  to  receive  and  to  give  what  God  be- 
stows upon  them.  And  this  they  should  do,  with- 
out any  desire  of  glory  or  self-interest. 

Let  us  make  light  of  money  and  riches,  and  send 
it  before  us  into  the  heavenly  treasures,  where 
neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt ;  but  where  it 
will  be  kept,  to  our  eternal  advantage,  under  the 
custody  of  God  himself. 

Thou,  O  Lord,  hast  been  all  mercy  to  me;  grant 
that  I  may  be  all  mercy  toothers  for  Christ's  sake. 

Remember  to  give  to  those  that  are  ashamed  to 
ask;  and  do  not  forget  your  poor  relations,  lest  you 
be  worse  than  an  infidel. 

Rom.  xii.  18.  "  He  that  showeth  mercy,  let  him 
do  it  with  cheerfulness." 

The  good  Lord  preserve  me  from  vanity,  and 
from  seeking  applause  for  my  charity. 

Not  unto  me,  but  unto  Thee,  O  God,  be  the  thanks, 
and  praise,  and  glory. 

The  merits  of  the  poor  are  not  to  be  the  rule  of 
our  charity.  God  himself  maketh  the  sun  to  shine 
upon  the  evil  and  the  good. 

If  we  would  but  moderate  our  vanity,  we  should 
always  have  enough  for  charity. 

Send  thy  blessing  upon  my  substance,  and  con- 
tinue to  me  a  willing  mind  to  help  such  as  have 
need,  according  to  my  ability. 

Good  advice,  and  devout  petitions,  should  accom- 
pany our  charily. 

O  God,  who  knowest  the  necessities  of  all  thy 


creatures,  give  thy  poor  the  spiritual  things  they 
stand  in  need  of. 

Support  thy  poor  members,  O  Jesus,  under  all 
their  difficulties,  and  sanctify  their  bodily  wants 
to  the  salvation  of  their  souls. 

Lord,  grant  that  they  may  bear  their  poor  estate 
with  patience  and  resignation,  and  that  we  may  one 
day  meet  in  the  paradise  of  God. 

Jesus  Christ  is  continually  humbled  in  his  mem- 
bers ;  some  are  poor,  in  prison,  sick,  naked,  hun- 
gry, &c.  Let  me,  O  Lord,  see  and  help  Thee  in 
all  these  objects. 

A  man  that  has  faith  will  be  glad  to  discharge 
himself  of  some  part  of  the  burthen  of  temporal 
goods,  in  order  to  secure  those  that  are  eternal ;  and 
to  be  in  some  measure  the  preserver  of  his  brethren. 

Psa.  cxii.  5.  A  good  (a  charitable)  man  will  guide 
his  affairs  with  discretion;  that  is,  he  will  cut  ofT 
and  retrench  all  needless  expenses  in  apparel,  diet, 
diversions,  &c.  that  he  may  give  to  him  that  needeth. 

Let  your  alms  be  in  secret  as  much  as  may  be. 

CHARITY  ;  OR  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  AND  OUR  NEIGHBOR. 

It  is  but  the  first  essay  of  charity  to  give  alms. 

Whoever  shows  mercy  to  men,  will  certainly  re- 
ceive mercy  from  God. 

1  John  iii.  15.  "  Whosoever  hateth  his  brother 
is  a  murderer." 

A  man  has  already  killed  him  in  his  heart,  whose 
life  is  grievous  to  him,  and  at  whose  death  he  would 
rejoice. 

1  John  iii.  15.  "He  that  loveth  not  his  brother 
abideth  in  death." 

Can  we  believe  that  it  is  God  that  saith  this,  and 
delay  one  moment  to  be  reconciled! 

It  is  not  enough  to  love  our  brethren;  we  must 
love  them  upon  a  principle  of  faith,  in  the  name, 
for  the  sake,  and  as  members  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Luke  vi.  37.  "  Forgive,  and  it  shall  be  forgiven 
you." 

Give  me,  O  my  God,  an  heart  full  of  Christian 
meekness  and  charity,  that  I  may  willingly  forget 
the  evil  I  have  received,  and  be  always  disposed  to 
do  good  to  others. 

We  love  our  neighbor  after  a  Christian  manner, 
when  we  love  him  for  God's  sake ;  and  for  God's 
sake  do  him  good. 


THE  LITANY. 

O  God  the  Father  of  Heaven  ;  have  mercy  upon 
me,  keep  and  defend  me. 

O  God  the  Son,  Redeemer  of  the  world:  hav, 
mercy  upon  me,  save  and  deliver  me. 

O  God  the  Holy  Ghost;  have  mercy  upon  me, 
strengthen  and  comfort  me. 

Remember  not,  Lord,  mine  offences,  nor  the  of- 
fences of  my  forefathers ;  neither  take  Thou  ven- 
geance of  our  sins  :  Spare  us,  good  Lord,  spare  thy 
people  whom  thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  mest 
precious  blood,  and  be  not  angry  with  us  for  ever. 

From  thy  wrath  and  heavy  indignation ;  from  the 
guilt  and  burthen  of  my  sins;  from  the  dreadful 
sentence  of  the  last  judgment ; 

Good  Lord,  deliver  me. 

From  the  sting  and  terrors  of  conscience ;  from 
impatience,  distrust,  and  despair;  from  extrcmitv 
of  sickness  and  pain,  which  may  withdraw  my 
mind  from  God  ; 

Good  Lord  deliver  mc. 

From  the  bitter  pancrs  of  eternal  death  ;  from  the 
^a'es  of  hell  ;  from  the  powers  of  darkness:  and 
from  the  illusions  of  Satan  ; 

Good  Lord  deliver  mc. 


J4 


SACRA    PRIVATA. 


By  thy  manifold  and  great  mercies ;  by  thy  mani- 
fold and  great  merits ;  by  thine  agony  and  bloody 
sweat;  by  thy  bitter  cross  and  passion;  by  thy 
mighty  resurrection ;  by  thy  glorious  ascension  and 
most  acceptable  intercession ;  and  by  the  graces  of 
the  Holy  Ghost; 

Good  Lord,  deliver  me. 

For  the  glory  of  thy  name ;  for  thy  loving  mercy 
and  truth's  sake ; 

Good  Lord,  deliver  me. 

In  my  last  and  greatest  need ;  in  the  hour  of 
death ;  and  in  the  day  of  judgment ; 

Good  Lord,  deliver  me. 

As  thou  hast  delivered  all  thy  saints  and  servants 
which  called  upon  Thee  in  their  extremity ; 

Good  Lord,  deliver  me; — and  receive  my  soul  for 
thy  mercy's  sake. 

Be  merciful  unto  me,  and  forgive  me  all  my  sins, 
which,  by  the  malice  of  the  devil,  or  by  my  own 
frailty,  I  have  at  any  time  of  my  life  committed 
against  Thee. 

Lay  not  to  my  charge  what  in  the  lust  of  the  eye, 
the  pride  of  life  or  vanity,  I  have  committed  against 
Thee. 

Lay  not  to  my  charge  what,  by  an  angry  spirit, 
by  vain  and  idle  words,  by  foolish  jesting,  I  have 
committed  against  Thee. 

Make  me  partaker  of  all  thy  mercies  and  pro- 
mises in  Christ.  Jesus. 

Vouchsafe  my  soul  a  place  of  rest  in  the  Paradise 
of  God,  with  all  thy  blessed  saints ;  and  my  body  a 
part  in  the  blessed  resurrection. 

O  Lord  God,  Lamb  of  God,  that  takest  away  the 
sins  of  the  world  ; 

Have  mercy  upon  me. 
Thou  that  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world ; 

Grant  me  thy  peace. 
Thou  that  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God  : 

Have  mercy  upon  me. 

Have  mercy  upon  me,  and  receive  my  prayer; 
even  the  prayer  which  Thou  hast  taught  me ; 

Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven,  <f-c. 

O  Lord,  deal  not  with  me  after  my  sins  ;  neither 
reward  me  after  mine  iniquities. 

0  God,  merciful  Father,  that  despisest  not  the 
sighing  of  a  contrite  heart,  nor  the  desires  of  such 
as  be  sorrowful ;  mercifully  assist  my  prayers  which 
I  make  before  Thee,  at  such  times  especially  as  I 
am  preparing  for  death  and  for  eternity.  And,  O 
Lord,  graciously  hear  me,  that  those  evils,  those  il- 
lusions, and  assaults  which  rny  great  enemy  work- 
eth  against  me,  may  be  brought  to  naught,  and  by 
the  providence  of  thy  goodness  they  may  be  dis- 
persed; that  thy  servant,  being  delivered  from  all 
temptations,  may  give  thanks  to  Thee,  with  thy 
Holy  Church  to  all  eternity. — Amen. 

Let  us  endeavor,  by  a  timely  repentance,  to  pre- 
vent the  reproaches  which  otherwise  our  consciences 
will  cast  upon  us  at  the  hour  of  death. 

THE  SUPPORT  OF  A  PENITENT,  AT  THE  HOUH  OP  DEATH. 

John  iii.  16.  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he 
gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believ- 
eth  in  him  should  not  perish  but  have  everlasting 
life." 

1  John  ii.  1.  "  Wc  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous," — who  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners, — who  died  for  us 


when  we  were  his  enemies,  that  he  might  offer  us 
unlo  God. 

It  is  our  Judge  himself  that  hath  assured  us,  that 
all  sins  shall  be  forgiven  unto  the  sons  of  men. 


EJACULATIONS. 

Take  from  me  all  evil  imaginations, — all  impurity 
of  thought, — all  inclinations  to  lust, — all  envy,  pride, 
and  hypocrisy, — all  falsehood,  deceit,  and  an  irregu- 
lar life, — all  covetousness,'vain-glory,  and  sloth, — all 
malice,  anger,  and  wrath, — all  remembrance  of  in- 
juries,— every  thing  that  is  contrary  to  thy  will,  O 
most  Holy  God. 

May  I  never  hear  with  pleasure,  nor  ever  repeat, 
such  things  as  may  dishonor  God,  or  injure  my 
neighbor,  or  my  own  character. 

O  give  me  light  to  see,  an  heart  to  close  with, 
and  power  to  do  thy  will,  O  God. 

LOVE    OF   GOD,    &C. 

Bless  me,  O  God,  with  the  love  of  Thee,  and  of 
my  neighbor.  Give  me  peace  of  conscience,  the 
command  of  my  affections ;  and  for  the  rest,  Thy 
will  be  done. 

O  King  of  Peace,  give  us  thy  peace,  keep  us  in 
love  and  charity. 

Make  thyself,  O  God,  the  absolute  master  of  my 
heart. 

Tliey  that  be  whole  need  not  a  Physician.  It  be- 
longs to  Thee,  O  Sovereign  Physician,  to  make  us 
sensible  of  our  maladies,  and  to  make  us  goto  Thee 
for  help.  O  say  unto  my  soul  this  word  of  salva- 
tion, Behold,  thou  art  made  whole. 

Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing.  Miserable,  indeed, 
is  he  who  pretends  to  walk  without  Thee.  O  give 
me  light  to  see,  an  heart  to  close  with,  and  a  power 
to  do  thy  will.  From  thy  Spirit  I  hope  to  receive 
these  graces. 

John  xii.  26.  "  If  any  man  serve  me,  let  him  fol- 
low me  ;  and  him  will  my  Father  honor." 

Let  me  never  flatler  myself  that  I  serve  Thee, 
my  Saviour,  unless  I  follow  thy  example  at  the  ex- 
pense of  every  thing  I  love  or  fear  besides.  O  keep 
my  heart  fixed  upon  that  honor  which  God  has  pre- 
pared for  those  that  follow  Thee. 

O  Divine  Spirit,  render  me  worthy  of  thy  pre- 
sence and  consolation. 

Fill  my  heart  with  an  holy  dread  of  thy  judg- 
ments. 

Give  me  a  true  sense  and  knowledge  of  the  dan- 
ger and  the  evil  of  sin;  and  may  I,  with  a  prudent 
moderation  only,  be  concerned  for  temporal  things. 

Jesus  Christ  is  always  in  his  temple,  and  near  you, 
(if  your  soul  be  fit  for  him  to  dwell  in;)  to  Him 
apply  on  all  occasions : 

As  your  Master,  for  grace  to  study,  to  love,  and 
to  follow  his  instructions.  He  requires  nothing  but 
what  he  first  practised  himself: 

As  your  Lord,  that  you  may  love  and  serve  him 
faithfully,  and  fulfil  all  his  commands: 

As  your  Pattern,  that  you  may  follow  his  exam- 
ple, and  imitate  his  virtues: 

As  your  Saviour,  that  he  may  be,  your  refuge  and 
confidence,  your  strength  and  support,  your  peace 
and  consolation,  your  Saviour  now  and  at  the  hour 
of  death : 

As  your  King,  that  he  may  give  laws  to  your 
soul,  and  that  you  may  surrender  yourself  to  his 
commands ;  and  never  rebel,  or  resist  his  authority : 

As  your  Shepherd.  Keep  me  in  thy  flock  by  thy 
almighty  grace.  I  am  one  of  the  lost  sheep  which 
thou  earnest  to  seek.  Take  me  under  thy  care,  and 
restore  me  to  thy  fold.  Increase  thy  flock  for  the 
honor  of  thy  name. 


SACRA     PRIVATA- 


25 


WILFCL    SIX. 

Let  me  rather  choose  to  die,  than  to  sin  against 
my  conscience. 

PENITENT. 

I  am  ashamed  to  come  before  Thee,  but  I  must 
come  or  perish.  I  know  that  thou  art  angry  with 
me  for  my  sins,  but  I  know  too  that  Thou  pitiest 
me,  or  why  do  I  yet  livel  Make  me  full  of  sorrow 
for  my  sin,  and  full  of  hope  of  thy  mercy  and  par- 
don. Look  upon  the  infirmities  of  thy  servant,  and 
consider  his  weakness.  Sensible  of  my  own  sad 
condition,  weak  and  miserable,  sinful  and  ignorant, 
liable  to  eternal  death,  I  prostrate  myself  before 
Thee,  imploring  thy  help  and  pardon. 

Gracious  God,  never  abandon  me  to  the  opposi- 
tion I  shall  at  any  time  make  to  thy  grace. 

Blessed  be  God  that  he  has  so  often  directed  me, 
and  not  left  me  to  the  desires  of  my  own  heart. 

Put  a  stop  to  the  torrent  of  wickedness  and  pro- 
faneness,  which  carries  all  before  it. 

I  confess  my  sins  to  Thee,  O  God ;  do  Thou  hide 
them  from  all  the  world. 

Eternity.  Lord,  imprint  upon  my  heart  a  lively 
idea  of  eternity,  that  the  sorrowful  passages  of  this 
life,  which  are  so  uneasy  and  frightful  to  nature, 
may  vanish  or  be  borne  with  patience. 

Example.  Pardon  my  sin,  and  forgive  all  such  as 
have  been  misled  by  any  evil  example  of  mine. 

Matt.  v.  48.  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even  as  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect." 

O  divine  repairer  of  our  corrupt  nature,  may  thy 
all-powerful  grace  make  me  as  perfect  as  Thou 
hast  commanded  me  to  be  ! 


0  God,  who  hast  called  me  to  holiness,  give  me 
a  firm  faith  in  thy  power  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  by  his  assistance  I  may  get  the  mastery 
over  all  my  sins  and  corruptions;  that  I  may  be  re- 
deemed from  all  iniquity;  that  I  may  be  holy,  as  he 
who  has  called  me  is  holy. 

Possess  my  soul  with  an  earnest  desire  of  pleas- 
ing Thee,  and  with  a  fear  of  offending  Thee. 

Let  me  be  ever  ready  to  forgive  injuries,  and 
backward  to  offer  any. 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  faith  and  patience,  that  I  may 
neither  murmur  at  thy  appointments,  nor  be  angry 
against  the  instruments  of  thy  justice. 

Deliver  me  from  the  errors  and  vices  of  the  age 
I  live  in;  from  infidelity,  wicked  principles,  from 
profaneness,  heresies,  and  schism. 

1  most  heartily  thank  Thee,  0  God,  for  thy  per- 
petual care  of  me,  for  all  thy  mercies  bestowed  upon 
me,  for  the  blessings  of  nature  and  of  grace. 

Grant,  O  God.  that  I  may  never  receive  thy  grace 
in  vain,  but  that  I  may  live  like  one  who  believes 
and  hopes  for  the  joys  of  heaven. 

Let  me  ever  be  sorry  for  my  sins;  thankful  for 
thy  blessings,  fear  thy  judgments,  love  thy  mercies, 
remember  thy  presence. 

Give  me  an  humble  mind,  a  godly  fear,  and  a 
quiet  conscience.  Weaken,  O  Lord,  the  power  of 
Satan  in  this  place,  and  the  tyranny  of  his  ministers. 

IN  TIME   OP   PESTILENCE   OR   DANGER 

Set  thv  saving  mark  upon  our  houses,  and  give 
order  to  the  destroyer  nol  to  hurt  us. 

John  xvi.  23.  "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you, 
whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in  my  name,  he 
will  give  it  you." 

Upon  this  promise,  blessed  Lord,  I  depend;  be- 
seeching Thee,  O  heavenly  Father,  for  thy  dear 
Son's  sake,  to  give  me  the  graces  I  most  stand  in 
need  of. 


AFTER    PRATERS. 

Vouchsafe  us  those  graces  and  blessings  which 
Thou  knowest  to  be  needful  fonts,  notwithstanding 
our  great  unworthiness. 

Riches.  Shut  my  heart,  O  Lord,  against  the  love 
of  worldly  riches,  lest  1  betray  Thee,  as  Judas  did. 

May  thy  Holy  Spirit,  O  God,  fill  my  heart,  that 
it  may  appear  in  all  my  words  and  actions  that  I 
am  governed  by  it. 

Luke  x.  33.""  And  when  he  saw  him,  he  had 
compassion  on  him." 

O  Jesus,  the  true  Samaritan,  look  upon  the 
wounds  which  sin  hath  caused  in  my  soul,  and  have 
compassion  on  me. 

May  I  always  resign  my  will  and  my  desires  to 
him  who  knows  what  is  good  for  us,  better  than  we 
ourselves  do. 

HOLY    SCRIPTl'RES. 

Give  me,  O  God,  a  sincere  love  for  the  truths  of 
the  gospel,  a  teachable  heart,  and  an  obedient  will. 

Perseverance.  Finish,  O  my  God,  the  works  of 
mercy  and  conversion,  which  Thou  hast  begun  in 
me. 

Save,  O  Lord  Jesus,  a  soul  which  thou  hast  re- 
deemed by  thy  blood. 

There  is  no  merit  in  me,  O  God,  to  attract  thy 
mercy  and  goodness,  but  only  my  great  misery  and 
blindness.  May  I  make  a  'suitable  return  by  an 
holy  life. 

According  to  the  greatness  of  thy  goodness,  and 
the  multitude  of  thy  mercies,  look  upon  me. 

Sanctify  my  soul  and  body  with  thy  heavenly 
blessings,  that  they  may  be  made  thy  holy  habita- 
tion, and  that  nothing'  may  be  found  in  me,  that 
may  offend  the  eyes  of  thy  majesty. 

Protect  and  keep  me  in  the  midst  of  the  dangers 
of  this  corrupt  world;  and  by  thy  light  and  grace 
direct  me  in  the  way  to  everlasting  life,  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

Morning.  I  laid  me  down  and  slept,  and  rose 
again,  for  the  Lord  sustained  me.  Blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord. 

Raise  me  up,  O  Lord,  at  the  last  day,  to  life  and 
happiness  everlasting. 

Elessed  be  the  Lord  for  his  mercies  renewed  unto 
me  every  morning. 

0  that  my  eyes  may  ever  be  fixed  upon  the  ex- 
ample that  our  blessed  Lord  hath  left  us,  and  that  I 
may  daily  endeavor  to  follow  him.     Amen. 

Night.  Mav  the  Saviour  and  Guardian  of  my 
soul  take  me  under  his  protection  this  night  and 
evermore. 

1  Cor.  vii.  35.  "Attend  upon  the  Lord  without 
distraction." 

O  holv  Spirit  of  <rrace,  help  my  infirmities,  thai 
I  may  fix  my  thoughts  upon  my  duly;  and  that  I 
may  serve  Thee  with  all  my  heart  and  mind. 

That  I  may  never  give  way  to  wandering 
thoughts,  but  watch  against  them  continually. 

Look  upon  me,  O  Lord,  and  pity  me;  make  me 
and  let  me  be  thine  by  the  choice  of  my  will. 

Make  me  serious  and  thoughtful  at  all  limes,  that 
I  mav  not  fail  being  so  when  I  attend  upon  God. 

Let  not  my  heart,  O  God,  be  inclined  to  any  evil 
thing.  Keep  me,  O  God,  from  every  thing  that 
may  displease  thee.  O  make  me  wise  unto  salva- 
tion. 

Phil.  iv.  13.  "  1  can  do  all  things  through  Christ, 
which  strengthened]  me." 

O  that  I  may  never  forfeit  this  power  by  presump- 
tion or  want  of  faiih. 

John  xx.  28.  "Thomas  said,  My  Lord  and  my 
God." 

Thou  art,  indeed,  O  Jesus,  my  Lord,  for  Thou 
hast  redeemed  me  by  thy  precious  blood  :  Thou  art 


26 


SACRA    PRIVATA, 


ray  God,  for  I  am  dedicated  to  Thee,  and  sanctified 
by  thy  Spirit. 

Acts  ii.  44.  "  And  all  that  believed  were  together, 
and  had  all  things  common." 

May  God  grant,  that  as  we  are  all  members  of 
the  same  body,  have  one  and  the  same  Father,  the 
same  Saviour,  the  same  Spirit,  and  hope  to  meet  in 
the  same  paradise  ;  that  we  may  live  in  unity  and 
godly  love,  and  be  charitable  according  to  our  abi- 
lity. 

The  good  Lord  grant,  that  in  the  day  of  Christ  I 
may  rejoice  that  I  have  not  run  in  vain,  nor  labored 
in  vain. 


THE  LORD'S  PRAYER  EXPLAINED. 

Our  Father,  which  art  in  Heaven. 

I  beseech  thee,  O  heavenly  Father,  not  for  myself 
only,  but  for  all  thy  children,  that  we  may  all  live 
worthy  of  the  relation  which  we  bear  to  thee ;  that 
vie  may  not  sin,  knowing  that  we  are  accounted  thine  : 
nor  wilfully  offend  so  great,  so  good,  so  tender  a 
Father:  but  that  we  may  love  thee,  and  fear  thee, 
not  as  slaves,  but  as  children :  that  we  may  put  our 
whole  trust  in  thee,  and  depend  upon  thine  infinite 
power,  wisdom,  goodness,  and  promise  to  take  care  of 
us  ;  that  we  may  leave  it  to  thee  to  choose  what  is 
best  for  us;  and  bear  wit h  patience  and  resignation 
all  thy  fatherly  corrections:  and  that  we  may  serve 
thee  with  comfort  and  pleasure  all  our  days,  in 
hopes  of  the  inheritance  which  thou  hast  promised 
thy  obedient  children. 

Hallowed  be  thy  name. 

Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive  glory,  and 
honor,  and  power;  for  thou  hast  created  all  things, 
and  all  thy  works  praise  thee.  Fill  our  hearts,  O 
God,  with  a  zeal  for  thy  glory,  that  we  may  do  thee 
honor,  by  leading  holy  lives,  and  by  paying  a  great 
regard  for  everything  that  belongs  to  thee;  thy 
name,  thy  day,  thy  house,  thine  ordinances,  and  thy 
ministers  ;  and  that  others,  seeing  our  good  works, 
may  glorify  our  Father  which  is  hi  heaven 

Thy  Kingdom  come. 

Enlarge  thy  Kingdom,  O  God,  and  deliver  the 
world  from  the  dominion  and  tyranny  of  Satan,  that 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  may  become  the  king- 
doms of  Jesus  Christ.  Hasten  the  time  which  thy 
Spirit  hath  foretold,  when  all  nations  whom  thou  hast 
made  shall  worship  thee  and  glorify  thy  name.  Bless 
the  good  endeavors  of  those  that  strive  to  propagate 
the  Gospel  of  thy  kingdom:  and  prepare  the  hearts 
of  all  men  to  receive  it.  May  all  such  as  own  thee 
fir  their  King,  become  thy  faithful  subjects! — 
Vouchsafe  to  reign  in  our  hearts,  and  subdue  our 
will  entirely  to  thine:  and  prepare  us  by  thy  good 
Spirit  for  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

Thy  Will  lie  done  in  Earth,  as  it  is  in  Heaven. 

Dispose  me,  and  all  thy  children,  O  Lord  and 
Father,  to  submit  cheerfully  to  whatever  thy  provi- 
dence shall  order  for  us :  hearken  not  to  the  corrupt 
desires  of  our  hearts;  but  to  the  voice  of  thine  own 
wisdom,  goodness  and  mercy.  Give  us  a  true 
knowledge  of  our  duty,  with  an  heart  disposed  to 
rlose  with  thy  will,  whenever  it  shall  be  made 
known  to  us,  and  to  perform  it  with  pleasure.  Sub- 
due in  us  whatever  is  contrary  to  thy  holy  will,  that 
through  thy  grace  we  may  at  last  become  perfect, 
as  our  heavenly  pattern  is. 

Give  us  this  day  our  Daily  Bread. 

We  look  up  unto,  and  depend  upon  thee,  O  hea- 
venly Father,  for  all  the  necessaries  and  conveniences 
of  this  present  life.  And  may  our  bodily  wants  en- 
gage us  to  go  daily  to  the  throne  of  grace,  for  the 


wants  of  our  souls !  Let  thy  blessing  go  along  with 
our  honest  endeavors,  and  keep  us  from  all  unjust 
ways  of  bettering  our  condition.  Give  us  grace  to 
impart  to  such  as  are  in  want,  of  what  thou  shah 
give  us  more  than  our  daily  bread  ;  and  with  all  thy 
other  favors,  give  us,  we  beseech  thee,  the  blessing 
of  a  thankful  and  contented  mind. 

And  forgive  us  our  Trespasses  as  we  forgive  them 
that  trespass  against  us. 

Forgive  us  those  sins,  O  heavenly  Father,  which 
separate  us  from  Thee :  forgive  us  every  day  of 
our  lives;  for  every  day  we  stand  in  need  of  par- 
don: give  me,  and  all  Christians,  a  forgiving  tem- 
per, that  we  may  fulfil  this  condition  of  our  pardon. 
Thou  art  good  and  merciful  in  forgiving  us:  grant 
we  may  be  so  to  others  ;  remembering  our  own  in- 
firmities. And  may  we  all  live  in  the  same  chari- 
table temper,  in  which  we  hope  and  desire  to  die. 

And  lead  us  not  into  Temptation,  but  deliver  us  from 
Evil. 

O  God  and  Father,  who  hatest  iniquity,  and 
knowest  our  infirmities,  leave  us  not  to  the  malice 
and  power  of  the  evil  one,  the  devil,  to  deal  with 
us  as  he  pleaseth ; — nor  to  ourselves,  and  to  our  own 
corrupt  hearts  and  lusts,  lest  we  rashly  run  into 
temptation.  Keep  us  out  of  the  way  of  temptations, 
and  under  the  protection  of  thy  good  Spirit:  suffer 
us  not  to  be  surprised  by  them,  nor  tempted  above 
what  we  are  able  to  bear.  Give  us  grace  to  resist 
them,  and  to  watch  and  pray  daily,  that  we  enter 
not  into  temptation. 

For  thine  is  the  Kingdom,  and  the  Poiver,  and  the 
Glory,  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 

The  whole  creation  is  thine,  and  under  thy  go- 
vernment. Thine  is  the  power :  thou  canst  do  what- 
soever we  pray  for.  Thou  canst  cause  thy  name  to 
be  sanctified  in  all  the  earth,  and  set  up  thy  king- 
dom in  all  the  world,  and  in  our  hearts  ; — thou  canst 
cause  thy  will  to  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven : 
and  incline  us  all  to  submit  to  it.  Thou  canst  give 
all  things  needful  both  for  our  souls  and  for  our 
bodies.  Thou,  and  thou  alone,  canst  forgive  us 
our  sins,  and  dispose  us  to  forgive  one  another : 
Thou  canst  secure  us  in  the  day  of  temptation,  and 
deliver  us  from  the  power  of  the  devil.  To  Thee, 
to  Thee  alone,  be  glory  to  all  eternity. 


MORNING  AND  EVENING  PRAYERS, 

For  Families  and  Particular  Persons. 

MORNING   PRAYER    FOR   A   FAMILY. 

Let  some  one  of  the  Family  that  can  read,  say  de- 
voutly whatfollowctk,  the  rest  attending. 

The  Lord  hath  brought  us  safe  to  the  beginning  of 
this  day;  let  us  therefore  give  thanks  for  this  and 
for  all  his  mercies. 

Let  us  pray  that  we  may  live  in  the  fear  of  God , 
and  continue  in  love  and  charity  with  our  neigh- 
bors : 

That  his  Holy  Spirit  may  direct  and  rule  our 
hearts,  teaching  us  what  we  ought  to  do  and  what 
to  avoid : 

That  the  grace  of  God  may  ever  be  with  us  to 
support  us  in  all  danger,  and  carry  us  through  all 
temptations: 

That  the  Lord  may  bless  all  our  honest  endeavors 
and  make  us  content  with  what  his  providence  shay 
order  for  us: 

And  that  we  may  continue  his  faithful  serva 
this  day,  and  unto  our  lives'  end. 

For  all  which  blessings  let  us  devoutly  pray. 


SACRA    PR IV ATA 


27 


Then  all  devoutly  kneeling,  let  one  say, 

O  God,  by  whom  the  whole  world  is  governed 
and  preserved,  we  give  thee  humble  thanks  for  thy 
fatherly  care  over  us,  beseeching  thee  to  make  us 
truly  sensible  of  thy  mercies,  and  thankful  for  them. 

Give  us  grace  that  we  may  walk  as  in  thy  sight, 
making  a  conscience  of  our  ways  ;  and,  fearing  to 
offend  thee,  may  never  fall  into  the  sins  we  have  re- 
pented of. 

Enable  us  to  resist  the  temptations  of  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil ;  lofouow  the  motions  of  thy 
good  Spirit ;  to  be  serious  and  holy  in  our  lives ;  true 
and  just  in  our  dealings ;  watchful  over  our  thoughts, 
words,  and  actions ;  diligent  in  our  business :  and 
temperate  in  all  things. 

May  thy  blessing  be  upon  our  persons — upon  our 
labors, — upon  our  substance, — and  upon  all  that  be- 
long to  us. 

Give  us  grace,  that  we  may  honestly  improve  all 
the  talents  which  thou  hast  committed  to  our  trust : 
and  that  no  worldly  business,  no  worldly  pleasures, 
may  divert  us  from  the  thoughts  of  the  life  to  come. 

Make  us  sensible  and  thankful  for  all  thy  favors; 
and  mindful  of  the  wants  of  others. 

By  thy  mighty  power  defend  us  in  all  the  assaults 
of  our  enemies ;  and  grant  that  this  day  we  fall 
into  no  sin;  neither  run  into  any  kind  of  danger; 
but  that  all  our  doings  may  be  ordered  by  thy  go- 
vernance, to  do  always  that  which  is  righteous  in 
thy  sight. 

May  our  gracious  God  give  us  what  is  needful 
for  us,  and  grace  not  to  abuse  his  favors ;  and  withal 
give  us  contented  minds! 

Give  us  in  this  world  the  knowledge  of  his  truth, 
and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting.  Amen. 

Hear  us,  0  God,  not  according  to  our  weak  un- 
derstandings, but  according  to  the  full  meaning  of 
that  form  of  prayer  which  Jesus  Christ  has  taught 
us. 

Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven;  hallowed  be 
thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done 
in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we 
for  ive  them  that  trespass  against  us.  And  lead  us 
not  into  temptation  ;  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.  Amen. 

The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love 
of  God,  and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
with  us  all  evermore.  Amen. 


On  Sunday  Morning,  let  thcfolbwing  Prayer  be  added 
to  your  daily  Prayer. 

O  Lord,  who  hast  consecrated  this  good  day  to 
thy  service,  give  us  grace  so  to  observe  it,  that  it 
may  be  the  beginning  of  an  happy  week  to  us,  and 
that  none  of  thy  judgments  may  fall  upon  us  for 
profaning  it.  Fix  in  our  hearts  this  great  truth, 
that  here  we  have  no  abiding  place,  that  we  may  se- 
riously and  timely  provide  for  another  life;  and  grant 
that  this  great  concern  may  make  us  very  desirous  to 
learn  our  duty  ;  and  to  do  what  thou  requirest  of  us. 
And  blessed  be  God,  that  we  have  Churches  to  go 
to;  that  we  have  time  to  serve  our  Creator;  that 
we  have  Pastors  to  teach  us  !  The  Lord  prosper 
their  labors,  and  give  us  grace  to  profit  by  them  ; 
that  they  and  we  may  enjoy  an  everlasting  Sabbath 
with  thy  saints  in  heaven,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake  ! 


EVENING   PRAYER   FOR    A    FAMILY. 

Let  one  standing,  read,  or  say  devoutly  what  follow- 
eth :  the  rest  of  the  family  attending. 

By  the  favor  of  God  we  are  come  to  the  evening 


of  this  day  :  and  we  are  so  much  nearer  our  latter 
end. 

Let  us  seriously  consider  this,  and  pray  God  to  fit 
us  for  the  hour  of  death. 

Let  us  with  penitent  hearts  beseech  him  to  pardon 
our  sins ;  and  to  deliver  us  from  the  evils  which  we 
have  justly  deserved.  * 

Let  us  resolve  to  amend  where  we  have  done 
amiss,  and  pray  God  that  his  grace  may  ever  be 
with  us. 

And  that  we  may  be  safe  under  his  protection, 
who  alone  can  defend  us  from  the  power  of  dark- 
ness. 

For  all  which  blessings  let  us  devoutly  pray. 

Tficn  all  devoutly  kneeling,  let  one  say, 

O  Lord,  and  heavenly  Father,  we  acknowledge 
thy  great  goodness  lo  us,  in  sparing  us  when  we  de- 
served punishment ;  in  giving  us  the  necessaries  of 
this  life;  and  in  setting  before  us  the  happiness  of  a 
better. 

The  merciful  God  pardon  our  offences ;  correct, 
and  amend  what  is  amiss  in  us;  that  as  we  grow 
in  years,  we  may  grow  in  grace ;  and  the  nearer 
we  come  to  our  latter  end,  we  may  be  the  better 
prepared  for  it ! 

In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death. 

Lord,  grant  that  these  thoughts  may  make  us 
careful  how  we  live,  that  we  may  escape  the  bitter 
pains  of  eternal  death. 

Take  from  us  all  ignorance,  hardness  of  heart, 
and  too  much  carefulness  for  the  things  of  this  life. 

Make  us  an  household  fearing  God,  submitting 
ourselves  to  thy  good  pleasure,  and  putting  our 
whole  trust  in  thy  mercy. 

May  God,  whose  kingdom  ruleth  over  all,  bless 
such  as  are  put  in  authority,  that  they  may  govern 
with  truth  and  justice;  and  that  we,  whose  duty  it 
is  to  obey,  may  do  it  for  conscience  sake ! 

Grant  that  true  religion  and  piety  maybe  secured 
and  countenanced  amongst  us;  and  that  impiety, 
profancness,  and  infidelity  may  effectually  be  dis- 
couraged, that  thyjudgments  may  not  fall  upon  this 
sinful  nation. 

Continue  to  us,  and  all  the  reformed  Church,  the 
means  of  grace  and  salvation.  Cause  that  the  sav- 
ing truths  of  the  Gospel  may  be  received  in  all  the 
world  ;  and  that  Christians  may  not  content  them- 
selves with  shadows  of  religion,  but  endeavor  after 
that  holiness,  without  which  no  man  must  see  the 
Lord. 

Remember,  gracious  God,  for  good,  all  those  that 
are  over  us  in  the  Lord,  who  watch  for  our  souls, 
as  they  that  must  give  account,  that  they  may  do  il 
with  joy.  We  commend  unto  thy  tender  compas- 
sion all  that  are  in  error,  and  sincerely  seek  the 
truth : — All  such  as  are  destitute  of  necessary 
means  of  instruction : — All  that  are  engaged  in 
sinful  courses,  that  they  may  have  grace  and 
strength  to  break  their  bonds: — All  that  labor  under 
trials  and  afflictions: — All  sick  and  dying  persons, 
that  they  may  omit  nothing  that  is  necessary  to 
make  their  peace  with  thee,  before  they  die: — And 
also  such  as  never  pray  for  themselves,  that  they 
may  see,  before  it  be  too  late,  the  danger  of  living 
without  God  in  the  world.  Vouchsafe  unto  us  an 
interest  in  the  prayers  of  thy  Holy  Church  through- 
out the  world,  which  have  been  this  day  offered  to 
the  throne  of  grace. 

Let  thy  blessing,  O  Lord,  be  with  us; — Defentt 
us  from  all  perils  and  dangers  of  this  night:  ami 
grant  that  when  we  depart  This  life,  we  may  rest  iM 
peace,  and  in  hope  of  a  blessed  resurrect/* 
through  Jesns  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen. 

Hear  us,  O  merciful  God,  n>  according  to  our 
weak  understanding,  but  »  ig  to    the  full 


28 


SACRA    PRIVATA 


meaning  of  that  form  of  prayer  which  Jesus  Christ 
has  taught  us. 

Our  Father,  which  art  in  Heaven,  fyc 

The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love 
of  God,  and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
with  us-all  evermore.  Amen. 


On  Sunday  Evening,  let  the  following  Prayer  be 
added  to  your  daily  Prayers. 

Almighty  God,  by  whom  all  things  were  made 
and  preserved,  give  us  hearts  to  know,  and  grace  to 
consider  this,  that  we  may  cheerfully  commit  our- 
selves, and  all  that  belongs  to  us,  to  thy  merciful 
care  ;  that  we  may  ever  look  up  to  thee  for  what 
we  want;  be  thankful  for  thy  favors ;  never  resist 
thy  dealings  with  us,  or  neglect  the  means  of  grace 
which  thy  providence  affords  us.  Blessed  be  God, 
who  giveth  us  what  is  ever  best  for  us  :  who  keep- 
eth  us  from  dangers,  and  hath  provided  for  us  better 
than  all  our  works  can  deserve  !  The  good  Lord 
make  us  mindful  of  our  duty,  that  as  we  often  hear 
how  we  ought  to  walk,  and  to  please  God,  we  may 
continue  to  do  so  unto  our  lives'  end,  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.  Amen 


PRAYERS  FOR  PARTICULAR  PERSONS 
BOTH  MORNING  AND  EVENING. 


IN   THE   MORNING, 

Consider  the  danger  of  going  into  an  evil  world,  and 
then  you  xcill  never  fail  to  pray  for  the  blessing,  pro- 
tection, and  grace  of  God,  every  morning  of  your  life. 

THE    PRAYER. 

Psal.  cxvi.  What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord,  for  his 
mercies  renewed  unto  me  every  morning  ? — I  will  offer 
the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving,  and  pay  my  vows 
unto  the  Most  High. 

And  may  God  accept  of  my  most  hearty  thanks 
for  my  preservation  and  refreshment,  and  for  all 
the  blessings  of  the  night  past,  and  of  my  life  past ! 

Possess  my  soul,  gracious  God,  with  such  a  sense 
of  this  thy  goodness,  and  of  my  dependence  upon 
thee  for  life,  health,  prosperity,  and  comfort,  that  it  may 
be  my  delight,  as  it  is  my  duty  and  interest,  to  serve 
and  obey  thee. 

And  that  I  may  do  this  with  a  quiet  mind,  forgive 
me  the  sins  of  which  my  conscience  is  afraid ;  and 
avert  the  judgments  which  I  have  justly  deserved. 

Give  me  grace  that  I  may  continue  in  thy  fear  al. 
the  day  long :  and  that  I  may  live  and  act  as  having 
thee,  O  God,  the  constant  witness  of  my  conduct ; 
and  that  it  may  be  the  purpose  of  my  soul  never  to 
offend  thee  wilfully. 

May  thy  restraining  grace  preserve  me  from  the 
temptations  of  an  evil  world,  from  the  frailty  and 
corruption  of  my  own  nature,  and  from  the  evil 
principles  and  practices  of  the  age  we  live  in  ! 

Possess  my  heart  with  a  sincere  love  for  thee,  and 
for  all  mankind ;  and  grant  that  I  may  have  this 
comfortable  and  sure  proof  of  thy  love  abiding  in 
me,  that  I  may  study  to  please  thee,  and  keep  thy 
commandments. 

Give  me  a  tender  compassion  for  the  wants  and 
miseries  of  my  neighbor,  that  thou  mayest  have 
compassion  upon  me,  O  God. 


Show  me  the  way  that  I  should  walk  in,  and  give 
me  grace  to  follow  the  conduct  of  thy  good  Spirit, 
that  I  may  do  my  duty,  in  that  state  of  life  in  which 
thy  providence  has  placed  me. 
'  Let  me  ever  remember,  that  the  night  cometh  when 
no  man  can  work ;  and  that  now  is  the  time  in  which 
to  provide  for  eternity. 

Grant,  gracious  God,  that  no  worldly  pleasure,  no 
worldly  business,  may  ever  make  me  lose  the  sight 
of  death,  or  forget  the  dangers  that  surround  me. 

Fill  my  heart  with  the  dread  of  the  punishments 
prepared  for  impenitent  sinners,  and  my  soul  with  a 
sense  of  the  blessings  which  will  be  the  sure  reward 
of  all  them  that  love  thee,  and  obey  thy  laws. 

Hear  me,  O  heavenly  Father,  not  according  to 
my  imperfect  petitions,  but  according  to  the  full 
meaning  of  that  holy  prayer  which  thy  beloved  Son 
hath  taught  us. 

Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven  :  hallowed  be 
thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done 
in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we 
forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us.  And  lead  us 
not  into  temptation  :  But  deliver  us  from  evil :  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 


In  all  my  ways,  I  do  achwwledge  thee.  Do  thou, 
O  Lord,  direct  my  paths,  and  teach  me  to  guide  my 
affairs,  my  designs,  my  words  and  actions,  with 
charity,  discretion,  justice  and  piety. 


PRAYERS  FOR  PARTICULAR  PERSONS. 

EVENING  PRAYER. 

Every  thoughtful  person  before  he  lieth  down  to  sleep, 
will  put  himself  under  the  protection  of  God,  who 
giveth  his  angels  charge  concerning  his  elect,  to  pre- 
serve them  from  the  powers  of  darkness,  from  the 
dangers  of  the  night,  and  from  all  sad  accidents. 

That  it  hath  pleased  God  to  add  another  day  to 
the  years  of  my  life,  and  that  he  hath  kept  me  from 
the  dangers  of  an  evil  world  : — for  these,  and  for  all 
his  mercies  from  day  to  day  bestowed  upon  me,  I 
bless  his  good  and  gracious  providence,  most  ear- 
nestly beseeching  him  to  pardon  my  offences  of  the 
day  past,  and  to  grant  that  they  may  never  rise  up 
in  judgment  against  me. 

Lord,  the  frailty  of  man,  without  thee,  cannot  but 
fall ;  in  all  temptations  therefore  I  beseech  thee  to 
succor  me,  that  no  sin  may  ever  get  the  dominion 
over  me. 

Give  me  a  salutary  dread  of  the  corruption  of  my 
own  heart.  Make  me  truly  sensible  of  the  end  of  siri, 
and  mindful  of  my  own  infirmities  and  backslidings. 

Vouchsafe  unto  all  sinners  a  true  sense  of  their 
unhappy  state,  a  fear  of  thy  judgments,  and  grace, 
and  strength  to  break  their  bonds. 

Enlighten  my  soul  with  saving  truth  :  correct  me 
in  mercy,  and  reduce  me  when  I  go  astray.  Make 
me  ever  mindful  of  my  latter  end,  and  fix  in  my 
heart  a  lively  sense  of  the  happiness  and  misery  of 
the  world  to  come. 

May  the  thoughts  of  death  mortify  in  me  all  pride 
and  covetousness,  and  a  love  for  this  world :  and 
may  my  firm  belief  of  a  judgment  to  come,  make 
me  ever  careful  to  please  thee,  rny  Lord  and  Judge, 
that  I  may  find  mercy  at  that  day ! 

Grant  that  I  may  lie  down  in  sleep  with  the  same 
charitable  and  forgiving  temper,  in  which  I  desire 
and  hope  to  die. 

And  may  the  Almighty  God  take  me,  and  all  that 
belongs  to  me,  under  his  gracious  and  powerful  pro- 
tection !  May  he  give  his  angels  charge  concerning 
us,  and  keep  us  in  perpetual  peace  and  safety, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ! 

St.  John  xvi.  23.  "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  What- 
soever ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in  my  name,  he  will 
give  it  you." 


SACRA    PRIVATA 


29 


In  thy  name,  O  Jesus,  and  in  the  full  meaning  of 
the  words  which  thou  hast  taught  us,  I  pray  God, 
for  thy  sake,  to  hear  me,  and  to  give  me  what  is 
most  convenient  for  me. 

Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven :  hallowed  be 
thy  name.    Thy  kingdom  come.    Thy  will  be  done 


in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we 
forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us.  And  lead  us 
not  into  temptation  :  But  deliver  us  from  evil :  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 


CONTENTS. 


On  Devotion  and  Prayer.  Prayer  for  a  De- 
vout spirit.  Prayer  for  right  dispositions  in 
prayer.  Duties  of  a  Christian— On  prayer.— 
Preparatory  prayer I 

Morning   Prayer.  • 

Miscellaneous.  Lord's  Prayer  paraphrased. 
Gloria  Patri.  Prayer  for  faith,  virtue,  indus- 
try. Intercession  for  all  conditions  of  men  ;  for 
the  sick — for  rulers — for  servants,  relations,  &c. 
Intercession  for  all  who  have  asked  our  pray- 
ers. Prayer  for  virtue  in  our  words.  Prayer, 
miscellaneous.  Prayer  for  grace,  faith — against 
wavering.  Prayer  against  covetousness,  &c. 
Prayer  for  charity,  repentance,  &c. — Humility. 
On  the  way  of  a  happy  life.  On  Christian  per- 
fection. Prayers,  miscellaneous.  Intercession 
for  the  sick  and  dying 2 

Prayers  at  Noon. 

General  intercessions.  Thanksgivings. — 
lord's  Prayer  paraphrased 6 

Evening  Prayer. 

Thanksgiving  for  preservation  and  grace,  &c. 
Prayer  for  pardon — for  grace.  Prayer  for  pro- 
tection. Lord's  Prayer  paraphrased.  Examina- 
tion. Prayer  for  preparation  for  death.  Prayer 
for  charitable  affections.  Prayer,  for  safety  in 
sleep — for  grace 7 

Sunday  Meditations. 

A  daily  form  of  thanksgiving.  Prayer  for 
true  gratitude.  On  Providence,  and  prayers  ac- 
cordingly. Birth-day,  thanksgiving  and  prayer. 
New-year's  Day,  ditto,  ditto.  Lord's  Day,  Prayer 
for  love  of  the  Sabbath.  Prayer  for  all  man- 
kind        8 

Monday  Meditations. 

Resignation.  Business.  Master.  Servant 10 

Tuesday  Meditations. 

Trouble,  Persecution,  &c.  Resignation. — 
Look  unto  Jesus.  Suffering.  Temptation.  De- 


spair. Hope.  Resignation.  Injuries.  Enemies. 
War,  or  public  dangers.  Judgment  day.  Zac- 
cheus 11 

Wednesday  Meditations. 

Covetousness.  Fasting.  Trouble.  Difficulties. 
Law-Suit.  Faith.  Lively  faith.  Self-denial. 
Take  up  the  Cross.  Virtues  of  a  holy  life.  Self- 
denial.  Mortification.  Temperance.  Fasting...     13 

Thursday   Meditations. 

Religious  conversation.  Against  anger. — 
Forgiveness  of  injuries,  Slander.  Uncharita- 
bleness 16 

Friday  Meditations. 

Penitence.  Good  nse  of  time.  Prayer  for  the 
Jews.  In  time  of  public  distraction.  Christ's 
patience,  love,  and  charity 17 

Saturday  Meditations. 

Preparation  for  death.  1.  Worldly  prepara- 
tion. 2.  Repentance.  3.  Uprightness.  4. — 
Heavenly  mindedness.  5.  Self-denial.  6.  Re- 
signation. 7.  Devotion,  or  timely  preparation 
for  death.  Sickness.  The  sting  of  deatn.  Holi- 
ness and  happiness  graduated.  Reasons  for  ac- 
tivity and  for  hope.  Watchfulness.  Justifica- 
tion. Faith  in  Christ  and  in  God.  Death  our 
deliverance.  Readiness  and  preparation  for 
death.  Death  of  Friends.  Preparation  for 
death.  Repentance,  &c.  Ejaculations  in  sick- 
ness and  remorse.  Charity.  Alms.  Charity. 
The  Litany.  The  penitent's  support 18 

Ejaculations,  &c. 

Miscellaneous.  LoveofGod.  Human  Weak- 
ness. Follow  Christ.  Wilful  sin.  Penitent. — 
Eternity.  Example.  Perfection.  Holiness. — 
Pestilence,  or  danger.  Prayer.  After  prayers. 
Riches,  Devotion.  The  Scriptures,  Perseve- 
rance. Morning.  Night.  Devoutness.  Power 
of  Christ.  Charity.  The  Lord's  Prayer  ex- 
plained. Short  Morning  and  Evening  Prayers 
for  Families,  and  for  particular  Persons 24 


THE    MARYS 


oa, 


THE   BEAUTY   OF   FEMALE  HOLINESS 


BY    ROBERT    PHILIP 


OF  MAEERLY  chapel. 


"  Holy  women  of  old." — St.  Peter. 
"■  There  stood  by  the  cross  of  Jesus,  his  mother,  and  Mary  the  wife  of  Cleophas, 
5-Tid  Mary  of  Magdala."—  St.  John. 


DEDICATION  AND  PREFACE. 


TO 
3ER   ROYAL    HIGHNESS 

THE  PRINCESS  VICTORIA, 

THESE  ESSAYS 

ON  FEMALE  CHARACTER  AND  INFLUENCE, 

ARE, 

EY   HER   GRACIOUS   PERMISSION. 

DEDICATED. 

WITH 

iFKRYEJTT   PRAYER   THAT   HER  ROYAL  HIGHNESS 

MAY   EXEMPLIFY 

ALL 

;  THE   BEAUTIES    OF   HOLINESS." 

IN    THE    COURT   AND   TO    HER   COUNTRY, 

BY 

THE   AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 

This  "  Closst  Manual"  has  a  twofold  peculiari- 
ty. It  is  addressed  exclusively  to  Females ;  becausp 
the  author  believes  that  general  appeals  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Sin  and  Holiness  are  not  well  adapted  to 
the  conscience  of  the  sex,  ncr  so  faithful  as  they 


seem.  Its  style,  too,  is  occasionally  peculiar;  be- 
cause he  thinks  that  Paraele  and  Allegory  are 
legitimate  weapons  in  "the  defence  of  the  Gospel." 
He  has,  therefore,  attempted  to  give  Oriental  forms 
to  old  truths,  whenever  he  found  it  difficult  to  say, 
in  ordinary  language,  all  that  he  wished  to  suggest 
to  the  female  mind.  He  has  also  given  that  promi- 
nence to  "  the  beauty  of  holiness,"  which  it  has  in 
Scripture,  in  common  with  the  nature  and  necessi- 
ty of  holiness.  This  plan  and  purpose  will  be  ad- 
hered to  in  the  succeeding  volumes  of  The  Lady:s 
Closet  Library. 

The  Author's  appeal  is  to  the  Mothers  and 
Daughters  in  British  "  Israel :"  they  must  be  both 
his  patrons  and  judges,  if  this  well-meant  experi 
ment  succeed. 

Newington  Green,  May  24,  1835. 


CONTENTS. 

I.  A  Mother's  Hinderances  Duly  Weighed 
Ii.  A  Daughter's  Principles  Analyzed. 

III.  Emblems  of  Holiness. 

IV.  A  Matron's  Timidity  Explainec. 
V.  The  Marys  at  the  Cross. 

VI.  The  Marys  at  the  Sepulchre. 
VII.  Partialities  in  Holiness. 
VIII.  Christians  Holy  Temples. 


THE     MARYS: 

OR, 

THE    BEAUTY    OF    FEMALE    HOLINESS. 


No.  I. 
a  mother's  hinperanxes  duly  weighed. 
It  is  worthy  of  special  observation,  that,  whilst  the 
earliest  prophecies  concerning  the  Church  of  Christ 
on  earth  foretell,  chiefly,  the  numbers  of  his  disci- 
ples, the  latter  prophecies  abound  in  descriptions  of 
their  spiritual  and  moral  character.  Thus,  when 
God  pointed  Abraham  to  the  stars  of  heaven  and 
the  sands  on  the  sea  shore,  as  emblems  of  the  Sa- 
viours offspring,  it  was  only  their  innumerable 
:I  multitude"  and  not  their  beauty  or  purity,  that  was 
appealed  to:  but  when  God  pointed  David  to  the 
''  dew-drops  of  the  morning,"  as  an  emblem  of  the 
offspring  of  Christ,  he  left  their  numbers  to  be  in- 
ferred, and  confined  the  attention  of  David  to  "the 
beauty"  of  their  "holiness."  Psalm  ex.  The  reason 
for  this  difference  in  the  revelation  of  the  same  fact 
is  obvious  ;  the  day  of  Christ  had  just  been  shown 
to  David  as  a  "  day  of  power,"  which  should  make 
people  "  willing"  to  follow  Christ,  and  as  a  period 
of  gracious  and  unchangeable  priesthood,  which 
should  encourage  them  to  follow  holiness  ;  whereas 
neither  of  these  facts  was  fully  disclosed  to  Abra- 
ham, when  he  saw  the  day  of  Christ  afar  off.  What 
was  shown  to  him  was,  chiefly,  [he  certainty  of  that 
day,  and  not  the  glory  of  it :  and  therefore  its  results 
were  given  in  numbers,  not  in  characteristics. 

This  illustration  will  apply  to  the  prophecies  at 
large.  Just  in  proportion  as  they  unveil  the  glory 
and  grace  of  the  Saviour  to  the  Church,  they  ex- 
hibit or  enforce  the  necessity  and  beauty  of  holiness. 
The  clearer  lights  they  shed  upon  the  mediatorial 
way  of  acceptance  with  God,  the  stronger  lights  they 
pour  upon  the  "narrow  way  which  leadeth  to  ever- 
lasting life." 

This  is  an  interesting  fact.  It  leads  us  to  look 
back  among  the  first  disciples  of  Christ,  who  fol- 
lowed him  in  this  "  regeneration  of  life,"  to  notice 
how  far  they  justified  the  prophecies,  which  thus 
"went  before,"  concerning  the  beauty  of  their  holi- 
ness. Did  his  first  offspring,  "the  dew  of  his  youth," 
resemble  the  dew  of  the  morning  in  character  and 
spirit?  Was  he  at  all  glorified  in  his  saints  then, 
as  well  as  "admired  by  them?'  Now,  so  far  as 
moral  character  is  one  of  the  essential  beauties  of 
holiness,  his  first  disciples  were,  in  general,  emi- 
nently holy.  Whatever  they  may  have  been  before 
they  left  all  and  followed  Christ,  afterwards  they 
were  emphatically  virtuous  and  upright.  For  a 
long  time,  indeed,  their  views  of  the  person,  work, 
and  kingdom  of  Christ  were  very  worldly,  and  even 
their  spirit  was  ambitious  as  well  as  rash  ;  but  their 
general  habits  were  both  circumspect  and  devo- 


tional ;  even  their  enemies  "  took  knowledge  of 
them  that  they  had  been  with  Jesus"  to  some  good 
purpose,  so  far  as  exemplary  conduct  was  the  effect 
of  their  intercourse  with  him. 

Did  you  ever  observe,  whilst  reviewing  the  cha- 
racter of  the  Saviour's  early  friends,  that  his  female 
followers  soon  acquired  great  beauty  of  holiness 
under  the  influence  of  his  word  and  example  1 — 
There  is,  indeed,  a  complete  halo  of  loveliness 
around  the  character  and  spirit  of  John,  "the  dis- 
ciple whom  Jesus  loved;"  and  there  is  much  sub- 
limity about  Peter,  notwithstanding  all  his  faults  ; 
and  the  whole  eleven,  compared  with  even  the  best 
of  the  Jews  of  that  time,  were  emphatically  "  holy 
men:"  but  still,  "  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  and 
■whatsoever  things  are  lovely,"  abound  most  among 
the  women  of  Judea  and  Galilee,  who  followed  him. 
There  is  an  exquisite  and  touching  beauty  about 
the  holiness  of  the  Marys  of  Bethlehem  and  Bethany 
especially,  which  eclipses  even  the  excellence  of  the 
"  holy  women  of  old."  We  almost  forget  Abra- 
ham's Sarah  in  the  presence  of  Joseph's  Mary,  and 
lose  sight  of  Jacob's  Rachel  whilst  Mary  of  Bethany 
is  before  us.  Of  them  we  must  say,  and  even  the 
world  will  respond  the  exclamation,  "  Many  daugh- 
ters have  done  virtuously,"  but  ye  have  "excelled 
them  all."  Give  them  of  "  the  fruit"  of  their  own 
hands,  and  their  "  works  will  praise  them  in  the 
gates." 

It  was  not  without  special  design,  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  transmitted  to  posterity  so  much  of  the  histo- 
ry and  character  of  these  distinguished  women  :  he 
evideutly  intended  them  to  be  models  of  female  ho- 
liness to  their  sex.  Hence  he  inspired  both  Eliza- 
beth and  the  angel  Gabriel  to  "  hail"  Mary  of 
Bethlehem  as  "  highly  favored  and  blessed  among 
women,"  and  taught  the  evangelists  to  depict  her 
peculiar  excellences:  and  not  less  care  did  he  take 
to  embody  the  character  and  embalm  the  memory 
of  Mary  of  Bethany.  No  angel,  indeed,  pronounced 
her  eulogy,  but,  what  was  far  better,  "  Jesus  loved 
Mary,"  and  predicted  that  her  love  to  him  should 
be  "  told  as  a  memorial  of  her"  wheresoever  the 
"  Gospel  should  be  preached  throughout  the  whole 
world." 

These  are  not  accidents,  nor  mere  incidents  in 
the  sacred  history ;  Mary  of  Bethlehem,  like  the 
star  of  Bethlehem,  is  evidently  placed  in  the  firma- 
ment of  the  Church,  as  a  leading  star,  to  guide  wise 
women,  as  well  as  wise  men,  to  Christ,  and  to  teach 
both  how  to  ponder  his  sayings,  and  revere  his  au- 
thority, and  cleave  to  his  cross.  In  like  manner, 
Mary  of  Bethany,  like  her  own  "'alabaster  box  of 


THE    MARYS 


precious  ointment,"  is  so  fully  disclosed  in.  all  her 
principles,  and  so  fully  poured  out  in  all  her  spirit 
before  us  by  the  sacred  writers,  that  there  can  be 
no  doubt  but  her  lovely  character  was  intended  to 
be  "  as  ointment  poured  forth,"  inspiring,  as  well  as 
pleasing.  Like  the  "  good  part,  which  shall  never 
be  taken  from  her,"  the  beauty  of  her  holiness  can 
never  be  uninfluential  on  either  sex,  whilst  it  is  the 
duty  of  both  "  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,"  hearing 
his  word ;  and  that  will  be  equally  duty  and  delight 
in  heaven,  as  well  as  on  earth, 

"While  breath  or  being  last, 
Or  immortality  endures." 

For  who,  that  knows  any  thing  of  vital  and  expe- 
rimental religion,  has  not  said,  in  effect,  both  when 
remembering  past  attainments,  and  when  anticipat- 
ing future  progress  and  enjoyment, 

"  O  that  I  might  for  ever  sit 
Like  Mary,  at  the  Master's  feef?" 

Thus  the  eye  of  a  Christian,  of  either  sex,  and  of 
whatever  sphere  in  life  or  godliness,  reposes  upon 
Mary  of  Bethany,  whenever  it  searches  for  an  ex- 
ample of  child-like  docility,  or  of  angel-like  meek- 
ness, in  learning  of  Christ.    The  spirit  of  a  Chris- 
tian takes  her  position  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  tries 
to  hang  upon  his  lips  with  her  zeal  and  zest,  when- 
ever it  is  hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteous- 
ness.   The  soul  feels  instinctively  that  this  is  the 
only  way  to  "  be  filled"  or  refreshed  by  his  presence. 
Accordingly,  we  have  never  found  much  enjoyment 
or  profit,  except  when  we  have  really  sat  at  "the 
feet"  of  Christ,  hearing  his  word  for  ourselves. — 
Neither  in  the  sanctuary,  nor  in  the  closet,  have 
we  become  holier  or  happier,  when  we  did  not  try 
to  place  ourselves  in  the  position  and  spirit  of  Mary. 
It  will  be  seen  at  once,  from  this  application  of 
the  example  of  Mary,  that  I  regard  both  her  place 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  her  conduct  in  anointing 
his  feet  with  "  spikenard,"  as  only  illustrations  of 
her  habitual  spirit  and  general  character.   Nothing 
is  farther  from  my  intention,  because  nothing  could 
be  more  foreign  to  her  real  character,  than  to  re- 
present her  as  merely  a  meek,  contemplative,  and 
retiring  Christian.    She  was,  indeed,  all  this,  but 
she  was  much  more  :  she  was  as  prompt  as  Martha 
in  going  out  of  the  house  to  meet  Jesus  when  he 
sent  for  her,  and  in  serving  him  in  the  house  when 
service  was  really  wanted.      It  was  not  wanted 
when  Martha  said  so.     If  she  had  stood  in  real 
need  of  assistance  from  Mary,  the  Saviour  would 
not  have  continued,  nor  even  begun  to  preach,  in 
the  house  of  Lazarus  then:  much  less  would  he 
have  commended  Mary  for  sitting  still,  if  she  had 
been  neglecting  domestic  duties.    The  character 
of  Mary  should,  therefore,  be  judged,  not  by  this  in- 
stance of  contrast  with  Martha's,  but  by  the  conduct 
of  Jesus.     Now,  He  certainly  would    not  have 
thrown  his  immortal  shield  so  promptly  and  fully 
over  it,  if  sloth  or  selfishness,  the  love  of  ease,  or 


character.  From  all  we  know  of  the  Saviour,  we 
may  be  quite  sure  that  he  would  have  reproved  her 
himself,  had  she  been  either  idle  or  negligent. 

They  are  but  very  superficial  observers,  who  seize 
upon  the  contrast  of  the  moment  between  these  sis- 
ters, to  make  out,  that  Mary  was  chiefly  an  amiable 
Nun-like  being,  who  was  fonder  of  contemplative 
piety  thar  of  practical  duty.  This  is  a  very  com- 
mon opinion ;  but  it  is  utterly  at  variance  with  fact, 
however  appearances  may  seem  to  justify  it.  Even 
appearances  are  against  it ;  for  nothing  is  so  promi- 
nent upon  the  surface  of  the  case,  as  the  Saviour's 
approbation  of  Mary's  character.  They  are,  there- 
fore, at  issue  with  both  His  judgment  and  testimony, 
who  insinuate  the  charge  or  suspicion  of  tmdomcstic 
habits  against  this  holy  woman.  There  is  nothing 
to  warrant  such  an  imputation.  She  sat  at  the  feet 
of  Jesus  upon  this  occasion,  because  Jesus  thought 
proper  to  open  his  lips  as  a  minister,  when  he  visited 
her  house  as  a  guest.  Besides,  His  visits  to  Betha- 
ny were  the  real  sabbaths  of  the  family.  Qnly  then, 
had  they  the  opportunity  of  hearing  the  glorious 
Gospel  in  all  the  fulness  of  its  blessing :  and  as  the 
opportunity  did  not  occur  often,  it  could  not  be  too 
fully  improved  whilst  it  lasted.  Thus,  there  is  no 
more,  reason  to  think  Mary  inactive  or  undomestic, 
because  she  sat  whilst  Martha  served  with  unne- 
cessary bustle,  than  to  suspect  that  those  women, 
who  sanctify  the  Sabbath  most  in  the  house  of  God, 
are  least  attentive  to  the  affairs  of  their  own  houses. 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  better  test  of  good  domestic 
management  all  the  week  at  home,  than  regularity 
and  punctuality  of  attendance  on  public  worship  on 
the  Sabbath.  Those  who  are  soonest  and  oftenest 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus  on  his  own  day,  are  certainly 
not  idle  or  irregular  on  other  days.  It  is  because 
they  are  active,  and  act  on  system  through  the  week, 
that  they  can  make  so  much  of  their  Sabbaths. 

I  thus  bring  out  the  real  character  of  Mary,  that 
the  beauty  of  holiness  may  not  be  supposed  to  con- 
sist in  either  mere  morals  or  musing.  There  may 
be  much  morality,  where  there  is  no  holiness;  and 
there  may  be  much  holiness,  where  there  are  no  li- 
terary tastes  or  habits.  Neither  fondness  for  public 
hearing,  nor  the 

"  Love  of  lonely  musing," 

is  any  real  proof,  by  itself,  of  a  new  heart,  or  of  a 
right  spirit,  before  God.  Great  readers  (as  they  are 
called)  are  not  often  the  deepest  nor  the  most  seri- 
ous thinkers,  even  when  their  reading  is  of  the  best 
kind ;  and  the  contemplative  recluse,  who  lives  only 
to  think,  or  who  reckons  every  thing  but  mental 
pleasure  insipid  is  actually  indulging  "  the  lusts  01 
the  mind,"  instead  of  growing  in  grace  or  holiness. 
It  may  sound  well,  to  say  of  a  sweet  enthusiast, 
whose  element  is  solitude,  and  whose  luxury  is 
emotion,  "  that  she  is  a  being  who  belongs  to  another 
world ;  her  tastes  are  all  so  unearthly,  and  her 
sympathies  so  exalted;"  but  this  is  no  compliment ! 
Indeed,  it  is  a  heavy  reflection  upon  both  her  heart 


the  dislike  of  household  duties,  had  been  part  of  her  I  and  conscience.    A  heart  that  felt  aright,  or  a  con- 


THE   MARYS. 


science  purified  by  the  blood  of  atonement,  would 
try  to  do  good  by  action,  as  well  as  to  get  good  by 
contemplation.  No  one  belongs  less  to  another 
world  (if,  by  that,  heaven  is  meant)  than  the  being 
who  has  neither  heart  nor  hand  to  be  a  blessing  in 
this  world.  Her  tastes  may  be  unearthly;  but 
heavenly,  they  certainly  are  not.  They  are  not 
angcl-like:  for,  are  not  all  the  angels  "ministering 
spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salva- 
tion 1"  They  are  not  saint-like:  for  all  the  spirits 
of  the  just  in  heaven  take  a  lively  interest  in  the 
progress  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  on  earth.  And 
they  are  any  thing  but  god-like:  for  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Spirit,  live  and  move,  as  if  they  had  both 
their  bliss  and  being  in  the  welfare  of  this  world. 

How  ever  did  it  come  to  be  supposed,  in  the  land 
of  Bibles,  that  there  was  either  intellectual  great- 
ness, or  moral  loveliness,  around  any  pensive  or 
sweet  recluse,  who  lives  only  in  and  for  the  ideal 
world  of  her  own  thoughts;  whilst  the  Heathen  and 
Mohammedan  world  is  perishing  for  lack  of  know- 
ledge, and  the  actual  world  at  her  door,  sinning  and 
suffering  unpitied  by  her? 

Those  who  have  no  taste  for  retirement  or  read- 
ing will,  but  too  readily,  join  in  this  protest  against 
sentimental  seclusion.  Those  only  who  hare  but 
little  time  for  direct  mental  improvement,  will  make 
a  right  use  of  the  protest,  or  even  repeat  it  in  a  good 
spirit.  They  will  be  glad  to  hear  it.  Not,  however, 
because  it  condemns  others,  but  because  it  relieves 
themselves  from  self-condemnation,  by  proving  to 
them,  from  both  the  letter  and  spirit  of  Scripture, 
that  musing  piety  is  not  the  only  nor  the  best  piety. 
Many  who  have  no  inclination  to  cumber  them- 
selves needlessly  with  many  things,  like  Martha, 
are  yet  encumbered  with  so  many  things  which  dis- 
tract their  attention,  and  absorb  their  time,  that  they 
hastily  conclude,  or  strongly  suspect,  that  they  have 
no  real  piety,  because  they  are  so  unlike  the  Mary 
of  their  own  imagination,  and  of  popular  opinion. — 
They  thus  sec  themselves  down  as  Marthas,  (her 
real  character,  too,  is  equally  mistaken,)  who  have 
not  "chosen  the  good  part,"  nor  acquired  the  "one 
thing  needful."  But  this  is  as  unnecessary  as  it  is 
unwise.  Wherever  real  duty  fills  the  hands,  or 
inevitable  care  the  heart,  then  there  is  as  much  ho- 
liness, and  as  much  of  the  real  beauty  of  it  too,  in 
doing  or  suffering  the  v/ill  of  God  well,  as  in  acts 
of  prolonged  devotion,  or  in  efforts  of  heavenly- 
mindedness. 

This  subject  is  much  misunderstood.  Indeed, 
many  are  afraid  to  speak  out,  or  even  to  think  free- 
ly, on  the  subject.  They  are  quite  dissatisfied  with 
themselves,  because  they  can  command  so  little  time 
for  devotional  reading  and  meditation ;  and  yet  they 
do  not  see  how  they  can  command  more  at  present. 
They  see  clearly,  and  feel  deeply,  that  their  minds 
want  improvement;  that  the  great  salvation  de- 
serves more  thought  than  they  give  to  it ;  that  I  hey 
have  not  that  communion  with  God  which  is  so  de- 
sirable, nor  that  witness  of  the  Spirit  which  they 
deem  so  important;  and  hence  they  stand  in  doubt 
whether  they  have  any  real  piety  at  all. 


Now  there  is  some  danger,  as  well  as  difficulty, 
in  meeting  this  case  ;  because  more  want  to  get  rid 
of  such  doubts,  than  those  who  are  so  placed  and 
pledged  in  life,  that  they  have  but  little  spare  time. 
The  slothful  and  the  worldly-minded  are  upon  the 
watch,  to  lay  hold  of  any  thing  that  would  lessen 
their  self-condemnation,  or  tend  to  reconcile  their 
habits  with  their  hopes.  The  allowances  to  be  made 
for  the  real  want  of  time,  they  stand  ready  to  snatch 
at,  as  excuses  for  not  redeeming  time,  or  for  not 
improving  it.  The  forbearance,  and  leniency,  and 
sympathy  of  God  towards  his  poor  and  afflicted 
children,  are  greedily  seized  and  appropriated  by 
slothful  servants,  and  by  heedless  and  heartless  pro- 
fessors. For  they,  too,  want  to  be  happy  in  their 
own  mind,  however  little  they  care  about  holiness- 
They  go  to  the  sanctuary  to  be  comforted,  as  well 
as  the  tried  and  harassed  Christian. 

Hence  arises  danger,  as  well  as  difficulty,  in  meet- 
ing publicly  and  fully,  the  case  of  those  who  can- 
not redeem  much  time,  nor  always  do  the  good  they 
really  wish  :  the  concessions  made  on  their  behalf, 
may  be  perverted  by  those  who  dislike  devotional 
retirement,  into  an  excuse  for  so  multiplying  their 
worldly  engagements,  as  to  leave  no  time  for  read- 
ing or  meditation,  and  but  little  for  prayer  itself. — 
Still,  neither  the  sheep  nor  the  lambs  of  the  Good 
Shepherd's  flock,  (who  love  and  long  for  those  green 
pastures  and  still  waters,  without  being  able  to  visit 
them  often  or  continue  at  them  long,)  should  be  lelt 
to  put  the  worst  interpretation  upon  their  own  weak- 
ness, however  loandcring  sheep  may  abuse  the  Shep- 
herd's condescension.  He  will  count  as  his  sheep, 
and  even  carry  in  his  bosom,  those,  who,  although 
they  cannot  be  so  often  at  his  feet  as  they  wish,  do 
not  try  to  keep  away,  nor  to  get  away,  from  his  feet. 
He  will  distinguish  between  those  who  cannot  sit 
down  to  hear  his  voice  frequently,  because  of  press- 
ing domestic  duties,  and  those  who  seldom  do  so, 
because  they  prefer  to  "  hear  the  voice  of  strangers." 
John  x.  5. 

The  real  question,  therefore,  in  the  case  of  those 
who  have  but  little  leisure,  is, — What  engrosses 
your  time  ?    Now,  if  duties  which  it  would  be  sin- 
ful to  omit,  fill  your  hands  and  your  heart  all  the 
day  long,  and  even  leave  you  fatigued  at  night,  it 
will  not  be  laid  to  your  charge,  as  sin,  that  you  were 
not  much  alone  with  God.     You  ought  not  to  be 
much  alone,  when  either  a  sick-bed  or  the  care  of 
the  family  requires  your  presence.     Then,   "  the 
beauty  of  holiness"   lies  in  watching  and  working 
in  a  devotional  spirit,  and  not  in  frequent  nor  in 
prolonged  visits  to  the  closet.      That  mother  is  not 
unholy,  nor  inconsistent,  who  has  hardly  a  moment 
to  herself,  from  morning  till  night,  owing  to  the 
number  of  her  children,  or  the  sickness  of  her  babe. 
That  daughter  is  not  unholy,  nor  unlike  Mary  of 
Bethany,  who  shares  her  mother's  toils  and  trials, 
or  soothes  the  loneliness  of  an  aged  and  infirm  fa- 
ther.     That  wife  is  not  unholy,  nor  unlike  Mary, 
who,  in  order  to  make  her  husband's  slender  income 
sweeten  his  home  and  sustain  his  credit,  works  hard 
all  the  day.    All  these  things  are,  indeed,  done  bv 


6 


THE    MARYS. 


many  who  care  nothing  about  holiness,  and  who 
would  not  retire  to  meditate  or  pray,  even  if  their 
time  were  not  thus  absorbed  ;  and,  therefore,  the 
mere  doing  of  these  things,  apart  from  its  spirit  and 
motives,  proves  nothing  decisive  as  to  the  state  of 
the  heart  before  God.  Still,  it  is  equally  true,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  neither  the  time  nor  the  care 
expended  on  these  duties  disproves  the  existence  of 
holiness.  There  is,  indeed,  no  true  holiness,  where 
there  is  no  secret  devotion  ;  but  there  may  be  much 
of  the  former,  when  there  is  but  little  time  for  the 
latter:  yea,  the  highest  beauty  of  holiness  often  in- 
vests and  enshrines  the  character,  whilst  the  heart 
of  a  Christian  imist  depend  more  upon  frequent 
glances  at  the  throne  of  grace,  than  upon  formal 
approaches  to  it.  Then,  to  go  through  arduous 
domestic  duty,  in  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which 
breathes  prayer,  even  when  busiest ;  or  to  watch 
and  minister  in  the  sick  chamber,  mingling  prayer 
with  tenderness  and  patience,  and  thus  "  doing  ser- 
vice as  unto  the  Lord,"  or  for  his  sake,  is  as  deci- 
sive of  piety,  and  even  "  adorns  the  doctrines"  of 
Christ  as  much,  as  any  act  of  devotion,  however 


but,  having,  like  many,  grown  up  under  the  idea, 
that  nothing  was  really  a  part  of  her  piety  but  what 
was  a  positive  act  of  religion,  and  thus  being  in  the 
habit  of  estimating  her  piety  more  by  her  delight  in 
divine  things,  than  by  her  conscientious  discharge 
of  ordinary  duties,  she  is,  of  course,  sadly  thrown 
out  and  disconcerted,  whenever  the  pressure  of  or- 
dinary duties  lessens  the  sense  or  lowers  the  spirit 
of  her  religious  observances;  whereas,  had  she  fully 
gone  into  the  question  of  personal  holiness  at  her 
outset  in  the  divine  life,  she  would  have  soon  dis- 
covered that  it  is  the  very  beauty  of  hotiness  to  do 
that  best  which  is  most  wanted  at  the  moment ;  for 
even  the  cradle  may  be  made  an  altar,  and  the  nur- 
sery a  little  sanctuary,  and  household  duties  almost 
sacramental  engagements  !  But  if  these  things  are 
looked  upon  as  the  mere  routine  of  life,  or  as  unfa- 
vorable to  godliness ;  and  if  only  the  time  which 
can  be  spared  from  them  is  considered  improved 
time  for  eternity,  then,  of  course,  there  must  be  a 
sad  sense  of  declension  in  piety  whenever  more  time 
than  usual  is  demanded  by  them.  But  why  not 
consider  that  unusual  portion  of  time  which  is  re- 


spiritual,  or  any  enterprise  of  zeal,  however  splen-    quired  in  seasons  of  domestic  care,  as  improved  for 
did.  eternity,  as  well  as  the  time  spent  in  devotion  1 — 

Why  not  do  every  thing  as  service  unto  God,  as 
well  as  the  things  you  call  service  done  to  him  1 
Surely,  if  all  Christians  may  eat  and  drink  so  as  to 
glorify  God,  Christian  mothers  may  watch  and  work 
for  their  family  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his  grace. 

I  am  not  inclined  to  resolve  so  many  things  into 
satanic  influence  as  some  are  :  there  are  many  of 
our  faults  and  failings  but  too  easily  accounted  for 
by  the  treachery  of  our  own  hearts  and  the  want  of 
consideration  :  still,  I  cannot  help  suspecting  that 
Satan  has  not  a  little,  yea,  much,  to  do  with  creating 
and  keeping  up  the  popular  notion,  that  nothing  is 
spiritual  religion  but  spiritual  exercises  and  emo- 
tions. Not,  indeed,  that  he  is  any  friend  to  spirit- 
uality of  heart  or  habit :  there  is  nothing  he  hates  so 
much,  or  tries  more  to  hinder.  He  can,  however, 
transform  himself  into  an  angel  of  light,  and  thus 
seem  to  plead  for  highly  spiritual  religion,  and  for 
extraordinary  devotion,  whilst,  in  fact,  he  is  endea- 
voring to  prevent  all  religion  and  devotion  too. 

It  is  not  sin  alone,  nor  worldly  pleasures  only, 
that  Satan  throws  false  colors  over :  he  can  exag- 
gerate the  claims  of  holiness,  as  well  as  soften  the 
aspect  of  sin  and  folly.  He  often  labors  to  make 
out  the  necessity  of  too  much  religion,  as  well  as  to 
prove  the  sufficiency  of  too  little  :  I  mean,  that  just 
as  he  tries  to  persuade  some  that  the  ceremonial 
forms  of  religion  are  quite  enough,  or  as  much  as 
can  be  expected  in  our  busy  world  and  imperfect 
state,  so  he  labors  to  persuade  others  that  nothing 
amounts  to  saving  piety  but  a  heart  all  love,  a  spirit 
all  heavenly,  and  a  character  perfectly  holy.  In 
like  manner,  he  adapts  his  wiles  to  those  who  see 
through  the  fallacy  of  such  extremes ;  putting  it  to 
themselves  to  say,  whether  they  might  not  as  well 
do  nothing  at  all  in  religion,  as  do  so  little  ;  whether 
it  would  not  be  less  dangerous  to  make  no  profes- 
sion of  godliness,  than  to  have  only  a  spark  of  its 


There  is,  perhaps,  no  practical  lesson  of  godliness 
so  ill  understood,  as  this  one.  The  general  senti- 
ment of  it  is,  of  course,  obvious  to  any  Christian, 
and  the  theory  of  it  quite  familiar ;  but,  how  few 
enter  so  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  maxim,  as  to  keep 
their  piety  from  declining,  or  their  peace  of  mind 
from  evaporating,  when  they  have  much  to  do  or  to 
endure  in  their  family  !  Then,  it  is  no  uncommon 
thing  for  a  pious  wife,  or  a  widowed  mother,  to 
complain  that  domestic  cares  have  brought  a  cloud 
upon  all  her  hopes  and  evidences  of  grace,  and  such 
deadness  and  darkness  upon  her  soul,  that  she  seems 
to  herself  no  longer  the  same  being  she  was,  but 
like  an  apostate  from  faith  and  godliness.  Thus 
she  thinks  that  she  has  lost  her  piety,  whilst  doing 
her  duty  to  her  family  ! 

And  she  certainly  has  lost  some  of  her  piety,  al- 
though not  in  the  sense  she  means,  nor  yet  to  the 
degree  she  suspects.  She  has  lost  that  holy  free- 
dom at  the  throne  of  grace,  which  once  made  her 
closet  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven ;  she 
has  lost  that  power  of  appropriating  the  great  and 
precious  promises,  which  once  made  her  Bible  so 
dear;  she  has  lost  that  control  over  her  own  thoughts 
and  feelings,  by  which  she  could  once  concentrate 
them  upon  the  things  which  are  unseen  and  eternal, 
whenever  she  really  tried  to  pass  within  the  veil  of 
the  invisible  world;  and,  above  all,  she  has  lost 
sight  of  her  own  warrant  and  welcome  to  trust  in 
Christ,  which  once  set  and  kept  every  thing  right. 
Now,  these  are  serious  losses,  and  may  well  be  sadly 
bewailed,  and  even  somewhat  feared  as  to  their  con- 
sequences ;  for  it  is  not  so  easy  to  repair  these  spirit- 
ual injuries,  as  it  is  to  bring  them  on.  They  might 
all  have  been  kept  off,  however,  if  she  had  studied 
beforehand  the  secret  of  blending  the  spirit  of  prayer 
with  the  efforts  of  maternal  devotedness,  and  the  art 
of  turning  the  duties  of  life  into  acts  of  godliness  ; 


THE   MARYS. 


power;  or,  at  least,  whether  it  would  not  be  better 
to  give  up  prayer  entirely,  until  they  can  secure 
more  time  and  composure,  than  to  continue  it  in 
the  very  imperfect  way  they  are  now  compelled 
to  do1? 

This  is  an  appeal  to  the  conscience  of  a  harassed 
mother,  which  she  little  suspects  to  come  from  the 
lips  of  Satan  ;  and  yet  he  is  as  busy  in  "  taking  ad- 
vantage over"  her,  whilst  thus  trying  to  make  her 
give  up  what  she  attempts  in  religion,  as  when  lie 
beguiled  Eve  to  aim  at  being  god-like  in  another 
sense  than  she  was  so.  At  this  point,  therefore,  it 
is  peculiarly  necessary  to  act  on  the  injunction, 
"  Resist  the  Devil."  That  cannot  be  done  effect- 
ually, however,  by  any  process  which  does  not  turn 
the  duties  of  life  into  acts  of  godliness.  He  will  not 
"  flee  from  you,"  whilst  you  merely  analyze  and 
scrutinize  his  wiles  and  devices ;  he  will  try  new 
fiery  darts  as  fast  as  you  defeat  the  old,  by  mere  ar- 
guments ;  he  will  stand  at  your  right  hand,  resisting 
you,  whilst  you  only  resist  him  by  detecting  him. — 
When  did  he  leave  the  Saviour  1  Not  until  he  saw 
that  nothing  could  divert  him  from  the  "  work  the 
Father  gave  him  to  do."  Satan  tried  first  to  set  him 
against  that  work,  by  the  poverty  it  involved  ;  then 
to  set  him  upon  a  new  process  of  doing  it ;  and  then, 
to  engage  him  in  other  work,  altogether  different ; 
but  all  in  vain.  Satan  found  nothing  in  the  Saviour 
averse  to  the  will  of  God,  notwithstanding  all  the 
labor,  privation,  and  suffering  which  the  great  work 
of  redemption  involved.  "  Then  the  devil  left  him, 
and  angels  ministered  unto  him."  And  by  no  other 
process  than  that  of  adhering  to  the  work  God  has 
given  us  to  do,  can  we  resist  the  devil  so  as  to  make 
him  flee  from  us. 

I  do  not  forget  (I  never  more  remembered  or  ad- 
mired than  at  this  moment)  that  Christ  resisted 
temptation  by  opposing  to  it  the  express  word  of 
God.  It  was,  however,  not  the  quotations  of  Scrip- 
ture, but  the  practical  purpose  for  which  they  were 
quoted,  that  discomfited  the  tempter.  The  Saviour 
drew  upon  the  word  of  God,  that  he  might  not 
draw  back  from  the  word  of  God ;  he  wielded 
weapons  from  the  armory  of  heaven,  that  he  might 
go  steadfastly  through  whatever  the  Father  had 
given  him  to  do  or  endure  on  earth. 

I  know  well  that  there  is  no  parallel  between  our 
work  and  the  work  of  Christ;  but  still,  our  sphere, 
and  its  duties  and  hardships,  are  the  appointment 
of  God,  as  well  as  Christ's  were  so.  It  is  not  by 
accident  that  one  mother  has  much  to  do,  and  an- 
'  other  much  to  suffer,  and  a  third  much  both  to  do 
and  endure ;  these  heavy  crosses  are  as  really 
heavenly  appointments  as  the  cross  of  Christ  was, 
although  not  for  the  same  purpose.  Accordingly, 
in  some  things,  we  recognise,  and  even  act  on  this 
principle,  in  express  imitation  of  the  Saviour's  ex- 
ample. "When  the  cup  of  bereavement  or  affliction 
is  put  into  our  hands,  we  try  to  say,  like  him,  "  The 
cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall  I  not 
drink  it  7  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  Thus 
we  really  attempt  to  turn  what  we  suffer  much 
from,  into  an  occasion  of  serving  God  well,  and  for 


submitting  to  him  meekly.     We  regard  this  as  true 
godliness,  and  try  to  make  it  holy  submission. 

Now,  why  not  view  every  duty  of  life  in  the 
same  light,  and  both  go  to  it,  and  through  it,  as  ser- 
vice required  by  God,  and  acceptable  to  God  1  Per- 
haps you  find  it  difficult  to  conceive  how  some  of 
your  domestic  duties  could  be  invested  with  any 
thing  like  a  spiritual  or  holy  character  :  you  may 
almost  be  inclined  to  smile  at  first,  at  the  idea  of 
giving  them  a  religious  aspect;  and  as  to  throwing 
the  beauty  of  holiness  around  all  the  details  of  life, 
it  may  seem  to  you  a  profanation  of  divine  things 
even  to  think  of  such  a  mixture.  Be  not  frighten- 
ed or  prejudiced,  however,  by  words  or  fancies. — 
God  himself  does  many  things  similar  to  those  you 
have  to  do :  if  you  clothe  your  children,  He  clothes 
the  earth  with  grass  and  flowers :  if  you  feed  your 
children,  He  feeds  the  young  ravens  when  they  crv  : 
if  you  watch  night  and  day,  occasionally,  over  the 
couch  of  a  sick  child,  afraid  to  stir  from  its  side,  or 
take  your  eye  off  it  for  a  moment,  He  never  slum- 
bers nor  sleeps  in  watching  over  his  suffering  chil- 
dren :  God  even  "  sits,  as  a  refiner,"  by  the  furnace 
of  his  backsliding  children.  If  you  try  to  manage 
well,  and  to  make  the  best  of  whatever  happens, 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  love  you  and  look  up  to 
you,  He  also  makes  "  all  things  worK  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  him."  Thus  God  counts 
nothing  beneath  him,  nor  derogatory  to  his  charac- 
ter, which  is  really  required  by  any  of  his  creatures, 
or  needful  in  any  part  of  his  creation.  He  doeth 
all  things,  little,  and  great,  ordinary  and  extraordi- 
nary, in  the  same  god-like  manner;  acting  always 
in  character,  whether  he  sustain  a  sparrow  or  create 
a  world.  He  doeth  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth, 
indeed,  without  quitting  his  throne,  or  being  dis- 
quieted by  the  multiplicity  and  weight  of  his  en- 
gagements ;  but  still,  God  occupies  himself  with 
our  mean  affairs,  as  willingly  and  fully  as  with 
the  affairs  of  angels  or  the  interests  of  the  universe. 
Nothing  in  his  glorious  holiness  holds  him  back 
from  doing  ordinary  things  well,  because  they  are 
but  ordinary  things:  he  acts  like  himself,  whether 
displaying  the  tenderness  of  a  Parent  or  the  majes- 
ty of  a  Judge,  and  carries  out  his  great  principles 
into  all  his  operations. 

If,  then,  He  be  not  less  holy,  nor  less  beautiful  in 
holiness,  whilst  attending  to  the  minutest  claims  of 
his  universal  family,  why  may  not  "  holiness  unto 
the  Lord  be  written"  upon  all  the  details  of  your 
family  duty! 

I  am  not  pleading  for  what  is  called  "  mixing  up 
religion  with  every  thing,"  if  by  that  is  meant  talk- 
ing about  religion  whilst  transacting  the  business 
of  life,  or  giving  a  religious  turn  to  every  conver- 
sation. This  is  neither  necessary  nor  wise,  as  it  is 
usually  conducted  by  those  whe  try  it  most :  indeed, 
they  are  thus  often  guilty  of  "  casting  pearls  before 
swine,"  and  more  likely  to  create  prejudices  against 
religion  than  to  commend  it.  Even  their  own  piety 
is  in  danger  of  being  suspected  of  sinister  design  oi 
of  sanctimonious  pretence,  by  this  forced  intermix- 
ture of  sacred  and  common  things.    So  far,  there- 


THE   MAfvl' 


'ore,  as  speaking  perpetually  about  religion,  or 
about  every  thing  in  religious  phrases,  is  concerned, 
f  hare  no  sympathy  with  the  habit,  and  see  none  of 
the  teauty  of  holiness  in  it.  I  have,  however,  quite 
as  little  respect  for  both  the  vulgar  and  the  senti- 
mental proverb — "  Business  in  its  place,  and  reli- 
gion in  its  own  place."  That  really  means,  in  the 
lips  of  those  who  use  it  most,  "they  are  distinct 
thirgs,  therefore  keep  them  separate;"  a  maxim 
equally  treasonable  and  untrue!  They  are,  indeed, 
ma.lt  distinct  things;  but  who  made  them  sol  Not 
God:  he  joins  with  the  injunction,  "not  slothful  in 
business,"  the  commandment  "  Be  fervent  in  spirit, 
saivmg  the  Lord."  He  says,  "  Whatsoever  ye  do, 
o.o  all  to  the  glory  of  God."  It  sounds  ill,  and  looks 
ill,  therefore,  when  men,  professing  to  be  Christians, 
say  that  they  give  themselves  to  business  and  re- 
lig'on  in  turn,  and  never  try  both  at  once.  Such 
men  do  not  understand  the  spirit  of  true  religion, 
whatever  adepts  they  may  be  in  business. 

I  say  this,  however,  far  more  in  pity  than  in  blame; 
for,  as  many  godly  women  have  grown  up  in  the 
habit  of  going  through  their  domestic  duties,  with- 
out ever  imagining  that  there  is  any  godliness  in 
performing  them  well,  so,  many  men,  who  have  the 
root  of  the  matter  in  them,  have  grown  up  in  the 
habit  of  regarding  their  public  duties  in  trade  as 
no  part  of  their  religion.  They,  too,  count  nothing 
piety  but  what  is  done  in  the  closet  of  devotion, 
and  in  the  house  of  God,  except  what  they  may  oc- 
casionally do  in  visiting  the  afflicted,  or  in  relieving 
the  poor ;  and  thus  both  sexes  confirm  each  other 
in  the  pernicious  opinion,  that  ordinary  duty  is  no 
proof  of  vital  godliness. 

This  is  a  pernicious  opinion,  however  well  meant 
by  some  who  hold  it.  Wherever,  indeed,  there  is 
no  devotion,  nor  any  relish  for  divine  things,  or, 
when  the  soul  and  salvation  are  neglected  through 
f. he  attention  given  to  worldly  things,  no  diligence 
nor  honor  in  business  is  religion  in  any  sense.  The 
industry  of  the  bee,  or  the  economy  of  the  ant, 
might  as  well  be  called  piety.  It  is,  however,  equal- 
ly true,  on  the  other  hand,  that  idleness  and  dis- 
honesty disprove  all  pretensions  to  godliness :  there 
must,  therefore,  be  something  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  ordinary  duties  of  life  not  unfavorable  to  vital 
godliness,  seeing  the  conscientious  discharge  of 
them  is  thus  essential  to  the  proof  of  its  sincerity. 
Why,  then,  should  a  pious  man  allow  himself  to 
think  that  he  is  only  serving  the  world  during  the 
hours  and  bustle  of  business  1  Why  should  he 
ever  speak  or  dream  of  leaving  his  religion  at  home 
when  he  goes  out  into  the  world'?  He  does  not 
leave  behind  him  his  conscience,  nor  his  sense  of 
accountability,  nor  his  regard  to  truth,  nor  his  re- 
spect for  his  good  name,  nor  his  holy  fear  of  dis- 
gracing his  profession :  these  follow  him,  like  his 
shadow,  into  all  the  walks  of  public  life.  Not  all 
the  anxieties  nor  distractions  of  his  business  can 
make  him  lose  sight  of  his  great  moral  principles  ; 
and  yet  he  says  that  he  "left  his  religion  at  home." 
He  means,  of  course,  his  penitence,  his  spirituality 
of  mind,  and  his  devotion ;  these  are  what  he  drops 


when  he  quits  his  closet  ana  tne  iamny  aitai  ;  anu 
certainly  these  are  things  which  cannot  be  much 
combined  with  worldly  affairs.  I  will  even  readily 
grant  that  it  would  not  argue  much  good  sense,  to 
attach  much  importance  to  the  hasty  glances  or  the 
passing  thoughts  of  divine  things,  which  may  take 
place  in  the  course  of  the  day;  these  should  not 
rank  very  high  in  the  scale  of  evidences  by  which 
a  Christian  tests  the  reality  of  his  conversion,  or 
the  safety  of  his  state  for  eternity.  Yea,  I  will  go 
farther,  and  allow  that  if  he  cannot  prove  his  faith 
without  the  scanty  items  of  such  evidence,  he  can- 
not prove  it  with  them :  they  are  too  few  and  feeble 
to  lay  much  stress  upon  them. 

These  concessions  do  not,  however,  militate 
against  my  argument :  it  is  just  because  they  prove 
so  little,  that  I  advocate  the  necessity  and  propriety 
of  going  to  business,  day  after  day,  in  a  spirit  which 
shall  make  it  all  one  embodied  proof  of  true  holi- 
ness. Now,  it  would  be  so,  by  going  to  it  and 
through  it,  as  a  penitent  before  God,  as  a  debtor  be- 
fore Christ,  as  a  dependant  before  the  Holy  Spirit. 
A  Christian  man  is  all  this ;  and  by  a  little  pains 
he  might  carry  the  consciousness  of  all  this  as  regu- 
larly into  the  world  as  he  carries  his  honesty  or  his 
integrity.  He  need  no  more  lose  sight  of  what  the 
hope  of  eternal  life  lead  him  to  be  and  do,  than  of 
what  his  credit  and  subsistence  require  of  him.  It  is 
just  as  possible  to  act  as  a  redeemed  man,  as  to  act 
as  an  honest  man.  And  here  would  be  the  advan- 
tage of  acting  in  this  spirit — instead  of  coming 
home  from  business  with  all  its  deadening  and  dis- 
tracting influence  aggravated  by  the  suspicion  of 
having  been  serving  the  world  only,  he  would  have 
the  consciousness  that  he  had  been  "doing  service  as 
unto  God,  and  not  as  unto  man  ;"  and  thus  the  con- 
viction that  neither  the  time  nor  the  thought  he  had 
given  to  his  public  duties,  had  lessened  his  hold 
upon  the  divine  favor,  or  drawn  any  judicial  veil 
between  him  and  the  divine  presence.  Whereas 
the  Christian  who  really  leaves  the  spirit  of  reli- 
gion at  home,  because  he  deems  it  useless  or  impos- 
sible to  mind  any  thing  but  business  during  the 
hours  of  business,  cannot  so  easily  resume  that  spi- 
rit after  the  tear  and  wear  of  the  day.  He  feels  as 
if  all  he  had  been  doing  was  somewhat  sinful  in 
itself,  because  it  is  so  deadening  and  carnalizing  in 
its  influence.  The  consequence  is,  he  is  often  afraid 
to  go  alone  with  God,  after  having  been  long  and 
much  absorbed  in  the  world. 

These  remarks,  although  a  digression  in  one 
sense,  are  not  at  all  so  in  another.  They  will  ac- 
count in  some  measure  for  the  false  view  you  have 
taken  of  domestic  duties.  You  have  so  often  heard 
a  pious  father,  husband,  or  brother,  complain  of  the 
unhinging  and  deadening  effect  of  the  cares  of  bu- 
siness on  their  minds,  and  have  so  often  felt  that 
family  duties  and  cares  had  precisely  the  same  effect 
on  your  own  mind,  that  you,  like  them,  are  too 
much  in  the  habit  of  considering  the  duties  of  life 
as  drawbacks  or  hinderances  to  godliness.  I  am, 
therefore,  very  anxious  to  lead  you  into  the  Scrip- 
tural views  of  this  subject,  not  only  on  your  owk 


THE   MARYS 


account,  but  for  the  sake  of  those  whose  spiritual 
welfare  is  dear  to  you;  for,  without  saying  a  word 
in  the  way  of  counsel,  or  even  of  explanation,  you 
may  so  illustrate  the  great  truth  that  "  all  things 
may  be  done  to  the  glory  of  God,"  as  to  convince 
j'our  father,  your  husband,  or  your  brother,  that  bu- 
siness may  be  made  the  handmaid  of  religion  in 
the  world,  as  well  as  at  home. 

Are  you  a  mothei  1  How  holiness  might  beam 
and  breathe  in  all  your  maternal  duties  and  cares ! 
Kay.  do  not  smile  in  scorn  nor  in  pity  at  this  fond 
wish  !  I  no  more  forget  than  you  do,  that  there  is 
noise,  nonsense,  vexation,  almost  drudgery  at  times, 
in  the  nursery;  your  patience,  as  well  as  your 
strength,  is  often  tried  by  your  children  ;  you  occa- 
sionally find  it  no  easy  matter  to  keep  your  temper, 
or  even  to  keep  up  your  spirits,  amongst  them. — 
Were  they  not  your  own  children,  you  feel  as  if  you 
never  could  go  through  what  you  have  to  do  and  en- 
dure. Now,  I  do  not  wonder  at  this ;  my  only  wonder 
is,  how  mothers  can  work  and  watch,  nourish  and 
cherish,  as  they  do !  There  must  be  a  magnetic 
charm,  which  fathers  do  not  feel,  in  the  sweet  thought 
— "  They  are  my  own  children."  We,  too,  love  them 
sincerely  and  strongly,  as  you  well  know ;  but, 
somehow,  we  could  neither  do  for  them  nor  bear 
with  them,  in  your  spirit,  nor  with  your  perseve- 
rance. A  sleepless  night  or  two  quite  exhausts  our 
patience:  the  reflection,  "  They  are  my  own  chil- 
dren," does  not  electrify  us  as  it  does  you,  except 
when  their  life  is  in  imminent  danger.  Well,  just 
carry  out  this  electric  thought  in  your  own  maternal 
spirit,  and  observe  how  you  feel  whilst  you  say,  in 
reference  to  their  souls,  "  My  own  children  !  They 
will  be  mine  for  ever,  both  here  and  hereafter.  No- 
thing can  dissolve  all  my  connection  with  them. — 
We  may  be  widely  separated  on  earth ;  we  shall  be 
divided  by  death,  and  it  is  not  yet  certain  that  we 
shall  be  all  reunited  in  heaven  :  but  wherever  they 
are,  in  time  or  eternity,  they  will  be  my  family.  I 
ian  never  forget  them.  Until  death,  I  shall  instinct- 
ively look  after  them,  wherever  their  lot  may  be 
cast:  at  the  judgment-seat  I  shall  look  for  them, 
whether  they  stand  on  the  right  hand  or  on  the  left: 
through  eternity  I  shall  remember  them,  wherever 
I  myself  am,  or  whatever  I  may  be."  Neither 
heaven  nor  hell  can  obliterate  parental  recollec- 
tions ;  fathers  and  mothers  will  feel  themselves  to 
be  fathers  and  mothers 

"  Whilst  immortality  endures." 

These  are  solemn  considerations.  Do  not,  how- 
ever, shrink  from  them  ;  they  may  become  equally 
sweet  and  sublime.  Even  already,  they  have  thrown 
your  spirit  in  upon  your  maternal  responsibilities, 
and  far  out  amongst  your  parental  prospects  in  both 
worlds.  That  glance  of  solicitude  you  darted 
through  the  assembled  universe,  in  search  of  your 
children,  when  you  realized  the  judgment-seat, 
proves  that  you  are  not  "  without  natural  affec- 
tion," nor  destitute  of  spiritual  sympathy.  And  that 
breathless  nause  you  made,  whilst  supposing  your- 


self looking  all  around  heaven  for  them,  reveals  to 
you  how  dear  their  eternal  safety  is  to  your  hear!, 
and  how  much  their  presence  would  heighten  your 
happiness,  even  in  the  presence  of  God  and  ine 
Lamb.  What  fine  preparation  these  glimpses  of 
the  great  white  throne  of  judgment,  and  of  the  glo- 
rious high  throne  of  heaven,  are  for  maternal  pray- 
er at  "  the  throne  of  grace  !"  Whilst  the  former 
thrones  are  looked  at,  the  latter  cannot  be  over- 
looked. You  feel  through  all  your  soul,  that  any 
mother,  if  allowed,  would  pray  for  her  childr;n  at 
the  former  thrones,  if  prayer  could  avail  tlide  :  and 
will  you  neglect  to  pray  for  your  children  at  that 
throne,  where  alone  it  is  allowed  or  -useful  1  If 
you  do  neglect  this  duty,  it  is  not  likely  that  God 
would  gratify  you  with  either  the  company,  or  a 
sight,  of  your  children  in  heaven,  even  if  both  they 
and  you  should  be  in  heaven.  But  a  prayerless 
mother  in  heaven — is  an  anomaly.  Her  children 
are  more  likely  to  miss  her  there,  than  she  is  to  miss 
them  ;  or,  both  to  meet  in  hell ! 

Neither,  however,  need  miss  the  other  in  heaven. 
Both  may  meet  in  one  mansion  of  glory,  if  both 
mingle  their  prayers  at  the  throne  of  grace.  Heaven 
is  not  so  inaccessible  or  uncertain  to  families,  as 
families,  as  some  seem  to  fear.  We  must  not  judge 
from  appearances  in  this  matter.  Heaven,  as  it  is 
revealed  in  the  Bible,  is  a  family-house,  where  Ci  it 
may  be  well  with  us  and  our  children  for  ever." — 
God  has  said  so.  We  must  not,  therefor?,  regulate 
our  opinion  of  His  good  will  towards  the  families 
of  those  that  fear  him,  by  the  way  in  which  some 
of  their  children  turn  out.  The  real  question  is, — 
Did  those  parents  take  God's  flan,  in  both  its  letter 
and  spirit,  for  training  up  their  children  1  That, 
all  godly  parents  have  done  something,  yea  much, 
for  their  families,  compared  with  what  t)  e  m.godly 
do,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  But  how  few  even  be- 
lieve— that  there  is  a  positive  certainty  of  svci-ess, 
pledged  by  God,  to  all  who  bring  up  their  children 
in  "the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord!"' — 
The  generality  treat  this  promise  as  a  lottery,  in 
which  there  are  more  blanks  than  prizes.  Thus 
both  the  faithfulness  and  the  sincerity  of  Gcd  are 
dishonored.  But,  Mothers  !  it  is  as  true  now,  as 
when  Paul  said  to  the  jailor  at  Philippi,  ';  Believe 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved, 
and  thy  house."  The  jailor  had  asked  only,  "  What 
shall  I  do  to*  be  saved  V  Paul,  however,  would  not 
allow  him  to  confine  the  question  to  himself.  The 
promise  is  to  children  as  well  as  to  parents ;  and 
therefore  the  Apostle  answered  the  question  so  as 
to  include  botfi. 

If  these  preliminary  hints  awaken  any  curii 
or  win  any  confidence,  towards  the  designs  of  this 
little  book,  you  will  not  throw  it  aside  just  yet ;  nor 
wonder  if,  before  resuming  this  part  of  the  subject, 
I  take  great  pains  to  secure  the  attention  and  confi- 
dence of  daughters,  as  well  as  of  mothers.  Read 
the  next  chapter,  therefore,  on  their  account,  or  to 
your  daughters;  and  do  give  weight  to  whatever  is 
experimentally  true  in  it,  by  setting  your  "  seal"  to 
its  truth. 


10 


THE    MARYS. 


No.  II. 

a  daughter's  principles  analyzed. 

In  addressing  yon,  "  I  will  (first)  incline  my  ear 
unto  a  Parable ;  I  will  open  my  dark  saying  upon 
the  harp"  of  Allegory.  And,  should  I  close  my 
appeal  in  the  same  way,  you  will  forgive  me.  Both 
Rachael  and  Miriam  are  real  characters,  and  will, 
I  fear,  recognise  themselves  :  but  you,  I  hope,  will 
try  in  vain  to  identify  either. 

Both  young  men  and  maidens  venerated  the  aged 
Sheshbazzar,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  honoring 
his  gray  hairs  as  "  a  crown  of  glory."  He  was  a 
second  conscience  to  all  the  youth  of  Beersheba,  who 
studied  to  maintain  a  good  conscience  towards  God 
or  man.  When  the  young  men  looked  upon  the 
daughters  of  the  Canaanites,  and  thought  of  allying 
themselves  with  "  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel,"  they  remembered  that  Sheshbazzar  would 
not  bless  the  forbidden  union  ;  and  turned  their  at- 
tention to  the  daughters  of  the  Covenant.  When 
th<=  maidens  of  Beersheba  were  fascinated  by  the 
garb  and  bearing  of  the  sons  of  Belial,  they  felt  that 
they  could  not  meet  the  eye  of  the  holy  Patriarch, 
and  drew  their  veils  closer  around  them  in  the 
streets.  Thus  all  the  plans  of  the  young  had  a  tacit 
reference  to  his  opinion,  and  the  hope  of  his  appro- 
bation and  benediction  mingled  with  their  brightest 
prospects.  "  Wiat  will  Sheshbazzar  think  of  me  ?" 
was  a  question,  which,  however  simple  in  itself, 
disentangled  whole  webs  of  sophistry,  and  unmask- 
ed the  mast  plausible  appearances.  It  revealed  the 
secrets  of  the  heart  to  the  conscience,  and  the  frauds 
of  the  conscience  to  the  judgment.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  simple  question ;  but  it  searched  the  reins  like 
"  the  candle  of  the  Lord," — because  all  who  reflect- 
ed, felt  that  the  good  old  man  could  have  no  object 
but  their  good  ;  and  that  whatever  influence  he  had 
acquired  over  them,  was  won,  not  by  stratagem,  but 
by  weight  and  worth  of  character.  It  was  the  spell 
of  his  fine  spirit,  which,  like  the  mantle  of  Elijah, 
cast  upon  the  plaughman  of  Abelmeholah,  drew 
them  after  him  as  with  "  cords  of  love."  Amongst 
the  daughters  of  the  Covenant,  who  listened  to  his 
wisdom,  and  loved  his  approbation,  Rachel  was  the 
most  enthusiastic.  She  was  modest  as  the  lily  of 
the  valley,  but  sensitive  as  the  tremulous  dewdrops 
which  gemmed  it.  Like  the  clouds  of  the  spring 
upon  Carmel  or  Hermon,  she  wept  and  smiled  in 
the  same  hour.  Her  spirit  soared  at  times  like  the 
eagle  of  Engedi,  until  lost  in  the  light  which  is  full 
of  glory;  and,  anon,  it  drooped  like  the  widowed 
dove  in  the  gloomy  avenues  of  Heshbon  and  Ke- 
dron.  She  was  alternately  glowing  and  freezing ; 
too  high  or  too  low.  In  all  things,  but  in  her  modest 
gentleness,  she  was  the  creature  of  circumstances. 
Even  in  Religion,  she  had  no  fixed  principles.  She 
was  feelingly  alive  to  its  beauties,  but  dead  to  its 
real  spirit.  Whilst  it  inspired  thoughts  which 
breathed,  and  words  which  burned,  with  immor- 
tality, she  was  enraptured  with  it :  but  when  its 
oracles  or  ordinances  led  to  thoughts  of  penitence, 
or  words  of  humiliation,  she  had  no  sympathy  of 
spirit  with  them.    She  wept,  indeed,  over  her  fallen 


nature ;  but  not  because  it  was  fallen  from  the  moral 
image  of  Jehovah.  The  loss  of  intellectual  power, 
not  the  loss  of  holy  feeling,  grieved  her.  She  felt 
deeply  mortified,  because  she  could  not  maintain 
all  the  mental  elevation  of  a  rational  being ;  and 
she  thought  her  mortification,  humility  I  She  de- 
plored the  weakness  and  waywardness  of  her  mind, 
in  the  strongest  terms  of  self-abasement ;  but  not 
because  her  mind  disliked  secret  prayer  and  self- 
examination.  She  lamented  that  she  had  so  little 
communion  with  God ;  but  it  was  not  the  commu- 
nion of  a  child  with  a  Father,  nor  of  a  penitent  with 
a  Saviour,  but  the  communion  of  a  poet  with  the 
God  of  nature — of  a  finite  Spirit  with  the  Infinite 
Spirit — that  had  charms  for  her.  She  admired  the 
prophets;  but  not  for  the  holiness  which  rendered 
them  temples  meet  for  the  Holy  Spirit  to  dwell  in, 
and  speak  from  ;  but  because  of  their  mysterious 
dignity,  as  the  ambassadors  of  Heaven.  She  gloried 
in  the  altars  and  mercy-seat  of  the  temple;  not  as 
they  were  types  of  salvation  by  the  atonement  of  the 
promised  Messiah,  but  as  they  were  the  seat  and 
shrine  of  the  cloud  of  glory  and  the  sacred  fire. 

All  this  Sheshbazzar  saw  and  lamented.  But 
Rachel  was  gentle,  and  he  loved  her ;  she  had  ge- 
nius, and  he  admired  her.  Men  of  one  idea  thought 
her  mad ;  and  men  with  half  a  heart  deemed  her  a 
mere  visionary.  Sheshbazzar  regarded  her  as  a 
young  vine  among  the  rocks  of  the  Dead  Sea,  whose 
grapes  are  embittered  by  the  bitumen  of  the  soil ; 
and  he  hoped,  by  transplanting  and  pruning,  to  dis- 
place its  poisonous  juices.  But  the  difficulty  was, 
to  convince  her,  that  even  her  virtues  were  like  the 
grapes  of  Gomorrah,  unfit  to  be  presented  "  before 
the  Lord,  in  the  waive-offering  of  the  first  fruits," 
or  to  be  mingled  in  "  the  drink-offering."  They 
were,  indeed,  so ;  for,  like  the  vines  of  Gomorrah, 
she  bore  fruit  to  herself,  not  to  the  glory  of  God. — 
Her  morality  was  high-toned  ;  but  only  because 
she  reckoned  immorality  beneath  the  dignity  of 
female  character.  Her  taste  was  simple  ;  but  only 
because  she  deemed  follies  unworthy  of  her  talents. 
Her  sympathies  were  prompt  and  tender;  but  they 
were  indulged  more  for  the  luxury  of  deep  emotion, 
than  for  the  sake  of  doing  good.  What  became  her 
— as  a  woman,  and  a  woman  whom  Sheshbazzar 
reckoned  "  one  of  a  thousand,"  was  both  the  reason 
and  the  rule  of  her  excellences.  She  never  prayed 
for  grace  to  sanctify  or  sustain  her  character  :  and 
as  her  tastes  and  pursuits  were  far  above  even  the 
comprehension,  as  well  as  the  level,  of  ordinary 
minds,  Rachel  never  suspected  that  her  "  heart  was 
not  right  with  God."  The  Elders  of  the  city  had, 
indeed,  often  told  her  so  in  plain  terms,  made  plainer 
by  the  shaking  of  their  hoary  heads  :  but,  although 
she  was  too  gentle  to  repel  the  charge,  she  only  pi- 
tied their  prejudices.  Sheshbazzar,  as  she  imagin- 
ed, thought  very  differently  of  her ;  and  his  smile 
was  set  against  their  insinuations.  He  perceived 
this  mistake,  and  proceeded  to  correct  it.  He  had 
borne  with  it  long,  in  hope  that  it  would  gradually 
correct  itself.  He  had  made  allowances,  and  ex- 
ercised patience,  and  kept  silence  on  the  subject, 


THE   MARYS 


i; 


until  his  treatment  of  Rachel  began  to  be  reckoned 
weakness,  and  not  wisdom,  by  his  best  friends. — 
His  plan  had  been  to  bear  aloft  his  young  eaglet 
upon  his  own  mighty  wings,  until  she  breathed  the 
air  of  spirits,  and  bathed  in  the  light  of  eternity, 
and  then  to  throw  her  off  upon  the  strength  of  her 
own  pinions,  that  she  might,  whilst  he  hovered  near 
to  intercept  a  sudden  fall,  soar  higher  in  the  empy- 
rean of  glory,  and  come  down  "  changed  in  the 
same  image/'  and  humbled  by  the  "  exceeding 
weight"  of  that  glory.  But  the  experiment  failed  : 
she  descended  mortified  because  of  her  wcrkness, 
not  humbled  because  of  her  un worthiness.  He  re- 
solved, therefore 

"  To  change  his  hand,  and  check  her  pride." 

"Rachel,"  said  Sheshbazzar,  "the  first  day  of 
vintage  is  near  at  hand,  and  there  is  but  little  fruit, 
on  my  vines;  could  we  not  send  to  the  Dead  Sea 
for  grapes  of  Gomorrah,  and  present  them  before 
the  Lord,  'as  a  waive-offering,  and  pour  them  out 
as  a  drink-offering?'  " 

Rachel  was  surprised  at  the  question  ;  for  it  was 
put  solemnly,  and  betrayed  no  symptom  of  irony. 

u  Grapes  of  Gomorrah !"  Rachel  exclaimed ;  "  ask 
rather,  if  strange  fire,  or  a  torn  lamb,  may  be  safely 
presented  at  the  altar  of  Jehovah  1  But  Sheshbaz- 
zar mocketh  his  handmaid.  The  curse  is  upon  all 
the  ground  of  the  cities  of  the  plain ;  and,  moreover, 
the  grapes  of  Gomorrah  are  as  bitter  as  they  are 
beautiful.  Even  the  wild  goats  turn  away  from  the 
vines  of  Sodom.  What  does  my  father  mean  1 — 
The  form  of  thy  countenance  is  changed!  Like  the 
spies,  I  will  go  to  Eshcol  or  Engedi  for  clusters  to 
present  before  the  Lord ;  for  the  Lord  our  God  is  a 
jealous  God." 

"True,  my  daughter,"  said  Sheshbazzar;  "and 
if  it  would  be  sacrilege  to  present  the  grapes  of  Go- 
morrah in  the  waive-offering,  because  tiiey  grow  on 
the  land  of  the  curse,  and  have  imbibed  its  bitterness; 
how  must  a  jealous  and  holy  God  reject  the  homage 
of  a  proud  spirit ^  The  fruits  of  that  spirit  draw 
their  juices  from  a  soil  more  deeply  cursed  than  the 
Asphaltic, — and  of  which  Gomorrah,  when  in 
flames,  was  but  a  feeble  emblem." 

"  But,  Sheshbazzar,"  said  Rachel,  "  to  whom  does 
this  apply"?  Not  to  your  spirit  ;  for  it  is  a  veiled 
seraph,  lowliest  in  itself  when  loftiest  in  its  adorn- 
in?  contemplations.  And  my  spirit — is  too  weak  to 
be  proud.  I  feel  myself  a  mere  atom  amidst  infi- 
nity. I  feel  less  than  nothing,  when  I  realize  the  In- 
finite Spirit  of  the  universe." 

"  It  is  well,  my  daughter;  but  what  do  you  feel 
when  you  realize  Him  as  the  Holy  One  who  inha- 
bited eternity  1  Rachel!  I  never  heard  you  ex- 
claim, God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner!  You  have 
called  yourself  an  atom  in  the  universe — an  insect 
in  the  solar  blaze — an  imperfect  grape  on  the  vine 
of  being;  any  thing,  but  a  sinner.  It  was  not  thus 
that  Abraham,  and  Job,  and  Isaiah,  felt  before  the 
Lord.  It  is  not  thus  that  I  feel.  You  think  me 
like  the  grapes  of  Sibmah  and  Engedi,  ripe  for  the 


service  of  the  heavenly  temple.  Ah,  my  daughter  ' 
nothing  but  '  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant' 
keeps  me  from  despair;  and  there  is  nothing  else 
between  you  and  Tophel," 

Rachel  trembled.  She  hnd  never  marked  the 
humility  of  the  Patriarchs,  nor  paused  to  consider 
what  the  soul  and  sin  must  be — seeing  they  requir- 
ed such  an  atonement.  She  retired  weeping;  and, 
for  the  first  time,  retreated  into  her  closet  to  pray 

for  MERCY. 


However  the  first  discoveries  of  the  beauty  of 
holiness  may  be  made,  and  whatever  may  be  the 
first  motives  which  induce  any  one  to  desire  to  fol- 
low holiness,  neither  its  nature  nor  its  necessity  are 
rightly  understood,  until  both  the  atoning  sacrifice 
of  Christ  and  the  sanctifying  grace  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  are  duly  considered.  Until  we  look  to  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb  and  the  sanctification  of  the 
Spirit,  as  the  only  way  of  acquiring  that  holiness 
which  constitutes  meetness  for  heaven,  no  moral 
sentiments,  however  pure,  and  no  sense  of  the  beau- 
ty of  virtue,  however  delicate,  amount  to  "  a  clean 
heart"  or  "  a  right  spirit"  towards  God.  She  who 
carries  her  inquiries  after  the  principles  of  true 
holiness  no  farther  than  just  around  the  circle  of  its 
duties,  and  over  the  surface  of  its  proprieties,  ill  de- 
serves the  high  privilege  of  possessing  a  Bible,  and 
has  no  right  to  call  herself  a  Christian. 

It  is,  indeed,  both  proper  and  necessary  to  sit  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  learning 
morality  from  his  precepts;  but  it  is  equally  essen- 
tial to  sit  at  his  feet  in  Gethsemane,  where  he  trod 
the  wine-press  of  the  wrath  of  God;  and  on  Mount 
Calvary,  where  he  made  his  soul  an  offering  for 
sin;  learning  there,  also,  the  real  evil  of  sin," and 
the  infinite  expense  at  which  it  is  pardoned  and 
taken  away. 

In  saying  this,  I  do  not  forget  nor  undervalue  the 
sweet  influence  which  holy  example  exerts  over 
some  gentle  and  ingenuous  spirits.  The  Shunamite 
is  not  the  only  woman  whose  attention  and  good 
will  to  piety  have  been  conciliated,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, by  the  weight  and  worth  of  a  ministerial 
character  like  Elisha's.  Day  after  day,  she  saw  the 
prophet  moving  about  in  his  -phere  of  public  duty, 
like  a  commissioned  angei,  with  equal  meekness 
and  patience;  happy  in  his  work,  and  transparent 
in  all  his  character:  and  this  contrast  between 
Elisha  and  hirelings,  led  her  to  cultivate  his  friend- 
ship. "  Sii?  said  unto  her  husband,  Behold  now,  I 
perceive  that  this  is  an  holy  man  of  God,  which 
passes  by  us  continually;  let  us  make  a  little 
chamber  on  the  wall,  I  pray  thee;  and  set  there 
for  him  a  bed,  and  a  table,  and  a  stool,  and  a  candle- 
stick." 

In  like  manner,  the  lovely  character  of  exem- 
plary parents  and  friends,  has  often  suggested  the; 
rirsl  idea  of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  excited  the 
first  desire  to  be  holy.  The  simple  reflection,  "  I 
should  so  like  to  resemble  them,"  has  not  unfre- 
quently  led  to  imitation.    But  imitation,  whenever 


y>  THE    MARYS 

it  has  been  attempted  on  a  large  scale,  has  soon 
compelled  to  an  examination  of  the  secret  springs 
of  eminent  holiness.  The  want  of  success,  or  the 
waywardness  of  some  temper,  makes  the  young 
candidate  pause  and  ask,  why  she  could  not  equal 
her  models,  nor  realize  her  own  wishes.  She  ex- 
pected to  be  as  much  a  heroine  in  practice  and  per- 
severance, as  she  felt  herself  to  be  in  theory.  She 
took  for  granted,  that  she  had  only  to  resolve  and 
try,  in  order  to  be  as  good,  as  amiable,  as  holy,  and 
happy  in  religion,  as  the  friends  she  admired  most ; 
but  the  fond  aspirant  after  high  moral  excellence, 
soon  found  out  that  it  was  not  so  easily  attained  as 
she  imagined,  and  that  she  herself  was  not  so  strong 
in  principle  as  she  supposed. 

This  discovery  is  always  the  result  of  honest  en- 
deavors to  be  very  like  very  lovely  Christians.  It 
is,  however,  a  most  important  discovery.  It  may 
stop  effort  for  a  time,  and  even  discourage  hope  not 
a  little  ;  but  it  leads  to  such  an  observation  of  the 
principles  and  motives  of  those  we  have  failed  to 
copy,  as  soon  explains  our  failure.  The  discovery 
of  our  own  weakness  is  followed  by  a  discovery  of 
the  secret  of  their  strength  and  success.  We  cease 
to  wonder,  (however  we  may  continue  to  weep,) 
that  we  made  so  little  progress,  when  we  resolved 
to  be  as  good  as  the  best ;  for  we  both  resolved  and 
tried  in  our  own  strength;  or  with  such  a  vague  re- 
ference to  the  grace  of  God  for  help,  that  success 
was  impossible.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  whilst 
the  cross  of  Christ  was  to  us  only  a  solemn  fact  in 
sacred  history,  and  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
merelv  a  cardinal  article  of  the  creed.  Not  in  this 
rame  form  did  these  great  truths  stand  (we  saw!) 
before  the  minds  of  those  we  admired  and  wished  to 
resemble.  We  discovered  that  the  Cross  and  Grace 
were  the  only  pillars  on  which  their  hopes  rested; 
the  very  poles  upon  which  their  habits  and  spirits 
turned;  the  very  source  and  centre  of  all  their  reli- 
gion and  morality.  This,  we  saw,  made  the  differ- 
ence between  them  and  us. 

These  are  invaluable  lessons  in  experience,  whe- 
ther acquired  in  this  way,  or  by  some  other  process. 
They  are,  however,  incomplete  lessons,  whilst  they 
only  lead  us  to  perfect  our  theology,  by  bringing  it 
up  to  the  standard  of  eminent  Christians.  It  is,  in- 
deed, well  to  take  care  that  both  the  Cross  and 
Grace  have  all  that  prominence  in  our  creed  which 
they  hold  in  their  creed.  It  is  wise  to  mark  minute- 
ly how  they  glory  in  the  Cross,  and  depend  on  the 
Spirit,  at  every  step  and  stage  of  their  piety.  It  is, 
however,  quite  possible  to  embrace  the  faith  of  the 
saints,  because  it  is  their  faith,  without  embracing 
it  for  their  chief  reasons.  They  glory  only  in  the 
cross  of  Christ  because  they  are  sinners.  This 
is  their  first,  and  chief  reason,  for  believing  as 
they  do. 

I  pray  your  attention  to  this  fact.  Your  pious 
friends  are  not,  indeed,  uninfluenced  by  other  con- 
siderations than  their  own  sinfulness,  in  thus  mak- 
ing the  Atonement  "all  and  all,"  as  the  ground  of 
their  hope.  They  are  much  influenced  by  the  ex- 
ample of  the  great  cloud  of  witnesses  around  the 


throne;  all  of  whom  washed  their  robes  and  made 
them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb :  by  the  exam- 
ple of  the  innumerable  company  of  angels;  all  of 
whom  also  look  into  the  sufferings  of  Christ  with 
untiring  wonder  and  intense  admiration:  and  es- 
pecially by  the  example  of  the  Father,  who  counts 
the  Cross  the  glory  of  his  moral  government;  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  confines  his  agency  to  the 
exhibition  and  application  of  the  things  of  Christ, 
for  the  glory  of  Christ.  All  these  considerations 
are  both  load-stars  and  leading-stars,  to  bring  and 
bind  the  confidence  of  your  friends  to  the  Lamb  of 
God.  They  often  help  their  faith,  by  remembering 
how  the  noble  army  of  martyrs  shook  the  flames 
and  the  scaffold  with  the  shout,  "None  but  Christ !:' 
and  by  listening  to  the  New  Song,  as  it  swells  for 
ever  louder  from  all  the  harps  of  heaven.  Even  the 
historic  truth'  and  the  moral  triumphs  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Cross,  have  no  small  influence  in  con- 
firming the  faith  of  the  saints  in  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ.  They  are  glad,  too,  that  the  wisdom  of  phi- 
losophy is  foolishness,  and  the  inspiration  of  poetry 
tameness,  compared  with  the  sublimity  and  glory 
of  the  Cross. 

Still,  whilst  all  these  considerations  have  much 
weight  with  intelligent  and  devoted  Christians,  they 
are  most  influenced  by  a  deep  sense  of  their  own 
personal  guilt  and  danger.  They  feel  their  need 
of  such  a  Saviour  as  the  Lamb  of  God.  They  not 
only  see  that  there  is  nothing  but  the  blood  of  Christ 
to  cleanse  from  sin :  they  see  also  that  nothing  else 
could  cleanse  them  from  their  sins. 

Now,  I  need  hardly  say  to  you,  that  the  Chris- 
tians you  admire  most,  were  not  greater  sinners,  be- 
fore their  conversion,  than  others.  In  general,  they 
had  quite  as  fair  a  character  as  their  neighbors,  so 
far  as  morals  were  concerned.  They  were  not, 
therefore,  driven  into  their  deep  self-condemnation, 
nor  into  their  fear  of  perishing,  by  having  been 
worse  than  others.  How,  then,  came  they  to  think, 
and  feel,  and  act  towards  the  Saviour,  just  as  if 
they  had  been  the  very  chief  of  sinners'?  You  know 
that  they  are  not  pretending,  when  they  adopt  hu- 
miliating confessions,  nor  when  they  look  wilh 
streaming  eyes  and  bleeding  hearts  to  the  Cross. — 
The  real  secret  is  this:  they  know  their  own  hearts; 
watch  their  own  consciences  ;  test  their  own  spirits; 
and  thus  see  and  feel  their  natural  alienation  from 
God.  What  pains,  humbles,  and  alarms  them  chief- 
ly is,  the  awful  want  of  love  to  God,  which  marked 
their  early  history;  and  the  sad  weakness  of  their 
love  to  Him,  since  they  believed  that "  God  is  Love." 
Hence,  they  can  hardly  conceive  how  their  ingrati- 
tude and  insensibility  can  either  be  forgiven  or  re- 
moved. Even  with  all  the  glories  and  grace  of  the 
Cross  before  them,  they  find  no  small  difficulty  in 
trying  to  hope  for  their  own  salvation  ;  because 
neither  that  salvation  itself,  nor  the  amazing  sacri- 
fice at  which  it  was  provided,  has  such  an  influence 
over  them,  as  they  know  it  ought  to  have.  Thus 
they  find  causes  of  fear  or  suspicion,  even  in  the 
very  grounds  of  hope ;  because  those  grounds  do 
not  affect  and  interest  them  more  fully.  It  is,  there- 


THE   MARYS 


13 


fore,  their  sins  against  the  Cross,  quite  as  much  ac 
the  sins  which  made  the  sacrifice  of  th?  Cross  ne- 
cessary, that  makes  them  feel  so  self-condemned. — 
They  see  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  con- 
demn them,  iti  the  way  they  have  treated  the  Atone- 
ment made  to  save  them.  Thus,  there  is  neither 
pretence  nor  parade  in  their  humility.  They  do — 
cling  to  the  Cross,  not  only  because  they  wish  to  be 
holy,  but  also  because  they  are  conscious  that  they 
deserve  the  wrath  to  come.  They  glory  in  it,  not 
merely  that  they  may  be  sanctified,  soul,  body,  and 
spirit ;  but  also  that  they  may  be  plucked  as  brands 
from  the  burning.  The  peril  of  perishing,  as  well 
as  the  love  of  holiness,  influences  both  their  conduct 
and  spirit. 

Now,  unless  these  be  your  reasons  for  giving  the 
Cross  a  higher  place  in  your  esteem  than  it  had  at 
first,  you  cannot  have  "  like  precious  faith"  in  it 
with  your  pious  friends ;  nor  can  it  have  all  that 
holy  influence  upon  you  which  it  has  upon  them. — 
You  must  trust  it  as  a  sinner,  if  you  would  have  it 
transform  you  into  a  saint.  You  must  flee  to  it  as 
the  only  refuge  of  the  Lost,  as  well  as  the  only  re- 
medy of  the  unholy. 

You  see  this,  I  hope.  I  am  quite  sure  you  will 
consider  it.  It  may  not  be  altogether  pleasant  or 
plain  to  you  at  the  first;  but  you  have  already 
thought  so  much  about  Christ,  and  that  too  for  a 
holy  purpose,  that  you  cannot  stop  now.  Your  sense 
of  duty,  and  your  desire  to  be  truly  pious,  are  too 
strong,  to  allow  you  to  halt  half-way  between  Sinai 
and  Calvary.  I  will,  therefore,  suppose  at  once> 
that  even  this  night  you  will  retire  to  your  closet, 
and  bow  down  before  God,  as  a  penitent,  and  not 
merely  as  a  candidate  for  immortality,  as  a  sinner, 
needing  deliverance  from  the  wrath  to  come;  and 
not  merely  as  an  imperfect  being,  needing  only  im- 
provement. Remember  ! — there  are  none  in  heaven 
but  those  who  came  to  the  Mercy-seat,  in  this  spirit 
and  for  this  purpose.  This  is,  also,  the  very 
spirit  of  all  those  on  earth,  whose  piety  you  must 
admire. 

Now,  I  should  not  at  all  wonder  (however  much 
you  may)  if,  on  taking  this  view  of  your  own  case, 
you  find  yourself  led  into  self-abhorrence  and  self- 
abasement,  as  well  as  into  self-condemnation.  It 
would  not  surprise  me  in  the  least,  to  hear  you  cry, 
"  Behold  I  am  vile :  unclean,  unclean ;  God  be  mer- 
ciful to  me  a  sinner  !"  Nay;  I  should  not  be  much 
s'artled,  if  even  you  were  so  alarmed,  at  first,  by 
the  discovery  of  your  own  alienation  from  God,  as 
to  be  unable  for  a  time,  to  hope  or  pray  for  mercy. 
Your  guilt  and  vileness,  in  caring  so  little  about  the 
God  of  salvation,  may  open  upon  you  in  lights, 
which  shall  only  reveal  "clouds  and  darkness" 
around  the  Mercy-seat  at  first:  or,  some  one  sin, 
which  has  only  made  you  ashamed  hitherto,  may 
so  shock  your  conscience,  that  you  may  feel  as  if 
you  never  could  get  over  it,  nor  be  able  to  look  up 
to  God  again  with  complacency  or  composure. 

This  is  not  an  uncommon  case.     Your  pious 
ftienda  have  felt  in  this  way  at  times.    Many  feel 
K>,  without  knowing  how  to  obtain  relief,  or  how 
Number  36 


the  blood  of  Atonement  meets  such  a  case.  Now 
do  you  know  1  Do  you  see  how  the  blood  of  Christ 
can  so  "  purge  your  conscience  from  dead  works," 
that  you  can  henceforth  "  serve  the  living  God," 
without  slavish  or  tormenting  fear  1  Do  you  see 
enough  in  the  grace  and  glory  of  the  Atonement, 
to  lilt  your  spirit  over  that  sense  of  sinfulness  and 
unworthiness,  which  creates  only  a  dread  of  God, 
or  doubts  of  his  willingness  to  save  !  If  not,  you 
have  yet  much  to  learn  on  this  subject.  Indeed,  you 
have  not  yet  got  hold  of  that  "  horn"  of  the  golden 
altar  of  the  Atonement,  which  enables  a  self-con- 
demned penitent  to  lift  herself  above  slavish  fear, 
when  she  draws  nigh  to  God  in  prayer,  in  sacra- 
ments, and  in  practical  duty.  Thus,  you  are  not 
prepared  to  serve  the  Living  God  "  without  fear  in 
holiness  and  righteousness,  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

And  yet,  you  desire  to  do  so.  You  not  only  feel 
it  to  be  your  duty  to  serve  "  the  Lord  in  the  beauty 
of  holiness,"  but  you  are  trying  to  serve  Him  better 
than  formerly,  and  willing  to  increase  and  improve 
your  present  scale  of  service.  Like  the  Israelites 
at  Shechem,  in  the  days  of  Joshua,  you  are  not  only 
ready  to  say,  "  The  Lord  our  God  will  we  serve," 
but  ready  also  to  enter  into  an  everlasting  covenant 
of  obedience.  They,  you  recollect,  insisted  upon 
ratifying  their  promise  and  intention  by  a  covenant, 
and  even  engaged  to  become  witnesses  against 
themselves  if  they  drew  back.  So  far,  this  was  a 
fine  spirit.  Joshua  must  have  been  highly  gratified 
to  hear  his  dying  appeal, — "  Choose  ye  this  day 
whom  ye  will  serve," — thus  warmly  and  honestly- 
responded  to.  I  say,  honestly  ;  for  there  is  no  rea- 
son whatever  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  people, 
when  they  thus  pledged  themselves.  Nor  do  I  at 
all  doubt  your  sincerity.  You  may,  however,  doubt 
my  kindness  or  candor,  when  I  venture  to  say  to  you, 
what  Joshua  said  to  them,  "  Ye  cannot  serve  the 
Lord  ;  for  he  is  a  Holy  God."  I  mean,  you  cannot 
serve  him  "  acceptably,"  until  you  are  influenced  by 
other  and  higher  motives  than  either  the  love  of 
virtue  or  the  fear  of  punishment.  Even  some  dis- 
tinct and  deliberate  reference  to  the  merits  of  Christ, 
and  to  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  necessary  to 
help  or  perfect  your  well-doing,  will  not  mend  the 
matter.  Even  a  determination  to  say,  after  having 
done  your  best,  "  We  are  but  unprofitable  servants," 
will  not  forward  your  success  much.  Ye  cannot 
serve  the  Lord  acceptably,  but  as  an  entire  debtor  to 
the  blood  of  Christ  for  mercy  and  grace;  "  for  He 
is  a  Holy  God — a  Jealous  God— the  Living  God  !" 

These  distinctions  are  not  too  nice,  nor  these  cau- 
tions unnecessary,  nor  these  solemn  views  of  God 
uncalled  for,  in  your  case.  You  need  them  all,  and 
will  never  do  so  well  as  you  wish,  until  you  apply 
them  all  to  yourself.  You  doubt  this,  perhaps  1  It 
may  seem  to  you,  that  you  could  not  serve  God  at 
all,  if  you  were  to  take  such  awful  views  of  his 
character.  You  may  be  ready  to  say,  "  Who  can 
stand  before  this  Holy  Lord  God  V  Accordingly, 
you  deem  it  better,  as  you  really  wish  to  serve  him, 
to  take  sweet  and  soothing  views  of  his  character  ; 
to  dwell  chiefly  upon  his  love  and  mercy ;  to  realize 


ii 


THE   MARYS 


God  as  a  Father,  and  to  rely  upon  Him  as  a  Friend. 
And,  in  one  sense,  you  are  right  in  judging  thus. 
Indeed,  it  is  to  this  lovely  view  of  the  Divine  cha- 
racter I  want  to  bring  and  bind  all  your  thoughts 
and  affections.  Nothing  is  further  from  my  inten- 
tion, than  terrifying  you  at  the  God  with  whom  you 
have  to  do.  I  would  teach  you  to  lay  your  head 
upon  his  knee — yea,  to  lean  it  upon  his  bosom — as 
calmly,  and  as  confidingly,  and  as  cheerfully,  as 
ever  you  hung  over  a  father's  neck,  or  reclined  upon 
a  mother's  bosom.  It  is  not  your  pleasing  ideas  of 
God  I  want  to  interfere  with.  I  am  not  leading 
you  to  question  the  truth  of  them ;  but  to  question 
your  own  right  or  warrant  to  take  such  views  of 
God,  whilst  your  views  of  the  Saviour  are  so  im- 
perfect. Now,  they  are  very  imperfect,  if  you  see 
and  seek  in  His  merits  nothing  more  than  weights 
to  turn  the  scale  of  mercy  in  your  favor ;  or  to 
make  up  the  defects  of  your  obedience.  This  is  not 
making  Christ  "  all  and  all"  in  salvation.  This  is 
not  glorying  in  the  Cross  only.  This  is  making 
Christ  but  half  a  Saviour  ! 

You  may  not  intend  this;  nor  yet  be  aware,  ex- 
actly, that  such  views  of  the  Lamb  of  God  do  not 
warrant  confidence  in  the  love,  nor  hope  in  the 
mercy,  of  God.  Such  views,  however,  do  not  war- 
rant either.  They  are  better  than  Socinian  views 
which  embrace  nothing  but  the  example  of  Christ, 
and  better  than  legal  principles,  which  look  for 
mercy  as  the  reward  of  good  works,  independently 
of  Christ.  I  readily  allow  this,  and  even  wish  you 
to  attach  very  great  importance  to  the  great  differ- 
ence which  thus  exists  between  your  creed  and  So- 
cinianism.  You  regard  the  Saviour  as  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  and  his  death  as  a  real  sacrifice  for 
sin.  You  wonder  how  any  one  can  pretend  to  be- 
lieve the  Bible,  and  yet  deny  the  Divinity  and  atone- 
ment of  Christ.  You  feel,  that  were  you  to  treat 
Christ  as  merely  a  good  man  and  a  great  martyr, 
you  would  have  no  scriptural  right  or  warrant  to 
regard  God  as  a  Father,  or  even  to  hope  in  His 
mercy.  So,  then,  there  are  some  views  of  Christ 
so  low,  and  so  unlike  the  Bible,  that  you  yourself 
would  not  venture  to  hope,  if  you  held  them.  At 
least,  you  see  clearly  that  they  do  not  go  far  enough 
to  justify  hope  in  God. 

Now,  we  shall  come  to  the  point  of  my  argument 
with  you.  I  have  cheerfully  allowed,  that  both  your 
opinion  of  Christ,  and  your  dependence  upon  him, 
go  much  farther  than  Socinianism  or  Legalism; 
but  the  question  is,— Do  they  go  far  enough  to  war- 
rant you  to  take  those  encouraging  views  of  God 
which  you  say,  are  essential,  if  you  would  either 
love  or  serve  him  well  ?  Now,  you  yourself  will 
allow,  that  if  your  dependence  upon  Christ  come  as 
far  short  of  the  degree  in  which  Paul  and  the  first 
Christians  depended  on  Him.  as  Socinianism  comes 
short  of  what  you  believe,  then  you  too  are  wrong, 
and  reckoning  without  your  host,  whilst  taking  for 
granted  that  you  are  welcome  to  hope  as  much  as 
you  like  in  God.  "Why  are  you  not  as  much  afraid 
to  differ  from  Paul,  as  you  would  be  to  agree  with 
Priestley  1    "Weigh  this  question ;  for  there  is  al- 


most as  great  a  difference  between  your  dependence 
and  Paul's,  as  there  is  between  your  opinion  and 
Priestley's.  You  may  not  have  intended,  nor  even 
suspected,  this ;  but  it  is  true.  Yes ;  and  the  con- 
trast is  not  between  you  and  Paul  only :  it  is  be- 
tween you  and  all  the  dead  in  Christ.  Your  song 
of  redemption  is  not  the  "New  Song"  of  the  Re- 
deemed in  heaven.  Your  heart  is  not  in  unison 
with  the  harps  before  the  throne,  whilst  you  can 
speak  or  think  about  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  as  a 
balance  for  your  defects  and  imperfections.  There 
is  no  such  sentiment  in  the  oracles  of  God  on  earth, 
or  in  the  lips  of  saints  in  heaven.  There,  all  the 
glory  of  salvation  is  ascribed  to  the  Lamb  slain. 

Now,  it  is  this  sense  of  debt  to  the  Atonement., 
and  this  degree  of  dependence  upon  Christ,  that  1 
want  you  to  cultivate  as  your  warrant  and  welcome 
to  fill  your  whole  soul  "  with  all  the  fulness"  of 
God's  paternal  love  and  tenderness.  But  neither 
this  sense  of  debt,  nor  this  exclusive  dependence j 
can  ever  be  felt,  whilst  you  avoid  to  think  of  God 
as  the  living  God :  and  this — you  do  ! 

Are  you  surprised  at  this  charge  1  Do  you  sus- 
pect that  I  attach  any  mystical  meaning  to  the  scrip- 
tural expression,  "  the  Living  God  1"  I  do  not.  I 
mean  nothing  more  by  it,  in  regard  to  all  the  per- 
fections of  the  Divine  character,  than  you  mean  in 
regard  to  some  of  them.  I  think  them  all  equally 
alive  and  lively;  but  you  do  not.  You  do  not,  in- 
deed, think  the  justice  of  God  dead;  nor  the  holi- 
ness of  God  dead;  nor  the  jealousy  of  God  dead. 
You  revolt  at  the  bare  idea,  and  feel  it  to  be  vulgar, 
if  not  profane,  to  use  the  word  "dead"  in  any  con- 
nection with  God.  I  am  glad  you  feel  thus  afraid 
of  the  word:  let  your  fear  extend  also  to  the 
thing. 

Look,  then,  at  all  that  you  mean  by  the  word  "  liv- 
ing" when  you  connect  it  with  the  Love,  the  Mercy, 
or  the  Grace  of  God.  There,  you  give  it  a  wide 
and  warm  meaning.  The  ever-enduring  life  and 
liveliness  of  these  lovely  perfections,  you  believe 
and  admire.  Were  they  dead — all  your  hopes 
would  die  too.  And  well  they  might!  A  God 
without  love  or  mercy,  would  be  as  useless  to  us  as 
a  dead  or  dumb  idol :  for  as  He  would  do  nothing 
for  us,  it  would  be  the  same  to  us  as  if  He  could  do 
nothing  for  us. 

I  keep  as  fast  hold,  you  see,  as  you  can,  upon  all 
that  you  admire  in  the  Divine  character.  I  am 
equally  afraid  with  yourself  (indeed,  I  can  as  little 
afford  as  you)  to  lose  sight  of  even  one  ray  of  His 
infinite  love.  Like  you,  I  rejoice  with  joy  unspeak- 
able, that  it  liveth  and  abideth  for  ever,  in  all  the 
lustre  and  warmth  of  its  original  glory.  But  then 
— so  does  also  the  holiness,  the  justice,  the  integrity 
of  God !  These,  too,  are  without  variableness  or 
the  shadow  of  turning.  But  you  do  not  rejoice  in 
them.  You  are  even  afraid  of  them.  You  do  not 
allow  yourself  to  exclude  them  from  the  character 
of  God,  nor  to  treat  them  as  if  they  were  dead : 
but  their  life  is  not  much  connected  with  your  hopes. 
You  do  not  care  to  look  often  at  the  Holiness  and 


THE   MARYS. 


15 


Justice  of  God,  as  they  live  and  move  and  have 
their  being  in  the  Gospel. 
Now,  this  is  what  I  meant,  when  I  charged  you 

}  with  avoiding  to  think  of  God  as  the  living  God. 
You  do  not  think  him  as  much  alive  to  the  glory 
of  his  justice  and  holiness,  as  to  the  glory  of  his 
grace  and  mercy  :  and  the  consequence  is, — you  do 
not  feel  all  a  sinner's  need  of  the  blood  of  Christ. 

i  Holiness  and  justice  had,  however,  quite  as  much 
to  do  with  the  Atonement  and  it  with  them,  as  love 
or  mercy  had, or  they  with  it:  and  just  because  you 
have  to  do  with  both,  and  both  with  you.  Think 
Of  this ! 

And  now,  just  suppose  for  a  moment,  that  you  had 
to  deal  only  with  the  strict  justice  and  the  perfect 
holiness  of  Jehovah  :  how,  in  that  case,  would  you 
use  the  blood  of  Atonement  1  What  stress  would 
you  lay  upon  it,  if  you  knew  nothing  about  any 
love  or  mercy  but  just  what  it  implied  !  Would 
you,  then,  employ  it  only  as  a  weight  to  turn  the 
scale  in  favor  of  your  soul  and  your  services  1  Do 
you  not  see,  yea  feel,  through  all  your  spirit,  that 
you  would  require  to  plead  the  merits  of  the  Atone- 
ment, even  in  order  to  be  alloiccd  to  serve  Godl 
Yes,  in  order  to  be  permitted  to  serve  Him  at  all! 

We  think  it  a  very  great  thing  indeed  when  we 
are  willing  to  serve  God  at  all ;  and  thus  we  are 
ready  to  take  for  granted,  that  he  must  be  well 
pleased  whenever  we  really  try  to  serve  him.  And, 
m  one  sense,  all  this  is  very  true.  But,  how  came 
any  one  to  be  willing  to  serve  God  acceptably  1 
How  came  God  to  be  willing  to  accept  any  service 
from  fallen  man  on  earth  1  This  does  not  take 
place  in  hell.  Fallen  angels  are  neither  made  will- 
ing, nor  allowed  to  serve  God.  Why  1  No  atone- 
ment opened  a  new  and  living  way  to  God  for 
them.  Christ  took  not  upon  him  their  sins  nor  their 
nature;  and  therefore  they  would  not  be  permitted 
to  try  the  service  of  God,  even  if  they  were  inclined, 
which  they  are  not. 

Here,  then,  is  the  point  at  which  you  should  begin 
to  re-study  your  own  need  of  the  Atonement.  You 
want  it  first  to  warrant  you  even  to  speak  unto  God 
in  prayer,  about  either  your  own  salvation  or  His 
service.  For,  what  right  have  you  or  any  one,  to 
pray  for  mercy,  or  to  offer  yourself  as  His  servant  1 
Not  the  shadow  of  a  right,  from  what  you  are,  nor 
from  what  you  can  do.  Had  not  Christ  taken  upon 
him  your  nature  and  your  doom,  as  a  fallen  crea- 
ture, you  durst  no  more  have  prayed,  or  served, 
than  fallen  angels  dare.  You  owe  all  the  opportu- 
nity you  have,  and  all  the  inclination  you  feel,  en- 
tirely to  His  sacrifice.  But  for  it,  there  would  have 
been  no  more  means  or  aids  of  grace  on  earth,  than 
there  is  in  hell. 

You  really  must  not  allow  yourself  to  be  led 
away  from  a  full  sight  and  sense  of  your  need  of 
Christ,  by  the  circumstances  of  the  world.  You 
see,  indeed,  something  as  natural  and  regular  in  the 
means  of  grace,  as  if  Christianity  were  the  religion 
of  nature;  for  the  Gospel  takes  little  children  into 
the  school  of  Christ,  and  makes  as  much  use  of  all 
that  creation  or  orovidence  affords  to  illustrate  sal- 


vation, as  of  all  that  heaven  and  eternity  furnish  to 
commend  it.  This  is,  indeed,  a  world  almost  as 
full  of  the  goodness  and  glory  of  God,  as  if  it  were 
neither  a  rebel  nor  a  fallen  world.  The  system  of 
religious  means  and  motives,  which  is  around  you, 
is  also,  as  much  adapted  to  the  faculties  and  con- 
dition of  men,  as  we  could  well  imagine  a  system 
of  mental  discipline  or  moral  government  to  be,  to 
angels  or  a  newly  made  world  of  human  beings  ;  for 
it  touches  man  at  every  point  of  his  nature,  circum- 
stances, and  time.  But  all  this,  instead  of  being  al- 
lowed to  hide  from  you  the  real  or  the  full  place 
which  Christ  holds  in  the  economy  of  human  af- 
fairs, should  illuminate  that  place,  and  make  him 
appear  "  all  and  all"  in  the  whole  array  of  temporal, 
intellectual,  social,  moral,  and  providential  good, 
which  beams  and  breathes  around  you.  For  it  is 
all  here,  just  because,  and  only  because,  He  kept  or 
brought  it  here  by  his  Mediation  on  our  behalf. — 
But  for  that,  all  temporal  blessings  would  have  been 
as  much  withdrawn  from  the  earth,  as  they  are 
from  hell ;  and  our  world  would  have  been  as  desti- 
tute of  means  or  motives  to  be  religious,  as  is  the 
prison  of  fallen  angels.  It  is  not,  therefore,  your 
actual  sins  only,  nor  the  plagues  of  your  heart  alone, 
that  create  your  absolute  and  equal  need  of  a  Sa- 
viour, in  common  with  the  worst.  You  are  one  of 
a  fallen  and  guilty  race ;  one  of  an  apostate  and  im- 
pure family;  and  one  of  them  by  your  own  acts  and 
inclinations,  as  well  as  by  descent  and  inheritance. 
You  have,  therefore,  no  personal  right  to  cherish 
the  shadow  of  a  hope,  nor  to  offer  a  prayer  or  a  ser- 
vice unto  God.  You  owe  it  entirely  to  the  Atone- 
ment, that  you  are  allowed  to  worship  or  bow  down 
before  Jehovah,  either  as  a  suppliant  or  as  a  ser- 
vant. Do  not  lose  sight,  therefore,  of  your  own 
condition,  by  looking  round  upon  characters  infe- 
rior to  yourself.  Many,  alas,  are  far  inferior  both 
in  their  habits  and  spirit ;  but  still,  you  are  not  so 
much  above  the  worst  of  either  sex,  as  you  are  be- 
neath the  standard  of  both  the  Divine  image  and 
law.  Besides,  what  is  it  to  you,  whatever  others 
are"?  You  are  guilty  and  unholy  in  your  own  way 
and  degree :  and  for  no  guilt,  defect,  vanity,  folly,  or 
evil,  of  heart  or  character,  is  there  any  remedy  or 
remission,  but  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 

The  following  allegory  will,  perhaps  illustrate 
this  Essay.  In  all  but  her  dilemma,  I  commend 
Miriam  to  your  imitation.  Alas,  she  did  not  con- 
vert Jared. 

Jared  and  Miriam  sat  together  by  "the  waters  of 
Shiloah  that  go  softly."  The  setting  sun  flushed  the 
calm  rivulet  as  it  flowed  on  towards  the  reservoir 
of  the  temple. 

"  There,  Jared,"  said  Miriam,  "  is  an  emblem  of 
my  church.  The  Jordan  discharges  itself  into  the 
Dead  Sea  ;  but  the  waters  of  Shiloah  terminate  in 
the  Temple  of  God.  Oh!  that  we,  like  the  foun- 
tains of  this  sacred  stream,  mingling  their  waters, 
could  unite  in  sentiment,  and  thus  flow  calmly  on  to 
the  heavenly  temple  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  But  as 
I  cannot  return  to  Judaism,  and  you  will  not  quit  it 
— we  can  never  be  '  one  spirit.' " 


16 


THE   MARYS 


"Miriam,  my  own  Miriam!  you  must  return  to 
the  God  of  our  fathers.  Know  you  not  that  the 
'anathema  maranatha'  of  the  Sanhedrim  will  be 
pronounced  on  you,  from  the  chair  of  Moses,  at  the 
next  new  moon  1  Surely  you  will  not,  by  obstinacy, 
incur  the  great  excommunication  of  the  sanctuary. 
Why  should  you  imagine  yourself  wiser  than  the 
elders  of  Judah?  Let  me  lead  you  back  to  the 
'  horns  of  the  altar,'  to  ratify  your  vows  to  God  and 
to  me." 

"  Jared !"  said  Miriam,  solemnly  and  firmly  "  the 
great  excommunication  of  the  Sanhedrim  will 
sound  to  me  as  did  the  threatenings  of  Sennacherib, 
King  of  Assyria,  to  Hezekiah ; — as  '  raging  waves 
of  the  sea,  foaming  out  their  own  shame.'  I  shall 
pity  the  Boanergeses,  and  despise  their  thunders. 
And  as  to  my  vows  unto  you,  they  are  inviolate ; 
although  their  fulfilment  is  delayed  by  circumstan- 
ces, I  have  no  wish  to  retract  my  betrothment;  and 
if  I  had,  I  know  not  that  Christianity  would  sane- 
lion  the  breach." 

"  The  blessing  of  the  God  of  Jacob  be  on  you  for 
this  assurance,  Miriam !  but  I  cannot  think  well  of 
your  hardihood ;  it  is  not  the  heroism  it  seems  to  be." 

"  No,  Jared ;  nor  is  it  the  /ooZ-hardiness  which 
you  would  insinuate!  But,  forgive  me;  I  will  not 
take  offence.  You  mistake  my  new  motives,  and 
thus  misunderstood  my  new  character.  I,  however, 
cling  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  as  if  nailed  to  it,  be- 
cause I  see  nothing  else  between  me  and  hell.  My 
guilty  and  unholy  soul  can  only  be  pardoned  or  pu- 
rified by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God;  and,  there- 
fore, by  that  fountain  I  must — I  will  abide,  even  if, 
like  Abel,  my  own  blood  should  crimson  the  Acel- 
dama." 

"  Miriam  !  you  amaze  and  confound  me.  This 
is  absolute  raving.  A  priestess  of  Apollo  could 
not  be  more  extravagant  when  rushing  from  the 
Tripod.  Your  guilty  and  unholy  soul,  Miriam  ! — 
How  can  you  thus  asperse  your  own  pure  nature 
and  character  1  Your  soul  is  pure  as  the  snow  upon 
the  loftiest  summits  of  Lebanon ; — at  least,  its  only 
taint  is  heresy ;  and  that  stain  will  soon  be  effaced 
by  '  the  waters  of  purification,'  in  the  temple.  Only 
quit  the  Christians,  and  I  shall  soon  rejoice  over 
you,  as  in  the  days  of  old ;  singing  this  song  to  the 
harp  of  Judah,  '  Though  ye  have  lain  among  the 
pots,  yet  shall  ye  be  as  the  wings  of  a  dove  covered 
with  silver,  and  her  feathers  with  yellow  gold. — 
Selah  !'  You,  Miriam,  unholy!  It  is  as  if  the 
dew  of  the  morning  were  to  charge  itself  with  im- 
purity." 

"  Jared,  and  could  the  dew,  even  on  Hermon, 
speak,  it  would  acknowledge  that  it  was  formed 
from  earthly  exhalations,  and  derived  its  purity 
from  the  heavens.  And  as  to  your  song  of  triumph, 
you  will  never  be  warranted,  if  I  quit  the  cross  to 
sing  it  over  me  ;  '  the  wings  of  a  dove'  are  not  given 
to  the  soul  that  it  may  '  flee  away'  from  Calvary. 
No  ;  and  were  my  wings  like  those  of  the  seraphim, 
'  full  of  eyes,'  their  starry  radiance  would  soon  be 
extinguished,  like  the  glories  of  Lucifer,  were  I  to 
cease  from  following  the  Lamb.    But,  Jared,  you 


think  lightly  of  sin;  you  do  not  see  its  evil,  nor  feel 
its  malignity.  You  regard  nothing  as  sin,  but  im- 
morality; and  nothing  as  corruption,  but  vice;  and, 
because  my  character  is  as  unimpeachable  as  you 
suppose,  you  suspect  me  of  feigned  humility  and  ex- 
travagant penitence.  These  be  far  from  me !  I 
would  that  I  were  more  humble  and  contrite ;  but 
always  rationally — scripturally  so." 

"  Well,  Miriam,  what  do  you  mean  by  sin?  You 
surely  do  not  imagine  that  your  buoyant  spirits  and 
natural  sprightliness  are  criminal.  And  as  you 
have  always  honored  your  parents,  and  kept  the 
law  from  your  youth  upward,  what  have  you  to  repent 
oil  Your  only  sin  has  been  against  me;  and  you 
persist  in  it  by  delaying  our  marriage.  I  wish  you 
would  repent  of  this  sin ;  and  as  John  the  Baptist 
said,  'bring forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance.'  " 

"  Jared,  be  serious  ;  my  repentance  towards  God 
has  no  small  or  slight  connection  with  you.  Until 
of  late,  I  loved  you  more  than  God.  This  melau 
choly  fact  weighs  heavily  on  my  conscience." 

"  Until  of  late!  And  of  late,  then,  Miriam,  you 
have  conquered  the  habit  of  loving  me.  Is  this 
what  I  am  to  understand  V 

"  No !  Jared ;  nor  have  you  the  shadow  of  a  reason 
to  suspect  it.  I,  indeed,  love  Godw.we  than  formerly, 
but  I  do  not  love  you  less  than  usual.  I  feel  more 
solicitude — tender,  intense  solicitude,  in  your  be- 
half, than  ever.  And,  surely,  yo'a  would  not  have 
me  to  love  you  more  than  God  !" 

"  Certainly  not:  that  be  far  from  me,  Miriam !" 

"And  yet,  Jared,  you,  alas!  love  me  far  more 
than  you  love  God ;  and  is  not  that  sinful  and  symp- 
tomatic of  an  unholy  heart  1  You  could  not,  in- 
deed, love  God  more  by  loving  me  less ;  but  supreme 
love  to  Him  would  regulate  your  love  to  me  without 
at  all  lessening  its  cordiality.  Oh,  consider  how  we 
have  alienated  our  hearts  from  God  hitherto !  We 
lived  as  if  Jehovah  had  no  claims  upon  our  affec- 
tion, or  only  such  claims  as  the  ceremonial  law 
could  satisfy.  I  appeal  to  your  own  conscience  ! — 
How  often,  even  while  engaged  in  the  duties  of  re- 
ligion, 'God  was  not  in  all  our  thoughts!'  We 
went  to  the  Temple  and  the  Synagogue  to  meet 
each  other  on  the  Sabbath,  and  while  our  lips  join- 
ed in  the  songs  of  Zion  our  thoughts  centered  in 
ourselves.  We  regularly  witnessed  the  sacrifices 
on  the  great  day  of  atonement  ;  but  our  minds 
were  wholly  taken  up  with  the  sublime  music  of  the 
silver  trumpets,  and  the  simple  majesty  of  the  Le- 
vitical  processions  around  the  golden  altars.  We 
partook  of  the  passover  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
eating  together.  Often  have  we  sat  under  this 
palm-tree  while  the  priests  were  drawing  water 
from  the  fountains  of  Shiloah,  and  '  pouring  it  out 
before  the  Lord ;  but  we  marked  only  their  pictur- 
esque beauty,  and  felt  only  the  transport  of  enjoying 
the  scene  together.  And  at  the  hours  of  the  morning 
and  evening  sacrifice,  while  we  repeated  the  pray- 
ers, we  did  not  'pray  in  the  spirit,'  Jared  !  we  lived 
for  each  other— not  for  the  glory  of  God.  This  is 
the  guilt  which  lies  heavily  on  my  conscience ;  these 


THE    MARYS. 


17 


\re  some  of  the  melancholy  facts  which  convince  me 
.hat  my  soul  is  naturally  unholy  ;  and  so  is  your  soul." 

"  Well,  Miriam,  suppose  I  grant  all  this :  see  ye 
not  what  the  concession  involves  1  Nothing  less 
than  the  duty  of  your  return  to  Judaism  ;  for  if  you 
are  guilty  by  not  honoring  the  sacrifices  sufficiently, 
how  great  must  your  guilt  become  by  neglecting 
and  renouncing  them  entirely  !  You  are  caught — 
you  are  completely  entangled  in  your  own  net,  Mi- 
riam !" 

"Ah,  Jared,  I  had  hoped,  from  the  seriousness 
with  which  you  listened  to  my  confessions,  that  you 
were  joining  in  them  for  yourself.  I  am  .lisappoint- 
ed;  but,  notwithstanding,  I  will  answer  you.  I  am 
not  at  all  involved  in  deeper  guilt  by  neglecting  the 
sacrifices.  They  never  were  real,  but  a  typical 
atonement  for  sin;  and,  now  that  the  Lamb  of  God 
is  slain  for  the  sin  of  the  world,  to  honor  them  would 
be  to  dishonor  Him.  On  my  own  principles,  there- 
fore, a  return  from  the  glorious  substance  to  the 
shadows  of  it,  would  render  my  guilt  unpardonable. 
Besides,  were  it  safe  to  return,  what  a  loss  of  enjoy- 
ment I  should  sustain!  The  transition  from  the 
cross  to  your  altars  again,  would  be  to  me  as  Mount 
Moriah  would  be  to  Abraham,  now  that  he  has 
spent  ages  in  Paradise  ;  as  the  cloud  on  Sinai  would 
be  to  Moses,  now  that  he  has  communed  with  Je- 
hovah 'in  light  full  of  glory;'  as  the  leilderness  to 
the  whole  church  of  the  first-born  in  heaven,  now 
that  they  are  without  spot  before  the  throne  of  God 
and  of  the  Lamb.  I  do  not  affect  what  I  do  not  feel; 
those  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  would  lose 
only  a  part  of  their  bliss  by  exchanging  worlds  ;  but 
were  I  to  exchange  the  cross  for  the  altar,  all  my 
happiness  would  change  into  '  a  fearful  looking  for  of 
judgment  and  fiery  indignation.'  For,  if '  he  that  de- 
spised Moses'  law  died  without  mercy,  of  how  much 
sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall  he  be  thought 
worthy,  who  hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son  of  God, 
and  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant  an  unholy 
thing]'" 

"  Your  reasonings  would  be  powerful,  Miriam, 
and  your  solemn  conclusions  just,  were  your  pre- 
mises true.  But  a  truce  to  this  theological  warfare 
— it  would  suit  a  Sanhedrim  of  Rabeins  better  than  it 
does  a  young  man  and  a  maiden  of  Israel,  under  the 
shade  of  a  palm-tree,  on  the  banks  of  Shiloah.  It 
was  not  exactly  thus  that  Jacob  and  Rachel  reason- 
ed amongst '  the  green  pastures,'  and  by  '  the  still 
waters'  of  Pandanaram." 

"  But  it  is  thus  they  reason  now,  Jared,  where 
'  the  Lame  himself  leads  them  to  living  fountains  of 
water'  in  heaven ;  and  all  the  armies  of  heaven 
unite  with  them  in  admiring  and  adoring  the  Lamb 
of  God.  Besiilos,  Rachel  had  no  occasion  to  reason 
with  Jacob  ;  his  heart  was  right  with  God,  and  his 
soul  safe  for  eternity." 

"  Which  mine  are  not!  you  would  say,  Mi- 
riam." 

"Which,  mike  v;ere  not,  Jared,  until  I  was  re- 
conciled to  God.  by  the  Cross  of  Christ.  Until  the 
love  of  Christ  won  my  heart,  I  was  utterly  unfit  for 
heaven;  for  I  had  hardly  one  sentiment  or  feeling 


in  harmony  with  the  enjoyments  or  the  engagements 
of  Paradise.  As  a  matter  of  taste,  I  had,  certainly, 
revelled  in  the  visions  of  Immortality,  when  it  was 
illuminated  by  the  Gospel,  before  I  believed  that 
Gospel.  I  could  not  resist  the  poetical  attractions 
of  the  Christian  heaven.  Its  thrones  of  light,  crowns 
of  glory,  harps  of  gold,  palms  of  victory,  and  its 
many  mansions  of  bliss,  fixed  my  imagination,  and 
elevated  my  soul.  I  wished  such  an  inheritance  ol 
glory.  I  felt  that  a  different  heaven  would  not  sa- 
tisfy me.  I  saw,  too,  that  it  was  'Abraham's  bosom' 
opened ;  the  heaven  of  the  Fathers  unveiled.  This 
heightened  its  facinations ;  but,  at  that  moment,  I 
discovered  that  I  was  utterly  unfit  for  it.  I  desired 
a  crown  of  glory,  but  felt  that  I  could  not  place  it  at 
the  foot  of  the  Lamb; — a  harp  of  gold,  but  not  to 
sing  the  'New  Song;' — a  palm  of  victory,  but  not  to 
wave  it  in  the  train  of  Christ!  My  proud  heart  re- 
volted at  the  bare  idea  of  such  subjection  to  Him. — 
I  said,  in  my  haste,  Were  all  this  honor  confined  to 
Jehovah,  the  Christian  heaven  would  be  my  choice ; 
but  to  divide  the  honor,  by  worshipping  the  Lamb' 
I  spurned  the  thought.  And  yet,  Jared,  I  did  not 
feel  at  ease  in  doing  so.  I  had  misgivings  of  heart, 
as  well  as  prejudices;  and,  in  order  to  calm  my 
fears,  I  was  compelled  to  express  unto  Jehovah,  my 
supreme  regard  to  his  glory,  and  my  sincere  venera- 
tion of  his  authority.  These,  I  said,  were  my  sole 
reasons  for  rejecting  the  Gospel.  Then  I  began  to 
strengthen  these  reasons,  by  studying  the  Divine 
Character;  for  still  the  Christian  heaven  kept  its 
hold  upon  my  heart.  I  cculd  not  forget  its  scenes 
and  society.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  not  right.  I  there- 
fore plunged,  as  it  were,  into  the  contemplation  of 
the  Divine  character.  Then,  I  saw,  I  felt,  that  I 
could  not '  stand  before  God.'  It  flashed  upon  me 
with  all  the  keenness  of  sensation,  that  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  God  as  he  is!  His  holiness  and  justice 
appeared  to  me  like  the  dark  side  of  the  Shechinal 
pillar  to  the  Egyptians,  overwhelming  !  And  yef, 
it  was  '  the  beauty  of  his  holiness,'  it  was  the  glory 
of  his  justice,  that  overwhelmed  me.  I  saw  not,  I 
felt  not,  at  the  time,  their  terrors.  One  deep,  calm, 
solemn,  awful  conviction  penetrated  and  pervaded 
my  whole  soul ;  it  was,  that  I  could  not  bear  an 
Eternity  in  the  presence  of  Jehovah  !  I  had  never 
thought  of  this  before,  but  taken  for  granted,  that, 
if  I  only  were  admitted  to  heaven,  all  would  be 
right.  But  when  I  considered  that  I  had  no  delight 
in  the  character  of  God,  and  that  he  could  not  love 
nor  approve  this  state  of  mind,  I  saw,  at  a  glance, 
that  while  my  heart  was  thus  dead  to  his  excellence, 
I  could  have  no  communion  with  Him,  nor  with 
the  spirits  who  were  alive  to  it.  Then — then,  Jared, 
came  the  inquiry — How  can  I  be  reconciled  unto 
God  1  How  can  I  become  such  a  character,  that 
He  can  look  upon  me,  and  I  upon  Him,  with  com- 
placency, for  ever  and  ever?" 

"  Go  on,  Miriam,  this  view  of  the  matter  is  almost 
new  to  me." 

"  To  me,  Jared,  it  was  altogether  new.  Until  the 
immortality  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel,  drew  my 
soul  within  the  veil,  and  confronted  me,  in  thought, 


16 


THE    MARYS. 


*vith  Jehovah,  I  had  no  idea  that  I  was  unfit  for  an 
eternity  of  his  presence  in  heaven;  for  I  had  never 
before  paused  to  consider,  that,  when  he  shall  be 
seen  '  as  he  is,'  then  the  light  which  reveals  him, 
will  reveal  the  evil  of  sin,  in  all  its  enormity — and 
'  the  beauties  of  holiness,'  in  all  their  glory.  But, 
to  see  sin  thus,  and  feel  its  principles  within  me!  to 
see  holiness  thus,  and  not  feel  all  its  principles  with- 
in me !  would  render  the  Divine  presence  intolera- 
ble. Heaven  could  not  make  me  happy  under  such 
circumstances. 

"  Well  might  the  Prophet  exclaim,  '  Who  can 
stand  before  this  Holy  Lord  God  !'  Jared  !  I  could 
not  stand  before  you,  without  confusion  of  face  and 
heart  too,  were  I  conscious  of  not  loving  you  as  I 
ought.  How  overwhelming  then  would  an  eternity 
of  the  Divine  presence  be,  without  the  consciousness 
of  entire  and  intense  love  to  God  !  I  felt  this — and 
felt,  too,  that  I  neither  had,  nor  could  produce  such 
love  to  him.  The  necessity  of  it  was  self-evident, 
out  the  acquisition  of  it  seemed  impossible.  Thus 
my  own  conscience  shut  me  out  of  heaven.  But, 
by  this  process,  God  was  'shutting  me  up  unto  the 
faith.'  Accordingly,  the  moment  I  saw  that,  by 
believing  his  testimony  concerning  Christ,  I  should 
be  justified  and  adopted,  and  thus  placed  under  the 
sanctifying  influences  of  his  Spirit,  I  found  it  im- 
possible not  to  love  God.  My  way  was  then  clear; 
and  now  I  see  clearly  how  the  perfection  of  the 
atonement  will  give  eternal  peace  to  the  conscience, 
and  secure  such  purity  of  soul,  that  the  open  vision 
of  God  will  neither  overpower  nor  embarrass  the 
followers  of  the  Lamb." 

"  Miriam,  Paul  should  have  made  an  exception 
in  your  favor,  and  suffered  you  to  speak  in  the 
Church.  I  will  certainly  suffer  you  to  speak  at 
home,  if  you  are  always  thus  eloquent.  I  love  elo- 
quence; and,  although  I  dislike  your  Gospel,  as 
you  call  it,  I  will  not  contradict  you.  You  shall 
have  your  own  way  in  religion.  Can  you  wish 
for  more  from  '  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews  1"  Mi- 
riam wept ! 

No.  III. 

EMBLEMS    OP    HOLINESS. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  Poet  who  compared  "  the  beau- 
ties ol  Holiness,"  to  "the  dew  of  the  morning ;"  but 
the  comparison  is  not  a  poetical  license.  It  is  poetry 
of  the  highest  order;  but  it  is  also  sober  fact.  The 
Harp  of  Juda  breathed  it  in  music;  but  an  inspired 
hand  swept  the  strings.  David  was  a  Prophet  as 
well  as  a  poet ;  and,  therefore,  we  are  both  warrant- 
ed and  bound  to  say,  when  he  predicts  the  number 
or  the  beauty  of  the  Church,  under  the  emblem  of 
morning  dew, — "  The  prophecy  came  not  in  old 
time  by  the  will  of  man ;  but  holy  men  of  God  spake 
as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost."  Thus  it 
was  the  Eternal  Spirit  who  suggested  and  sanction- 
ed the  comparison ;  and  as  he  is  both  the  author 
and  finisher  of  all  true  Holiness,  we  may  be  quite 
sure  that  dew  is  neither  a  false  nor  a  fanciful  emblem 
of  its  beauty.    Besides,  splendid  as  Old  Testament 


emblems  of  Holiness  are,  they  are  not  so  splendid 
as  those  which  occur  in  the  New  Testament.  The 
Apostles  go  far  beyond  the  Prophets,  in  emblazon- 
ing Holiness.  They  assert  its  sublimity,  as  well  as 
its  beauty.  "  We  all,  with  open  face,  beholding  as 
in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into 
the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord."  Thus  Paul  represents  growth 
in  grace  as  growth  in  gloty ;  or  progressive  sancti- 
fication  on  earth  as  akin  to  progressive  glory  in 
heaven.  Neither  the  evening  stars  of  the  Angelic 
hierarchy,  pressing  upon  the  spheres  of  its  morning 
stars;  nor  the  General  Assembly  of  Time,  rising  to 
the  stature  and  strength  of  the  elder  spirits  of  Eter- 
nity ;  nor,  indeed,  any  ascent  in  the  scale  of  heaven- 
ly perfection,  could  so  dazzle  him,  or  so  eclipse  the 
beauty  of  earthly  holiness,  as  to  make  him  ashamed 
to  call  its  progress,  a  change  "  from  glory  to  glory." 
He  goes  even  farther  and  higher  than  this ;  and  de- 
clares that  Believers  are  made  "partakers  of  a  Di- 
vine nature,"  by  the  influence  of  the  great  and  pre- 
cious promises.  Thus  it  is,  as  the  Saviour  said — 
"  That  which  is  bom  of  the  Spirit  is  spirit."  Both 
Prophets  and  Apostles  understood  this  sublime  fact, 
and  therefore  admired  and  celebrated  the  beauty  of 
holiness.  Paul,  especially  saw  and  pointed  out  the 
"loveliness"  of  whatsoever  things  are  pure.  Peter 
also  does  not  hesitate  to  call  female  holiness  an 
"ornament,  which  is,  in  the  sight  of  God,  of  great 
price." 

It  is,  therefore,  neither  wise  nor  humble  to  over- 
look "  the  beauties  of  holiness."  God  himself  ad- 
mires them,  and  calls  them  "  the  riches  of  the  glory 
of  his  inheritance  in  the  saints."  And  the  Saviour 
(who  never  flatters,  sentimentalizes,  nor  compli- 
ments) pronounces,  not  only  a  special  benediction 
upon  "the  pure  in  heart,"  but  says  also  in  unquali- 
fied terms,  "  Herein  is  my  Father  glorified,  that  ye 
bear  much  fruit."  Thus  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  are 
praised  for  their  beauty,  as  well  as  enforced  for 
their  necessity. 

I  am  fully  aware,  however,  that  by  bringing  to- 
gether these  Scriptural  views  of  personal  holiness, 
I  may  startle,  if  not  discourage  for  a  moment,  some 
who  sincerely  desire  to  be  holy.  It  may  seem,  in 
this  lovely  and  lofty  form,  an  impossible  thing  in 
our  own  case.  We  may  even  be  ready  to  exclaim, 
on  casting  a  hurried  glance  around  the  circle  of 
our  pious  friends, — Whose  holiness  is  thus  beauti- 
ful 1  Where  is  the  sanctification  to  be  seen  which 
resembles  the  dew  of  the  morning;  or  the  grace, 
that  is  glory  in  the  bud  1  This  is,  however,  a  hasty 
question.  We  have  applied  both  these  pure  em- 
blems to  some  of  our  friends,  who  were  ripe  for 
heaven,  when  they  were  removed  from  the  earth. — 
Our  memory  lingers  upon  the  beauty,  as  well  as 
upon  the  strength,  of  certain  features  of  their  cha- 
racter and  spirit.  We  said  when  they  died,  and 
have  often  whispered  to  ourselves  since,  O  that  I 
were  as  "  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in 
light !"  Yea,  in  regard  to  some  of  the  living  in 
Jerusalem,  we  feel  that  their  character  is  truly  love- 
ly.   It  is  not  spotless ;  but  it  is  very  transparent  in 


THE  MARYS. 


Yi 


integrity  and  benevolence.  It  is  not  "  already  per- 
fect ;"  but  like  light,  it  is  shining  more  and  more 
unto  the  perfect  day.  Some  of  our  pious  friends 
have  such  worth  of  character,  that  their  censure  or 
approbation  weighs  with  us,  like  the  decisions  of  a 
second  conscience,  in  our  breast;  we  have  such  en- 
tire confidence  in  their  candor  and  prudence;  in 
their  discernment  and  uprightness.  Thus  there  are 
both  Fathers  and  Mothers  in  Israel,  whose  holiness 
we  feel  to  be  very  beautiful.  Even  the  world  can- 
not withhold  homage  from  it ;  it  is  so  consistent. — 
And  in  the  fold  of  the  Church,  there  are  both  sheep 
and  lambs,  which  so  hear  the  voice  and  follow  the 
steps  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  that  we  can  easily  be- 
lieve in  their  case,  how  He  who  laid  down  his  life 
for  them,  should  lead  them  gently,  and  even  "  carry 
them  in  his  bosom,"  when  the  way  is  rugged,  or 
their  strength  exhausted. 

Thus,  there  is  some  holiness  on  earth  worthy  of 
admiration,  as  well  as  of  imitation.  The  image  of 
God  upon  the  soul,  although  not  general,  and  never 
perfect  in  this  world,  is  yet  to  be  seen  here  and  there, 
like  "  a  lily  amongst  thorns,"  lovely  In  itself  and 
illustrious  by  contrast.  Neither  the  Abrahams  nor 
the  Sarahs,  the  Zechariahs  nor  the  Elizabeths,  the 
Rachels  nor  the  Marys  of  antiquity,  are  without 
parallels  in  our  own  times,  or  without  successors  in 
our  spheres. 

"  But  none  of  them,"  it  may  be  said,  "  admire 
their  own  character,  or  see  any  beauty  in  their  own 
holiness.  We  admire  them  :  but  even  the  best  of 
them  abhor  themselves,  and  can  neither  bear  to 
speak  nor  think  of  their  own  excellence  :  How  is 
this  V  It  is  easily  accounted  for.  Eminent  holi- 
ness is  always  accompanied  with  profound  humility. 
Accordingly,  even  in  Heaven,  the  Seraphim  veil 
their  faces  with  their  wings,  and  the  crowned  mar- 
tyr uncrowns  himself  before  the  throne  :  no  wonder, 
therefore,  if  the  saints  on  earth  hide  their  faces  in 
the  dust  of  self-abasement,  when  they  think  or  speak 
about  themselves.  The  beauty  of  angelic  holiness 
— the  beauty  of  Jehovah's  glorious  holiness,  is  be- 
fore their  eyes  vividly  and  constantly  ;  and  in  its 
presence,  they  may  well  say,  "  Behold,  I  am  vile, 
and  abhor  myself:"  for  as  the  natural  eye  feels  no- 
thing but  its  own  weakness  when  it  gazes  upon  the 
meridian  sun,  so  the  eye  of  the  mind  can  see  nothing 
but  deformity  and  imperfection  in  the  heart  and 
character,  when  it  gazes  upon  the  infinite  and  im- 
maculate purity  of  the  Godhead.  No  saint,  who 
comprehends  at  all  the  heights  or  depths,  the  lengths 
or  breadths,  of  the  Divine  image,  can  ever  be-  satis- 
fied with  his  own  holiness,  or  cease  to  be  ashamed 
of  it,  until  he  awake  in  heaven  in  all  the  beauty  of 
the  moral  image  of  God.  "  As  for  me,"  said  Da- 
vid, "  I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake  in  thy  like- 
ness." Thus  he  who  recognised  in  earthly  holiness 
the  beauty  of  the  morning  dew,  was  not  satisfied 
with  its  purity  or  splendor.  He  saw  in  it  also,  as 
in  dew,  an  evanescence,  and  a  weakness,  and  a  se- 
diment, which  filled  himself  with  shame,  and  kept 
him  from  complimenting  others.  Still,  whilst  this 
is,  and  ever  ought  to  be,  the  humbling  effect  of  clear 


and  solemn  views  of  Divine  Holiness,  it  is  of  iim- 
self,  not  of  his  holy  principles  themselves  that  a 
Christian  is  thus  ashamed.  He  does  not  think  lignt- 
ly  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  his  heart  and 
conscience,  because  he  thinks  meanly  of  himself. — 
He  does  not  confound  the  Spirit  with  the  flesh,  nor 
the  law  of  his  mind  with  the  law  in  his  members, 
when  judging  of  his  own  character.  He  sees,  in- 
deed, far  more  evil  than  good  in  himself;  but  he  no 
more  calls  the  good  evil,  than  he  calls  the  evil  good. 
He  is  more  pained  by  the  plagues  of  his  heart,  tlian 
pleased  with  its  best  feelings  or  principles  :  but  still, 
he  is  very  thankful  for  whatever  grace  he  has  ob- 
tained. 

In  making  these  distinctions  I  do  not  forget,  that 
there  are  times,  (and  these  not  few  nor  far  between, 
in  the  case  of  some  holy  men  and  women,)  when  a 
real  Christian  is  so  absorbed  and  shocked  by  the 
plagues  of  his  heart,  that  he  is  ready  to  unchrht 'ion- 
ize himself  entirely.  In  the  hurry  and  agitation  of 
these  awful  moments,  he  does  confound  the  Spirit 
with  the  flesh :  and  instead  of  saying  like  Paul,  "  in 
me  (that  is,  in  my  flesh)  dwelleth  no  good  thing," 
he  says,  "  in  me,  soul,  body,  or  spirit,  dwelleth  no 
good  thing."  He  forgets  the  law  of  his  mind,  whilst 
the  law  of  sin  and  death  is  thus  in  fearful  power. 

These  volcanic  bursts  of  the  old  nature  are  not, 
however,  so  lasting  as  they  are  overwhelming. — 
Even  whilst  they  do  last,  they  are  so  deplored,  and 
hated,  and  loathed  by  the  Christian  himself,  that  it 
is  quite  obvious  to  others,  however  he  may  overlook 
the  facts,  that  neither  his  will  nor  his  taste  is  a  con- 
senting party  to  the  rebellion  within.  The  horror 
it  creates,  proves  that  he  loves  holiness.  The  old 
man  does  not  rebel  in  this  way,  where  there  is  no 
attempt  nor  desire  to  "  put  on  the  new  man.  which 
is  created  after  the  image  of  God."  Both  "  righte- 
ousness and  true  holiness,"  have  struck  their  roots 
deep  into  the  heart,  which  thus  bleeds  and  is  ready 
to  break,  when  nature  overpowers  grace.  Indeed, 
it  is  "  the  root  of  the  matter,"  making  room  for 
striking  itself  deeper  and  spreading  itself  wider, 
that  causes  this  convulsion  and  struggling  among 
the  roots  and  branches  of  indwelling  sin.  Accord- 
ingly, Paul  said,  "  zvken  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  pre- 
sent with  me."  And  again,  "  when  the  command- 
ment came,  sin  revived."  Thus  it  is  only  in  the 
heart  which  tries  to  delight  in  the  law  of  God,  that 
this  strong  rebellion  is  much  felt  or  noticed.  There, 
however,  it  creates  positive  wretchedness  whilst  it 
lasts ;  and  when  it  subsides,  who  can  tell  the  joy  of 
a  Christian  %  It  is  joy  unspeakable,  when  his  gra- 
cious principles  begin  to  lift  up  their  heads  again 
after  the  conflict :  and  it  is  "  full  of  glory,"  when 
he  finds  himself  looking  again  with  some  faith  and 
hope  to  Christ  and  Holiness.  Then,  like  Paul,  he 
adds,  "  Thanks  be  unto  God  who  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ:"  this  sweet 
song  follows  the  bitter  cry,  "  O  wretched  man  that 
I  am!  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this 
death  1"  Thus  a  Christian  not  only  rallies  after 
apparent  defeat,  but  also  learns  the  worth  of  his  holy 
principles,  which  kept  sin  hateful  when  it  was  most 


20 


THE   MARYS. 


headstrong,  and  holiness  beautiful  whilst  most  op- 
posed. In  ordinary  circumstances,  however,  much 
caution  is  requisite,  in  rightly  dividing  our  atten- 
tion between  the  necessity  and  the  beauty  of  holiness. 
Far  better  follow  it,  simply  because  without  it  no 
one  shall  "  see  the  Lord,"  than  follow  it  ostenta- 
tiously, to  be  "  seen  of  men."  The  Pharisees  for- 
got thi^,  and  became  equally  legal  and  lofty.  As 
soon  as  they  thought  themselves  righteous,  they 
despised  others.  "  Stand  aside,"  soon  grew  out  of 
the  boast,  "  I  am  holier  than  thou."  This  melan- 
choly fact  should  teach  us  to  be  even  jealous  of  our 
own  hearts.  They  are  capable  of  being  "  puffed 
up,"  by  moral,  as  well  as  by  intellectual  superiority. 
Self-complacency  can  plume  itself  upon  graces,  as 
well  as  upon  gifts. 

We  must  not,  however,  learn  more  from  the  warn- 
ing example  of  the  Pharisees  than  it  was  intended  to 
teach.  Now,  it  never  was  held  up  to  convey  or 
suggest  the  idea,  that  true  holiness  could  betray  us 
into  pride  or  self-righteousness.  No ;  the  farther 
we  follow  real  holiness,  the  farther  we  shall  be  from 
vanity  and  legality,  and  the  lower  we  shall  lie  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  at  the  footstool  of  the  mer- 
cy-seat. The  holiest  of  the  holy  men  and  women 
of  old,  were  always  the  humblest  of  their  genera- 
tion :  and  for  this  obvious  reason ; — they  made  the 
law  of  God  the  standard,  and  the  image  of  God  the 
model,  of  their  holiness :  and  with  these  infinite 
mirrors  for  ever  before  them,  they  could  neither 
admire  themselves,  nor  divide  their  confidence  be- 
tween faith  and  works. 

It  was  ceremonial  holiness  that  betrayed  the  Pha- 
risees. They  made  righteousness  to  consist  in  re- 
peating a  certain  number  of  prayers  ;  in  paying  the 
regular  tithes,  and  in  observing  the  stated  feasts  and 
festivals  of  the  temple.  In  these  things  they  were 
more  precise  or  more  ostentatious  than  others ;  and 
thus  they  came  to  despise  others,  and  to  flatter  them- 
selves. Not  a  man  of  them,  however,  would  or 
could  have  done  so,  if  he  had  studied  holiness  in  the 
moral  law,  or  in  the  revealed  image  of  God.  Either 
of  these,  if  honestly  contemplated,  would  have  been 
a  "schoolmaster"  to  bring  them  to  Christ.  For, 
who  can  look  at  the  perfection  required  by  the  law, 
or  at  the  purity  implied  in  conformity  to  the  Divine 
image,  and  not  see  that  a  justifying  Saviour  and  a 
sanctifying  Spirit  are  equally  necessary  in  order  to 
her  salvation  1  The  soul  that  is  intent  upon  true 
holiness,  must  depend  on  Christ  and  Grace  entirely, 
or  despair  entirely :  for  all  the  natural  reasons  of 
duty  are  moral  reasons  for  despair.  Mediatorial 
reasons  only  can  give  either  heart  or  hope  to  the 
soul,  in  the  face  of  a  law  that  requires  absolute  per- 
fection, and  of  a  heaven  which  admits  nothing  that 
defileth. 

Now,  we  come  to  the  point  for  close  self-examina- 
tion. "We  have  seen  that  there  are  two  extremes, 
to  which  we  are  equally  prone,  by  turns  ;  sloth  and 
self-complacency.  By  which  of  these  are  we  most 
frequently  betrayed  1  If  by  sloth— we  have  most 
need  to  study  the  necessity  of  holiness.  The  eon- 
diction,  that  without   holiness  we   cannot  see  the 


Lord,  is  very  weak,  if  we  can  relax  in  duty,  or  leave 
the  state  of  our  hearts  to  accident.  Whenever  we 
reckon  it  a  trouble  to  take  pains  with  our  habits  and 
spirit  before  God,  we  are  upon  the  highway  to  back- 
sliding. Both  the  heart  and  the  conscience  are  per- 
verted in  no  small  degree,  when  watchfulness  or 
effort  ceases ;  and  when  either  ceases,  under  any 
excuse  or  pretence  drawn  from  the  grace  of  God, 
it  is  high  time  to  take  alarm  at  ourselves  :  for  even 
our  understanding  if  far  perverted,  if  we  can  per- 
vert Grace  into  an  apology  for  idleness  and  incon- 
sistency. O  yes ;  a  blight  has  fallen  upon  the  eyes 
of  our  understanding,  as  well  as  upon  the  tenderness 
of  our  conscience,  if  we  can  tamper  with  express 
law  because  free  Grace  abounds.  For,  what  convert 
did  not  see,  at  first,  more  in  grace,  than  even  in  law, 
to  bind  him  to  circumspect  holiness  '?  We  certain- 
ly saw  nothing  in  the  Cross  or  the  Covenant,  to  re- 
lease us  from  high  moral  obligation  or  habitual 
watchfulness,  when  we  first  looked  to  them  for 
mercy  to  pardon  and  grace  to  help.  We  intended 
and  desired  no  compromise  then,  between  God  and 
the  world.  If,  therefore,  we  now  imagine  that  we 
see  in  the  Cross  or  the  Covenant  any  thing  to  war- 
rant or  wink  at  what  our  own  conscience  condemns, 
our  "eye  is  evil:"  for  their  is  neither  sanction  nor 
shield  in  them  to  protect  any  wrong  habit  or  temper. 
They  reign  and  remain  to  crucify  us  to  the  world, 
and  the  world  to  us :  and  therefore  our  glorying  in 
them  is  not  good,  so  far  as  it  admits  a  compromise 
between  sin  and  duty. 

But  neither  strong  nor  startling  assertions,  how- 
ever solemn  and  severe,  will  remedy  this  evil  effect- 
ually. Warnings,  even  declamations,  do  not  reach 
the  root  of  it.  Many  who  can  say  as  loudly  as  Paul, 
that  his  "  damnation  is  just,  who  sins  because  grace 
abounds,"  do  not  like  Paul  make  the  abounding  of 
grace  a  universal  and  daily  reason  for  abounding  in 
holiness.  They  do  not  venture,  indeed,  to  sin  or 
compromise  upon  a  large  scale,  because  grace 
abounds  ;  but  they  do  some  things,  and  leave  other 
things  undone,  which  they  would  not,  and  durst  not, 
if  grace  did  not  abound.  I  mean,  that  were  certain 
habits  and  tempers  beyond  the  high-flood  mark  of 
the  spring  tides  of  mercy,  and  known  to  be  unpar- 
donable, there  would  be  a  speedy  rush  of  many  from 
the  dry  places  they  now  occupy,  to  the  spot  washed 
by  the  waves  of  pardon.  It  is,  therefore,  by  regard- 
ing some  wrong  things  as  not  unsafe  nor  unpardon- 
able, that  many  persist  in  them.  They  would  give 
them  up  at  once  and  entirely,  if  they  deemed  them 
fatal,  or  utterly  irreconcileable  with  a  state  of  grace. 
Now  this,  although  not  exactly  sinning  because  grace 
abounds,  is  very  like  it.  For  if  a  man  do  what  he 
would  not  dare,  if  he  counted  it  unpardonable,  it  is 
very  evident  that  the  abounding  of  grace,  in  some 
way,  is  his  secret  reason,  although  not  his  assigned 
one.  He  does  not,  indeed,  say,  "  Let  us  sin"  to  any 
extent,  "  because  grace  abounds ;"  but  he  evidently 
thinks,  or  tries  to  think,  that  he  is  not  actually  and 
altogether  perilling  or  disproving  his  own  hopes  by 
his  own  indulgences.  In  a  word,  he  has  some  way 
of  making  out  to  himself,  that  his  own  fauhs  are  not 
incompatible  with  being  really  in  a  state  of  grace; 


THE    MARYS, 


31 


and,  therefore,  although  he  does  Dot  exactly  justify 
them,  he  does  not  correct  them,  nor  is  he  much 
afraid  of  them.  "Grace,"  he  says,  "has  to- bear 
with  something  wrong,  even  in  the  best :  and  as  my 
besetting  sin  is  not  of  the  very  worst  kind  ;  and  as 
there  are  some  sins  I  would  not  commit,  and  some 
duties  I  would  not  neglect,  for  worlds,  nor  on  any 
account  whatever,  I  am  not  surely  presuming  very 
much,  when  I  reckon  myself  in  a  state  of  grace,  not- 
withstanding all  my  faults."  Thus,  it  is  rather  some 
perverted  notion  about  the  securities  of  a  slate  of 
grace,  than  direct  and  determinate  presumption 
upon  the  abounding  of  grace,  that  betrays  many 
into  a  lax  holiness,  or  into  allowed  inconsistencies 
of  character  and  temper.  I  do  not,  therefore,  con- 
found such  persons  with  those  who  "  turn  the  grace 
of  God  into  licentiousness;"  but  I  do  remind  you 
and  myself,  and  that  with  warning  and  weeping 
solemnity,  that  this  was  the  first  step  of  the  antino- 
mian  process  by  which  the  primitive  compromisers 
became  licentious  apostates  and  judicial  reprobates. 
They  begun  their  unholy  career  by  trying  to  bend 
grace  into  a  shelter  for  some  one  favorite  sin  ;  and, 
having  persuaded  themselves  that  one  was  not  fatal, 
they  went  on  from  bad  to  worse,  until  they  drowned 
themselves  in  perdition.  At,  first  they  threw  the 
cloak  of  Christian  liberty  over  a  few  faults ;  by  and 
by,  over  many;  and,  at  last,  they  made  it  "a  cloak 
for  licentiousness"  itself. 

ZS'ow  this,  we  not  only  do  not  want  to  do,  but  we 
abhor  it  as  much  as  we  dread  it.  It  would  be  any 
thing  but  gratifying  to  us,  if  grace  could  be  thus 
perverted  with  safety.  What  we  are  inclined  or 
tempted  to  wish  for,  is,  such  a  forbearance  or  wink- 
ing at  what  is  wrong  about  us,  as  shall  allow  our 
faults  to  go  on,  without  exactly  throwing  us  out  of  a 
Mate  of  grace,  before  we  find  it  convenient  and 
agreeable  to  give  them  up  :  for  we  intend  to  crucify, 
eventually,  the  vety  things  Ave  now  try  to  excuse. 
We  even  promise  to  ourselves  and  to  God,  that  they 
shall  not  go  on  to  the  end  of  life,  nor  so  near  to  it  as 
to  darken  or  embitter  our  death-bed.  What  a 
shame,  then,  to  yield  now  to  any  thing  we  are  thus 
pledged  to  conquer  hereafter!  Why,  if  our  general 
character  is  rather  consistent  than  inconsistent, 
should  we  allow,  even  for  another  day,  any  fault  or 
flaw,  which  pains  can  cure,  and  prayer  efface  to  re- 
main 1  It  would  cost  us  far  less  trouble  to  correct 
at  once  the  worst  fault  we  have,  than  it  costs  to 
gel  over  the  misgivings  of  heart  and  the  twinges  of 
conscience,  which  that  fault  occasions  in  the  closet 
and  at  the  sacrament.  Besides,  we  have  already 
made  greater  sacrifices  to  conscience  and  duty,  than 
any  we  have  to  make.  All  our  great  Mns  are  given 
up  for  ever,  willingly  too:  and  shall  the  little  ones 
hold  us  in  bondage  1 

Do  we  feel,  in  the  presence  of  these  exposures 
and  remonstrances,  any  inclination  to  say — "  Why 
this  is  making  grace  as  strict  as  Law  could  be: 
what  then  is  the  advantage  of  being  under  grace, 
instead  of  law,  if  so  much  circumspection  and  im- 
partiality be  requisite  V 

Here  is  the  advantage:  "sin  then  shall  not  have 


the  dominion  over"  us,  if  we  be  under  grace:  and  if 
we  reckon  this  no  advantage,  we  do  not  understand 
the  Law  well,  nor  Grace  aright. 

Are  we  half-inclined  to  try  the  question  in  ano- 
ther form,  and  to  say,  "  Still,  as  something  wrong 
will  remain,  do  whatever  we  may,  why  not  let  that 
fault  remain,  which  we  find  most  difficult  to  con- 
quer!   Might  there  not  come  a  worse  in  its  place  V 

I  will  not  call  this  pleading  for  sin.  It  may  be 
merely  put  forward  as  clever  casuistry,  to  evade 
close  reasoning,  which  we  have  no  wish  to  set  aside. 
Indeed,  no  Christian  would  dare  to  vindicate  a  sin, 
great  or  small,  by  name.  He  must  regard  even  his 
chief  fault  as  an  infirmity,  or  a  weakness,  or  an  im- 
perfection, before  he  can  plead  or  apologize  for  it. 
As  sin — he  has  not  a  word  to  say  on  its  behalf.  You 
at  least,  have  not  one. 

Let,  therefore,  the  emblems  of  holiness  which  the 
Holy  Ghost  teaches  by,  suggest  to  you  all  that  he 
intends.  That,  of  course,  will  seem  more  than  you 
can  acquire;  but  it  will  enable  you  to  do  better  than 
those  do  who  compare  themselves  only  with  others. 
Scriptural  figures  are  not  fancies.  "  It  seems  to  the 
honor  of  religion,  that  so  many  things  can,  without 
the  art  of  forcing  resemblances,  be  accommodated 
*.o  its  illustration.  It  is  an  evident  and  remarkable 
fact,  that  there  is  a  certain  principle  of  correspond- 
ence to  religion  throughout  the  economy  of  the 
world.  He  that  made  all  things  for  himself,  ap- 
pears to  have  willed  that  they  should  be  a  great  sys- 
tem of  emblems,  reflecting  or  shadowing  forth  that 
system  of  principles  in  which  we  are  to  apprehend 
Hirn  and  our  relations  and  obligations  to  Him:  so 
that  religion,  standing  up  in  grand  parallel  to  an  in- 
finity of  things,  receives  their  testimony  and  homage, 
and  speaks  with  a  voice  which  is  echoed  by  crea- 
tion."— Foster.  The  justness  of  these  profound 
and  splendid  remarks  is  almost  self-evident  in  th  / 
emblem  of  Dew.  The  history  of  dew  is  a  figura- 
tive history  of  conversion  ;  and,  in  its  leading  fea- 
tures, so  strikingly  similar,  that  if  dew  had  been 
created  for  no  other  purpose  but  to  image  forth  the 
"new  creation,"  it  could  hardly  be  more  character- 
istic. 

The  design  of  God  in  establishing  and  pointing 
out  the  resemblances  between  natural  and  spiritual 
things  is  obvious.  He  thus  places  us  so,  that,  whe- 
ther we  are  in  the  house  or  the  fields,  we  may  have 
before  us  "  lively  oracles"  of  his  great  salvation : 
at  home,  in  the  Bible  ;  abroad,  in  nature.  For,  as 
prophet  unto  prophet,  and  apostle  unto  apostle,  so 
"  day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  teacheth  knowledge,"— there  being  no  voice 
of  nature  which  does  not  echo  some  voice  of  Reve- 
lation. 

Thus  the  origin  of  dew  is  an  emblem  of  human 
society  in  its  natural  state.  The  original  elements 
of  dew  are  as  various  in  their  character,  as  the  di- 
versified states  in  which  water  and  moister  exist  on 
the  earth.  Now  they  exist  in  swamps  and  seas,  in 
marshes  and  meadows,  in  stagnant,  pools  and  run- 
ning streams,  in  fetid  plants  and  fragrant  flowers: 


THE  MARYS. 


but  wherever  water  lies  or  lurks,  whether  in  the 
chalice  of  a  rose  or  in  the  recess  of  a  tank,  it  must  un- 
dergo the  same  change,  and  pass  from  fluid  to  vapor, 
before  it  becomes  dew.  As  water,  it  cannot,  how- 
ever pure  or  polluted,  ascend  into  the  atmosphere, 
nor  refine  itself  into  dew  :  it  may  undergo  changes 
of  taste,  color,  and  smell,  according  to  the  channels 
it  lies  in  and  flows  on  ;  but  into  dew  it  will  not  turn, 
until  it  is  exhaled  in  vapor  by  the  sun. 

Now,  the  moral,  like  the  natural  world,  has  its 
putrid  marshes  and  its  pure  streams — its  calm  lakes 
and  its  stormy  oceans;  for  although  no  class  of 
mankind  is  naturally  holy,  some  classes  are  com- 
paratively pure,  and  others  grossly  vile.  There 
are,  in  society,  the  decent  and  the  indelicate,  the 
humane  and  the  cruel,  the  cool  and  the  passionate, 
the  upright  and  the  dishonest.  These  distinctions 
between  man  and  man  are  as  visible  as  those  of 
land  and  water  on  the  globe,  and  as  real  as  the  differ- 
ence between  spring  and  pit  water.  But  no  natu- 
ral amiableness  of  disposition,  nor  any  acquired  re- 
finement of  character,  amounts  to  "  true  holiness." 
The  best,  in  common  with  the  worst,  "  must  be  born 
again"  before  they  can  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God  :  for,  as  water,  in  its  purest  state,  must  be  ex- 
haled into  vapor  before  it  can  be  transmuted  into 
dew,  so  both  the  moral  and  the  immoral  must  be 
regenerated  before  they  can  enter  heaven  Educa- 
tion may  purify  the  manners,  but  only  faith  can 
purify  the  heart :  love  of  character  may  secure  ex- 
ternal decorum,  but  only  the  love  of  Christ  can  se- 
cure internal  holiness.  Thus  far  the  resemblance 
holds  good. 

Again ;  the  agency  by  which  dew  is  produced 
from  all  the  varieties  of  water,  is  an  emblem  of  that 
spiritual  agency  by  which  the  varieties  of  human 
character  are  transformed  into  the  Divine  image. 
Now,  the  sun  is  the  grand  agent  in  the  natural 
world,  by  which  portions  of  all  waters  are  changed 
into  vapor.    His  heat,  operating  on  their  surface, 
produces  exhalations  wherever  it  touches,  drawing 
vapor  from  the  wide  expanse  of  the  ocean  and  from 
the  weedy  pool ;  from  the  brakish  river  and  from 
the  sweet  brook.   And  the  sun  is  the  only  luminary 
of  heaven  that  exhales  the  waters.     The  moon  re- 
gulates their  tides,  and  the  stars  irradiate  their  sur- 
face ;  but  the  united  rays  of  both  are  insufficient  to 
evaporate  ingredients  for  a  single  dewdrop.     It  is 
the  sun  which  draws  from  the  earth,  into  the  atmos- 
phere,   the   elements   or  this   beautiful  fluid :   in 
like  manner,  it  is  "  the  Sun  of  Righteousness"  alone 
that  draws  sinners  from  the  fearful  pit  of  the  curse, 
and  from  the  miry  clay  of  corruption.     The  at- 
tractive influence  of  his  cross  is  to  us  what  the 
heat  of  the  sun  is  to  the  moisture  of  the  earth — the 
only  drawing  power.     Other  doctrines  may,  like 
the  moon,  produce  regular  tides  of  formal  worship, 
and,  like  the    stars,  brighten  the  surface  of  the 
character ;  but  they  shine  too  cold  to  regenerate  the 
heart  or  purify  the  conscience.   Thus,  Arianism,  al- 
though it  shone  in  the  brightness  of  learning  and 
ethics  during  the  last  century,  had  no  spiritual  at- 
traction :  it  drew  small  numbers  from  the  Church  to 


the  Meeting ;  but  none  from  the  world  to  God — 
as  the  God  of  salvation.  Socinianism  also  has,  of 
late,  shone  in  the  heat  of  proselyting  zeal ;  but  the 
only  effect  is,  that  some  of  the  young,  who  formerly 
cared  nothing  about  religion,  are  become  flippant 
speculators,  and  many  of  the  speculators  masked 
Deists.  It  is  notorious  that  the  system  has  made 
the  young  "heady  and  high-minded,"  and  the  old 
callous.  Many  of  both  are,  indeed,  intelligent  and 
upright ;  but  these  were  so  before  they  embraced  the 
system,  and  would  be  what  they  are  under  any 
moral  system,  while  their  local  and  relative  circum- 
stances continue  the  same.  And  what  have  the 
classically  elegant  lectures  on  morals,  which  sound 
from  so  many  pulpits,  done  for  the  young  or  old  1 
Except  maintaining  a  routine  of  formal  worship, 
and  raising  an  ignorant  clamor  against  evangelical 
truth,  they  have  left  parishes  and  districts  as  they 
found  them — locked  up  in  the  icebergs  of  apathy 
and  self-delusion.  And  such  must  ever  be  the  ef- 
fects of  legal  preaching,  because  it  is  not  God's  ap- 
pointment for  winning  souls.  He  no  more  intends 
to  save  sinners  by  the  law,  than  to  evaporate  the 
waters  by  the  moon  or  the  stars.  The  law,  like 
these  luminaries,  is  a  light  to  our  feet  in  "the  new 
and  living  way;"  but  only  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness, shining  in  the  Gospel,  can  draw  us  into  that 
way.  "  The  dew  of  his  youth"  can  only  be  formed 
by  his  own  influence.  Thus  far,  also,  the  parallel 
is  just. 

Again ;  the  secret  process  by  which  the  exhaled 
vapors  are  turned  into  dew,  is  an  emblem  of  that 
Divine  operation  by  which  the  Holy  Spirit  makes 
sinners  "  new  creatures  in  Christ  Jesus."  The  pre- 
cise agent  in  nature,  by  which  vapor  is  condensed 
into  dew,  is  not  known :  whether  it  is  by  cold  or  by 
electricity,  or  by  both,  is  still  as  much  a  mystery  as 
when  God  asked  Job  from  the  whirlwind,  "  Who 
hath  begotten  the  drops  of  the  dew  V  In  like  man- 
ner, although  we  know  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  the 
agent  who  changes  the  heart,  by  making  the  Gospel 
power  unto  salvation,  we  are  ignorant  of  the  nature 
of  his  operations.  Whether  they  are  partly  physi- 
cal, or  wholly  moral,  is  unknown.  "The  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth.  and  thou  nearest  the  sound 
thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  or  whi- 
ther it  goeth:  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit."  But  we  do  know  what  is  much  better — that 
his  sacred  influences  are  inseparably  connected  with 
the  conscientious  use  of  the  means  of  grace,  and 
forthcoming  in  answer  to  serious  prayer.  This  we 
know ;  that  as  water  exposed  to  the  sun  will  be  eva- 
porated in  part,  and  water  excluded  from  the  sun 
will  never  become  dew ;  so  we  may  expect  Divine 
influence  in  the  use  of  divinely  appointed  means, 
and  can  look  for  none  if  they  are  neglected. 


Again;  the  similarity  of  dewdrops  in  pureness 
and  beauty,  although  formed  from  all  the  varieties 
of  vapor,  is  a  fine  emblem  of  that  uniform  spirit 
which  characterizes  the  diversified  classes  of  man- 
kind, who  are  brought  to  believe  on  Christ  for  sal- 
vation. There  is  what  may  be  called  a.  family  like- 
ncss prevailing  throughout  the  dewdrops  of  the  morn- 


THE   MARYS, 


2J 


ing.  They  differ  in  size  ;  but  they  are  all  transpa- 
rent, tender,  and  pure.  This  is  the  more  remarka- 
ble, seeing  their  original  elements  were  so  different : 
part  of  the  vapor  was  drawn  from  the  briny  deep, 
and  part  from  the  putrid  fens ;  portions  of  it  from 
the  slimy  pool,  and  portions  from  the  steaming 
surfs.  Now,  that  the  exhalations  from  srrings  and 
rivulets,  from  the  herbs  of  the  field  arid  the  flowers 
of  the  garden,  should  return  to  the  earth  in  sweet 
dews  is  not  surprising;  but  that  the  gross  and  taint- 
ed vapors  should  return  sweet  and  pure,  is  wonder- 
ful !  And  yet  all  this  is  realized  under  the  gospel. 
The  sinner  drawn  from  the  very  dregs  of  society, 
and  the  sinner  drawn  from  a  respectable  family — 
the  convert  from  sensuality,  and  the  convert  from 
intellectual  pride — the  wanderer  returning  from 
vice,  and  the  wanderer  renouncing  vanity — become 
alike  in  their  leading  views,  principles,  and  feel- 
ings ;  they  build  their  hopes  on  the  same  founda- 
tion, ascribe  their  escape  to  the  same  grace,  and  aim 
at  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  holiness.  "  Who- 
soever" hath  the  hope  of  eternal  life  "  in  Christ," 
"  purifieth  himself,"  even  as  Christ  is  pure.  Con- 
verts differ,  indeed,  in  the  degree  of  their  know- 
ledge, gifts,  and  graces — as  the  dewdrops  in  their 
size  ;  but,  like  them,  they  are  all  partakers  of  a  new 
nature,  and  each  compared  with  what  he  was  before 
conversion,  "  a  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus." 

Again :  the  refreshing  and  fertilizing  influence 
of  the  dew  is  a  fine  emblem  of  the  salutary  influ- 
ence of  converts  in  their  respective  families  and 
spheres.  The  dew  cools  the  sultry  air,  revives  the 
parched  herbage  of  the  earth,  and  bathes  the  whole 
landscape  in  renovated  beauty;  and,  in  like  man- 
ner, holy  families  are  harmonious — holy  churches 
tranquil.  Even  an  individual  convert  is  not  with- 
out a  portion  of  sweet  influence  in  his  circle :  the 
change  in  his  character  and  spirit  suggests  to  others 
the  necessity  and  the  possibility  of  being  changed 
too;  and  thus  "  they  that  dwell  under  his  shadow 
revive  as  the  corn  and  grow  as  the  vine."  His  ex- 
ample distils  as  dew  upon  the  tender  herb,  quicken- 
ing the  formal  to  the  power  of  godliness,  and  awak- 
ening the  careless  to  consideration.  Thus  the  pious 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth.  The  absence  of  dew  would 
not  be  more  fatal  to  the  natural  world,  than  the 
want  of  converts  to  the  moral  world.  Were  they 
withdrawn,  or  were  their  succession  to  cease,  even 
the  general  morality  of  society  would  wither  and 
sink  far  below  its  present  standard  and  strength. 

Again  :  the  dew  is  regularly  drawn  up  again  by 
the  sun,  when  it  has  refreshed  the  earth ;  and  is 
thus  a  fine  emblem  of  the  first  resurrection,  when 
all  the  saints  shall  ascend  to  meet  the  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness in  the  air.  No  scene  of  nature  is  more 
lovely  than  a  summer  landscape  at  sunrise,  when 
every  field,  grove,  and  hedge  is  spangled  with 
morning  dew.  The  drops  seem  to  sparkle  with  con- 
scious delight  at  the  approach  of  the  sun— climbing, 
as  he  ascends,  to  the  top  of  every  leaf,  as  if  impa- 
tient to  meet  him  in  the  air.  Every  admirer  of  na- 
ture has  noticed  this  scene,  and  watched  the  dewy 
vapor  rising  like  incense  from  the  golden  censor  of 


summer.  Who  has  not  gazed  with  rapture  on  the 
glowing  myriads  of  dew  drops,  when  each  of  them 
is  a  miniature  of  the  sun  which  gilds  theml  And, 
when  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall  arise  on  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection,  the  heirs  of  glory  will 
be  as  numerous  and  beautiful  as  the  dew  from  the 
womb  of  the  morning— all  in  the  beauty  of  holiness ; 
for  they  "shall  be  'ike  Him  when  they  see  him  as 
he  is." 


No.  IV. 

a  matron's  timidity  explained. 

Perfect  conformity  to  the  Divine  image  exists 
only  in  the  Divine  presence!  Only  those  who  see 
God  face  to  face,  are  holy  as  God  is  holy.  Until  we 
see  Him  as  He  actually  is,  we  cannot  be  fully  like 
him.  Nothing  but  "  open  vision"  can  produce  an 
entire  moral  resemblance  between  our  spirit  and 
the  Father  of  spirits.  They  little  know  what  per- 
fection means,  who  imagine  that  they  are  "  already 
perfect."  Those,  however,  are  quite  as  ignorant, 
and  more  criminal,  who  are  not  trying  to  perfect 
holiness  in  the  fear  of  God.  They  are  certainly 
very  weak  in  intellect,  who  reckon  themselves  spot- 
less in  heart  or  character ;  but  they  are  weaker  in 
conscience  and  in  all  principle,  who  are  content  to 
be  imperfect,  or  not  much  concerned  to  keep  them- 
selves unspotted  from  the  world.  And,  alas,  there 
are  far  more  of  the  latter  class,  than  of  the  former. 
The  visionaries  of  Perfection  are  but  few  in  num- 
bers, and  small  in  influence;  whereas,  the  trucklers 
to  allowed  and  needless  Imperfection,  arc  many 
and  mighty.  The  name  of  the  Inconsistent  is  "  Le- 
gion." 

How  do  we  feel,  when  we  say  to  ourselves,  or 
when  it  is  proved  to  us  from  Scripture  and  experi- 
ence, "  that  perfection  is  impossible  out  of  Heaven?" 
Are  we  glad  to  hear  this  ?  Is  it  good  news  to  us? 
We  make  a  very  bad  use  of  it,  if  we  employ  the 
fact  to  excuse  our  besetting  sin,  or  to  exempt  us 
from  the  trouble  of  watchfulness  and  self-denial. — 
It  was  never  revealed  by  God,  nor  avowed  by  His 
ministers,  for  this  unholy  purpose.  God  declared 
it,  and  Prophets  and  Apostles  confessed  it,  in  order 
that  conscious  Imperfection  might  not  drive  the  fol- 
lowers of  Holiness  to  despair.  The  talkers  about 
holiness  do  not  need  the  fact,  although  they  u^e  it. 
Their  imperfection,  as  they  call  it,  neither  alarms 
nor  humbles  them.  They  are  on  very  good  terms 
with  what  is  bad  in  their  habits;  indeed  quite  in  love 
with  the  sin  that  most  easily  besets  them.  It  would 
be  no  gratification  to  them  to  be  redeemed  from  its 
present  power.  They  intend,  of  course,  fc  give  it 
up  some  time,  and  in  time  enough  (as  they  think) 
to  leave  it  si  ill  pardonable,  or  not  fatal;  but,  like 
Augustine,  "not  now." 

Not  thus  lightly,  however,  do  sins  or  shortcom- 
ings sit  upon  the  conscience,  or  affect  the  hopes,  of 
godly  ■women.  They  have  to  prove  their  faith  by 
their  works;  to  confirm  their  hopes  by  their  holi- 
ness; to  make  their  calling  and  election  sure,  by  a 
growing  likeness  to  Him,  to  whose  image  Believers 


1H£    MARYS 


'ire  "  predestinated  to  be  conformed."  To  them, 
.hr.retore,  it  is  both  a  solemn  and  startling  matter, 
lo  miss  some  features  of  the  Divine  image  in  their 
character;  and  others  in  their  spirit;  and  to  find 
all  the  features  of  that  image  so  indistinct  and  un- 
settled !  This  discovery  causes  in  them  great 
cearchings  and  sinkings  of  heart  before  God.  In- 
deed, something  of  both  continues  with  a  Christian 
through  life.  She  is  never  fully  "satisfied,"  with 
liei  own  piety.  Like  David,  she  never  can  be  sa- 
lisned  with  herself,  until  she  awake  in  heaven  in 
all  the  beauties  of  that  holiness,  which  is  the  express 
moral  image  of  God. 

This  is  one  great  characteristic  of  a  real  Chris- 
tian: she  never  is,  and  never  can  be,  quite  satisfied 
with  the  degree  of  her  own  piety.  She  may,  indeed, 
he  qaite  satisfied  that  it  is  of  the  right  kind,  both  as 
lo  its  principles  and  spirit,  so  far  as  it  goes ;  but  she 
never  thinks  that  it  has  gone  far  enough.  She  may 
have  no  doubt  of  its  sincerity  towards  God,  nor  of 
its  salutary  influence  over  herself  and  her  family, 
nor  of  its  usefulness  in  her  sphere  of  action;  but 
still,  it  comes  short  of  her  wishes,  and  even  fills  her 
with  shame  and  sorrow.  She  is  not  satisfied  with 
herself,  whoever  else  may  approve  or  applaud  her. 
Indeed,  nothing  humbles  her  more  than  compli- 
ments from  others.  Not  that  she  is  indifferent  to 
the  good  opinion  of  others;  but  she  feels  that  if 
they  knew  her  heart  as  she  knows  it,  they  would 
not  think  so  highly  of  her.  For  she  is  conscious  of 
coldness,  where  they  see  nothing  but  warmth;  of 
ignorance,  where  they  recognize  wisdom;  of  earth- 
ly-mindedness,  where  they  acknowledge  spirituali- 
ty and  heavenly-mindedness.  Like  Paul,  a  real 
Christian  woman  feels  herself  "less  than  the  least 
pf  all  saints,"  even  when  she  stands  highest  in  pub- 
lic estimation. 

W  ere  this  fact  well  understood,  as  being  charac- 
teristic of  true  piety,  it  would  prevent  many  Chris- 
tians from  unchristianizing  themselves  so  often  as 
they  do.  They  imagine,  because  they  are  so  dis- 
satisfied with  themselves,  that  the  satisfaction  which 
others  express,  is  more  from  kindness  than  wisdom, 
or  rather  friendly  than  prudent.  They  wish  to 
think  themselves  as  sincere,  right,  and  safe  as  their 
friends  say ;  but  they  are  afraid  to  conclude  that 
they  really  are  so.  "  Should  I  not  have  the  witness 
in  myself,  if  I  were,  indeed,  a  child  of  Godl"  is  their 
answer  tc  many  a  prayer  and  appeal  which  treats 
them  as  daughters  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty. — 
"Your  arguments  may  be  very  true  in  your  own 
case  and  in  that  of  others,"  they  say;  "  but  you  can- 
not argue  me  out  of  my  own  feelings,  nor  persuade 
me  against  my  own  consciousness.  1  am  not  satis- 
fied with  either  my  faith  or  my  repentance;  my 
prayers  or  experience;  and  for  this  solid  reason: — 
I  see  so  much  in  my  heart  that  is  bad,  and  so  little 
in  my  life  that  really  glorifies  God,  that  I  can  hard- 
ly conceive  how  there  could  be  any  grace  where 
there  is  so  much  coldness  and  deadness.  '  O  wretch- 
ed that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death!'" 

This  self-dissatisfaction  is,  however,  a  very  satis- 


factory proof  of  real  piety,  in  all  cases  where  a  real 
effort  is  made  to  be  holy  in  heart  and  life.  There 
is  no  great  effort  to  be  so,  wherever  there  is  self- 
satisfaction.  Those  who,  like  the  Laodiceans,  are 
pleased  with  themselves,  are,  like  them,  an  "  abo- 
mination" unto  the  Lord.  They  both  thought  and 
said,  that  they  had  "  need  of  nothing."  They  took 
for  granted,  that  they  were  enlightened  enough, 
clothed  enough,  and  enriched  enough,  to  be  quite 
safe,  or  on  the  right  side  for  Eternity.  But,  what 
did  Christ  say  to  them  1  "  Thou  art  wretched,  and 
miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked."  Thus 
the  men  who  imagined  that  they  had  need  of  no- 
thing, were  found  wanting  in  every  thing,  when 
weighed  in  the  balance  of  the  Sanctuary,  by  the 
Saviour  of  the  Church. 

Here  is  the  awful  consequence  of  calculating  how 
little  piety  will  just  suffice  for  safety  at  last.  The 
Laodiceans  seem  to  have  reckoned  to  a  fraction, 
how  little  would  do.  Their  question  had  evidently 
been,  not  how  much  God  required,  nor  how  much 
they  could  cultivate,  nor  what  would  be  the  advan- 
tage of  eminent  piety  ;  but  just,  how  much  is  abso- 
lutely needed,  in  order  to  any  chance  of  escape  at 
last  1  And  whenever  a  woman  comes  to  reckon  in 
this  way,  she  is  sure  to  let  nothing  into  her  list  of 
duties  or  graces,  which  she  can  keep  out.  The  mo- 
ment she  is  so  infatuated  by  sloth  or  worldliness,  as 
to  drive  a  bargain  in  religion,  she  will  drive  a  hard, 
bargain  with  it ;  and  thus  cheat  herself  to  a  certain- 
ty, whilst  trying  to  cheat  it.  This  is  inevitable, 
whenever  a  woman  tampers  with  the  question, — 
Where  can  I  stop  with  safety  in  the  path  of  holi- 
ness 1  She  is  sure  to  stop  whenever  she  dislikes  to 
go,  and  to  make  her  own  convenience  limit  the 
meaning  of  God's  requirements. 

Now  although  there  may  be  both  some  weakness 
and  waywardness  in  the  spirit  of  those  Christians, 
who  give  way  to  doubts  and  fears,  and  who  "  write 
bitter  things"  against  themselves,  whenever  they  do 
not  feel  as  they  wish,  still,  their  spirit  is  noble  and 
wise,  compared  with  the  spirit  of  the  woman,  who 
cares  nothing  about  how  she  feels  or  acts  in  reli- 
gion, if  she  can  only  keep  down  the  fear  of  perish- 
ing. There  is  no  comparison  :  it  is  all  contrast,  be- 
tween a  doubting  Christian,  and  a  heedless  or  heart- 
less professor. 

In  saying  this,  however,  nothing  is  farther  from 
my  design,  than  vindicating  or  even  palliating  the 
habit  of  doubting.  It  is  a  bad  habit;  although  in- 
finitely a  better  one  than  the  habit  of  taking  for 
granted  that  all  is  right  before  God,  when  there  is 
nothing  flagrantly  wrong  before  men.  Still,  it  is 
bad ;  and  in  this  way.  It  tempts  some  who  witness 
it  to  doubt  the  power  of  the  Gospel;  or  the  truth  of 
the  promises  ;  or  the  freeness  of  grace.  The  doubt- 
ing Christian  herself,  does  not  question  these  things. 
All  her  misgivings  of  heart  arise  from  what  she 
thinks  and  feels  herself  to  be ;  and  not  from  any 
suspicion  of  the  freeness  or  power  of  the  gr ice  of 
God.  This  distinction  is  not,  however,  noticed  by 
all  observers.  Some  look  only  on  the  surface  of 
such  a  case  ;  and,  when  they  see  a  serious  and  con- 


sistent  woman,  without  comfort,  and  almost  with- 
out hope  at  times,  they  strongly  suspect,  either  that 
the  Gospel  is  not  such  good  news  as  ministers  say, 
or  that  prayer  is  not  so  surely  answered  as  the 
Promises  seem  to  imply.  Accordingly,  when  re- 
cent converts  see  cases  of  this  kind,  they  are  tempt- 
ed to  doubt  whether  they  may  not  pray  in  vain  too, 
or  strive  to  no  purpose.  Those,  again,  who  want 
an  excuse  for  neglecting  prayer,  or  for  remaining 
undecided,  seize  upon  such  cases  with  avidity,  and 
pretend  to  be  discouraged  by  them,  or  warranted 
from  them  to  doubt  whether  religion  is  enjoyment. 
Now  to  both  classes  I  would  say,  you  are  equally 
wrong,  in  the  conclusions  you  thus  draw  from  the 
sadness  and  suspense  of  weak  Believers.  They 
may  seem  to  have  no  enjoyment  in  religion,  and 
may  even  say,  that  they  find  no  comfort :  but,  ask 
them  to  give  up  religion  for  the  pleasures  of  sin  ; 
propose  to  them  a  return  to  the  world  for  happiness ; 
offer  to  them  the  sweetest  cup  of  earthly  enjoyment, 
in  exchange  for  that  cup  of  salvation,  which  they 
hold  in  their  hand  without  venturing  to  drink  free- 
ly of  the  living  water ;  will  they  make  the  exchange, 
or  even  listen  with  patience  to  the  proposal"?  No, 
indeed.  They  will  tell  you  at  once,  that  however 
unhappy  they  may  feel,  they  would  be  miserable, 
yea,  unspeakably  wretched,  were  they  to  take  up 
with  any  earthly  portion  whatever.  Not  for  ten 
thousand  worlds,  would  they  turn  their  back  upon 
the  Saviour  or  Holiness. 

And,  is  there  no  grace  in  this  state  of  mind  1 — 
Has  prayer  been  unanswered,  where  the  heart  thus 
prefers  to  follow  Christ  even  in  darkness,  rather 
than  forsake  him  for  the  things  of  time  or  sense  1 — 
Yea,  is  there  not  enjoyment,  or  at  least,  cause  for 
comfort,  in  a  state  of  mind  which  thus  prefers  the 
Divine  favor  and  image,  to  all  that  the  world  calls 
good  or  great  %  For,  what  but  grace — special,  sav- 
ing, sanctifying  grace,  could  have  wrought  this 
change  in  the  natural  spirit  of  the  mind,  which  is 
of  the  earth,  earthy  1  Did  doubting  Christians  rea- 
son in  this  way  on  their  own  case,  they  could  not 
long  doubt  the  reality  of  their  conversion. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  thing  which  proves  that  a 
saving  work  of  grace  has  been  begun  in  them,  by 
the  Spirit  of  God.  The  sad  light  in  which  they  see 
themselves,  arises  from  the  true  light  in  which  they 
see  the  character  of  God.  Had  they  seen  less  of  His 
glory,  they  would  be  less  ashamed  of  themselves. 
It  is  because  His  character  is  much  before  their 
minds,  that  their  own  character  stands  so  low  in 
their  estimation.  "Were  they  only  comparing  them- 
selves with  others,  or  their  present  selves  with  their 
former  selves,  they  would  be  more  satisfied  with 
themselves;  but  they  are  contrasting  themselves 
with  infinite  purity — with  perfect  excellence — with 
unchangeable  holiness;  and  this  process  of  judging, 
just  produces  the  same  effect  upon  them,  which  it 
had  upon  Patriarchs,  Prophets,  and  Apostles. 

Doubting  Christians  overlook  this  fact,  and  in 
the  hurry  and  flutter  of  the  moment,  forget  that  the 
most  eminent  saints  of  old,  had  exactly  the  same 
opinion  of  themselves,  whenever  they  had  the  same 


THE   MARYS.  05 

clear  and  solemn  views  of  the  glorious  majesty  of 
Jehovah.  Who  said,  when  his  eyes  saw  the  true 
character  of  God,  "  /  abhor  myself?"  It  was  Job. 
Who  said,  when  he  saw  the  glory  of  God  in  the 
Temple,  "  Wo  is  vie,  lam  undone  ?"  It  was  Isaiah. 
Who  fell  at  the  Saviour's  feet  as  dead,  when  he 
bowed  the  heavens  over  Patmos,  and  appeared  in 
his  original  glory"?  It  was  John,  the  disciple  whom 
Jesus  loved.  Who  said,  "  So  foolish  and  ignorant 
was  I :  I  was  as  a  beast  before  thee"?"  when  lie  un- 
derstood that  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked  was  no 
token  of  the  Divine  favor,  nor  the  trials  of  the 
righteous  any  impeachment  of  the  wisdom  or  the 
equity  of  Providence  t    It  was  Asaph. 

And,  were  these  men  not  true  believers,  because 
thus  overwhelmed  by  a  sense  of  their  own  vileness 
and  unworthiness  1  Why;  it  was  their  high  and 
holy  views  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  that  laid  them 
thus  low  in  their  own  estimation.  "No  strange 
thing,"  therefore,  has  happened,  when  even  some 
exemplary  Christians  are  thus  troubled,  when  they 
think  of  God.  In  such  cases,  He  has  manifested 
himself  unto  them,  not  only  as  he  does  not  unto 
the  world,  but  also  differently  from  the  manifesta- 
tion of  his  presence  to  other  Christians.  I  mean, 
that  God  brings  that  view  of  his  own  character  be- 
fore the  mind  of  each  of  his  children  which  is  best 
suited  to  each  of  them.  Some  could  not  bear  to 
see  much  of  His  glorious  majesty ;  and,  therefore, 
God  manifests  himself  to  them,  chiefly  as  a  tender 
Father  and  a  watchful  Shepherd.  Others  again 
cannot,  bear  indulgence,  without  presuming  upon 
it,  or  being  betrayed  by  it  into  some  wrong  spirit ; 
and  He  keeps  them  low  and  fearful,  that  they  may 
be  humble  and  watchful.  But  there  is  not  less  pa- 
ternal love  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  He 
is  equally  training  both  for  Heaven,  although  each 
by  a  different  process  of  fatherly  discipline. 

You,  therefore,  if  rather  cheered  on  in  the  path 
of  holiness  by  the  soft  light  of  God's  countenance, 
than  kept  in  check  from  the  broad  way  by  awful 
views  of  God,  have  no  occasion  to  suspect  your 
piety  because  your  spirit  is  not  overwhelmed.  And 
you  have  as  little  reason  to  suspect  your  conversion^ 
if,  at  times,  almost  convulsed  by  your  awful  views 
of  God,  and  of  yourself  before  God.  The  question 
is — does  the  light  in  which  he  chiefly  manifests 
himself  to  you,  keep  you  afraid  of  sin,  jealous  of 
the  world,  and  conscientious  in  the  duties  of  life 
and  godliness  1  That  is  the  best  light  for  you, — 
which  keeps  you  walking  most  humbly  and  circum- 
spectly with  God.  And  whether  the  light  be  love- 
ly or  solemn,  it  will  keep  you  dissatisfied  with 
yourself,  until  you  awake  in  the  image  of  God. 

Another  cause  why  some  Christians  are  so  low 
in  spirits  and  hope,  is,  that  their  sense  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  great  salvation  is  more  than  usually 
vivid.  That  salvation  spreads  out  before  them  in 
such  vastness  of  grace  and  glory,  that  they  sink 
into  nothing  before  its  august  presence.  They  can 
hardly  imagine  that  it  can  be  free  to  them.  They 
see  nothing  in  any  of  their  own  feelings  towards 
"  so  great  salvation,"  at  ail  great  enough  or  good 


.so 


THE   MARYS. 


enough  to  prove  that  they  truly  value  it.  They 
f'nd  it  impossible  to  bring  up  their  love  or  faith,  to 
a  height  worthy  of  its  unspeakable  worth.  Thus 
they  lose  sight  of  its  freeness,  by  looking  so  often 
and  closely  to  its  grandeur. 

But  are  they  unbelievers,  because  they  are  afraid 
to  hope  for  a  salvation  which  they  thus  admire  and 
adore  1  There  is,  indeed,  unbelief,  in  not  ventur- 
ing to  hope  as  freely  as  they  wonder  deeply :  but  it 
is  not  the  unbelief  of  indifference,  nor  of  neglect, 
nor  of  formality.  It  is  not  the  unbelief  of  the 
natural  mind,  nor  of  impenitence.  It  is  humility 
sliding  into  hesitation.  It  is  diffidence  sliding  into 
timidity. 

For,  who  gave  the  doubting  Christians  such  lofty 
and  adoring  views  of  the  value  of  the  great  salva- 
tion 1  Whence  came  the  light  which  has  so  re- 
vealed and  irradiated  to  them,  the  heights  and 
depths,  the  lengths  and  breadths  of  the  love  of 
Christ,  that  they  feel  as  if  nothing  less  than  angelic 
love  to  Him  could  be  acceptable  love  ;  or  as  if  no- 
thing short  of  Abraham's  faith  could  be  true  faith  1 

I  am  not  advocating  nor  excusing  these  doubts 
and  fears :  but  I  am,  and  I  avow  it,  maintaining  that 
their  minds  are  not  in  nature's  darkness,  who  thus 
see  the  glory  of  salvation:  that  their  hearts  are  not 
in  sin's  or  the  world's  bondage,  who  thus  revere  the 
great  salvation  :  that  their  spirit  is  not  untouched 
by  the  Spirit  of  God,  who  thus  hesitate  because 
they  think  nothing  good  enough  as  a  welcome  to 
that  salvation. 

I  have  no  doubt  of  their  piety  or  safety ;  but  I 
do  stand  in  doubt  of  the  woman  who  is  satisfied 
with  either  her  faith  or  love  towards  so  great  sal- 
vation. It  must  seem  but  very  little  to  the  woman 
who  sees  enough  in  her  own  feelings  and  character 
to  do  justice  to  all  its  claims.  Again,  therefore,  I 
affirm,  that  a  real  Christian  cannot  be  satisfied  with 
herself,  until  she  awake  in  the  image  of  God. 

Another  cause  of  that  dissatisfaction  with  them- 
selves, which  keeps  the  hopes  and  hearts  of  some 
Christians  very  low,  is,  their  high  and  holy  estimate 
of  the  work  and  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  His 
agency,  or  influence,  means  so  much  in  their  judg- 
ment, that  they  cannot  think  how  any  thing  they 
have  felt,  or  are  capable  of  feeling,  could  amount 
to  being  "bora  again  of  the  Spirit."  Indeed,  it  is 
only  by  ascribing  and  giving  credit  to  others,  for 
more  fruits  of  the  Spirit  than  others  possess,  that 
such  persons  can  admit  that  any  change  is  a  Divine 
change.  They  believe  that  other  Christians  are 
much  holier  than  they  seem  ;  and  thus  account  for 
their  being  happier  than  themselves. 

Now,  although  there  is  some  mistake  in  all  this, 
the  error  is  on  the  safe  side.  Better  rate  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  too  high  than  too  low.  Better 
Hesitate  to  call  any  ordinary  change  Divine,  than 
call  every  moral  improvement  regeneration,  or 
every  conviction  conversion.  But  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  thus  going  to  either  extreme.  Neither  the 
work  nor  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  is  a  doubtful 
thing,  wherever  there  is  humility  before  God,  and 


an  honest  desire  to  be  like  God.  These  are  princi- 
ples which  can  neither  be  taught  nor  learned  with- 
out the  Holy  Spirit.  They  are  not  natural,  and 
they  are  never  acquired  by  mere  human  effort.- 
Indeed,  no  one  tries  or  wishes  to  be  truly  humble 
before  God,  until  the  Spirit  of  God  touch  the  heart. 
Let  not,  therefore,  the  timidity,  nor  even  the 
trembling,  the  doubts  nor  the  fears,  of  some  "  holy 
women,"  dishearten  you,  or  draw  you  into  suspi- 
cions of  the  efficacy  of  the  Gospel  to  console  as 
well  as  to  sanctify.  It  can  do  both  equally.  Its 
promises  have  only  to  be  as  simply  welcomed  by 
your  doubting  friends,  as  its  precepts  are  meekly 
obeyed  by  them,  in  order  to  their  being  as  happy  as 
they  are  humble.  Sheshbazzar  would  say  to  each 
of  them,  "  Woman,  why  wee  pest  thou  1  Shake  the 
mulberry  trees  in  the  valley  of  Baca ;  and  make  it 
a  well ;  and  thus  go  from  strength  to  strength,  until 
you  appear  before  God  in  Zion." 


The  Yom  Hacchipurim,  the  great  day  of  Atone- 
ment was  drawing  nigh;  and,  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba,  the  Israelites  were  preparing  to  appear  be- 
fore God  in  Zion.  "  The  songs  of  Degrees"  were 
reviewed  in  every  family,  that  they  might  be  re- 
peated and  sung  in  the  wilderness  ;  and  every  man 
that  was  right-hearted  said,  "  I  was  glad  when  thev 
said  unto  me,  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord. 
Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O  Jerusa- 
lem!" 

Amongst  those  who  waited  for  the  "  Consolation 
of  Israel,"  none  in  Beersheba  had  appeared  in  Zion 
so  often  as  Sheshbazzar.  From  year  to  year  he 
had  cheered  the  aged,  and  charmed  the  young,  on 
their  pilgrimage.  His  proverbs  met  all  cases,  and 
his  smiles  or  tears  suited  all  hearts.  He  wept  with 
the  weeping,  and  rejoiced  with  the  joyful.  And 
yet,  Sheshbazzar  was  a  man  that  had  seen  afflic- 
tion. The  Angel  of  Death  had  said  twice,  "  Write 
that  man  a  widower  ;"  and  the  "  desire  of  his  eyes" 
was  taken  away  at  a  stroke.  The  Angel  of  Death 
stood  on  the  tomb  of  his  grief,  and  said  again ,  "Write 
that  man  childless ;"  and  it  was  done.  His  heart 
bled,  but  it  never  murmured.  He  said  that  each 
loss  had  become  a  new  link  between  his  heart  and 
heaven ;  and  that  now,  like  the  High  Priest's 
breast-plate,  it  was  so  linked,  all  around,  that  it 
could  not  fall.  The  young  wondered,  and  the  aged 
blessed  the  God  of  Israel,  who  gave  consolation  in 
trouble,  "  and  songs  in  the  night." 

His  fellow-pilgrims  regarded  him  as  almost  a 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night, 
whilst  journeying  with  him  in  the  wilderness.— 
They  resolved  to  ask  him  what  was  the  secret  of 
his  consolation  under  so  many  calamities.  They 
asked,  and  the  old  man  answered  with  a  heavenly 
smile,  "  I  shake  the  mulberry  trees."  It  was  a  dark 
saying,  and  they  understood  him  not ;  but  knowing 
that  he  never  spake  unadvisedly  with  his  lips,  they 
pondered  that  saying  in  their  hearts. 

Sheshbazzar  knew  that  their  curiosity  was  neither 
idle  nor  impertinent,  and  said,  "  When  we  come  to 


THE   MARYS, 


27 


the  valley  of  Baca,  I  will  explain  myself."  They 
came  to  the  valley  of  Baca,  and,  behold,  it  was 
very  dry!  The  streams  in  the  desert  were  passed 
away  like  the  summer  brook,  and  the  heavens  gave 
no  sign  of  rain.  The  pilgrims  were  panting  "as 
the  hart  for  the  water-brooks,"  but  found  none. 
All  eyes  were  turned  to  Sheshbazzar.  "  Shake  the 
mulberry  trees,"  he  said.  They  shook  them,  and 
dew,  pure  and  plenteous  as  "  the  dew  of  Hermon," 
began  to  pour  from  every  leaf.  They  made  wells 
around  the  mulberry  trees  to  prevent  the  showers 
from  being  absorbed  in  the  sand  of  the  desert,  and 
then  shook  the  trees  again.  They  drank  ;  but, 
though  refreshed,  they  were  not  satisfied.  They 
looked  to  Sheshbazzar  again.  His  eyes  were  up 
unto  God.  He  raised  "  the  song  of  Degrees"  in 
that  "  house  of  their  pilgrimage."  All  joined  in  it, 
and  sung,  "I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills, 
from  whence  cometh  my  help.  My  help  cometh 
from  the  Lord,  who  made  heaven  and  earth."  The 
pilgrims  paused.  No  cloud  appeared  on  Carmel, 
and  no  sound  of  rain  was  heard  from  the  wings  of 
the  wind.  "  Hath  the  Lord  forgotten  to  be  gra- 
cious V  was  a  question  quivering  on  the  parched 
lips  of  many.  Sheshbazzar  alone  was  utterly  un- 
moved. He  raised  again  the  song  of  Degrees,  and 
his  rich  and  mellow-toned  voice  sounded  in  the 
wilderness  like  the  jubilee-trumpet  amongst  the 
mountains  of  Jerusalem.  The  pilgrims  listened  as 
if  an  angel  had  sung: — "He  will  not  suffer  thy 
foot  to  be  moved :  he  that,  keepeth  thee  will  not 
slumber.  The  Lord  is  thy  keeper:  The  Lord  is 
thy  shade  upon  the  right  hand.  The  Lord  shall 
preserve  thee  from  all  evil:  he  shall  preserve  thy 
soul.  The  Lord  shall  preserve  thy  going  out,  and 
thy  coming  in,  from  this  time  forth,  and  for  ever- 
more." He  paused,  and  bowed  his  head,  and  wor- 
shipped. The  pilgrims  felt  their  faith  in  God  re- 
viving, and  renewed  their  part  of  the  song:  I  will 
lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence  cometh 
my  help.  My  help  cometh  from  the  Lord,  who 
made  heaven  and  earth.  And  whilst  they  sung, 
"  the  Lord  gave  a  plenteous  rain"  to  refresh  his 
weary  heritage  in  the  wilderness. 

When  they  had  drank,  and  were  satisfied,  and 
had  blessed  the  God  of  their  fathers,  Sheshbazzar 
said, — "  My  children  !  the  Promises  of  God  are  the 
mulberry  trees  in  this  valley  of  tears.  The  dew  of 
heaven  lies  all  night  on  their  branches,  and  some 
dew  may  always  be  shaken  from  them.  When  I 
was  widowed,  like  our  father  Jacob,  I  shook  that 
unfading  mulberry  tree,  'The  Lord  liveth;  and 
blessed  be  the  roac  of  my  salvation.'  When  like  Da- 
vid, our  king,  I  was  bereaved  of  my  children,  I 
shook  that  broad-branching  mulberry  tree,  ' I  will 
be  unto  thee  a  better  portion  than  sons  or  daughters' 
Accordingly,  I  have  found  no  trial,  without  finding 
some  dew  of  consolation  upon  the  trees  of  promise, 
whenever  I  shook  them.  And  when  more  was  ne- 
cessary, God  has  strengthened  me  with  strength  in 
my  soul." 

The  pilsrrims  looked  at  the  mulberry  trees  in  the 
valley  of  Baca,  which  they  had  shaken,  and  smiled 


complacently  on  the  good  old  man.    He  saw  it,  ani 
continued  his  parable  : — 

"  It  was  not  whilst  Job  pondered  and  brooded 
over  his  calamities,  that  he  said  of  God,  '  Though 
he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  put  my  trust  in  him  :'  he  was 
shaking  the  mulberry  trees  when  he  said  this ;  and 
when  he  said,  'The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.' 
Abraham  would  never  have  yielded  Isaac  to  the 
altar,  if  he  had  not  shaken  that  great  mulberry 
tree — 'In  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  be 
blessed.' " 

Thus  the  pilgrims  went  on,  "  from  strength  to 
strength,"  listening  to  the  wisdom  of  Sheshbazzar; 
and  "  every  one  of  them"  appeared  "  before  God  in 
Zion." 

It  is,  perhaps,  quite  as  necessary  to  explain  the 
implicit  faith  of  some  matrons,  as  the  doubting 
faith  of  others. 

Amongst  many  fond  and  fanciful  names,  which 
Sheshbazzar's  young  friends  bestowed  upon  him, 
the  favorite  one,  with  them,  was — the  Beershebean 
Eagle.  Agreeably  to  this  title,  his  grove,  upon  the 
hill  of  vineyards,  was  called  the  Eagle's  Nest. — 
The  emblem  was  not  misapplied  ;  for  "  as  an  eagle 
stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttereth  ovet  her  young, 
spreadeth  abroad  her  wings,  taketh  them,  bearetli 
them  on  her  wings,"  so  Sheshbazzar,  guarded  and 
guided  his  young  friends.  It  was  not  often,  how- 
ever, that  the  old  man  could  climb  the  hill  of  vine- 
yards to  visit  the  eagle's  nest.  His  favorite  seat 
was  under  his  fig  tree.  But  there— his  young 
friends  could  not  be  alone  with  him.  The  elders 
of  Beersheba  often  visited  him  there,  after  the 
evening  sacrifice  ;  and  some  of  them  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  vivacity  of  the  young.  Sheshbazzar's 
eaglets  seemed,  to  them,  to  require  checks  rather 
than  encouragements.  He  himself  was  often  told, 
that  if  he  did  not  clip  their  wings,  they  would  soon 
flee  off  from  the  ark  of  the  covenant,  and,  like 
Noah's  raven,  never  return.  Sheshbazzar  was 
wont  to  say,  in  answer  to  this,  "  that  wings  were 
not  made  to  be  clipped:  if  their  flight  be  well  di- 
rected, they  cannot  be  too  wide,  nor  too  strong. 
Let  us  treat  the  young  as  Noah  did  the  dove ;  wel- 
coming them  into  the  ark  of  our  confidence  when- 
ever they  are  weary,  and  never  putting  them  upon 
the  wing  except  for  sacred  purposes  ;  then,  like  the 
dove,  they  will  return  'bringing  an  olive  leaf  to 
garland  our  grey  hairs." 

The  elders  of  Beersheba  had  not  been  treated 
thus  in  the  days  of  their  youth;  and,  therefore, 
they  did  not  understand  the  principles  of  Shesh- 
bazzar's conduct.  "  It  is  one  of  your  odd  ways," 
they  said,  "  and  whoever  lives  to  see  the  end  of  it 
will  find  that  the  old  way  of  checking  is  the  best." 
He  meekly  answered,  "  We  can  never  check  what 
is  evil  in  the  young,  unless  we  cherish  what  is  good 
in  them."  Agreeably  to  this  maxim,  he  requested 
his  young  friends  to  meet  him  in  the  grove  after  the 
hour  of  the  morning  sacrifice. 

They  came  to  the  eagle's  nest,  full  of  the  recoi- 


28 


THE   MARYS 


lections  of  the  former  evening,  and  evidently  mor- 
tified by  them.  Sheshbazzar  saw  this,  and  began, 
at  once,  to  characterize  his  aged  friends;  that,  in 
the  presence  of  their  sterling  worth,  their  slight 
weaknesses  might  be  forgotten. 

"We  can  appreciate  and  admire,"  said  Esrom, 
"  the  meek  patience  of  Gcther,  and  the  warm  zeal 
of  Laish,  and  the  solemn  piety  of  Mahlon,  and  the 
cedar-like  integrity  of  Jashcr ;  but  we  can  learn 
nothing  from  their  lips.  Their  character  is  elo- 
quent, whilst  they  remain  silent.  When  they  speak, 
the  charm  dissolves ;  for  they  are  all  men  of  one 
idea,  or  their  thoughts  have  no  connection.  How 
is  their  character  thus  superior  to  their  knowledge  1 
You  often  tell  us,  that  we  shall  never  act  better  than 
we  know.    Are  they  not  exceptions  to  this  rule  1" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Esrom,"  said  Sheshbazzar ; 
'  and,  when  you  have  more  than  one  idea  of  this 
subject,  you  will  find  that  their  character  is  supe- 
rior, njt  to  their  knowledge,  but  to  their  talents 
and  tongues.  Each  of  them  knows  experimentally 
that  the  God  of  his  fathers  is  the  God  of  Salvation; 
and  that  single  truth,  when  vividly  and  habitually 
realized,  by  minds  of  any  order,  is  quite  sufficient 
to  account  for  any  degree  of  hope  or  holiness.  The 
minds  of  the  elders  are,  indeed,  comparatively  nar- 
row ;  but  they  are  completely  full,  and  absorbed 
with  the  truth  of  truths; — and  a  seraph's  mind 
cannot  be  more  than  full!  I  should,  indeed,  prefer 
to  see  their  thoughts  in  clusters  like  the  grapes,  and 
in  ears  like  the  corn,  or  at  least,  threaded  like  the 
pearls  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba;  but  pearls  do  not 
grow  in  strings,  and  the  wine  is  sweetest  when  the 
grapes  are  picked  off  from  the  stalks,  and  the  ear 
must  be  broken  up  before  the  corn  can  be  made 
into  bread."  Thus  Sheshbazzar  played  with  the 
subject,  that  he  might  divert  the  attention  of  his 
eaglets  from  it.  But  Rachel  was  there,  and  she 
had  been  wounded,  as  well  as  mortified,  by  the  cold 
looks  and  cutting  sarcasms  of  the  elders ;  and  as 
she  was  now  more  intent  upon  excelling  in  charac- 
ter, than  on  shining  in  talent  or  knowledge,  she  re- 
peated the  question — How  do  these  good  men  act 
better  than  they  understand? 

Sheshbazzar  denied  again  that  they  did.  "  They 
merely  act  better  than  they  explain.  They  have 
reasons  for  their  conduct  and  spirit,  although  they 
cannot  always  'render  a  reason'  in  words.  Their 
reasons  may  be  few,  but  they  are  not  weak.  The 
form  of  them  may  not  be  philosophical  nor  fasci- 
nating ;  but  the  substance  of  them  is  divine.  The 
simple  considerations—'  This  is  the  will  of  God,'— 
'  That  is  for  the  glory  of  God,'— [  Thus  the  Patri- 
archs acted,' — determine  the  character  of  the  elders, 
as  effectually  as  the  sublimest  forms  of  these  facts 
could  sway  the  master-spirits  of  the  universe,  and 
far  more  effectually  than  your  poetical  reasons  in- 
fluence your  faith  or  practice." 

"  My  children,"  said  the  old  man,  and  he  became 
solemn  as  a  dying  man,  "  mistake  not  my  meaning 
nor  motives.  I  look  at  you  too  often  not  to  see  it, 
and  love  you  too  well  not  to  tell  it — your  minds  are 
not  yet  full  nor  happy  by  what  you  know  of  the 


God  of  your  fathers,  as  the  God  of  salvation.  Your 
hearts  are  still  divided  between  God  and  the  world. 
You  are  afraid  to  forget  or  forsake  Him,  and  it  is 
well ;  but  you  do  not  delight  to  be  often  alone  with 
him  in  prayer,  nor  to  meditate  upon  His  character, 
except  when  your  thoughts  assume  forms  of  mys- 
tery or  majesty.  You  are  rather  fascinated  by 
sublime  ideas  of  Jehovah,  than  affected  by  sweet  or 
solemn  ideas.  His  character  attracts  you  more  by 
the  boundless  range  which  it  opens  to  your  ex- 
cursive imagination,  than  by  the  solid  basis  it  af- 
fords for  your  eternal  hopes.  Accordingly,  were 
your  best  thoughts  resolved  into  their  simple  ele- 
ments, they  would  lose  more  than  one  half  of  their 
hold  upon  you.  The  facts  of  the  great  salvation, 
without  its  figures,  would  be  held  tame  by  you — so 
much  are  you  the  creatures  of  fancy.  But  what 
are  the  constellated  images  with  which  genius  has 
enshrined,  as  with  another  '  cloud  of  glory,'  the  ark 
of  the  covenant ;  compared  with  the  simple  fact, 
that  our  God  is  the  God  of  salvation  1  This  truth 
duly  apprehended  and  appreciated,  would  render 
the  ark  of  the  covenant  glorious  in  your  eyes,  even 
if  the  shechinah  were  removed  from  it,  or  had 
never  rested  upon  it." 

"  True,  father,"  said  Rachel,  blushing  as  she 
spoke;  "but  the  God  who  gave  the  covenant  of 
promise,  gave  the  shechinah  of  glory  along  with  it. 
He  himself  has  invested  and  enshrined  even  the 
truth  of  truths  with  its  chief  attractions,  and  thrown 
around  it  all  the  pomp  and  plenitude  of  imagery." 

"  I  grant  it,  my  daughter — readily  grant  it,  and 
cordially  rejoice  in  the  '  divers  manners1  in  which 
God  spoke  unto  our  fathers  by  the  prophets.  I  feel 
that  I  owe  much  both  to  the  splendid  and  the  mys- 
terious forms  in  which  the  great  salvation  has  been 
revealed.  I  doubt,  from  the  character  of  my  own 
mind,  whether  the  covenant,  if  given  in  simpler 
forms,  would  have  arrested  my  wayward  attention, 
so  as  to  win  and  fix  my  volatile  heart.  The  ma- 
jesty of  God's  language  is,  however,  a  part  of  God's 
infinite  condescension.  Nor  must  we  forget  the  cha- 
racter of  our  nation,  when  He  multiplied  and 
heightened  the  hallowed  enshrinements  of  the  co- 
venant. Noah  required  no  shechinah  on  Ararat, 
nor  Abraham  on  Moriah,  to  endear  the  covenant  to 
them,  or  to  induce  them  to  set  the  bloody  seal  of  sa- 
crifice to  it.  Both  the  magnificence  and  the  variety 
of  Mosaic  worship  Hire,  therefore,  the  measure  of 
our  fathers'  minds,  when  they  came  out  of  Egypt 
and  settled  in  Canaan. 

"  But  I  have  no  wish  to  evade  the  force  of 
Rachel's  remark.  God  has  as  evidently  diversified 
the  forms  of  truth  to  please  the  mind,  as  the  flavor 
of  fruits,  or  the  color  of  flowers,  to  gratify  the 
senses.  The  food  of  the  soul  is  obviously  from  the 
same  hand  as  the  food  of  the  body.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  rind  of  the  pomegranate,  nor  the  bloom 
of  the  grape,  nor  the  golden  tinge  of  the  corn,  that 
we  prize  most.  We  do  prize  these  lovely  hues  as 
proofs  of  ripeness,  but  the  nourishment  is  in  the 
fruit  which  they  beautify:  so  it  is  with  revealed 
truth. 


THE   MARYS. 


29 

the  Cross,"—  "  leaning  on  the  Cross," — "  kneeling 
at  the  Cross," — "  clinging  to  the  Cross," — "  looking 
to  the  Cross."  In  one  or  other  of  these  consecrated 
forms  of  speech,  a  Christian  embodies  all  that  is  bes? 
in  the  spirit  of  his  penitence,  and  of  his  faith,  and 
of  his  devotion.  Indeed,  when  his  heart  is  not  at 
the  Cross,  his  penitence  is  neither  deep  nor  tender  ; 
his  faith  neither  strong  nor  lively;  his  devotion 
neither  sweet  nor  solemn.  Whenever  he  ceases 
to  glory  in  the  Cross,  he  sinks  into  coldness  or  for- 
mality. And  if  he  quit  the  Cross,  or  lose  sight  of 
it,  he  loses  both  hope  and  heart,  until  he  get  back 
to  it  again. 

Nothing  of  this  experience  has,  of  course,  any 
connection  with  the  use  that  was  once  made  of 
crosses  and  crucifixes,  in  religion.  When  they 
were  most  in  use,  such  experience  was  least  known. 
More  hearts,  and  more  of  each  heart,  have  been  won 
to  Christ  crucified  by  the  preaching  of  the  Cross, 
than  by  all  the  visible  exhibitions  of  it  which  paint- 
ing ever  embodied,  or  sculpture  emblazoned. — 
When  crosses  were  most  numerous,  real  Christians 
were  fewest,  and  the  real  Cross  least  influential  — 
This  is  only  what  might  be  expected.  Emblems, 
by  bringing  home  the  crucifixion  to  the  senses,  kept 
the  understanding  and  the  heart  far  oft'  from  its 
great  principles,  and  its  true  spirit. 

Eut  whilst  Christian  experience  itself  has  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  once  popular  uses  of  a  visible 
cross,  the  language  in  which  that  experience  speaks, 
is,  in  no  small  degree,  both  derived  and  enriched 
from  this  old  source.  The  familiar  expressions 
which  once  described  what  the  body  did  at  a  cross, 
or  with  a  crucifix,  now  describes  exactly  what  the 
soul  tries  to  do  when  contemplating  the  Lamb  of 
God,  slain  for  the  sin  of  the  world.  Not,  however, 
that  the  scriptural  worship  of  Protestantism  is  thus 
an  intended  or  conscious  imitation  of  the  bodily  ser- 
vice of  Popery :  no,  indeed  :  such  an  idea  never 
occurs  to  the  mind,  even  when  it  is  clasping  and 
clinging  to  the  Cross  in  thought,  just  as  superstition 
did  to  the  symbol  in  action. 

We  are  not,  however,  indebted  to  supers' itiot>  for 
all  our  emphatic  forms  of  expressing  the  exercise 
of  faith  or  penitence,  at  the  Cross.  Superstition 
itself  borrowed  the  elements  ol  its  best  language,  on 
this  subject,  from  the  word  of  God.  Both  the  hold- 
i;;j;  up  of  the  crucifix,  by  the  priest,  and  the  looking 
at  it,  by  the  penitent,  are  literal  imitations  :  the  one 
of  setting  forth  Christ  "  openly  crucified,"  and  the 
other  of  believing  on  Him  with  the  heart.  In  like 
manner,  the  postures  and  gestures  of  superstition 
at  a  cross,  are  imitations  of  the  real  or  supposed 
conduct  of  the  Marys  on  Calvary.  Their  conduct, 
however,  deserves  something  better  than  popish  imi- 
tation, or  even  than  Protestant  admiralion.  It  is 
more  complimented  than  understood.  The  Marys 
were,  indeed,  "  the  last  at  the  Cross,  and  the  first 
at  the  Sepulchre,  of  Christ ;"  and  felt,  no  doubt,  all 
that  poetry  or  piety  has  ascribed  to  them,  on  that 
solemn  occasion.  They  must,  however,  have  felt 
far  more,  and  in  another  way,  than  is  usually  sup- 
posed.   For,  unless  the  Virgin  Mary  be  an  excep- 


'  1  have  thought,  too,  at  times,  that  there  are 
deeper  reasons  for  the  profusion  of  figurative  lan- 
guage in  the  word  of  God,  than  some  suspect. 
For,  by  thus  seizing  upon  all  the  sublime  and  lovely 
objects  in  nature,  and  consecrating  them  to  the  il- 
lustration of  the  Divine  character  and  government, 
so  that  they  burn  as  lamps  around  the  eternal  throne, 
God  has  created  a  grand  antidote  against  Idolatry. 
The  natural  objects  which  are  the  gods  of  other  na- 
tions are  thus  made  the  mere  servants  of  the  true 
God,  or  only  the  shadows  of  his  glory :  so  that 
what  they  worship,  we  employ  as  helps  in  his  wor- 
ship. And,  who  could  bow  to  the  sun  shining  in 
his  strength,  or  kiss  the  hand  to  the  moon  walking 
in  her  brightness,  who  had  once  read,  that  God  is 
the  'Father  of  lights,  without  variableness  or  the 
shadow  of  turning  V  Esrom  !  you  can  follow  out 
this  hint ;  it  is  quite  in  your  line  of  things. 

"  And,  Rachel,  the  following  hint  is  in  your  line. 
There  is  a  strong  tendency  to  extremes  in  the  hu- 
man mind.  Some  who  love  nature  with  enthu- 
siasm, loathe  religion,  or  conceal  their  dislike  to  it 
under  the  thin  veil  of  polite  and  V3gue  compli- 
ments. Others  love  religion  with  unquestionable 
cordiality  ;  but,  from  seeing  the  votaries  of  nature 
averse  to  the  word  and  worship  of  Jehovah,  they 
are  afraid  of  nature,  and  inclined  to  frown  upon 
every  reference  to  its  beauties  or  sublimities.  They 
thus  seem  to  think  that  a  star  or  a  flower  is  as  likely 
as  Baal  or  Ashtaroth,  to  estrange  the  human  mind 
from  God  and  godliness.  In  their  estimation,  it  is 
heresy  to  speak  well  of  "  the  sweet  influences  of 
the  Pleiades ;"  and  empty  sentimentality  to  be  af- 
fected by  the  varied  scenery  of  the  heavens  or  the 
earth.  They  confine  themselves  to  scriptural  lan- 
guage, and  yet  forget  that  it  is  full  of  nature  !  The 
word  of  God  registers  all  the  works  of  God,  and 
calls  them  all  forth  '  in  their  season,'  to  do  homage 
to  itself  and  its  subjects;  and  yet  these  good  people 
seem  unconscious  of  the  fact.  Was  it  not  as  an 
antidote  against  this  divorce  of  nature  from  reli- 
gion, that  God  incorporated  with  the  revelation  of 
eternal  things  so  many  appeals  to  the  scenes  and 
seasons  of  nature  1  Rachel,  this  is  in  your  new 
line  of  things.  Whilst  you  were  prayerless,  you 
were  a  mere  sentimentalist;  and  only  too  willing 
vo  find  excuses  for  the  neglect  of  the  Scriptures. 
You  preferred  the  works  of  God  to  the  word  of  God. 
This  proved  how  little  you  read  the  latter,  and  tow 
superficially  you  studied  the  former.  Nothing  ho- 
nors nature  so  highly  as  the  Bible  has  done.  Moses 
and  the  Prophets  have  looked  upon  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  with  a  more  poetic  eye  than  the  poets 
of  antiquity,  or  the  harpers  of  our  own  times." 

Thus  the  Eagle  of  Beersheba  guarded  and  guided 
his  young. 


No.  V. 

THE  MARYS  AT  THE  CROSS. 


There  are  no  familiar  expressions  which  a  Chris- 
tian understands  better,  or  means  more  by,  than  the 
emphatic  words,—"  visiting  Calvary," — "  going  to 


3tt* 


30 


THE   MARYS. 


tion  to  the  others,  they  had  not  exactly  our  views 
of  the  death  of  Christ,  to  guide  their  feelings. — 
What  we  look  at  as  an  atoning  sacrifice  offered  to 
God,  they  saw  chiefly  as  an  atrocious  murder  per- 
petrated by  man.  Whilst  we  see  chiefly,  on  Cal- 
vary, the  flashing  sword  of  Divine  Justice,  and  the 
bursting  vials  of  Divine  Anger,  they  saw  only  the 
gleaming  of  the  Roman  arms,  and  the  glare  of 
Jewish  vengeance.  Where  we  hear  chiefly  the 
thunders  of  the  Divine  Law,  they  heard  only  the 
ferocious  execrations  of  a  frantic  mob.  Their  feel- 
ings, whilst  witnessing  the  crucifixion,  could  not 
therefore  be  akin  to  our  feelings  whilst  contemplat- 
ing it.  Their  sorrow,  then,  deep,  and  melting,  and 
genuine  as  it  was,  was  not  penitence,  nor  was  their 
overwhelming  depression  humility.  Their  love  to 
Christ  was,  indeed,  at  its  height,  when  his  own  love 
to  them  and  to  the  world  was  highest ;  but  it  was 
not  as  an  atoning  Saviour  they  loved  him  then. 

They  did,  however,  love  him  then  and  before,  as 
a  Saviour :  yea,  as  the  only  Saviour.  It  is  as  much 
under  the  sober  truth  to  ascribe  their  love  to  Christ 
unto  sympathy,  friendship,  or  ordinary  gratitude, 
as  it  is  beyond  the  truth,  to  ascribe  it  unto  faith  in 
the  atoning  efficacy  or  design  of  his  death.  Two 
of  the  Marys,  at  least,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have 
known  or  believed  more,  at  the  time,  than  the  Apos- 
tles did :  and  they  neither  understood  then  what 
Christ  had  foretold  of  his  resurrection,  nor  approv- 
ed what  he  had  foretold  of  his  death.  Accordingly, 
the  women  were  as  hopeless  as  the  men,  on  the 
morning  of  the  third  day,  until  the  Angels  told  them 
of  his  resurrection  :  for  it  was  not  to  welcome  a  liv- 
ing Saviour,  but  to  complete  the  entombment  of  the 
dead  Saviour,  that  they  went  so  early  and  eagerly 
to  the  sepulchre.  The  "  sweet  spices"  they  brought 
to  "  anoint  Him,"  prove  that  they  had  no  hope  of 
finding  him  alive  then.  Mark  xvi.  1.  They  were 
not,  however,  without  faith  in  Him,  as  the  Saviour, 
even  then.  Mary  of  Magdala  continued  to  speak 
of  Him  as  her  "  Lord,"  even  when  she  supposed 
that  his  body  had  been  removed  from  the  sepulchre, 
and  laid  somewhere  else.  John  xx.  13.  "  They 
have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where 
they  have  laid  him,"  was  her  first  answer  to  the 
Angels,  when  they  said  to  her,  "  Woman,  why 
weepest  thou  1"  I  would  not  graft  too  much  mean- 
ing upon  the  word  "  Lord"  itself,  in  this  instance  ; 
nor  upon  her  use  of  it  at  the  time.  I  will  suppose 
nothing  more,  than  that  she  used  it  then  just  in  the 
sense  she  had  been  accustomed  to  attach  to  it,  whilst 
the  Saviour  was  alive  :  and  there  is  no  reason  what- 
ever, to  think  that  His  death  had  altered  her  opinion 
of  either  his  Messiahship  or  his  Sonship.  It  had, 
no  doubt,  blasted  all  her  hope  of  seeing  Him  esta- 
blish that  temporal  kingdom  on  earth,  which  all  the 
disciples  expected :  but  it  withered  none  of  the  hopes 
of  pardon  and  eternal  life,  which  she  had  formerly 
planted  upon  the  power  and  promises  of  the  Son  of 
God. 

This  is  the  real  point  to  be  kept  in  view,  whilst 
judging  of  the  motives  and  emotions  of  the  Marys 
at  the  Cross.     They  did  not  understand  that  the 


Lamb  of  God  was  then  taking  away  the  sin  of  the 
world,  or  laying  down  his  life  as  a  ransom  for  them  ; 
but  they  had  no  doubt,  even  then,  of  his  being  the 
Lamb  of  God,  nor  of  his  being  their  Saviour.  All 
their  conduct  on  Calvary,  and  especially  the  honor- 
able and  cosily  funeral  they  prepared  for  Christ/ 
prove,  to  a  demonstration,  that  their  "  hope  in 
Christ"  had  not  died  with  him.  It  does  not  seem 
to  have  dimmed  at  all,  even  when  the  sun  became 
darkness ;  nor  to  have  shaken  at  all,  even  when  the 
earth  shook  and  trembled ;  nor  to  have  drooped  at 
all,  even  when  the  sepulchre  was  sealed.  Their 
hope  of  salvation  was  then  as  much  with  him  "  in 
Paradise,"  as  the  spirit  of  the  penitent  thief  was 
there  with  him. 

The  truth  of  these  strong  assertions  lies  on  the 
very  surface  of  the  narrative  ;  and  applies  equally 
to  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicodemus.  Indeed, 
there  is  no  evidence,  direct  or  indirect,  that  the  death 
of  Christ  overthrew  the  spiritual  hopes,  or  altered 
the  spiritual  opinions,  of  any  of  the  disciples.  It 
upset  all  their  hope  of  a  temporal  kingdom,  or  of 
what  they  called,  "redeeming  Israel ;"  but  it  does 
not  seem  to  have  brought  the  shadow  of  either  a 
doubt  or  a  suspicion  upon  their  minds,  in  regard  to 
his  Divine  character  or  mission.  They  all  forsook 
Him,  indeed,  at  the  crisis  of  his  fate ;  but  not  from 
unbelief,  but  from  fear  and  consternation.  The 
sheep  scattered  when  the  Good  Shepherd  was  smit- 
ten ;  but  they  did  so  lest  they  themselves  should  be 
smitten  with  him  ;  and  not  because  they  had  ceased 
to  consider  him  as  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of 
their  souls.  The  idea  of  imposture,  or  fraud  of  any 
kind,  on  His  part,  never  seems  to  have  crossed  their 
minds,  even  when  appearances  were  most  against 
his  claims.  John  obeyed  that  dying  injunction  of 
Christ,  "  Behold  thy  mother !"  as  promptly  and 
cordially  as  ever  he  obeyed  any  command  given  by 
Christ,  when  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power  and  glory. 
"  From  that  hour  that  disciple  took  her  into  his  own 
house."  John  xix.  27.  In  like  manner,  the  very 
"  sadness"  of  the  two  disciples,  on  the  way  to  Em- 
mans,  proves,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  their  opinion 
of  their  Lord's  integrity  had  undergone  no  change 
by  his  death.  Their  spirit  would  have  been  bitter 
or  indignant,  not  sad  only,  if  they  had  thought  him 
a  deceiver.  Besides,  they  did  not  hesitate  nor  faulter 
to  say  of  Him,  even  then,  that  he  was  both  "  Jescs 
of  Nazareth,"  and  "  a  Prophet  mighty  in  deed  and 
word  before  God  and  all  the  people." 

The  conduct  of  the  Marys  is,  however,  still  more 
decisive.  They  never  would  have  followed  Christ 
with  tears  to  Calvary,  nor  stood  either  nigh  to  or 
afar  off  from  the  Cross,  if  they  had  changed  their 
opinion  of  his  truth  or  of  his  grace.  They  did  not, 
indeed,  recognise  Him  as  then  sealing  the  everlast- 
ing covenant  with  his  blood  ;  but  they  evidently  saw 
Him  sealing  the  truth  of  both  his  gracious  promises 
and  his  high  pretensions  by  his  blood  ;  for  it  was 
(and  they  knew  it)  because  he  would  not  retract  nor 
qualify  his  high  claims,  that  he  was  condemned  and 
crucified.  Accordingly,  at  his  burial,  they  acted  a 
part,  throughout,  in  perfect  harmony  with  strong 


THE    MARYS. 


31 


and  unaltered  faith  in  both  his  truth  and  grace. — 
For,  who  does  not  see  at  a  glance,  that  the  Marys 
neither  would  nor  could  have  lavished  their  atten- 
tions and  tenderness  upon  His  funeral,  if  they  had 
doubted  his  faithfulness  or  his  sincerity  "?  Besides, 
Mary  of  Magdala  had  a  living  proof,  in  her  own 
bosom,  of  His  Divine  power.  He  had  "  cast  out 
seven  devils"  from  her  spirit :  and,  as  they  did  not 
return  when  he  was  imprisoned,  nor  whilst  he  hung 
on  the  cross,  nor  even  when  he  died,  she  could  not 
but  be  sure  that  his  death  had  neither  disproved  his 
power,  nor  discredited  his  character. 

I  bring  out  these  facts  with  some  care,  because 
they  enable  us  to  make  a  right  use  of  the  example 
of  these  holy  women:  for,  they  are  thus,  perfect 
models  of  faith  in  the  truth  of  the  Saviour's  pro- 
mises, and  of  love  to  the  Saviour's  character.  That 
faith  and  love  they  cherished,  avowed,  and  exem- 
plified, when  all  the  aspects  of  the  universe  seemed 
to  frown  upon,  and  to  fight  against,  His  person  and 
mission.  Neither  the  cowardly  flight  of  his  friends, 
nor  the  reckless  fury  of  His  enemies,  moved  the 
Marys.  They  "  stood  by  the  cross,"  when  the  cross 
itself  could  hardly  stand  on  the  quaking  mount. — 
They  forsook  him  not,  even  when  they  heard  him 
declare  that  God  had  "  forsaken"  him  ! 

They  did  not,  of  course,  understand,  at  the  time, 
the  mystery  of  that  judicial  "  lama  sabachthani  ;" 
but  neither  its  mystery,  nor  its  terrors,  alienated  their 
affection  or  their  confidence  from  the  Saviour. — 
"  None  of  these  things  moved"  them!  Shall,  then, 
less  things  move  you  from  the  Cross  of  Christ  1 — 
This  is  the  point  I  wanted  to  bring  you  to.  Now, 
if  the  Marys  did  and  endured  so  well,  whilst  the 
death  of  Christ  was  before  them  only  as  a  murder 
and  a  martyrdom, — what  a  height  both  their  faith 
and  love  would  have  risen  to,  had  they  known,  as 
you  know,  that  it  was  an  atoning  Sacrifice,  securing 
"eternal  inheritance"  to  all  in  heaven,  who  had 
died  in  the  faith  of  Christ ;  and  "  eternal  redemp- 
tion" to  all  on  earth,  who  should  then  or  afterwards 
believe  on  him !  Oh,  had  they  seen  then,  as  you 
see  now,  how  all  the  curse  of  the  Law  was  cancelled 
by  His  bearing  its  curse  ;  how  all  the  perfections  of 
Jehovah  were  satisfied  and  glorified  in  the  highest, 
by  His  voluntary  submission  to  their  will ;  how  all 
the  balance  and  basis  of  the  Divine  government 
were  established  for  ever,  by  His  one  offering  of 
himself  as  the  votary  of  their  holiness,  and  as  the 
victim  of  their  justice  ; — had  the  Marys  been  aware 
<  ;  od  this,  whilst  they  stood  by  the  Cross,  their  con- 
nir:  and  spirit,  noble  as  these  were,  would  have 
heen  nobler  still !  Surely,  then,  your  conduct  and 
spirit  should  not,  need  not,  be  inferior  to  theirs; 
seeing  your  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  the  Cross  is 
so  much  superior  to  any  and  all  that  they  possessed, 
when  they  thus  rose  above  the  fear  of  peril  and  re- 
proach, and  balanced  all  the  mysteries  of  the  cruci- 
fixion by  faith  in  the  character  of  the  crucified  One. 

There  is,  indeed,  mystery  about  the  Cross  still. — 
And,  why  should  there  notl  I  will  not  answer  this 
question  by  reminding  you,  that  there  is  mystery 
in  everything  great  and  small,  mental  and  material, 


throughout  the  universe.  But,  whilst  this  fact 
should  teach  us  to  expect  it  in  the  Cross  too, 
our  own  character  and  spirit  may  well  suggest  to 
us,  that  our  "  faith  and  patience"  require  some 
"trial,"  in  common  with  others. 

The  Marys  were  not  exempted  :  and  why  should 
we  be  so  1  They  had  to  believe  and  obey,  when 
there  was  more  mystery  and  less  majesty  around 
the  Cross,  than  now  invest  it :  for  now  the  crown  of 
thorns,  and  the  mock  robe  and  reed  of  supremacy, 
are  exchanged  for  the  real  crown  and  sceptre  of 
universal  government ;  the  scornful  "  Hail,  King 
of  the  Jews,"  is  followed  by  the  vying  and  everlast- 
ing "Hallelujahs"  of  all  the  armies  of  heaven:  the 
central  cross  on  Calvary  is  succeeded  by  the  "mid- 
dle seat  on  the  eternal  throne:"  the  momentary 
frown  of  judicial  anger,  has  given  place  for  ever  to 
the  endless  and  unalterable  complacency  of  pater- 
nal love  :  the  keys  of  death  and  the  invisible  world 
hang  upon  the  "vesture  dipped  in  blood,"  and  He 
who  was  "numbered  with  transgressors,"  is  now 
identified  with  Deity,  in  all  the  homage  and  glory 
which  saints  or  angels  can  render.  If,  therefore, 
the  miracles  which  the  Marys  saw,  and  the  voices 
from  heaven  which  they  heard,  proved  to  them  the 
Divinity  of  Christ,  and  counterbalanced  all  the 
wants  and  woes  of  His  earthly  lot ;  surely  His  place 
on  the  throne  and  in  the  worship  of  Heaven,  may 
well  overpower  every  difficulty  which  reason  meets, 
or  speculation  suspects,  in  the  Divinity  and  glory 
of  the  Saviour. 

I  neither  profess  to  solve  the  mystery  of  His  in- 
carnation and  sacrifice,  nor  pretend  to  be  unaffected 
by  it ;  but  I  do  claim  the  right  to  be  heard  and  heed- 
ed when  I  say  to  you,  that  an  atoning  Saviour  is 
the  universal  creed  of  Heaven,  and  the  only  creed 
on  earth  which  converts  sinners,  or  consoles  saints. 

Happily,  only  a  few  females,  amongst  the  increas- 
ing thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  intel- 
lectual, have  had  the  fool-hardiness  to  stand  for- 
ward in  open  hostility  to  the  Godhead  of  the  Sa- 
viour. This  pitiable  contrast  to  all  the  pure  spirits 
around  the  eternal  throne — this  monstrous  singu- 
larity, in  a  universe  which  adores  the  Lamb, — is 
not  presented  by  many  of  your  sex.  Long  may  it 
be  proverbially  true  of  the  sex  at  large,  that  they 
are  still  the  last  to  quit  the  Cross,  and  the  first  to 
visit  the  Sepulchre. 

You  have,  perhaps,  some  reproach  to  encounter, 
in  thus  imitating  the  Marys.  Well ;  brave  and 
bear  it  as  they  did.  Had  they  not  dared  all  hazards, 
how  many  souls  might  have  been  lost,  whom  their 
noble,  example  has  won  to  Christ  1  Had  they 
shrunk  back  frorfl  owning  Him,  after  having  re- 
ceived so  much  grace  from  him,  how  many  trai- 
tors and  cowards  might  have  sprung  from  their  ti- 
midity? And  should  you  flee  or  flinch  from  the 
Cross,  in  order  to  escape  "  the  reproach"  of  it,  you 
will  peril  more  souls  than  your  own. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  trying:  dilemma  when  a  wife  or  a 
daughter  cannot  "  confess  Christ"  in  their  family, 
without  giving  offence.    It  is  a  very  strong  tempt- 


32 


THE    MARYS. 


ation  to  be  silent,  or  to  compromise  evangelical 
truth,  when  the  avowal  of  that  truth  breaks  the 
peace  and  harmony  of  home.  Firmness  is,  however, 
kindness  to  the  opposers.  There  is  no  such  cruelty 
to  an  unbelieving  partner,  parent,  or  brother,  as 
breaking  faith  with  Christ,  in  order  to  keep  the 
peace  with  them.  For,  what  is  this  peace,  whilst 
you  must  carry  about  with  you  the  horrible  con- 
sciousness that  they  must  perish  by  their  unbelief, 
and  that  you  are  abetting  that  unbelief!  I  invoke, 
adjure,  you  to  consider  this!  For,  could  you  so  con- 
ceal your  faith  from  them,  as  to  satisfy  them,  with- 
out perilling  your  own  soul,  you  would  but  more 
effectually  peril  their  souls. 

Look  again  at  the  Marys,  and  be  firm.  Depend 
upon  it,  if  you  have  to  witness  for  Christ  at  home, 
your  firmness  will  eventually  win  souls  at  home,  as 
well  as  save  yourself.  Let  "  Azur  and  Zalmon" 
suggest  to  you,  how  you  may  join  fidelity  with  ten- 
derness, in  dealing  with  "  the  enemies  of  the  cross 
of  Christ." 

Azur  and  Zalmon  were  "  Hebrews  of  the  He- 
brews," and  had  been  Pharisees  of  the  Pharisees ; 
but  both  had  renounced  Judaism  for  Christianity, 
although  from  different  principles.  Zalmon  was 
one  by  the  Example  of  Christ:  Azur  by  the  Atone- 
ment of  Christ.  Zalmon  was  fond  of  the  Orien- 
tal and  Grecian  philosophers  who  speculated  on 
Christianity  ;  Azur  refused  to  associate  with  them, 
and  would  not  acknowledge  them  as  believers. — 
He  loved  Zalmon  as  the  friend  of  his  youth,  but 
treated  his  pretensions  to  be  a  Christianas  unfound- 
ed ;  for  they  had  been  advanced  in  this  form  and 
spirit : 

"  I  can  no  longer  resist  the  evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity," said  Zalmon :  "  like  the  autumnal  floods  of 
Jordan,  they  bear  unto  the  Dead  Sea  every  objection, 
as  it  comes  within  the  mighty  sweep  of  their  swel- 
lings. The  all-perfect  character  of  Jesus  demon- 
strates his  Messiaship  :  it  was  so  pure,  and  yet  so 
social  withal ;  so  unbending  in  principle,  and  yet  so 
bland  in  manners  withal ;  so  tried  by  calamity,  and 
yet  so  patient  withal.  Although  he  was  dragged 
from  the  cradle  to  the  cross,  as  it  were,  on  the 
hurdle  of  poverty,  by  the  wild  horses  of  slander  and 
persecution,  neither  agony  nor  ignominy  could  alien- 
ate him  from  his  mission,  nor  alter  his  character 
Like  light,  he  passed  through  every  medium  uncon- 
laminated.  Not  to  be  a  Christian,  therefore,  is  ir- 
rational." 

"  If  you  mean  by  his  mission,  his  mediation,"  said 
Azur,  "  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  conversion  : 
and,  whatever  you  mean,  Zalmon,  I  hail  your  tri- 
umph over  the  prejudices  which  blind  our  nation  to 
the  beauty  of  the  Saviour's  holiness.  But  in  your 
philosophical  circle,  it  is  become  fashionable  to  re- 
duce his  death  to  the  rank  of  a  martyrdom  for  truth, 
and  to  exalt  his  example  on  the  ruins  of  his  Cross. 
I  may  not  own  this  as  Christianity :  I  stand  in  doubt 
of  you." 

"  I  suspected,  Azur,  that  you  would,"  said  Zal- 
flion ;  you  live  amongst  little  minds ;  I  move  amongst 
the  sages  of  the  city.  You  are  smitten  with  the  love 


of  mystery ;  I  am,  with  the  love  of  virtue.  It  is 
enough  for  me  to  find  in  Christ,  the  Sun  of  Moral 
Righteousness:  in  that  capacity  he  will  hold  an 
eternal  meridian,  and  shine  with  healing  in  his 
wings,  until  righteousness  become  universal.  Such 
an  example  the  world  wanted ;  and,  having  found 
it  in  Christ,  wants  nothing  more  for  salvation.  Here 
my  faith  begins  and  ends." 

"  Zalmon  !  be  serious  :  thus  the  faith  of  Nicode- 
mus  began.  He  acknowledged  Christ  to  be  a 
Teacher  sent  from  God ;  and  Christ  treated  the 
avowal  as  unworthy  of  his  notice.  He  did  not  wel- 
come the  meagre  compliment,  but  proceeded  to  teach 
the  '  Master  in  Israel,'  that  the  Son  of  God  was  sent 
into  the  world  to  be  lifted  up  on  the  Cross,  as  a  sa- 
crifice for  sin.  Remember  this  fact;  and  'marvel 
not  that  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  must  be  born  again.' " 

"  My  early  and  tried  friend,  I  will  be  serious.  I 
have  marked,  Azur,  the  fact  you  mention,  and  feel 
staggered  by  its  bearings.  It  is  to  the  point.  And, 
as  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  I  cannot  forget  that, 
under  the  law,  the  pardon  of  sin  was  inseverable 
from  sacrifice.  The  principle  of  Atonement  was 
as  prominent  in  our  once  holy  system,  as  the  Tem- 
ple in  our  holy  city.  All  this  I  frankly  concede  to 
be  fact;  but  pretend  not  to  understand  it.  My 
present  opinion  is,  that  the  perfect  Example  oi 
Christ,  and  his  illumination  of  Immortality,  by 
raising  the  standard  of  morals,  render  sacrifice  un- 
necessary." 

"  Zalmon  !  Zalmon  !  sacrifices  are,  indeed,  un- 
necessary now;  but  on  your  new  principles.,  they 
were  always  useless  and  unmeaning.  '  The  blood 
of  bulls  and  of  goats  could  never  take  away  sin,! 
nor  open  the  gates  of  Paradise  to  the  spirits  of  our 
fathers.  Think  me  not  harsh,  because  I  am  warm. 
You  have  forsaken  Judaism  without  embracing 
Christianity.  Neither  Christ  nor  Moses  would 
now  own  you  as  his  disciple.  You  occupy  a  place 
against  which  Sinai  and  Calvary  equally  roll  their 
thunders.  Am  I  therefore  become  your  enemy  be- 
cause I  tell  you  the  truth"?  Let  them  flatter  you 
who  love  you  not :  I  love  you,  and  therefore  warn 
you.  And  now,  having  done  so,  I  will  reason  with 
you.  Was  not  the  Messiah  promised  to  the  Fa- 
thers 1  And  did  not  the  faithful  of  all  ages  '  re- 
joice' to  see  his  day,  even  afar  off?  But,  if  he  came 
only  to  teach  and  exemplify  virtue,  what  beyicfit 
could  they  derive  from  his  work?  They  expected 
benefit  from  his  mission,  and  died  in  the  faith  of 
reaping  its  blessings;  but  if  these  consist  in  his  ex- 
ample, they  rejoiced  without  cause  ;  for  all  the  in- 
fluence of  an  example,  however  good  extends  only 
forward,  not  backward.  On  your  principles,  there- 
fore, the  Fathers  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  mis- 
sion of  Christ." 

"True,  Azur:  but  if  the  Fathers  needed  neither 
part  nor  lot  in  it,  what  follows  V 

"  If  they  did  not !  Zalmon,  are  you  or  they  the 
best  judge  of  their  need  1  If  their  guilt,  and  their 
sense  of  it,  be  judged  from  the  number  of  their  sin- 
offerings,  their  need  of  salvation  was  absolute.  Be- 
sides they  looked  beyond  the  sacrifices  to  the  atone- 


THE    MARYS. 


33 


ment  typified  by  them  ;  and  thus  avowed  their  need 
of  a  Divine  propitiation.  In  a  word,  they  expected 
the  Lamb  of  God  to  take  away  their  sin  by  the  sa- 
crifice of  himself." 

"  Prove  that,  Azur,  and  I  will  vie  with  you  in 
glorying  only  in  the  Cross.  But  the  Fathers  were 
in  Paradise  before  the  Lamb  was  slain.  Their 
spirits  were  carried  by  angels  into  Abraham's  bo- 
som as  they  departed.  They  were,  therefore,  saved 
without  the  atonement." 

"  No,  Zalmon;  they  were  saved  before  it,  but  not 
without  it.  What  saith  the  Scriptures'?  'God 
hath  set  forth  (Christ  Jesus)  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righteous- 
oess  for  the  remission  of  sins  that  are  tast,  through 
the  forbearance  of  God.'  Here,  past  sins  refer  not 
only  to  the  former  sins  of  living  believers,  but  also 
to  the  sins  of  all  believers  under  the  first  covenant : 
for  the  death  of  Christ  declares  the  righteousness  of 
God  in  forbearing  and  forgiving  them.  The  faith- 
ful of  former  ages  were,  therefore,  justified  and 
glorified,  in  virtue  of  Christ's'pledge  to  die  for 
them  at  the  fulness  of  time.  On  that  ground  they 
were  admitted  into  heaven  when  they  died ;  but  their 
'eternal  inheritance'  was  not  confirmed  until  his 
'  death  for  the  redemption  of  the  transgressions  un- 
der the  first  testament."  Thus  the  Atonement  had  a 
retrospective  influence  of  the  same  kind  as  its  present 
anil  prospective  influence.  And,  that  the  Fathers 
expected  this,  yea,  calculated  upon  it,  is  self-evident 
from  all  the  prophets.  They  taught  the  Church  to 
realize  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  at  the  sacrifice  for 
her  sins;  and  to  speak  as  if  the  Lamb  had  been 
'  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.'  '  He  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  icas  bruised  for 
our  iniquities ;  surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs  and 
carried  our  sorrows.'  Thus  they  both  felt  their 
need  of  an  atonement,  and  knew  that  it  would  be 
made  for  tnem.  It  has  been  made;  and  since  that 
moment,  the  Old  Testament  saints  have 'sung  a 
New  Song'  in  heaven,  saying  with  a  loud  voice — 
'  Worthv  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  for  us.'  " 

'  Azur,  if  your  views  of  the  sacrifices  be  right, 
your  system  is  as  harmonious  as  it  is  sublime.  My 
scheme,  I  must  confess,  does  not  agree  with  the 
whole  word  of  God.  The  sacrifices,  especially,  are 
not  duly  explained  by  it." 

"Explained  by  it,  Zalmon!  they  are  utterly  use- 
less in  it.  And  yet  that  they  were  of  Divine  ap- 
pointment, is  self-evident;  for  neither  reason  nor 
superstition  could  have  suggested  them.  And  then, 
no  act  of  worship  was  ever  so  signally  honored  with 
the  Divine  approbation  as  sacrifice.  '  The  cloud  of 
glonf  travelled  from  altar  to  altar,  like  the  sun 
through  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  irradiating  and 
ratifying  them  all.  But,  on  your  principles,  the 
high  solemnities  of  sacrificature,  which  thus  charm- 
ed and  chained  down  the  Shechinah  to  the  earth, 
were  neither  useful  nor  instructive  !  '  To  the  Law 
and  the  Testimony,'  Zalmon  ;  and  since  your  phi- 
losophers '  speak  not  according  to  these,'  depend  on 
it,  'there  is  no  light  in  them,' — Patriarchism,  Juda- 
ism, and  Christianity,  unite  in  confirming  the  Di- 


vine maxim,  that  '  without  shedding  of  blood  there 
is  no  remission  of  sins.'  There  is,  therefore,  no- 
thing between  us  and  hell,  but  the  Blood  of  the 
Lamb." 

"If  such  be  the  fact,  Azur.  God  be  merciful  to 
me  a  sinner !  And  '  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory, 
save  in  the  cross  of  Christ.'  " 

"  Amen,  Zalmon.  and  Amen  !  You  will  now  vi- 
sit Calvary,  as  the  Marys  did  after  the  Resurrec- 
tion. They  neither  saw  its  glories,  nor  understood 
its  solemnities,  on  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion.  I 
often  think  with  what  different  feelings  they  stood 
at  the  Cross,  when  they  knew  it  to  be  the  Altar  of 
Eternal  Redemption !  Then,  how  all  they  had  seen. 
and  heard  on  the  great  day  of  atonement  would 
rise  upon  them  in  forms  of  supernal  majesty  and 
supreme  glory!  Yes — and  I  find,  like  them,  thai 
my  first  visit  was  not  my  best.  I  feel  ashamed  of 
my  first  appreciations  of  the  Sacrifice  of  Christ ; 
they  were  so  vague.  And  still  I  have  much  to 
learn !" 


No.  VI. 

THE    MARYS    AT    THE    SEPULCHRE. 

Paul,  when  enumerating  the  successive  manifest- 
ations of  Christ  to  the  disciples,  by  which  "ma- 
ny infallible  proofs"  of  the  truth  of  the  Resurrection 
were  given,  adds  with  great  emphasis,  "Last  of  all 
he  was  seen  of  me."  If  Mary  of  Magdala  lived 
long  enough  to  hear  or  read  this  exclamation,  how 
naturally  and  emphatically  she  must  have  exclaim- 
ed, "  First  of  all,  He  was  seen  of  me."  It  is  not  im- 
probable that  both  she  and  the  other  female  wit- 
nesses of  the  Resurrection,  did  live  to  read  or  hear 
St.  Paul's  personal  testimony  to  this  great  truth. — 
How,  then,  do  you  think,  did  they  approve  of  being 
left  out  of  the  list  of  witnesses  by  Paul;  seeing  they 
were  the  first  persons  to  whom  the  Saviour  "  show- 
ed himself  alive  V  The  four  Evangelists  had  not 
treated  them  thus,  in  their  Gospels.  In  each  of  the 
Gospels,  the  Marys  are  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  "great  cloud  of  witnesses,"  which  attest  the 
Resurrection.  Why,  then,  are  they  not  so  in  the 
Epistles  also?  Obviously,  because  it  would  have 
been  no  kindness  to  the  Marys,  whatever  honor  it 
might  have  been  to  them:  for,  as  Paul's  Epistles 
were  chiefly  addressed  to  Gentile  Churches,  and  as 
persecution  raged  in  Judea  at  the  time,  any  refer- 
ence to  the  Marys,  or  to  the  women  of  Galilee,  as 
the  first  witnesses,  might  have  drawn  more  visiters 
around  them  than  they  could  conveniently,  or  wise- 
ly, or  safely  welcome.  Thus  both  their  character 
and  their  life  might  have  been  periled,  Lad  their 
names  been  made  as  public  and  imperishable  in  the 
Epistles,  as  they  were  in  the  Gospels.  Paul's  si- 
lence was,  therefore,  the  shield  of  their  holy  repu- 
tation, and  of  their  precarious  life.  Both  these  were 
hazarded  quite  enough,  by  the  publicity  and  popu- 
larity which  their  names  had  acquired  in  Judea. 

Besides,  you  can  easily  conceive,  from  their  cha- 
racter and  spirit,  how  they  would  count  it  honor 
enough,  for  them,  to  have  seen  the  Lord  "  first," 


34 


THE    MARYS. 


even  if  there  had  been  no  notice  taken  of  the  fact, 
by  the  Evangelists.  The  sweet  consciousness  that 
His  first  appearance  was  to  them — that  His  first 
"All  hail"  of  welcome  was  to  them — that  His  first 
smile,  after  the  sorrows  of  death,  beamed  on  them; 
and  that  His  first  words,  after  the  silence  of  the 
grave,  were  addressed  to  them:  this,  all  this,  must 
have  been  joy  unspeakable  and  inexhaustible.  The 
Marys  could  no  more  forget  it,  or  be  unsatisfied 
with  it,  than  the  Angels  who  lolled  away  the  stone 
from  the  sepulchre,  and  wrapped  up  the  linen 
clothes  within,  can  cease  to  remember  or  to  enjoy 
the  high  honor  bestowed  on  them,  when  thus  per- 
mitted to  minister  to  Christ,  as  He  rose  from  the 
dead.  Such  honor  had  not  all  the  angels  of  God 
then.  They  were  all  allowed  to  worship  the  Son 
alike,  when  God  brought  "  in  the  First-Begotten 
into  the  world :"  but  when  He  "  brought  Him  again 
from  the  dead,  by  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  co- 
venant," only  "  two  Angels"  were  admitted  to 
witness,  or  worship,  or  serve,  on  that  august  oc- 
casion. 

It  would  be  an  equally  useless  and  fruitless  in- 
quiry, to  ask  why  this  honor  was  confined  to  so  few 
of  the  angels,  or  why  it  was  conferred  upon  these 
two;  it  is  not,  however,  useless  to  inquire  why  the 
Saviour  showed  himself  first  to  the  Marys,  when 
he  arose  from  the  dead.  This  was  a  marked  prefer- 
ence, and,  therefore,  it  must  have  had  practical 
reasons,  whether  we  can  discover  them  all  or  not. 

The  great  general  reason  for  this  preference  is 
to  be  found  in  the  condition  of  the  sex  at  large,  at 
the  time.  They  had,  then,  neither  1  hat  place  in  the 
Church,  nor  that  rank  in  society,  which  they  now 
enjoy.  Male  and  female  were  not  "  one"  in  Moses, 
as  they  are  now  "  all  one  in  Christ  Jesus:"  for,  al- 
though women  were  not  exactly  without  a  name 
or  a  place  in  the  Jewish  Church,  they  had  not  equal 
privileges  with  men.  They  were  not,  indeed,  "  outer 
court"  worshippers  at  the  Temple.  Their  place  in 
the  sacred  area  was  both  higher  and  nearer  to  the 
symbols  of  the  Divine  Presence  in  the  Sanctuary, 
than  "  the  court  of  the  Gentiles:"  still,  it  was  "  fif- 
teen steps  lower  than  the  inner  court,"  where  the 
temple  and  the  altar  stood,  and  where  all  the  males 
appeared  before  God  in  Zion.  Thus,  altnough  they 
were  not  kept  so  "  far  off"  as  the  Gentiles,  from  the 
sight  and  hearing  of  public  worship,  they  were  not 
permitted  literally  to  draw  "so  nigh  unto  God"  as 
their  fathers,  husbands,  or  even  their  brothers  did. 
Indeed,  in  the  time  of  Christ,  they  were  treated  at 
the  Temple  very  much  as  Jewish  women  are  now 
in  the  Synagogue:  placed  where  they  could  hardly 
see  or  be  seen. 

This  arbitrary  and  degrading  arrangement  was 
not,  however,  of  Divine  appointment.  This  invi- 
dious distinction  did  not  exist  in  the  time  of  Solo- 
mon, nor  even  so  early  as  the  reign  of  Mannasseh. 
Then  there  were  only  two  courts:  "the  court  of  the 
priest,"  and  "the  great  court."  The  place  called 
"  the  court  of  the  women,"  in  the  second  Temple 
of  Jerusalem,  was  no  more  "according  to  the  pat- 
tern shown  on  the  mount,"  than  are  the  latticed 


galleries  of  the  Synagogue  of  London.  Judaism 
as  God  gave  it  to  Moses,  did  not,  indeed,  place  wo- 
men altogether  upon  an  equality  with  men,  even 
"  in  things  appertaining  to  God ;"  but  still,  it  did 
not  degrade  them  exactly,  deeply  as  it  subordinated 
them. 

It  was  in  reference,  therefore,  to  a  twofold  subor- 
dination of  the  sex,  that  the  Saviour  had  to  take 
effectual  measures  for  making  male  and  female  "  all 
one  in  Himself."    He  had  to  do  something  for  wo- 
men, which  should  at  once  emancipate  them  from 
human  impositions,  and  equalize  them  in  Divine 
privileges.     And  what  so  effectual  for  this  twofold 
purpose,  as  showing  "  Himself  alive  after  his  Pas- 
sion," to  women  first  1    He  thus  made  the  Marys 
apostles,  even  to  the  Apostles  ihemselves!     After 
this  crowning  distinction,  what  Minister  or  Church 
of  Christ,  could  doubt  whether  "  daughters  of  the 
Lord  God  Almighty,"  were  not  joint-heirs  with  His 
sons,  in  all  the  spirilual  heritage  of  Christianity  1 — 
Thus  the  Saviour's  treatment  of  the  Marys  had  a. 
reason  beyond  themselves.     He  treated  them  as  the 
representatives  of  their  sex:  Done  of  whom  appear 
to  have  been  amongst  his  public  enemies  either  dur- 
ing his  life  or  at  his  crucifixion.     This  is  a  remark- 
able fact.     Even  Pilate's  wife  warned  her  husband 
on  the  judgment-seat,  to  have  nothing  to  do  againa 
"that  just  person,"  as  she  called  Christ.     In  like 
manner,  the  multitude  of  women  who  followed  the 
Saviour  from  the  city  to  Calvary,  instead  of  joining 
with  the  men  in  the  cry  of  "  Crucify  him,"  "  be- 
wailed and  lamented  him."     Indeed,  there  is  no  in- 
stance of  any  female  offering  any  public  indignity 
to  Christ,  whilst  he  was  upon  earth.  What  the  pri- 
vate feelings  of  the  Mothers  and  Daughters  of  Je- 
rusalem were  towards   Him,  I  do  not  know,  of 
course:  but,  judging  from  the  kind  notice  He  took 
of  their  kindly  sympathy,  when  he  was  led  forth 
amidst  the  clamor  and  execrations  of  the  Jews  to  be 
crucified,  I  am  certainly  inclined  to  regard  his  con- 
duct to  the  Marys,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  that 
sympathy,  and  thus  as  a  token  of  special  good-will 
to  their  sex,  as  well  as  to  themselves.     Luke  xxiii. 
27,   31.     It  was  also   emphatically   "  good-will    to 
man!"    But  for  this  signal  honor,  women  would 
have  been  kept  down  both  in  the  church  and  socie- 
ty; and  that  subordination  would  have  weakened 
the  Church,  and  hindered  the  progress  of  all  the 
best  charms  and  charities  of  social  life. 

He  is  but  a  superficial  observer,  who  sees  in  the 
superior  education  of  females  now,  or  in  the  ad- 
vanced civilization  of  men,  enough  to  account  for 
the  high  and  hallowed  influence  of  Christian  wive?, 
mothers,  and  daughters,  upon  the  morals  and  re- 
ligion of  the  age.  Both  these  causes  of  improve- 
ment are  themselves  the  effect  of  Christ's  bringing 
male  and  female  equally  nigh  unto  God  by  the  blccJ 
of  the  cross,  and  of  making  them  all  one  in  himself: 
and  the  proof— the  demonstration— the  seal  of  this, 
was  given  in  His  appearing  to  women  first.  His 
"  All  hail,"  to  the  Marys,  began  and  led  to  all  the 
holy  consideration  in  which  the  sex  are  now  held, 
and  all  the  holy  influence  which  they  now  exercise. 
The  impulse  which  originated  both  was  given  in 


THE  MARYS. 


35 


the  Arimathean  garden.  That  garden  was  the 
Eden  in  which  woman  was  made  again  a  spiritual 
"helpmeet"  for  man:  the  Paradise  in  which  the 
Adams  and  Eves  of  the  new  creation  were  made 
"  heirs  together"  of  the  grace  of  Eternal  Life.  Yes 
—out  of  this  fact,  however  much  overlooked  or  for- 
gotten now,  arose  all  the  spiritual  fellowship,  and 
united  co-operation  for  good,  which  has  either  bless- 
ed or  beautified  the  world  and  the  Church  since. 

Men,  Fathers,  and  Brethren  ! — ye  would  nol  have 
raised  "  the  daughters  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty  to 
sit  together  with  you  in  heavenly  places  with  Christ 
Jesus,"  had  not  Christ  Jesus  himself  handed  them  up 

and  placed  them  at  your  very  side  in  all  the  ordi- 
nances and  immunities  of  the  Church.  Ye  are  not, 
indeed,  displeased  with  this  equality,  now  that  it  is 
established.  Ye  would  not  alter  nor  disturb  it  now, 
on  any  account.  Ye  are  even  delighted  with  it.  Ye 
would  not,  however,  have  felt  thus,  nor  would  this 
equality  have  taken  place,  had  not  Christ,  by  his 
first  act,  when  he  rose  from  the  dead,  given  a  death- 
less distinction  to  women.  The  husbands  and  fa- 
thers of  that  age  had  not  all  the  honorable  feelings 
of  this  age.  They  were  not  without  "natural  af- 
fection;" but  their  religious  prejudices  checked  its 
current.  Even  when  conjugal  and  parental  love 
was  tendcrest,  it  did  not  admit  the  idea  of  spiritual 
equality  in  the  Church  on  earth,  nor  the  sweet  hope 
of  perfect  equality  in  heaven.  It  was  Christianity 
that  introduced  the  present  habit  of  thinking  and 
feeling;  and  it  was  the  example  of  Christ,  ratified 
by  the  first  "  All  hail"  of  the  Resurrection,  that 
gave  effect  to  the  claims  which  Christianity  advanc- 
ed on  behalf  of  women. 

All  this  may  seem  only  a  curious  speculation  to 
some  men;  but  to  this  all  men  owe  whatever  was 
influential  in  the  piety  of  their  mothers.  Yes, 
young  man  !  your  mother  could  not  have  had  all 
her  sweet  influence  over  you,  even  in  early  life,  had 
she  not  held,  in  public  opinion,  as  near  and  dear  a 
place  to  the  heart  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  as  3*011  r 
father  did,  if  he  also  was  pious.  It  was  her  equali- 
ty in  the  kingdom  of  God  in  both  worlds,  that  made 
her  maternal  love  as  powerful  as  paternal  law. — 
Thus  had  she  stood  lower  than  her  husband  on  the 
scale  of  spiritual  and  eternal  privileges,  you  would 
not  have  risen  very  high  on  the  scale  of  moral  su- 
periority, nor  sunk  so  seldom  as  you  have  done. 

O,  what  does  not  the  Church  of  Christ  owe  to 
pious  Mothers !  When  I  consider  how  little  the  ge- 
nerality of  even  godly  fathers  do,  in  order  to  train 
up  their  children  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  Lord,  I  cannot  but  see  that  the  breast  of  the 
Saviour  was  first  full,  and  first  warm,  after  death, 
with  the  mighty — the  gracious — the  wise  purpose 
of  creating  for  mothers  paramount  motives,  and 
opportunities,  and  influences  for  making  the  lambs 
of  their  family  the  sheep  of  His  fold.  He  foresaw 
how  much  would  depend  on  maternal  influence, 
and  how  much  fathers  would  both  leave  to  it,  and 
throw  upon  it ;  and,  therefore,  His  first  act  when 
he  rose  from  the  dead,  as  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  souls,  was  to  put  honor  upon  his  female  disci- 


ples. Mothers!  you  are  sure  now  that  it  is  no 
strain  of  compliment  to  the  sex,  which  has  run 
through  this  chapter.  You  see  now  that  I  have  not 
been  expanding  an  incident  into  a  system.  I  have, 
indeed,  brought  forward  your  rights  and  privileges 
from  a  point  in  the  history  of  Christ,  at  which  they 
are  not  usually  exhibited  or  pleaded:  but  I  have 
done  this  because  it  is  the  true  point,  and  the  public 
act  towards  women,  by  which  He  gave  triumphant 
effect  in  the  Church  to  all  the  claims  of  his  female 
disciples.  Whilst,  therefore,  I  congratulate  you 
upon  your  equal,  and  equally  well  chartered,  privi- 
leges in  the  Christian  Church  on  earth  and  in 
heaven,  I  remind  you  that  you  are  thus  blessed, 
that  ye  may  be  blessings ;  that  your  responsibility 
is  equal  to  your  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  to 
your  joint-heirship  in  his  kingdom  and  glory. 

I  have  not  forgotten,  whilst  explaining  the  grand 
general  reason  of  the  honor  conferred  on  the  Ma- 
rys, that  their  own  character  and  spirit  furnish  ex- 
planations of  the  preference  thus  shown  to  them. 
The  well  known  fact,  that  they  were  the  last  at  the 
Cross,  and  the  first  at  the  Sepulchre,  ought  never 
to  be  forgotten.  It  is  not,  however,  the  only  fact 
which  seems  to  have  influenced  the  Saviour's  con- 
duct towards  them.  They  had  both  sat  at  his  feet, 
and  followed  him  in  the  regeneration  of  life,  long 
and  often,  before  his  passion  began.  From  the 
time  they  were  called  by  his  grace,  until  all  his  tem- 
poral wants  ceased,  they  had  "  ministered  unto  him 
of  their  substance,"  and  been  his  prompt  and  will- 
ing servants.  During  his  ministry,  they  were  at 
once  his  aptest  scholars,  and  his  firmest  adherents. 
In  a  word,  we  never  hear  of  them  taking  any  of- 
fence at  his  doctrine,  or  giving  way  to  either  the 
fiery  or  ambitious  spirit  which,  occasionally,  be- 
trayed the  Apostles.  This  uniform  fidelity  and 
consistency  were  not  likely  to  be  overlooked  by  the 
Saviour,  when  he  rose  from  the  dead.  He  who  ac- 
cepted, and  even  rewarded  openly,  the  dying  testi- 
mony which  the  penitent  thief  bore  to  His  inno- 
cence, was  sure  to  honor  those  holy  women,  who 
had  so  long  and  so  closely  identified  themselves 
with  His  cause  and  character.  And  he  did.  Whilst 
He  only  returned  sympathy  for  sympathy  to  the 
"  daughters  of  Jerusalem,"  who  only  began  to  weep 
when  His  woes  began,  he  manifested  himself  to  the 
Marys  in  the  garden,  the  moment  he  parted  from 
the  angels  in  the  Sepulchre.  They  were  the  first 
admitted  to  worship  at  His  feet,  and  enjoy  his  pre- 
sence, after  the  Angels  had  finished  their  hemage 
and  services. 

Is  there  no  practical  lesson  taught  by  this  histori- 
cal fact "?  Does  it  illustrate  no  experimental  fact? 
Orioen  says  "  God  hates  the  man  who  thinks  that 
any  of  his  holidays  lasts  but  one  day."  He  means, 
that  the  man  who  thinks  of  the  Crucifixion  only  on 
Good  Friday,  or  of  the  Resurrection  only  on  Eastet- 
Sunday,  can  neither  please  God,  nor  profit  himself, 
by  his  devotions.  You  readily  admit  this  to  be 
true.  Well,  it  is  equally  true,  that  they  have  not 
much  of  the  presence  of  Christ  in  public  ordinances, 
and  are  never  sure  of  enjoyment  even  at  the  Sacra- 


3G 


THE    MARYS. 


ment,  who  try  not  to  walk  with  God  during  the 
week,  as  well  as  to  wait  on  Him  upon  the  Sabbath. 
Whenever  there  is  heartless  prayer  in  the  closet 
from  day  to  day,  there  will  be  no  heart-felt  praise 
in  the  sanctuary ;  because  no  such  communications 
of  grace,  nor  any  sucli  hold  of  the  Cross,  as  will 
tune  the  heart  to  the  joy  of  penitential  grief,  or  to 
the  joy  of  a  good  hope  of  Salvation.  Only  Marys 
who  follow  Christ  through  the  week,  are  sure  to 
meet  with  Christ  on  the  Sabbath.  His  salutation, 
"  All  Hail,"  is  now  awarded  most  frequently  to 
those  who  serve  him  most  faithfully. 

It  is  also  in  fine  and  full  harmony  with  all  just 
views  of  both  Christ  and  Religion,  to  reckon  that 
He  was  much  influenced  in  his  treatment  of  the 
Marys,  by  their  sacred  regard  to  the  sanctity  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  by  their  rising  so  early  to  visit  his 
sepulchre.  During  His  life,  he  had  set  them  an 
example  both  of  keeping  "  The  holy  of  the  Lord 
honorable,"  and  of  early  rising.  It  was  "  His  cus- 
tom" to  go  to  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
and  to  go  "  early  in  the  morning"  to  the  temple. — 
This  the  Marys  knew,  and  imitated.  Not  all  their 
sorrow  or  desolation,  arising  from  His  death  and 
burial,  was  allowed  by  them  to  set  aside  their  Sab- 
batic duties.  They  returned  from  His  grave,  "  and 
rested  on  the  Sabbath  day,  according  to  the  com- 
mandment." That  commandment  made  no  provi- 
sion nor  gave  any  warrant,  for  finishing  the  funeral 
obsequies  even  of  Christ,  although  he  was  "  the 
Lord  of  the  Sabbath:"  and  the  Marys  did  not  ven- 
ture to  take  a  liberty  which  the  law  did  not  allow. 
This  was  not  Jewish  strictness.  They  only  did 
right.  Nothing  but  works  of  necessity  or  of  mercy 
are  lawful  on  the  Sabbath  day  :  and  the  completion 
of  the  Saviour's  funeral  was  neither.  It  was  no 
work  of  necessity :  for  even  if  his  sacred  body 
could  have  "  seen  corruption,"  there  was  more  than 
enough  of  embalming  spices  around  it  to  prevent 
all  danger.  It  was  not  a  work  of  mercy  :  for  that 
body  could  no  longer  suffer,  and  was  exposed  to  no 
insult. 

How  this  example  should  influence  your  Sabbatic 
habits  and  spirit !  For,  if  the  Marys  would  not 
finish  the  rites  of  Sepulture  on  the  day  of  holy  rest, 
even  in  the  case  of  the  Saviour,  what  likeness  to 
them  do  those  women  bear,  who  can  finish  a  dress, 
or  pay  a  visit,  or  take  a  jaunt  of  pleasure,  on  that 
sacred  day  1 


No.  VII. 


PARTIALITIES   IN   HOLINESS. 


"I  have  heard  and  read  a  great  deal  (said  one) 
about  the  nature  and  necessity  of  evangelical  holi- 
ness, and  about  the  only  way  of  acquiring  it ;  but, 
except  in  my  Bible,  I  have  met  with  nothing  ex- 
pressly on  'The  Beauty  of  Holiness.'  There, 
however,  almost  as  much  is  said  about  its  beauty 
and  loveliness,  as  upon  its  necessity.  Holiness  is 
as  much  commended  as  it  is  enforced,  in  the  Word 
of  God ;  and  invariably  represented,  as  being  equally 


desirable  and  essential.  Now,  although  I  certainly 
do  not  see  clearly  what  could  be  said  on  the  beauty  of 
holiness,  that  would  help  me  to  follow  holiness  more 
fully  and  willingly,  I  do  both  see  and  feel,  that 
something  more  than  even  a  deep  sense  of  its  neces- 
sity, is  requisite  in  order  to  this.  I  find  that  it  is 
only  in  as  far  as  I  really  love  or  admire  true  holi- 
ness, that  I  follow  it  cheerfully.  A  sense  of  duty, 
or  an  apprehension  of  danger,  leads  me  certainly, 
farther  in  well-doing,  than  love  would  always  carry 
me  :  but  still,  I  do  these  things  most  and  best,  which 
I  love  as  well  as  revere.  Alas,  I  do  nothing  as  it 
ought  to  be  done  !  There  is,  however,  a  better  and 
a  worse  in  my  obedience  ;  and  the  best  parts  of  it 
are  those  duties  which  commend  themselves  to  my 
heart  by  their  loveliness,  as  well  as  to  my  conscience 
by  their  authority.  I  want,  therefore,  to  see  all  duty 
in  this  light;  that  I  may  choose  it  for  ils  own  sake, 
as  well  as  submit  to  it  because  it  cannot  be  safely 
neglected." 

Perhaps,  you  have  thought  and  felt  thus,  when 
observing  how  much  more  pleasure  you  take  in 
some  duties  than  in  others.  You  must  have  noticed, 
at  times,  the  very  great  difference  there  is  between 
the  spirit  in  which  you  discharge  the  duties  you 
really  love,  and  the  spirit  in  which  you  yield  to 
those  you  are  only  afraid  to  neglect.  In  general 
you  are  "glad"  when  it  is  said  to  you,  "  let  us  go 
up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord  ;"  but  not  always  glad 
when  both  Conscience  and  the  Holy  Spirit  join  in 
saying,  "enter  thy  closet,  and  shut  thy  door  and 
pray  to  the  Father  who  seeth  in  secret."  Even  the 
assurance,  "  He  shall  reward  thee  openly,"  does 
not  always  charm  you  into  your  closet,  even  when 
you  cannot  exactly  plead  the  want  of  time  to  go.  In 
like  manner,  you  can  in  general  say  from  the  heart, 
"  How  amiable  are  thy  Tabernacles,  O  Lord  God 
of  hosts."  The  house  of  God  presents  itself  often 
to  your  mind,  in  the  course  of  the  week,  as  the  very 
gate  of  Heaven.  Its  oracles  and  ordinances,  its 
worship  and  fellowship,  with  their  sweet  influences 
and  holy  associations,  rise  up  before  you  in  the 
world,  as  they  did  before  David  in  the  wilderness, 
in  a  vision  so  bright  and  lovely,  that  you  feel  some- 
thing of  his  holy  impatience  to  "  appear  before  God 
in  Zion."  Thus  you  do  not  say  nor  think  of  the 
Sabbath, — "  What  a  weariness  it  is  !  when  will  it 
be  over  V  You  do  not,  in  general,  feel  like  Doeg 
in  the  temple,  "  detained  before  the  Lord."  But 
not  so  often  in  this  fine  spirit,  do  you  anticipate  or 
improve  your  return  to  the  closet  and  the  family 
altar.  And  yet,  you  love  them  more  and  better 
than  some  other  duties.  They  also  present  them- 
selves frequently,  as  gates  of  Heaven  too.  On  a 
bright  morning,  when  the  sun  fills  the  house,  as 
with  the  glory  of  the  old  Shechinah,  how  exhila- 
rating it  is  to  bow  around  the  family  altar,  offering 
"  the  morning  sacrifice  1"  And  on  a  stormy  night, 
or  when  wearisome  nights  are  before  us,  how  sootn- 
ing  it  is  to  join  in  "the  evening  sacrifice  ;"  casting 
all  our  care  upon  Him  who  careth  for  us"?  And 
not  less  exhilarating  to  our  spirit,  is  the  closet  of 
secret  prayer,  when  our  thirst  for  communion  with 
God  is  ardent;   nor  less  soothing,  when  our  cares 


THE   MARYS 


c"~ 


and  leais  are  oppressive.  Thus  there  is  attraction, 
as  well  as  obligation,  in  the  duty  of  prayer.  If  the 
law  of  devotion  drive  us  occasionally  to  both  the 
domestic  and  the  solitary  altar,  the  cords  of  love,  or 
the  magnets  of  conscious  want  and  weakness,  draw 
us  habitually.  We  need  law:  but  we  see  beauty, 
and  taste  happiness,  and  sometimes  lose  the  sense 
of  duty  in  the  sensations  of  delight,  whilst  drawing 
nigh  unto  God.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is  more  gratify- 
ing to  us,  than  the  prevalence  of  a  truly  devotional 
spirit  in  the  sanctuary  and  the  closet.  We  welcome 
it  as  a  token  for  good,  and  reckon  it  an  unequivocal 
mark  of  grace.  Whilst  we  delight  in  prayer,  we 
cease  to  doubt  the  genuineness  of  our  faith,  and 
are  not  tempted  to  question  the  reality  of  our  con- 
version. 

Now  all  this  is  as  it  should  be.  We  cannot  at- 
tach too  much  importance  to  a  devotional  spirit,  nor 
be  too  watchful  to  preserve  it :  for  when  this  evi- 
dence of  personal  piety  declines,  every  other  passes 
under  an  eclipse,  which  so  darkens  them  all,  that 
we  are  unable  or  afraid  to  trace  our  connection  with 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  We  actually  lose  His 
light,  when  we  lose  our  relish  for  prayer.  That 
relish  is,  however,  more  frequently  lost  or  impaired 
by  not  cultivating  an  equal  relish  for  some  other 
duties,  than  by  the  indulgence  of  sloth  or  formality. 
We  are  oftener  thrown  out  of  the  spirit  of  prayer, 
In-  giving  way  to  wrong  tempers,  than  by  growing 
weary  of  regular  habits.  Fits  of  ill-humor,  whether 
fiery  or  sulky,  keep  us  out  of  the  closet  whilst  they 
last,  and  make  us  afraid  to  enter  it  even  when  they 
are  over.  Hence  the  necessity  of  attaching  almost 
as  much  importance  to  "  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit," 
as  to  a  devotional  spirit.  The  former,  as  well  as 
the  latter,  is  an  "  ornament  of  great,  price  in  the 
sight  of  God;"  and  ought,  therefore,  to  be  equally 
lovely  in  our  estimation.  But,  how  few  see  so  much 
moral  beauty  in  self-control,  or  in  a  meek  spirit,  as 
in  a  devotional  spirit !  And  yet,  we  all  know  well, 
that  devotion  is  neither  heavenly  nor  pleasing  when 
we  are  angry  or  peevish.  Were  it,  therefore,  only 
for  the  sake  of  serenity  and  holy  freedom  in  the 
closet,  we  ought  to  study  the  beauty  of  a  holy  tem- 
per so  closely,  that  we  could  no  more  leave  our  hu- 
mors, than  our  habits,  to  accident ;  and  no  more 
risk  the  consequences  of  an  unruly  or  hasty  spirit, 
than  of  a  defiled  conscience.  Indeed,  for  every 
purpose,  whether  practical  or  devotional,  we  ought 
to  regard  good  temper  as  being  as  truly  a  mark  of 
grace,  as  good  habits,  or  gracious  feelings.  It  is, 
in  all  its  forms,  "  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit."  Accord- 
ingly, "  long-suffering,  gentleness,  and  meekness," 
are  classed  with  "  loye,  joy,  peace,  and  faith,"  in 
the  scriptural  enumeration  of  the  special  fruits  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  And,  what  is  equally  to  the  point 
their  opposites,  "  wrath,  strife,  and  variance,"  in 
common  with  heresy,  are  classed  with  the  worst 
works  of  the  flesh.  Gal.  v.  19, 23.  Were  this  duly 
remembered,  wc  should  feel,  in  ruling  our  tongue 
and  temper  well,  that  we  were  as  directly  proving 
our  faith  in  Christ,  and  evincing  our  participation 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  when  we  mounted  on  eagles' 


wings  in  devotion,  or  melted  in  love  and  penitence 
at  the  Sacrament.  Yes ;  and  we  should  both  soai 
and  sing  oftener,  if  we  habitually  tried  to  possess 
our  souls  in  patience  and  equanimity. 

But  even  this  is  not  the  duty,  which  has  "  no 
comeliness"  that  commends  it  to  our  taste.  The 
worst  tempered  do  not  admire  passion  even  in  them- 
selves, however  they  may  justify  or  palliate  it  at 
times.  They  often  excuse  it,  but  they  never  praise 
it,  nor  pretend  that  it  makes  them  happy.  Perhaps 
no  Chiistians  see  so  clearly,  in  one  sense,  the  defor- 
mity of  ill-temper,  as  those  who  are,  themselves, 
very  irritable.  They  smart  and  suffer  so  much 
from  giving  way  to  it  frequently,  that  they  know 
well  all  its  sad  effects,  however  they  may  forget  its 
sinfulness,  or  try  to  soften  its  guilt,  in  their  own 
case.  Neither  are  they  insensible  to  the  beauty  01 
a  meek  and  quiet  spirit  in  others.  They  even  wish 
they  were  like  them  ;  and,  if  wishing  could  make 
them  so,  they  would  be  very  glad !  Of  course,  it 
never  will :  for  in  speaking  thus,  they  are  wishing 
for  what  no  one  has  or  can  get  in  this  world, — a 
spirit  that  should  need  neither  ruling  nor  watching 
over.  Grace  to  rule  and  watch  over  their  own  re 
bellious  spirit,  they  might  obtain  by  turning  their 
idle  wishes  into  honest  prayers :  but  even  prayer 
itself,  however  fervent,  will  not  bring  down  from 
heaven  into  any  bosom,  a  spirit  which  nothing  could 
ruffle,  or  which  would  require  no  looking  after. — 
There  is  no  such  temper  in  the  universe,  except  in 
heaven.  Let  us  not,  therefore,  amuse  ourselves  by 
dreaming  about  a  lovely  fiction,  nor  deceive  our- 
selves by  imagining  that  those  who  have  an  "  ex- 
cellent spirit,"  are  so  gifted  with  it,  as  to  need  no 
self-government  nor  pains-taking,  in  order  to  excel. 
Those  who  excel  us  most  in  temper,  will  all  be  fourxl 
to  exceed  us  equally  in  watchfulness. 

I  do  not  forget,  whilst  writing  thus,  that  many 
are  good-humored,  and  even  sweet-tempered,  who 
yet  have  no  grace  whatever,  nor  any  concern  about 
it.  In  such  cases,  therefore,  I  readily  allow,  and 
solemnly  affirm,  that  the  sweetness  of  their  disposi- 
tion proves  nothing  but  the  healthiness  of  their  ner- 
vous system,  or  the  harmony  of  their  physical 
powers,  or  the  absence  of  provocation.  In  such  fe- 
males, therefore,  habitual  gentleness  and  suavity  do 
not  amount  even  to  moral  principle,  and  are  in  no 
sense  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit.  The  utmost  and  the 
best  which  can  be  said  of  this  happy  temperament, 
is,  that  it  is  an  invaluable  gift  of  Providence,  very 
favorable  to  all  the  duties  of  life  and  godliness,  and 
very  useful  to  society.  It  ought,  therefore,  to  be 
highly  prized  by  all  who  possess  it :  for  it  is  unques- 
tionably given  by  Providence,  as  a  motive  to  seek 
grace  ;  and  thus  it  involves  weighty  responsibilities, 
and  leaves  its  possessors  without  excuse,  if  they 
neglect  the  great  salvation. 

Much  more  responsible  and  inexcusable,  how- 
ever, are  we  who  have  found  some  grace,  and  hove 
for  still  more,  if  we  neglect  our  temper,  or  leave  it 
to  accident.  For  if  nature,  when  unusually  gentle, 
bind  to  improvement,  how  much  grace  confirms  that 
obligation  !    If  they  sin  who  spoil  a  fine  natural  dis- 


38 


THE    MARYS. 


position  by  exposing  it  unnecessarily  to  temptation, 
how  gui'ty  are  we  when  we  allow  grace  to  be  de- 
feated by  nature,  just  because  we  did  not  try  to  rule 
cur  spirit  at  the  time  ! 

It  will  not  do  to  set  off  against  this  neglect,  the 
attention  we  pay  to  the  great  salvation  itself,  and  to 
some  of  the  spiritual  duties  which  love  to  Christ  in- 
volves. Indeed,  the  more  attention  we  pay  to  them, 
the  more  inexcusable  we  are  when  we  give  way  to 
a  wrong  spirit.  Besides,  we  do  not  attend  to  them, 
whilst  the  fit  of  ill-humor  lasts.  That  which  clouds 
our  brow  or  convulses  our  frame,  hides  both  Divine 
and  eternal  things  from  our  sight,  for  the  time  ;  and 
renders  it  difficult,  even  afterwards,  to  renew  clear 
and  calm  views  of  them  again.  Thus,  what  is  real- 
ly spiritual  about  us,  is  any  thing  but  a  set-off  against 
what  is  natural.  "  The  image  of  the  heavenly," 
instead  of  excusing  or  palliating  "  the  image  of  the 
earthy,"  only  aggravates  its  inconsistency,  when- 
ever that  inconsistency  is  allowed,  or  not  singled 
out  for  crucifixion. 

Nothing  is  farther  from  the  real  design  of  these 
hints,  than  to  set  an  amiable  spirit  above  a  devotion- 
al spirit.  My  object  is,  to  shew  clearly  how  they 
help  each  other,  and  how  much  they  depend  on  each 
other  ;  that  thus  we  may  be  equally  careful  to  cul- 
tivate both.  They  are  emphatically,  the  wings  on 
which  the  soul  rises  to  heaven  ;  and  if  either  wing 
is  allowed  to  drop  often,  the  other  will  not  bear  the 
soul  far  nor  frequently  within  the  veil.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  making  Christian  temper  a  matter  of 
deliberate  study.  And  I  mean  by  studying  it,  not 
merely  trying  to  rule  your  spirit  better  than  you 
have  done,  nor  even  being  more  upon  your  guard 
than  formerly  ;  but  also  contemplating  its  own  na- 
tive loveliness,  and  its  "  great  price"  in  the  sight 
of  God  and  man,  as  an  "  ornament"  of  female  cha- 
racter. It  must  be  loved,  in  order  to  be  habitually 
attempted.  But  loved  it  will  not  be,  until  its  own 
loveliness  is  seen  and  felt.  We  must  be  charmed 
by  the  beauty  of  this  feature  of  the  Divine  Image, 
as  well  as  charge  ourselves  by  its  authority  or  its 
necessity,  if  we  would  really  abound  in  it. 

This  is  equally  true  in  regard  to  a  forbearing  and 
forgiving  spirit.  The  duty  of  long-suffering  under 
injury,  and  the  still  harder  duty  of  both  forgiving 
and  forgetting  the  injury,  may  stand  very  clearly 
before  the  mind,  and  even  have  much  weight  upon 
the  conscience.  "We  may  neither  despise  nor  dis- 
pute our  obligation,  to  bury  in  oblivion  whatever 
we  have  suffered  from  the  hand  or  tongue  of  others : 
and  yet,  all  our  heart  may  rise  and  writhe  against 
the  duty  of  telling,  or  showing,  the  offenders,  that 
we  do  forgive  and  forget.  Indeed,  Ave  are  inclined 
to  think  it  quite  enough,  if  God  knows  that  we  are 
trying  to  do  it  in  his  sight.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is 
more  mortifying  than  the  idea  of  making  known  to 
the  offender,  face  to  face,  that  we  have  got  over  the 
offence :  except,  indeed,  the  idea  of  confessing  our 
own  faults  to  those  whom  we  have  offended.  Both 
duties  are  sadly  against  the  grain  of  human  nature, 
even  where  grace  has  no  small  influence  upon  the 
heart.     Accordingly,  neither  duty  is,  in  general, 


well  gone  through,  even  by  those  who  cannot  be 
easy  before  God  until  their  breaches  with  man  are 
openly  healed. 

Here,  again,  the  failure  in  this  part  of  holiness, 
arises  from  not  studying  the  beauty  of  a  right  spirit. 
We  look  at  both  confessing  and  forgiving,  too  much 
in  the  lights  of  this  world,  or  through  the  eyes  of 
others ;  and  thus  come  to  deem  that  mean-spirited 
or  very  weak,  which  God  reckons  signally  noble  and 
peculiarly  lovely.  Whilst,  therefore,  a  deeper  sense 
of  positive  and  imperative  obligation  to  confess  and 
forgive,  is  of  immense  importance  ;  still,  that  alone, 
will  not  lead  to  much  of  either  until  both  are  ad- 
mired for  their  beauty,  as  well  as  admitted  because 
of  their  authority.  We  must  learn  to  love  these 
duties  because  they  are  lovely  in  the  sight  of  God  ; 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  good  they  create  and  the 
mischief  they  prevent,  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  the 
laws  which  enforce  them  :  for,  otherwise,  we  shall 
shrink  from  them  entirely,  or  perform  them  grudg- 
ingly. 

I  have  now  said  quite  enough  to  convince  you, 
that  more  than  regard  to  the  law  of  holiness,  or 
than  the  dread  of  the  penal  sanctions  which  enforce 
it,  is  necessary,  in  order  to  a  cheerful  and  impartial 
following  of  holiness.  We  must  be  drawn  by  its 
silken  cords,  as  well  as  driven  by  its  knotted  whip : 
for,  otherwise,  we  shall  not  go  far  enough,  to  make 
our  calling  and  election  sure ;  nor  readily  enough 
to  prove  that  "  the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us." 
The  grand  question  here,  however,  is,  how  are 
such  winning  views  of  the  beauty  of  Holiness  to  be 
acquired,  without  a  degree  of  study  greater  than  we 
have  time  for,  and  deeper  than  our  talents  can 
reach  1  Now,  happily,  the  Ethics  of  Holiness  are 
both  few  and  simple.  Its  chief  reasons  are  founded 
upon  what  God  is,  upon  what  Christ  has  done  for 
us,  and  upon  what  is  obviously  wanted  as  prepara- 
tion for  the  enjoyments  and  engagements  of  Heaven. 
Did  you  ever  observe  how  the  first  of  these  rea- 
sons (which  is  the  most  profound)  is  brought  before 
us  in  the  Scriptures  1  "  As  He  who  hath  called 
you  is  holy,  so  be  ye  holy  in  all  manner  of  conver- 
sation :  because  it  is  written,  Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am 
holy."  1  Pet.  i.  15.  Thus  calling  Grace  introduces 
commanding  Holiness.  God  appeals  to  what  he  has 
done  for  us,  before  telling  us  all  we  must  be.  What 
is  "  written"  to  us  on  the  subject  of  holiness,  is 
founded  upon  what  is  "  wrought"  in  us  by  the  Holy 
Spirit.  God  reminds  us  that  he  has  called  us  by  his 
grace,  when  he  invites  us  to  contemplate  and  copy 
his  holiness.  Thus  He  interests  our  hearts,  that  he 
may  exercise  our  understanding,  and  sway  our  con  • 
science,  by  the  glories  of  his  own  character.  Truly 
God  is  love,  in  the  very  manner  in  which  he  gives 
law  to  his  children ! 

Now  we  fondly  hope  that  what  we  have  felt  of 
the  power  and  sweetness  of  the  Gospel,  is,  the  gra- 
cious "  calling"  of  God.  We  may  be  somewhat 
afraid  to  say  that  it  is,  positively,  that  effectual  call- 
ing of  God,  which  is,  "without  repentance"  on  his 
part :  but  we  are  very  anxious  that  it  may  prove  to 
be  so,  and  quite  sure  that  it  has  been  effectual  for 


THE    MARYS 


39 


some  good  purposes  upon  both  our  hearts  and  habits 
already.  We  may  not  see  so  clearly  the  precise 
time  of  our  call,  as  to  be  able,  like  Paul,  to  point  to 
the  very  moment  of  our  conversion,  saying  "  When 
it  pleased  God  to  call  me  by  his  grace :"  but  we  do 
remember  the  time,  when  we  disliked  godliness,  and 
felt  no  need  of  grace.    We  are  very  glad  that 

"  These  times  are  past !" 

and  would  not  for  worlds  they  should  return  ! 

Well — the  holiness  of  God  did  not  prevent  Him 
from  calling  us  by  his  Spirit,  even  whilst  we  were 
"  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  In  fact,  it  was  be- 
cause He  is  glorious  in  holiness,  that  the  love 
wherewith  he  loved  us  when  he  quickened  us,  was 
so  "  rich  in  mercy  :"  for  had  he  not  loved  Holiness 
infinitely,  he  would  never  have  taken  one  step,  nor 
made  one  stoop,  to  make  us  holy.  We  need  not  be 
afraid,  therefore,  to  study  how  holy  the  God  who 
called  us,  is.  Had  he  been  less  holy,  he  would  not 
have  called  us  nor  any  one.  Well,  therefore,  may 
the  harp  of  Judah  be  listened  to  and  obeyed,  when 
it  invites  us  to  "  give  thanks  at  the  remembrance 
of  His  holiness:"  for  were  not  God  infinitely  and 
immutably  holy,  there  would  be  no  grace  to  give 
thanks  for. 

I  mention  this  particularly,  because  it  is  too  com- 
mon to  speak  and  think  only  of  the  love  or  the  mer- 
cy of  God,  when  gratitude  for  grace  is  claimed 
from  us.  All  grace,  however,  is  given  for  holj 
purposes ;  and,  therefore,  it  ought  to  lead  out  our 
thoughts  to  the  Divine  Holiness  which  is  the  moral 
reason  of  this,  as  well  as  to  the  Divine  Love  which 
is  the  original  fountain  of  grace.  The  character, 
as  well  as  the  heart,  of  God,  must  be  kept  in  view. 
We  have  no  more  right  to  look  at  the  latter,  apart 
from  the  former,  for  comfort,  than  the  twelve  tribes 
of  Israel  had  to  look  only  upon  the  breastplate  of 
Aaron  for  their  names,  when  he  interceded  before 
the  Lord.  Their  names  were  also  upon  the  beryl- 
stones,  on  his  shoulders.  Thus  they  were  placed 
upon  the  seat  of  authority,  is  well  as  upon  the  seat 
of  sympathy;  and  borne  where  government  rested, 
as  well  as  where  grace  reigned.  It  is  in  allusion 
to  this,  that  it  is  said  of  Christ,  "The  government 
shall  be  upon  his  shoulders." 

There  is,  therefore,  something  wrong  in  our 
views,  if  we  are  afraid  to  think  of  the  holiness  of 
God  :  and  if  we  dislike  to  think  of  it,  there  is  much 
wrong  in  our  hearts.  Our  dislike  will  not  move, 
however,  until  our  dread  it  removed.  So  long  as 
the  holiness  of  God  presents  any  thing  to  terrify  us; 
or  is  regarded  as  an  attribute  which  is  against  us; 
or  as  an  awful  perfection  which  would  turn  from 
us  with  abhorrence,  were  it  not  prevented  by  Love 
and  Mercy;  so  long  we  shall  not  love  it.  We  can- 
not love  the  Holiness  of  God,  whilst  we  reckon  it 
our  enemy,  or  regard  it  as  no  farther  our  friend, 
than  just  as  far  as  the  intercession  of  Christ  keeps 
it  from  breaking  out  upon  us  in  fury. 

This,  alas!  is,  however,  the  ordinary  view  of  it. 
In  this  light   the  generality  contemplate  it:  and, 


therefore,  dislike  the  subject.  It  seems  to  them  to 
have  no  "beauty"  that  they  should  desire  it.  Do 
you  feel  at  all  in  this  way  1  Does  the  holiness  of 
God  appear  to  you  an  attribute  flawing  rather  with 
devouring  fire,  than  with  soft  splendor  1  Do  you 
look  to  it  only  from  necessity;  and  never  from 
choice,  except  when  you  feel  your  need  of  a  strong 
check  upon  yourself]  Were  you  never  so  charm- 
ed by  the  beauty  of  Jehovah's  holiness,  as  to  "give 
thanks  at  the  remembrance"  of  it]  Can  you  hard- 
ly imagine  how  you  could  ever  so  get  over  your  in- 
stinctive dread  of  it,  as  to  delight  in  thinking  of  it, 
or  to  be  capable  of  contemplating  it  with  composure! 
Does  it  seem  to  you  impossible  to  be  as  much  charm- 
ed with  the  holiness  of  God,  as  you  have  been  with 
his  love  and  mercy  ] 

I  multiply  these  questions,  and  magnify  their  im- 
portance, just  to  throw  your  thoughts  fully  off  from 
vulgar  opinion,  and  fairly  forth  upon  the  revealed 
character  of  God  in  Christ.  "In  the  face  of  Jesus," 
the  brightness  of  the  glory  of  the  Divine  holiness, 
shines  as  mildly  as  the  softest  radiance  of  any  per- 
fection you  admire. 

In  order  to  be  convinced  of  this,  you  have  only  to 
ask  yourself  the  single  question — "  Were  God  un- 
holy, what  security  would  remain  for  the  continu- 
ance of  any  of  his  lovely  perfections'?"  Do  you  not 
see  at  a  glance,  that  His  holiness  preserves  them 
all  I  It  is  Uie  vital  principle  of  the  Divine  charac- 
ter. Because  it  lives — Love,  mercy,  grace,  truth, 
and  wisdom  "  live  also." 

But  I  have  gone  so  fully  into  this  subject,  in  my 
Jittle  work  on  "  Manly  Piety,"  that  I  must  leave 
you  to  follow  out  the  hint  for  yourself;  for,  in  fact, 
I  have  exhausted  all  my  definite  ideas  already. 


No.  VIII. 

CHRISTIANS    HOLY   TEMPLES. 

"  Remember  your  rank,  my  lord,  and  respect  it," 
said  a  venerable  friend  of  mine,  (apart,)  to  a  youna: 
nobleman,  who  had  so  far  forgotten  all  that  he 
owed  to  his  "order,"  as  to  descend  to  vulgar  man- 
ners and  language  in  the  mail.  The  deserved  re- 
proof had  the  desired  effect:  the  young  man  resum- 
ed all  the  proverbial  urbanity  and  politeness  of  his 
high  station. 

This  is  one  of  the  beneficial  influences  of  heredi- 
tary and  official  rank:  it  imposes  propriety  on  pow- 
er. It  does  not  always  prevent  vice ;  but  it  pre- 
serves decorum,  and  enforces  the  semblance  of  vir- 
tue, in  the  intercourse  of  society.  When  nobility, 
however,  is  enshrined  with  noble  recollections  of 
patriotic  ancestry  which  hallow  it  more  than  age, 
or  wealth,  or  heraldry,  more  is  expected  from  it 
than  decorum  or  courtesy.  The  descendants  of  the 
champions  and  martyrs  of  both  civil  and  religious 
Liberty,  are  expected  to  breathe  the  spirit,  as  well 
as  wear  the  mantle,  of  the  patriots  who  immortal- 
ized their  name.  A  Russell,  Sidney,  or  Hampden, 
without  public  spirit ;  or  a  Wickliffe,  Ridley,  Cran- 
mer,  Baxter,  or  Owen,  without  Protestant  spirit. 


40 


THE    MARYS 


w'umu  oe  an  anomaiy,  equany  unnatural  and  re- 
pulsive to  the  public  mind:  for  whilst  " England 
expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty,"  to  her  sacred 
liberties,  she  calculates  upon  sacrifices,  as  well  as 
duty,  from  the  lineal  representatives  of"  the  mighty 
dead,"  who  claimed  with  their  voice,  or  .sealed  with 
their  blood,  the  charter  of  her  independence.  Such 
associations  are  net,  however,  the  only  sources  of 
honorable  and  inspiring  feeling,  which  tells  well 
upon  the  interests  of  society  at  large.  Nothing  has 
softened  or  purified  the  intercourse  of  social  life, 
more  than  the  self-respect  of  females.  By  respect- 
ing themselves,  for  the  sake  of  their  sex,  they  have 
won  respect  and  homage.  Their  moral  influence 
has  kept  pace  with  their  moral  tastes  and  intellect- 
ual character,  and  made  itself  felt  like  the  fragrance, 
in  all  directions ;  and  felt  most  when,  like  fragrance- 
flowers,  they  seem  unconscious  of  their  own  sweet- 
ness. They  have  thus  created  "a  law  unto  them- 
selves." which  promulgates  itself  without  a  trumpet, 
sind  explains  itself  without  words,  and  prolongs  its 
own  authority  by  their  silence.  A  look  defines 
it  even  to  the  dull ;  and  a  blush  defends  it,  like 
ightning,  from  the  designing.  A  woman  has  only 
to  respect  herself  as  a  woman,  in  order  to  be  re- 
spected. 

Yon  feel,  accordingly,  that  you  owe  much  to  your 
sex,  on  its  own  account.  You  see  at  a  glance  both 
what  is  worthy  and  what  is  unworthy  of  it.  You 
do  not,  and  cannot,  forget  what  is  expected  from 
you  on  the  single  ground  of  your  sex.  Yon  are  not 
sorry  that  so  much  Is  expected.  You  are  even  gra- 
tified and  glad,  that  "  whatsoever  things  are  pure 
whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are 
of  good  report,"  are  calculated  upon,  as  almost  mat- 
ters of  course  in  your  character.  You  can  hardly 
regret  that,  when  woman  falls,  she 

"  Falls  like  Lucifer,  to  rise  no  more," 

in  this  world.  The  feeling  in  the  public  mind,  that 
women,  like  Angels,  must  stand  or  fall  for  ever,  is, 
indeed,  a  high  one;  but  it  is  highly  honorable  to 
you,  and  unspeakably  beneficial  to  society.  It  may 
expect  and  exact  too  much  from  you:  but  it  en- 
ables you  to  do  more  and  better,  and  both  more 
easily,  than  if  the  standard  of  female  excellence 
were  lower. 

Why  not,  then,  respect  your  piety  as  much  as 
your  sex"?  If  there  be  any  thing  inspiring  and  re- 
sponsible in  the  consideration, — "  I  am  a  woman, 
and  one  of  Britain's  daughters ;"  how  much  mora  in 
the  consideration, — "  I  am  a  Christian,  and  one  of 
the  daughters  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty!"  The 
latter  relationship  is,  I  am  fully  aware,  not  so  easi- 
ly realized  or  claimed  as  the  former ;  the  former  is 
your  birth-right,  which  nothing  but  crime  can  for- 
feit. The  latter  is  an  adoption,  which  no  virtue  can 
merit.  It  is  not,  however,  on  that  account  less  ob- 
tainable, nor  less  free,  nor  less  ascertainable ;  for 
"  to  as  many  as  receive  Him— even  to  them  that 
believe  on  His  name" — Christ  gives  "  power,"  (that 
is  warrant  and  welcome,)  to  regard  themselves  as 


the  children  of  God.  "  As  many  as  are  led  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,"  they  are  the  children  of  God. 

These  are  neither  equivocal  nor  discouraging 
tests  of  adoption.  They  prove  your  adoption  into 
the  redeemed  family  of  God,  if  you  honestly  wel- 
come Christ  as  your  only  hope  of  salvation,  and 
honestly  desire  to  be  led  by  the  Spirit  into  all  truth 
and  duty.  And,  do  you  not  1  If  you  really  did  not, 
why  are  you  so  deeply  interested  in  this  subject  1 — 
Why,  else,  are  y  ou  so  anxious  to  be  a  child  of  God  1 
How  came  the  question  of  your  adoption  to  lay 
such  hold  upon  your  mind  and  heart?  "Who 
opened  thine  eyes"  to  see  the  need  and  nature  of 
"  being  born  again,"  in  order  to  becoming  one  of 
God's  spiritual  family?  This  persuasion  cometh 
not  from  instinct,  age,  example,  or  education.  It  is 
the  fruit  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  has  "  quickened," 
"illuminated,"  and  "led,"  wherever  the  Spirit  of 
adoption  is  thus  prized,  and  prayed  for,  and  longed 
after.  The  heart  is  magnetized  by  grace,  that  turns 
to  this  holy  pole. 

The  question  of  your  adoption  is,  however,  one 
which  ought  not,  and  never  can  be  well  settled,  by 
your  own  consciousness  of  certain  feelings  or  de- 
sires on  the  subject.  It  is  a  practical,  as  much  as 
an  experimental  question.  It  turns  quite  as  much 
upon  what  you  are  trying  to  be  and  do,  as  upon 
what  you  wish  to  feel  and  enjoy.  If,  therefore,  in 
addition  to  your  solicitude  to  be  a  child  of  God,  you 
are  trying  to  copy  the  likeness,  and  to  cultivate  the 
spirit,  of  His  regenerated  family,  the  question  is 
settled:  "ye  are  no  more  strangers  or  foreigners ;" 
but  members  of  the  "  household  of  God  :"  "  ye  were 
sometimes  darkness ;  but  ye  are  now  light  in  the 
Lord :  waVk  as  children  of  the  light." 

Amongst  the  many  forms  of  Scriptural  appeal  to 
those  vrho  are  thus  solicitous  to  ascertain  their 
adoption,  the  most  frequent,  if  not  the  most  forcible 
is,  "  What — know  ye  not  that  your  bodies  are  the 
temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  is  in  you  1"  "  What 
agreement  hath  the  temple  of  God  with  idols  ?  For 
ye  are  the  temple  of  the  Living  God :  as  God  hath 
said,  I  will  dwell  in  them,  and  walk  in  them,  and  I 
will  be  their  God,  and  they  shall  be  my  people. — 
Wherefore  come  out  from  among  them,"  (the  un- 
godly,) "  and  be  ye  separate,  and  I  will  receive  you, 
and  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my 
sons  and  daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty ;  and 
touch  not  the  unclean  thing."    2  Cor.  vi.  16. 

I  wish  to  fix  your  attention  upon  this  view  of 
yourself  as  a  Temple.  It  is  a  fascinating,  as  well 
as  a  solemn,  view  of  your  state  and  responsibility. 
It  is  a  view  more  easily  taken  and  retained  than 
some  others :  for,  although  drawn  from  the  ancient 
Temple  of  Jerusalem,  and  thus  associated  with 
many  sublime  peculiarities,  to  which  parallels 
would  be  difficult  either  to  find  or  fancy,  it  is  still  a 
simple  view  of  a  Christian.  For,  after  all  that  can 
be  said  or  imagined  of  the  Holy  Temple,  it  was  but 
a  house  made  with  hands,  and  of  earthly  materials; 
and  thus  less  likely  to  be  made  "  a  habitation  of 
God,  through  the  Spirit,"  than  the  human  frame.— 
Solomon  felt  this,  even  when  the  first  temple  was 


THE   MARYS. 


41 


in  all  the  fulness  and  freshness  of  its  architectural 
glory.  "  Will  God,"  said  he,  "in  very  deed  dwell 
with  man  upon  the  earth  1  Behold,  heaven,  and 
the  heaven  of  heavens,  cannot  contain  Thee  !  How 
much  less  this  House  which  I  have  built!"  In  this 
exclamation  of  Solomon,  the  inferiority  of  the  tem- 
ple to  man,  as  well  as  to  heaven,  is  both  implied 
and  expressed.  Or,  if  Solomon  did  not  intend  to 
say  this,  "a  greater  than  Solomon"  has  said  it  again 
and  again.  "Thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One 
that  inhabiteth  Eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy,  I 
dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place:  with  him  also 
that  is  of  an  humble  and  contrite  spirit."  Isa.  lvii. 
15.  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  The  heaven  is  my 
throne,  and  the  earth  is  my  footstool.  Where  is 
the  house  that  ye  build  unto  me?  And  where  is 
the  place  of  my  rest1?  But  to  this  man  will  I  look, 
— even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit, 
and  trembleth  at  my  word."    Isa.  lxvi.  1,  2. 

This  settles  the  inferiority  of  all  temples  to 
both  the  human  soul  and  body.  They  form  a 
"  living  temple,"  and  may  be  a  "holy  temple"  in  a 
higher  sense  than  even  the  heaven  of  heavens 
itself. 

Let  us  not  be  misled  by  words,  nor  bewildered 
with  splendid  appearances.  Even  your  bodies  are 
more  "  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,"  than  the 
material  heavens  which  form  the  actual  temple  and 
throne  of  Deity  :  and  your  spirits,  both  in  their  es- 
sence and  immortality,  are  nobler  than  the  fine  ether 
which  is  the  firmament  of  glory.  We  think  too 
meanly  of  both  our  soul  and  body,  when  we  ima- 
gine that  any  thing  material,  in  heaven  or  on  earth, 
is  equal  to  them.  We  cannot,  indeed,  think  too 
meanly  of  their  moral  tastes  and  tendencies  by  na- 
ture. We  may  well  say  of  the  body,  that  it  is  vile 
as  well  as  frail ;  and  of  the  soul,  that  it  is  depraved 
as  well  as  weak  :  but  neither  is  worthless.  Worth- 
less! no,  no;  Emmanuel  counted  them  more  valuable 
than  fallen  angels:  for  he  took  not  upon  him  the 
nature  of  angels.  He  made  His  own  soul  an  offer- 
ing for  our  souls,  and  he  will  make  our  bodies 
"  like  unto  His  own  glorious  body."  The  Temple, 
even  when  filled  with  the  glory  of  God,  was  but  an 
emblem  of  what  every  man  and  woman  should  be, 
and  of  what  any  one  may  be  ; — "  an  habitation  of 
God  through  the  Spirit."  It  was  to  exemplify  and 
secure  this,  that  Christ  became  at  once  the  temple, 
the  priest,  and  the  sacrifice  of  God.  In  our  nature, 
He  showed  what  human  nature  should  be,  and 
might  be.  As  sustained  by  Him,  Humanity  was 
(and  he  caiied  it  so)  a  Temple,  in  which  dwelt  "  all 
the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  Such  a  Tem- 
ple was  the  Saviour;  and  such  temples,  in  their 
measure,  may  we  be:  "  filled  with  all  the  (commu- 
nicable) fulness  of  God." 

It  is  not  to  our  credit,  if  we  deem  this  a  sublime 
speculation,  rather  than  a  sober  reality.  Paul  did 
not  view  it  in  this  light,  either  for  himself  or  others. 
He  bowed  his  knees  in  frequent  and  fervent  prayer 
for  the  Ephesians,  that  they  might  be  filled  with  all 
the  fulness  of  God,  by  being  enabled  to  comprehend, 
with  all  saints,  the  wonders  of  the  love  of  Christ. — 


Eph.  iii.  14,  21.  What  "holy  temples  unto  the 
Lord,"  the  Apostle  desired  and  expected  Believers 
to  become  !  "Christ," says  he  may  dwell  in  you 
hearts  by  faith."  "  Christ  is  in  you,  the  hope  of 
glory."  "  Know  ye  not  yourselves,  how  that  Christ 
is  in  you  1" 

It  will  not  do  to  overlook  this  often  repeated  and 
pressed  consideration.  It  occurs  too  frequently  and 
emphatically  to  be  trifled  with,  or  evaded.  "  Christ 
is  in  you,"  says  Paul,  "  except  ye  be  reprobates." — 
This  gives  awful  solemnity  to  the  question.  "  Am 
I  a  living  Temple,  and  trying  to  be  a  holy  Temple, 
unto  the  Lord?"  For,  although  the  word  "  repro- 
bate" has  none  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  Repro- 
bation," as  that  term  was  used  in  the  olden  times  of 
the  Calvinistic  controversy,  still  it  means  so  much 
that  is  awful  and  ominous,  that  we  do  well  to  lay 
deeply  to  heart  Paul's  admonition  ;  "  Examine  your- 
selves, whether  ye  be  in  the  faith:  prove  your  own 
selves :  know  ye  not  yourselves,  how  that  Christ  is 
in  you,  except  ye  be  reprobates,"  or  without  any 
real  marks  of  grace  ? 

Christ  himself  throws  us  as  fully  upon  the  same 
question,  by  his  own  representations  of  the  temple- 
ship  of  his  disciples.  "  I  in  them,  and  Thou  in  me, 
that  they  may  be  one  in  us,"  is  the  grand  point  in 
which  his  prayers  for  their  sanctirication  meet  and 
terminate.  John  xvii.  23.  "  If  a  man  love  me,  he 
will  keep  my  words  :  and  my  Father  will  love 
him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our 
abode  with  him."  John  xiv.  23.  "  The  world  know- 
eth  not  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  because  it  seeth  him  not ; 
but  ye  know  him,  for  he  dwelleth  with  you,  and 
shall  be  in  you."    John  xiv.  17. 

When  such  passages  are  thus  multiplied,  they  do 
not  (be  it  recollected)  mean  more  as  a  whole,  than 
is  meant  by  any  one  of  them.  The  design  of  ?o 
many,  is  not  to  convey  such  an  idea  of  the  work  or 
witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  must  intimidate  or 
perplex  us.  No,  indeed :  their  design  is  just  the 
very  opposite.  We,  indeed,  are  very  ready  when 
such  an  array  of  texts  is  before  us,  to  take  alarm; 
or  to  conclude  from  them,  that  nothing  we  have  ex- 
perienced, and  nothing  we  are  ever  likely  to  pos- 
sess, can  amount  to  "  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit" 
even.  Multiplied  statements  on  this  subject,  seem 
to  magnify  it  beyond  all  ordinary  piety.  This  is, 
however,  quite  a  mistake.  The  very  fear,  suspense, 
and  solicitude,  which  you  now  feel,  lest  this  view  of 
piety  should  disprove  your  piety,  prove  that  you  are 
not  a  stranger  to  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Your  heart  would  neither  feel  the  worth,  nor  fear 
the  want  of  His  gracious  influences,  if  it  had  never 
experienced  any  of  them.  We  both  have  the  Spirit, 
and  are  in  some  measure  "after  the  Spirit,"  if  we 
seriously  "mind  the  things  of  the  Spirit."  We  are 
the  temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  if  we  honestly  desire 
and  try  to  be  holy  temples  unto  the  Lord. 

Is  this  your  aim  1  If  so,  there  is  nothing  in  all 
the  hosts  of  texts  which  you  have  just  reviewed,  to 
discourage  you.  The  grand  object  of  each  and  all 
of  them,  is  to  penetrate  your  whole  spirit  with  the 
living  conviction,  that  you  are  one  of  God's  conse- 


42 


THE   MARYS. 


crated  temples:  and  thus  must  take  care,  that  you 
neither  "defile"  nor  discredit  the  temple  of  God. 
Now,  you  do  take  some  care,  that  you  may  not  dis- 
grace the  profession  you  make ;  that  you  may  not 
bring  any  reproach  upon  religion ;  that  your  life 
may  not  give  the  lie  to  your  creed  or  your  hopes. 
Well;  why  not  connect  all  this  holy  fear,  and  care, 
and  watchfulness,  with  the  consideration  that  yon 
are  "  the  temple  of  God  V  You  connect  them  (and 
very  properly)  with  your  name,  and  your  place  in 
the  Church  of  God;  with  your  fond  hope  that  you 
have  found,  or  shall  find,  mercy  of  the  Lord  ;  with 
your  good  name  in  your  family,  and  among  your 
friends.  All  this  is  as  it  should  be.  I  would  not 
detach  your  sense  of  responsibility,  nor  your  re- 
gard to  consistency,  from  any  one  of  these  checks 
and  charms  upon  character.  It  would,  however, 
strengthen  and  prolong  the  influence  of  them  all,  to 
recognize  as  fully,  and  realize  as  constantly,  your 
templeship,  as  a  Christian.  That  means  no  more 
than  is  meant  by  your  profession,  your  obligations, 
or  your  responsibility:  but  it  defines  them  clearly, 
and  commends  as  well  as  enforces  them  powerfully. 
You  ought,  therefore,  to  be  willing,  yea,  thankful 
and  glad,  to  avail  yourself  of  any  new  considera- 
tion that  adds  to  the  power  of  the  old  motives 
which  regulate  your  conduct ;  especially,  when,  as 
in  this  instance,  the  new  motive  is  as  scriptural  as 
the  old  ones. 

But,  why  do  I  call  it  new  1  The  idea  of  Tem- 
pleship, is  as  old,  and  as  often  repeated  in  Scripture, 
as  the  idea  of  discipleship,  sonship,  or  citizenship. 
You  have  just  seen  that  the  New  Testament  is  full 
of  it.  It  does  not,  however,  occur  often  in  religious 
conversation  now.  It  does  not  seem  to  have  the 
same  place  or  power  in  the  mind  of  Christians,  that 
the  other  ideas  possess.  But,  why  should  it  not  be 
as  familiar  and  influential  as  any  of  them'?  It  is 
not  inferior  to  them  in  beauty  or  point;  and  not  so 
superior  to  them  in  sublimity,  as  to  be  difficult  ts 


comprehend,  remember,  or  apply.  "  I  am  a  living 
temple  of  God,  and  ought  to  be  a  holy  temple,"  is 
as  soon  and  as  easily  said,  as,  "  I  am  a  professor  of 
religion,  and  ought  to  be  consistent." 

.But  I  must  not  argue  with  you,  as  if  it  were  op- 
tional to  you,  to  admit  or  decline  the  use  of  this 
holy  consideration.  You  are  not  at  liberty  to  over- 
look it  for  another  day,  even  if  you  have  done 
pretty  well  without  thinking  of  it  hitherto.  It  is, 
most  likely,  the  very  motive  which  you  now  want, 
in  order  to  keep  up  the  influence  of  your  old  mo- 
tives, in  following  holiness.  For,  have  they  all 
their  original  power  over  you  1  Does  your  sense 
of  responsibility  as  a  convert,  as  a  disciple,  as  a 
possessor  of  grace,  carry  you  all  the  length  it  did, 
when  you  first  took  "  the  vows  of  God"  upon  you  1 
If  not — you  may  backslide  until  you  break  down 
altogether  on  the  narrow  way,  unless  you  get  hold, 
at  this  critical  nick  of  time,  upon  the  rallying  and 
inspiring  consideration  of  your  templeship. 

I  know  that  the  word  itself  is  new :  but  you  know 
that  the  idea  is  as  old  as  your  Bible.  I  have  not 
coined  the  word  for  the  sake  of  novelty,  or  of  sin- 
gularity ;  but  in  order  to  arrest  attention  to  "  the 
mind  of  Christ,"  as  that  is  expressed  in  the  "  words 
which  the  Holy  Ghost  teacheth."  I  tell  you  again, 
therefore,  that  it  is  neither  wise  nor  safe  to  exclude 
this  scriptural  view  of  your  obligation  to  be  holy, 
or  to  try  to  do  without  it  any  longer.  If  you  are  a 
real  Christian,  Christianity  considers  and  calls  you, 
the  temple  of  God,  of  Christ,  and  of  the  Spirit; 
and  remonstrates  with  you,  as  well  as  commands 
you,  to  consider  yourself  in  this  light.  And  mark; 
you  cannot  point  to,  nor  conceive  of,  any  appeal  to 
your  principles,  or  hopes,  or  responsibilities,  as  a 
Christian  woman,  so  striking  in  its  form  and  stir- 
ring in  its  spirit  as  this  one.  Look  at  it  again. 
"  What;  know  ye  not  that  your  bodies  are  the  tem- 
ples of  the  Holy  Ghost  1"  "  Know  ye  not  that 
Christ  is  in  you,  except  ye  be  reprobates'?" 


ST.    JOHN.— a.  d.  96. 

(The  following  Sketch  of  St.  John  is  selected  from  R.  W.  Evans's  Scripture  Biography.) 


It  is  a  striking  feature  -'n  our  blessed  Lord's  selec- 
tion of  his  apostles,  that  he  called  two  fellowships 
of  brothers,  Andrew  and  Peter,  James  and  John :  it 
expresses  a  lovely  trait  of  character  both  in  caller 
and  in  called.  In  these  it  shows  how  community  of 
blood  had  grown  into  community  of  mind,  so  that 
where  one  went,  the  other  was  prepared  to  go  too, 
even  to  those  unknown  realms  of  spirit  to  which 
Jesus  called  them. 

Of  these  two  pairs  of  brothers,  the  most  remark- 
able are  Peter  of  the  one,  nd  John  of  the  other. 
They  are  the  most  distinguished  members  of  the 
whole  apostolical  college,  and  their  characters  stand 
out  in  strong  contrast  to  each  other.  Each  most 
dearly  loved  his  Master,  and  yet  with  quite  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  love.  Peter's  was  that  which  would 
prompt  him  gladly  to  die  for  him;  which  would  not 


let  a  hand  come  near  to  harm  him  if  he  could  h0.'" 
it;  he  would  stand  in  front  of  him  as  a  shield,  and 
turn  himself  to  every  motion  of  ihe  assailant.  Eat 
John's  was  that  which  bade  him  seek  to  die  wit<z 
him,  his  joy  lay  in  his  company.  Whatever  affliction 
may  chance  to  be  in  it,  there  was  nothing  but  certain 
and  insupportable  sorrow  without  it.  He  clung  to 
his  Master's  side,  and  partook  with  him  of  every 
turn  and  motion  ;  he  would  follow  him  whitherso- 
ever he  went.  Peter's  was  a  soldier's  love  to  his 
leader,  but  John's  was  that  which  surpasses  the  love 
of  women.  Peter  drew  his  sword  to  deliver  his 
Master.  John  stood  at  the  cross  and  took  his  last 
dying  words.  Peter's  love  would  stir  him  promptly 
to  obey  any  request.  John's  would  bid  him  antici- 
pate it!  Peter's  noted  each  outward  sign  and  ges- 
ture.   John's  read  the  heart.     Loves  so  different 


ST.   JOHN 


43 


meet  with  a  return  of  a  different  intimacy  of  love. 
And  if  Peter  was  first  in  honor,  John  was  first  in 
affection  among  the  apostles  of  Jesus.  To  Peter 
he  said,  "Lovest  thou  mel  feed  my  sheep;"  but  to 
John  he  recommended  his  mother  in  his  last  ago- 
nies, and  acknowledged  him  as  his  brother,  saying 
to  her,  "  Woman,  behold  thy  son,"  and  to  him, 
"  behold  thy  mother." 

The  first  occasion  on  which  we  meet  with  John 
distinct  from  the  rest,  shows  how  deeply  he  pos- 
sessed this  love.  Jesus,  at  his  last  meal  with  them, 
said  to  his  apostles,  that  one  of  them  should  betray 
him.  They  looked  on  each  other  in  much  distress, 
doubting  of  whom  he  spake,  but  not  daring  to  ask. 
Then  Peter,  unwilling  to  put  the  question  himself, 
as  perhaps  presuming  upon  too  great  liberty,  beck- 
oned to  John  to  put  it;  and  John,  reclining,  as  the 
intimate  friend,  with  his  head  against  his  Master's 
bosom,  put  it,  and  obtained  the  answer.  His  love 
is  again  pre-eminently  shown  in  being  the  only  one 
who  followed  his  Master  to  the  end.  In  company 
with  Peter  he  followed  him  to  the  house  of  the 
high-priest,  and  there  witnessed  his  comrade's  sad 
denial.  John  never  could  have  denied  him,  he  was 
wrapt  up  in  him,  and  was  prepared  by  the  uncon- 
querable patience,  as  well  as  ardor  of  his  love,  for 
every  event.  But  Peter's  love  was  more  ardent 
than  patient;  he  was  ill-prepared  to  show  it  by 
passive  endurance.  This  main  quality  of  Christian 
soldiership  he  had  yet  to  learn.  The  minuteness 
of  John's  narrative  respecting  our  Lord's  appear- 
ance before  Pilate,  shows  that  he  was  present  with 
him  there  too;  and  thus  he  continued  faithful  to 
the  end.  He  never  lost  sight  of  the  beloved  form 
of  his  Master,  until  he  was  sealed  in  the  tomb. 
Towards  the  close  of  our  Lord's  ministry,  we  often 
find  Peter  and  John  associated  together,  and  com- 
mencing that  peculiar  companionship  which  they 
seem  to  have  maintained  until  they  were  separated 
by  the  dispersion  of  the  apostles  among  the  Gen- 
tiles. They  were  drawn  together  by  their  Master's 
preference.  Rivalry  of  merit  draws  pure  and  ge- 
nerous minds  together  in  mutual  admiration  and 
esteem  ;  it  is  the  vulgar  and  ignoble  which  it  sepa- 
rates in  envy  and  dislike.  But  these  had  the  only 
asting  bond  of  all  love,  the  only  tie  which  cannot 
be  loosened  by  the  chances  and  changes  of  the 
body,  which  the  fire  of  trial  cannot  consume;  they 
had  the  spiritual  bond  of  their  Saviour's  love.  In 
loving  him  they  loved  one  another,  and  in  loving 
one  another  they  felt  their  love  for  him.  They  af- 
ford the  example  of  the  first  Christian  friendship, 
and  show  its  only  true  source;  of  that  friendship 
which  is  from  above,  and  can  no  more  suffer  from 
what  passes  below,  than  the  body  of  an  angel  sent 
into  our  world  from  heaven.  Peter's  denial,  fol- 
lowed by  sincere  repentance  as  it  was,  did  not 
loosen  the  bonds  of  this  friendship.  John's  love 
towards  him  would  grow  in  tenderness  on  this  very 
account.  Pity  towards  a  sincere  penitent,  not  only 
brings  back  all  former  affection,  but  softens  still 
further  its  nature,  and  melts  all  that  still  remained 
obdurate  in  the  mass.  Accordingly  they  were 
again  together  on  the  joyful  morning  of  the  resur- 
rection, and  were  the  first  of  the  apostles  who  as- 
certained that  the  tomb  was  emptied  of  its  unearthly 
guest. 

These  blessed  yoke-fellows  of  a  yoke  which  was 
easy  indeed,  were  shortly  after  joined  together,  and 
set  apart  from  the  rest,  by  our  Lord's  signifying  to 
them  their  future  fortunes.  After  that  the  manner 
of  his  death  had  been  foretold  to  him,  Peter,  turn- 
ing round  and  seeing  John,  was  anxious  to  know 
what  he  had  to  say  concerning  his  companion  also. 
"  If  I  will  that  he  tarry  till  I  come,  what  is  that  to 
thee,  follow  thou  me,"  was  the  answer.     This  was 


thought  at  the  time  to  intimate  that  John  should 
survive  to  the  last  day.  It  was,  however,  fulfilled 
in  every  sense.  John  alone  of  all  the  apostles 
lived  to  see  the  Lord  come  in  judgment  on  Jerusa- 
lem. Nor  was  he  called  away  to  follow  his  Master 
by  an  untimely  death  ;  he  was  left  to  live  out  the 
course  of  nature.  Often  must  they  have  thought 
of  these  prophecies  of  their  Master  in  after  life. 
The  Holy  Spirit,  which  came  down  upon  them, 
and  brought  all  that  he  said  to  rtieir  remembrance, 
with  an  interpretation  of  what  had  been  obscure, 
and  the  converging  events  of  life,  must  have  given 
them  increasing  clearness.  Reserved  thus  by  the 
Lord,  how  must  they  have  set  at  nought  all  the 
chances  of  the  world;  they  were  especially  ex- 
empted from  their  grasp.  He  himself  had  appointed 
to  them  their  course ;  with  what  joy  and  satisfaction 
would  they  run  it.  He  had  said,  "  touch  not  mine 
anointed,  and  do  my  prophets  no  harm,"  until  the 
hour  that  I  have  appointed  for  them.  Thus  they 
must  have  felt  themselves  to  be  in  his  hands,  with 
a  certainty  of  grasp,  as  it  were,  beyond  the  con- 
sciousness of  any  of  the  rest. 

They  had  ever  been  distinguished  beyond  the 
rest,  but  now  this  additional  peculiarity,  this  their 
Master's  own  yoking  of  them  to  the  chariot  of  hio 
coming,  made  them  mutual  mates  and  comrades 
more  than  ever.  They  boldly  confronted  the  San- 
hedrim together,  and  shared  the  affliction  of  bonds 
and  scourgings.  The  prompt  ardor  of  Peter,  and 
the  much-enduring  mildness  of  John,  were  asso- 
ciated in  a  resistance  which  defied  all  the  powers 
of  earth  to  overcome.  But  we  soon  lose  sight  in 
Scripture  narrative  of  this  glorious  fellowship ;  the 
last  occasion  on  which  John  is  mentioned,  is  his 
partnership  with  Peter  on  a  mission  into  Samaria, 
to  lay  hands  and  confer  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  con- 
verts there.  It  was  indeed  a  work  in  good  accord 
with  his  character,  one  which  leaves  upon  us  its 
exact  impression;  it  was  a  work  of  love  and  grace, 
such  as  became  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved. 

Few  can  have  r.^ad  Scripture,  and  entered  into 
the  characters  exhibited  there,  without  feeling  sorry 
so  soon  to  part  with  the  only  authentic  account  of 
John.  We  wish  to  dwell  long  and  late  on  a  cha- 
racter so  lovely,  on  one  who  was  loved  by  the 
Source  of  all  love,  and  exhibited  by  a  closer  exam- 
ple than  all  the  rest ;  his  meekness,  his  mildness, 
his  tender  affection.  We  cannot  help  feeling  a  re- 
gret that  we  have  no  further  history  of  him,  over 
which  we  may  pore,  bend  over  his  works  of  love, 
and  drink  in  their  spirit.  The  anecdotes  preserved 
of  him  by  writers  of  the  church,  are  indeed  more 
numerous  than  all  that  are  recorded  of  his  col- 
leagues, and  one  is  of  some  length  and  of  much 
beauty,  but  bearing  marks,  as  they  do  here  and 
there,  of  want  of  authenticity,  and  being  at  all 
events  mere  tradition,  we  cannot  cling  to  them 
with  that  feeling  of  faith,  with  that  excitation  of 
affection,  and  with  that  sense  of  instruction,  with 
which  we  hang  over  the  detail  of  Scripture.  But 
our  knowledge  of  him  is  not  confined  to  the  narra- 
tive part  of  Scriptuie.  He  is  among  those,  who 
although  dead,  yet  speak  through  their  writings. 

The  Book  of  Revelations  informs  us  that  he  was 
at  that  time  in  exile  for  the  word  of  God,  and  tes- 
timony of  Jesus  Christ,  in  the  Isle  of  Patmos.  This 
is  the  only  fact  respecting  himself,  and  inasmuch  as 
the  book  is  a  prophecy  put  into  his  mouth,  we  can 
scarcely  discern  anv  particular  marks  of  his  indi- 
vidual character.  Yet  there  is  at  least  one  passage 
which  affords  an  insight  into  his  sweetness  of  dis- 
position and  tenderness  of  heart.  It  is  where  he 
weeps  much  at  seeing  that  there  was  no  one  found 
worthy  to  open  the  book  of  prophecy  and  loose  its 
seals,  neither  in  heaven,  nor  on  earth,  nor  undei 


44 


ST.   JOHN, 


the  earth.  He  wept  from  pity  for  God's  creatures.* 
Here  were  God's  oracles  set  forth,  and  none  was 
able  to  read  them.  All  creation  was  rebuked,  and 
put  to  open  shame.  They  knew  not  God  as  he 
ihallenged  them  to  know.  Angels,  spirits,  and  men, 
were  visibly  admonished  of  their  imperfection. — 
The  whole  creation  seemed  brought  into  the  condi- 
tion of  fallen  man,  to  whom  truth  had  so  long  been 
a  mystery.  How  great  then  was  his  joy  when  in 
the  all-prevailing  Lamb  he  recognized  his  crucified 
Master,  with  what  a  throbbing  of  exultation  did  he 
hear  the  triumphal  hymn  sung  to  his  praise  by 
every  creature,  in  heaven,  on  earth,  and  under  the 
earth.  So  was  this  faithful  follower  of  the  Lord 
comforted  in  his  prison-bouse,  and  so  has  this  his 
described  vision  enlightened  the  darkness  of  the 
prison-houses  of  martyrs  and  confessors.  In  his 
book  they  have  read  how  vain  is  the  opposition  of 
cruel  man  against  God,  and  have  recited  the  hymn 
of  his  triumphant  saints.  Here  to  the  glories  of 
the  bliss  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  to  the  happy  assem- 
bly of  the  first-born,  to  the  company  of  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect,  they  have  raised  their 
eyes  in  joyful  and  almost  grasping  hope  from  the 
afflicted  and  lacerated  Church  below,  from  tyran- 
nous and  infidel  persecutors,  from  tortured  martyrs 
and  suffering  saints.  If  their  prison-house  remind- 
ed them  of  Patmos,  it  was  comforted  by  its  vision. 

But  his  epistles  place  his  character  in  the  clearest 
light.  They  are  the  very  outpouring  of  pure  chari- 
ty, the  very  outbreaking  of  heavenly  love.  Open- 
ing with  a  solemn  commemoration  of  his  conversa- 
tion with  his  divine  Master  while  on  earth,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  instances  of  his  surpassing  love  towards 
us,  shown  in  the  redemption  of  the  world,  and 
thence  deduces  the  necessity  of  our  returning  his 
love  by  obedience,  and  warns  his  readers  against 
the  busy  perverters  of  the  truth  who  were  now 
abroad.  This  return  of  love  is  the  very  proof  of 
our  having  passed  from  death  to  life.  He  dwells 
earnestly  on  communion  with  Christ,  and  the  duty 
of  loving  him  because  he  first  loved  us.  The  epis- 
tle is  almost  an  expansion  into  detail  of  his  Master's 
charge,  "  If  ye  love  me  keep  my  commandments." 
The  same  strain  of  divine  love  pervade?  the  other 
epistles.  Perhaps  his  peculiar  character  is  never 
so  forcibly  brought  out  befoi  e  us,  as  when  we  com- 
pare his  writings  with  those  of  his  comrade  Peter. 
The  spirit  of  their  Master's  compassionate  mercy 
and  loving-kindness  dwells  in  both.  But  how  dif- 
ferent is  its  outward  expression.  There  is  an  au- 
thoritative strain  in  Peter's  style  :  a  beseeching  in 
John's.  Peter's  is  varied  in  topics,  nervous  in  lan- 
guage, full  of  his  natural  impetuosity  and  fire: 

*  Revelations  v.  3. 


John's  is  confined  to  one  or  two  leading  ideas,  re- 
dundant in  phrase,  and  overflowing  with  sweetness, 
and  simplicity.  There  is  a  menacing  in  the  warn- 
ings of  Peter,  a  deprecation  in  the  admonitions  of 
John.  In  the  one  we  plainly  discover  the  character 
of  him  who  drew  the  sword  for  his  Master :  in  the 
other  of  him  who  lay  with  his  head  in  the  bosom 
of  his  Master. 

The  very  same  character  distinguishes  his  Gos- 
pel. The  magnificence  of  his  opening  soon  gives 
way  to  the  expression  of  his  love,  and  his  narrative 
runs  like  a  stream  through  flowery  pastures.  Its 
course  carries  us  continually  through  scenes  of  win- 
ning sweetness.  He  describes  to  vis  the  first  attach- 
ment of  his  disciples  to  their  Master,  and  he  gives 
at  full  length  our  Lord's  valedictory  addresses,  so 
overflowing  with  love.  He  carefully  selects  anec- 
dotes which  remarkably  display  the  sympathy  and 
love  of  Jesus,  such  as  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus, 
and  exhibits  a  most  lively  delineation  of  our  Lord, 
by  an  admirable  selection  from  his  sayings  and  do- 
ings, such  as  could  be  made  only  by  one  who  had 
been  continually  in  his  company.  We  feel  that  we 
are  indeed  reading  the  narrative  of  him  who  lay 
with  his  head  in  his  Master's  bosom. 

For  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  St.  John  probably 
stood  alone  of  all  the  train  of  the  hearers  and  be- 
holders of  the  Lord,  and  he  was  surrounded  by 
those  who  knew  him  but  through  his  preachers. 
He  was  the  last  who  could  tell  those  minute  anec- 
dotes of  the  Lord  which  can  be  communicated  but 
by  word  of  mouth  alone,  which  require  the  voice, 
the  gesture,  to  give  them  effect,  and  will  not  bear 
the  formality  of  writing.  If  he  ever  indulged  the 
garrulity  of  age,  how  precious  that  garrulity.  The 
period  of  life  to  which  old  age  delights  to  recur  had 
been  spent  in  the  company  of  the  Lord  of  life. — 
What  a  privilege  must  it  have  been  to  hear  him. 
How  must  his  Church  have  flocked  around  the  old 
man,  anxious  to  pick  up  every  crumb  as  it  were  that 
fell  beneath  his  table,  for  every  crumb  was  of  the 
bread  of  life.  His  end  is  strongly  contrasted  with 
that  of  his  colleagues.  His  two  companions  in  his 
Lord's  especial  favor,  Peter  and  James  the  elder, 
sealed  their  faith  with  their  blood.  So  too  did  Paul 
and  James  the  less.  But  John  died  in  peace  amid 
the  general  peace  of  the  Church.  The  apostle  of 
love  died  amid  love.  He  bequeathed  the  Church 
his  Gospel,  and  he  left  behind  him  (and  he  alone) 
a  succession  of  writers,  Ignatius,  Polycarp,  Irena?us, 
which  did  glorious  service  in  the  holy  cause.  His 
very  long  life  was  of  eminent  advantage  to  the 
Church.  Its  government  had  time  to  settle,  and 
receive  his  sanction,  and  the  canon  of  the  Gospels 
was  completed  and  ratified  by  him.  At  the  age  of 
an  hundred  he  closed  his  long  labors,  and  slept  in 
the  Lord. 


THB    BND. 


PREFACE. 


Custom  seems  to  have  rendered  it  almost  neces- 
sary, for  an  Author  never  to  appear  before  the  Pub- 
lic without  a  Preface;  in  which  something,  if  not 
concerning  himself,  yet  concerning  his  work,  is 
looked  for,  a--  a  respect  due  to  his  readers.  Yet 
Rousseau  says,  it  is  a  part  of  the  book  never  read, 
unless  by  women  ami  children.  The  author,  how- 
ever, indul  that  this  is  not  very  extensive- 
ly true  ;  since,  in  writing  the  following  introductory 
remarks,  he  certainly  intended,  as  will  appear  from 
their  length,  somi  thing  more  than  a  ceremonious 
conformity  to  example. 

The  design  of  this  Series  of  Lectures  was — to  di- 
versity a  Utile  the  ordinary  course  of  ministerial 
instruction — to  excite  and  secure  attention  by  a  de- 
gree of  allowable  novelty  and  curiosity — and  to 
bring  together  various  things  pertaining  to  the  same 
subject ;  so  that  they  might  aid  each  other  in  illus- 
tration and  improvement,  by  their  arrangement  and 
union. 

But  why  are  they  published  1  The  writer  is 
aware  what  an  abundance  of  religious  works  is  per- 
petually issuing  from  the  press;  and  he  would  not 
wonder,  if  some  should  think  that  lie  has  too  often 
appeared  before  the  public  already.  Yet  he  trusts 
an  author  is  not  necessarily  supposed  to  say  to  his 
readers,  "  Now  attend  only  to  me."  Surely  many 
publications  may  be  serviceable  for  different  pur- 
poses, and  indifferent  degrees ;  and  a  writer  may 
be  allowed  to  conclude,  that  the  production  of  his 
pen  may  obtain  a  measure  of  welcome  and  useful 
attention — without  the  vanity  of  supposing  that  it  is 
superior  to  every  other,  or  the  folly  of  expecting  that 
it  is  to  supersede  any  oilier.  If,  too,  the  author  be  a 
public  teacher,  and  has  met  with  acceptance,  it  is 
''Ml  he  will  secure  a  considerable 
number  of  connections  more  immediately  his  own. 
and  who  i  ather  partial  to  the  writer,  for  the 

sake  of  :i  l    i  was  the  case  here.     In 

two  or  three  days  after  this  Course  of  Lectures  was 
finish:  ■  number  of  copies  was  called  and 

'  e  who  had  heard  them. — 
Many  of  these  applicants  were  persons  whose  opi- 
nion and  desire  would  have  had  weight  with  any 
one  who  knew  them  ;  while. all  of  them  had  claims 
upon  the  preacher,  as  stated,  or  occasional  parts  of 
his  audience. 

The  author  can  truly  say  that  he  yielded  to  pub- 
lish, with  a  reluctance  which  only  an  ascertained 
earnestness  could  have  overcome.  Yet  he  is  now 
glad,  especially  with  regard  to  his  own  audience, 
that  the  importunity  was  expressed,  and  has  been 
complied  with.  For  nearly  thirty-five  years  he  has 
been  laboring  to  serve  his  present  charge,  in  the 
unity  of  the  Spirit,  and  in  the  bond  of  peace,  and  he 
hopes  he  may  add.  in  righteousness  of  life:  and 
though  he  commenced  his  connection  young,  yet 
such  a  period  strikes  far  into  the  brevity  of  human 
life,  and  calls  upon  him  to  think,  and  feel,  and  act, 
with  increasing  seriousness  and  diligence,  knowing 
that  the  night  cometh,  wherein  no  man  can  work  ; 
and  to  be  concerned  that  after  his  decease,  his  peo- 
ple may  be  able  to  have  the  things  he  has  spoken 
alwavs  in  remembrance.  The  work,  therefor',  as 
a  brief  epitome  of  his  preaching,  will  serve  as  a  kind 
of  ministerial  legacy  to  be  perused,  particularly  by 
the  younger  members  of  his  church  and  congrega- 
tion, when  the  clod-  of  the  ralley  will  be  sweet  about 
him  ;  and  by  which,  though  dead,  he  may  yet  speak 
— perhaps,  in  some  cases,  to  more  purpose  than  while 
living.    The  work  may  tend  to  correct  some  pious 


mistakes  both  on  the  right  hand,  and  on  the  left. — 
It  contains  many  of  the  author's  views  on  important 
subjects,  after  considerable  experience  and  observa- 
tion. For  such  remarks  his  station  has  been  favor- 
able, and  his  opportunities  numerous;  especially 
from  the  variety  and  latitude  of  his  religious  inter- 
:.  This  has  never  been  confined  to  Christians 
of  his  own  denomination.  He  has  not  suffered  pre- 
judice so  to  magnify— what  his  convictions  might 
have  led  him  to  consider  the  mistakes  or  imperfec- 
tions of  any  who  differ  from  him— as  to  make  him 
overlook  their  excellences  as  individuals  or  com- 
munities; or  to  prevent  his  mingling  with  them  in 
company,  and  co-operating  with  them  in  services; 
or  to  deprive  him  of  that  pleasure  and  profit  which 
he  knows  may  be  derived  from  those  who  cannot 
frame  to  pronounce  exactly  the  Shibboleth  of  a  spi- 
ritual tribe.  He  has  always  preferred  to  study  reli- 
gion, not  in  its  abstractions,  but  in  its  subjects;  not 
in  its  speculative  opinions,  but  in  its  practical  prin- 
ciples; not  in  its  distant  generalities,  but  in  its  ap- 
propriated and  particular  influences.  He  has  al- 
ways endeavored  to  follow  it  out,  from  its  too  com- 
mon confinement  in  certain  notions,  seasons,  and 
services,  into  actual  and  ordinary  life;  and  to  es- 
teem and  applaud  it  only  in  proportion  as  it  exerts 
and  displays  itself  in  that  "  wisdom  which  is  from 
above,  which  is  first  pure,  then  peaceable,  gentle, 
and  easy  to  be  entreated,  full  of  mercy  and  good 
fruits,  without  partiality  and  without  hypocrisy." 

This  may  in  some  measure  account  for  the  desire 
which  has  given  rise  to  the  publication.      For  it  is 
to  be  presumed,  that  there  will  be  some  considerable 
conformity  between  the  views  of  a  minister  and  the 
people  of  his  charge  after  a  voluntary,  loner,  and  per- 
fectly affectionate  connection.      It   is  certain  that 
these  Lectures  would  not  have  been  completely  con- 
genial with  the  taste  of  some  hearers.     T/ietf  would 
in  any  course  of  religious  discussion    have   said, 
"  We  want  more  of  doctrine,  and  more  of  Christ.'- 
Now  we  are  far  from  treating  these  terms   /•     ,_ 
selves  with  contempt  or  disrespect.     "We  love  the 
doctrines  of  the  gospel;  and  believe  that  it  tsa 
thing  that  the  heart  be  established  with  grace.    We 
attach  importance  to  evangelical  truth';  and  have 
no  notion  of  piety  without  principle,  or  of  good  fruit 
but  from  a  good  tree — This  is  our  creed  :  "  By  grace 
are  ye  saved  through  faith  ;   and  that  not  of  your- 
selves ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God :  not  of  works,  lest  any 
man  should  boast.     For  we  are  his  workmanship, 
created   in   Christ  Jesus  unto  good   work's,   which 
God  hath  before  ordained  that  wc  should  walk  in 
them."     Yet,  we  cannot  be  ignorant  that  the  com- 
plaint we  have  supposed,  is  too  often  the  whining 
and  seditious  jar?on  of  a  party;    and  the  very  last 
party  in  the  world  we  should  ever  consult  with  re- 
gard to  prcachinq-.      These  desperate  adherents  to 
something  not  easily  fixed  and  definable  in  senti- 
ment, but  always  accompanied  with  a  spirit  as  well 
known  and  invariable  in  its  operation,  as  any  of  the 
laws  of  nature;  are,  in  spiritual  things,  what  some 
discontented  zealots  are  in  political ;  and  as  the  lat- 
ter render  the  cause  of  rational  liberty  suspicious 
and  despicable,  so  the  former  disserve  and  disgrace 
the  cause  of  evangelical  religion— They  are  gi 
radicals.      They  are  not  always  even  moral :   they 
are  never  amiable.     They  neither  pursue  nor  think 
upon  the  things  that  are  lovely,  and  of  good  report. 
They  set  at  nought  all  sacred  relations,  proprieties, 
aiel  decencies;  while  many  of  them  abandon  family 
worship,  and  leave  their  children  without  any  at- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


tempts  to  bring  them  into  the  way  everlasting,  net 
knowing  but  they  may  be  some  of  those  against 
whom  God  "  litis  sworn  to  have  indignation  for 
ever,"  and  not  daring  to  go  before  him,  or  to  be  pro- 
lane  enough  to  take  the  work  out  of  his  hands. — 
Self-willed  are  they;  self-confident;  presumptuous; 
censorious;  condemnatory  of  all  that  are  not  initia- 
ted into  their  temper  and  exclusions.  With  regard 
to  their  ministers,  they  are  not  learners,  but  judges ; 
and  often  make  a  man  an  offender  for  a  word.  In 
hearing,  all  is  fastidiousness.  Appetite  has  given 
place  to  lusting.  They  go  to  the  house  of  God,  not 
for  wholesome  food,  but  for  something  to  elevate 
and  intoxicate.  The  preacher  is  nothing,  unless  he 
can  make  them  drink  and  forget  their  duty,  and  re- 
member their  danger  no  more.  Their  religion  is 
entirely  an  impersonal  thing,  any  further  than  as 
it  consists  in  belief  and  delusion.  They  look  for  all 
in  Christ,  not  as  the  only  source  from  which  it  can 
be  received  unto  us — this  is  truth — but  as  the  only 
residence  in  which  it  is  to  remain,  while  they  them- 
selves continue  the  same.  They  are  complete  in 
him — not  as  to  the  all  sufficiency  provided  in  him 
for  their  actual  and  entire  recovery ;  but  without 
their  being  new  creatures.  They  look  after  nothing 
in  themselves — and  nothing  in  themselves  should  be 
looked  for  as  the  ground  of  their  acceptance  with 
God,  or  as  self-derived  or  self-sustained  :  but  they 
look  after  nothing  in  themselves  even  as  the  effect 
of  divine  agency  and  communication — forgetful  of 
the  inspired  prayer,  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 
O  God,  and  renew  aright  spirit  within  me:"  re- 
gardless of  the  assertion,  "  It  is  God  that  worketh 
in  you  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure :"  sub- 
verting the  promise,  "  Then  will  I  sprinkle  clean 
water  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  clean :  and  from 
all  your  filthiness  and  from  all  your  idols  will  I 
cleanse  you ;  a  new  heart  also  will  I  give  unto  you, 
and  a  new  spirit  also  will  I  put  within  you  ;  and  I 
will  put  my  Spirit  within  you,  and  cause  you  to 
walk  in  my  statutes,  and  ye  shall  keep  my  judg- 
ments and  do  them."  Their  state  is  not  a  condition 
to  be  submitted  to  any  process  of  trial — as  those  ene- 
mies to  Christian  comfort  would  have  it,  who  ad- 
monish persons  to  examine  themselves  whether  they 
are  in  the  faith  ;  and  to  prove  their  ownselves  ;  and 
to  give  all  diligence  to  make  their  calling  and  elec- 
tion sure.  Their  peace  requires  that  all  this  should, 
without  hesitation,  be  taken  for  granted  ;  while  every 
thing  is  to  be  cried  down  as  unbelief  that  would  dare 
to  lead  them  to  question,  for  an  instant,  their  secu- 
rity, or  to  keep  them  from  being  at  ease  in  Zion. — 
The  sinner  is  not  only  guilty,  but  diseased — but 
they  are  concerned  only  to  remove  the  sentence  of 
condemnation,  while  the  disorder  is  left.  They  ab- 
solve, but  not  heal :  they  justify,  but  not  renovate. 
The  king's  daughter  is  all  glorious  within,  while 
her  clothing  is  of  wrought  gold — with  them  the 
righteousness  of  Christ  is  a  fine  robe  to  cover  a  fil- 
thy body.  All  their  sin,  past,  present,  and  future, 
is  so  completely  done  away,  that  it  were  folly  to  feel 
anguish  on  the  account  of  it.  Their  miscarriages 
are  not  theirs ;  but  those  of  sin  that  dwelleth  in 
them.  Their  imperfections  are  regretless,  because 
unavoidable — no  man  can  keep  alive  his  own  soul. 

Now  we  are  willing  to  concede  that  all  those  from 
whom  we  occasionally  hear  complaints,  do  not  go 
into  these  lengths ;  and  we  are  persuaded  that  were 
these  worthier  individuals  perfectlv  informed  con- 
cerning the  men  we  have  very  truly  but  inadequate- 
ly sketched,  they  would  exclaim,  "  My  soul,  come 
not  thou  into  their  secret ;  and  mine  honor,  to  their 
'  system'  be  not  thou  united."  Yet  they  sometimes 
murmur,  as  if  in  sympathy  with  them  ;  and  borrow 
their  language,  unconscious  whose  technicality  it  is; 
and  are  in  danger  that  their  good  should  be  evil 
spoken  of.    To  be  strenuous  for  evangelical  preach- 


ing is  commendable  ;  but  they  view  the  desideratum 
in  too  confined  an  import.  They  think  it,  if  not 
improper,  yet  needless,  for  a  minister  to  inculcate 
many  things  which  he  moist  feel  to  be  binding  upon 
him.  "Oh!"  say  they,  "the  grace  of  God  will 
teach  people  all  this."  The  grace  of  God  will  in- 
cline and  enable  us  to  do  all  this  :  but  it  is  the  Bible 
that  teaches.  This  contains  all  our  religious  infor- 
mation ;  and  we  only  want  to  be  led  into  all  truth. 
The  sacred  writers  never  left  these  things  to  be 
taught  by  the  grace  of  God,  without  instruction. — 
They  never  intrusted  them  to  inference.  They  par- 
ticularized and  enforced  them.  There  is  not  one 
of  Paul's  Epistles,  a  large  proportion  of  which  might 
not  have  been  spared  as  impertinent,  upon  this  plea  : 
for  as  surely  as  the  former  parts  lay  the  foundation 
doctrinally,  the  latter,  labor  to  build  us  up  on  our 
most  holy  faith.  But  these  would  restrain  a  public 
teacher  from  the  extensiveness  of  the  gospel  itself. 
They  would  oblige  him  to  hold  forth  Christianiiy 
only  in  the  first  rudiments,  not  in  the  advanced 
science.  They  would  confine  him  to  a  kind  of  ab- 
stract inculcation  of  a  small  class  of  principles ; 
which  principles  are  indeed  unspeakably  important, 
yet  lose  much  of  their  importance,  by  being  accom- 
panied with  certain  alliances,  and  developments, 
and  applications.  Yea,  they  would  not  willingly 
allow  him  to  do  more  than  constantly  iterate  from 
Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  a  few  well-known  and  favored 
sentiments,  in  a  manner  the  most  undeviating,  and 
in  phraseology  the  most  hacknied.  They  prefer  a 
scheme  of  divinity  drawn  up  by  some  fallible  fel- 
low-creature, to  the  Scripture  at  large,  which,  like 
God's  other  works,  no  one  can  perfectly  systematize ; 
but  in  which,  as  in  Nature,  we  have,  instead  of  me- 
chanism, infinite  freshness,  and  richness,  and  varie- 
ty, and  irregularity ;  that  is,  order  beyond  our  reach. 
They  are  sure,  if  not  to  oppose,  yet  not  to  aid;  if 
not  to  stigmatize,  yet  not  to  countenance  and  ap- 
plaud, any  attempt  the  preacher  shall  make  to  ex- 
tend the  views  of  his  hearers  ;  to  improve  their  un- 
derstandings ;  to  lead  them  through  the  whole  land 
of  Revelation  in  the  length  and  breadth  thereof;  in 
a  word,  to  do  any  thing  that  would  follow  up  the 
recommendation  of  the  Apostle,  "Leaving  there- 
fore the  principles  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  let  us 
go  on  unto  perfection." 

Here  the  Lecturer  is  unspeakably  happy  in  being 
able  to  say  to  the  people  he  addresses,  "  Ye  have 
not  so  learned  Christ."  He,  therefore,  felt  no  em- 
barrassment in  the  study  or  in  the  delivery  of  these 
discourses.  He  had  only  to  consult  his  own  con- 
victions, and  was  not  necessitated  to  think  of  the 
likings  or  dislikings  of  a  sickly  fancy,  a  perverted 
orthodoxy,  a  party  spirit,  or  an  anathematizing 
bigotry.  '  Neither  would  he  ever  consent  to  officiate 
in  any  congregation  where  he  could  not  stand  fast 
in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has  made  him  free. 
This  freedom  he  thinks  a  preacher  cannot  too  high- 
ly value  and  assert  in  the  discharge  of  his  work — A 
freedom  from  the  fear  of  man  that  bringeth  a  snare 
— inducing  and  enabling  him  to  say.  as  he  rises  from 
his  knees  to  enter  the  pulpit, 

"  Careless,  myself  a  dying  man, 
Of  dying  men's  esteem  ; 
Happy,  O  God,  if  thou  approve, 
Though  all  beside  condemn." 

— A  freedom  (whatever  advantages  they  may  afford 
him  by  their  collectiveness  and  arrangements)  from 
the  fetterings  and  exclusiveness  of  human  systems 
of  theology — a  freedom  from  the  least  sense  of  any 
obligation  requiring  him,  in  the  interpretation  and 
improvement  of  any  passage  of  Scripture  before  him, 
to  force  its  natural  and  obviovs  meaning  into  any 
frame  of  Arminian,or  Calvinistic  theory  or  authori- 
ty—A freedom  also  from  spiritual  favoritism,  and 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


which  might  lead  him,  from  partiality,  to  shun  to 
declare  all  the  counsel  of  God,  as  well  as  from 
timidity. 

May  the  author  be  permitted  to  plead  for  a  free- 
dom of  another  kind  1 — An  exemption  from  a  wish 
to  gratify  the  few,  at  the  expense  of  the  profit  of 
many  :  an  exemption  from  fastidiousness  of  compo- 
sition and  address  :  an  exemption  from  such  a  prim- 
ness of  diction,  as  admits  of  the  introduction  of  no 
anecdote,  however  chaste,  and  shuts  out  the  seizure 
of  all  hints  suggested  by  present  feelings  and  occur- 
rences :  an  exemption  from  the  too  serious  appre- 
hension of  little  faults  in  seeking  to  secure  great 
impressions.  Here,  to  the  intimidation  and  check- 
ing of  the  preacher,  how  often  is  he  told  of  the  dig- 
nity of  the  pulpit — as  if  there  was  any  worthy,  or 
real  dignity  in  a  case  like  this,  separate  from  utility  ! 
What  is  the  highest,  and  should  be  the  most  admired 
dignity  in  the  preacher — but  an  apparent  forget- 
fulness  of  every  claim,  but  his  object ;  and  such  an 
absorbing  solicitude  for  the  attainment  of  it,  as 
leaves  him  unable  to  notice  inferior  things  7  With- 
out such  an  impression,  no  man  can  do  a  great  work 
gracefully  ;  for  if  in  the  execution  he  is  observed  to 
be  alive  and  attentive  to  any  littleness,  it  will  revolt 
the  beholder,  instead  of  pleasing  him.  An  officer 
in  the  midst  of  action,  will  be  all  occupied  in  urging 
and  completing  the  conflict — what  should  we  think 
of  him  it'  he  turned  aside  after  a  butterfly,  or  show- 
ed himself  at  liberty  to  mind  and  adjust  his  ring,  or 
his  dress  1  Let  a  preacher  be  as  correct  as  possible  ; 
but  let  lain  think  of  founding  his  consequence  upon 
something  above  minuteness  and  finesse.  Let  him 
never  imagine  that  his  influence,  or  dignity,  will 
ever  be  impaired  by  his  feeling  and  displaying  a  no- 
ble elevation  ;  an  indifference  to  every  thing  else — 
while  the  love  of  Christ  bears  him  away,  and  he  is 
lost,  in  endeavoring  to  save  a  soul  from  death,  and 
to  hide  a  multitude  of  sins.  There  is  nothing  with 
which  a  preacher  should  be  less  satisfied  than  a 
tame  correctness,  or  his  producing  something  that 
will  bear  criticism,  but  which  is  as  devoid  of  excel- 
lence as  it  is  free  from  defect.  He  that  winneth 
souls  is  wise.  What  is  every  other  praise  of  an  in- 
strument, if  it  does  not  answer  its  end  1  What  is 
every  other  commendation  of  a  preacher,  if  he  be 
useless  1  unimpressive  1  uninteresting  1  What  is 
i-,  that  nothing  is  complained  of,  if  nothing  is  ap- 
plauded 1  What  is  it,  that  nothing  offends,  if  no- 
thing strikes  1  What  is  the  harangue  that  dies  in 
the  hearing,  and  leaves  nothing  for  the  hearers  to 
carry  away,  to  think  of  in  solitude,  and  to  speak  of 
in  company  1  What  but  a  fault  is  the  smoothness 
of  address,  that  prevents  every  excitement  that 
would  rend  by  terror,  or  melt  by  tenderness  1  A 
sermon  may  resemble  a  French  Drama  that  ob- 
serves inviolably  all  the  unities,  and  challenges  se- 
verity as  a  finished  piece  ;  but  excites  no  sentiment, 
and  produces  no  effect.  But  give  us  rather  the 
Shakspeare,  who,  with  blemishes  which  a  less 
shrewd  observer  than  Voltaire  may  detect,  actually 
succeeds;  arrests;  inspires;  and  enchants.  We 
need  not  plead  for  coarseness  or  faults.  A  speaker 
may  be  animated,  yet  decorous  and  orderly  too  ;  but 
in  popular  addresses,  if  either  fails,  it  is  far  better 
to  sacrifice  correctness  to  impression,  than  effect  a 
nicety  of  endeavor.  Let  the  squeamishly  hyper- 
critical remember  that  he  is  laboring  to  little  pur-; 
pose  while  consuming  bis  time  and  attention  in  sub- 
tle accuracies,  and  polished  dulness.  And  let  the 
man  who  is  in  earnest  about  his  work,  never  yield 
ro  an  under  anxiety  resulting;  from  the  possibility 
of  a  triflinsr  mistake  ;  and  which,  as  Gray  says  of 
penury,  would  repress  his  noble  rage  and  chill  the 
genial  current  of  hi-;  soul.  Let  him  feel  his  subject, 
and  follow  his  ardor,  recollecting  that  ^rcat  excel- 
lences or  impressions  will  redeem  small  failures; 


and  even  prevent  their  being  noticed — unless  by  the 
little  and  perverse-minded,  who  only  sit  to  discover 
and  remark  any  minute  impropriety — adders  to 
every  tiling  else  in  the  charmer,  charm  he  never  so 
wisely. 

There  is  also  some  difference  between  the  heat  of 
delivery  and  the  coolness  of  review;  between  the 
leisure  and  discrimination  of  readers — and  hearers. 
More  freedom  therefore  will  be  permitted  in  preach- 
ing than  in  publishing;  and  what  the  press  may  for- 
bid, the  pulpit  may  tolerate.  Yea,  the  pulpit  may 
require  it,  especially  for  the  sake  of  a  large  part  of 
the  congregation.  For  these,  though  they  have  not 
the  advantage  of  culture,  yet  have  souls  as  well  as 
others,  and  their  moral  wants  must  be  attended  to. 
Now  a  preacher  need  not  grovel  down  to  the  lowest 
level  of  the  vulgar;  yea,  he  should  always  take  his 
aim  a  little  above  them;  in  order  to  raise  and  im- 
prove their  taste:  but  he  must  not  soar  out  of  their 
sight  and  reach.  Yet  he  may  be  tempted  to  this  by 
the  presence  of  others.  But  let  him  remember,  that 
those  who  are  more  educated  and  refined,  ought,  not 
only  to  endure,  but  to  commend  his  accommodation ; 
yea,  and  they  will  commend,  instead  of  censuring 
him,  if  they  are  really  concerned  for  the  welfare  of 
their  brethren  less  privileged  than  themselves.  If 
they  are  benevolent  and  pious,  as  well  as  intelligent, 
they  will  always  be  more  pleased  with  a  discourse 
suited  to  general  comprehension  and  improvement, 
than  with  a  preparation,  which,  in  other  circum- 
stances, they  might  relish  as  an  intellectual  treat  for 
themselves.  To  which  we  may  add,  that  there  is 
not  so  great  a  difference  here  as  some  mistaken  and 
elaborate  orators  imagine.  Genuine  simplicity 
knows  a  mode,  which  while  it  extends  to  the  poor 
and  unlearned,  will  equally  please  their  superiors. 
For— 

'  So  it  is  when  the  mind  is  endued 

With  a  well-judging  taste  from  above; 
Then,  whether  embellished  or  rude, 
'Tis  nature  alone  that  we  love. 

"  The  achievements  of  art  may  amuse, 
May  even  our  wonder  excite; 
But  groves,  hills,  and  valleys  diffuse 
A  lasting,  a  sacred  delight. 

In  one  of  his  charges,  Archbishop  Usher  says  to 
his  clergy,  "  How  much  learning  and  wisdom,  my 
brethren,  are  necessary  to  make  these  things  plain  !" 
Could  he  have  said  any  thing  more  fine  and  judi- 
cious than  this  1  Here  is  the  proper  direction  and 
exertion  of  a  minister's  talents,  whether  natural  or 
acquired.  They  are  not  to  unfit  him  for  any  part 
of  his  office — which  they  may  easily  do,  at  the  sti- 
mulation of  vanity  or  pride;  but  to  qualify  and  aid 
him  the  better  to  perform  it.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
some  do  not  employ  their  abilities  to  make  things 
plain — if  they  do,  we  can  but  lament  their  deplora- 
ble want  of  success.  But  it  would  seem  as  if  their 
aim  was  to  dazzle,  rather  than  enlighten;  to  sur- 
prise, rather  than  inform;  to  raise  admiration  at 
their  difficult  composition,  rather  than  with  the 
Apostles  to  use  great  plainness  of  speech.  Even 
their  claim  to  ori<rinalitv  often  regards  only  the 
mode  of  representation.  The  ideas  which  they  wish 
to  pass  off  as  new,  when  examined,  are  found  only 
commonplace  sentiments.  The  well  is  not  really- 
deep;  but  you  cannot  see  to  the  bottom,  because  of 
their  contrivance  to  make  the  water  muddy.  They 
are  not  really  tall;  and  so  they  strain  on  tiptoe. — 
They  have  not  a  native  beauty  that  always  appears 
to  most  advantage  without  finery;  and  so  they 
would  make  up  the  deficiency  by  excess,  and  com- 
plexity, and  cumbersomeness  of  ornament.  He  who 
cannot  rise  in  the  simple  grandeur  of  a  morning 
sun,  can  excite  notice  by  the  gaudy  brilliancy  of. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


manufactured  fireworks;  and  flame  and  sparkle 
down,  as  well  as  up.  To  notice  in  some  respects  a 
style  that  has  been  constructed  (for  it  could  hardly 
have  been  involuntary)  so  inverted,  involved,  ob- 
scure, difficult — half  blank  verse;  might  seem  to  be 
going  out  of  the  author's  province.  He  leaves, 
therefore,  others  to  remark,  that  this  style,  though  it 
may  be  extolled  by  the  lower  orders  of  professional 
men,  and  half-educated  artisans,  and  exciteable 
youth,  with  a  smattering  of  science  and  a  bad  taste; 
it  will  never  obtain  the  approbation  of  the  really  ju- 
dicious and  discerning.  He  leaves  others  to  re- 
mark, that  it  is  disdained  by  scholars,  and  at  war 
with  classical  purity.  Lord  Kaimes  tells  us,  that  in 
every  language,  clearness  of  expression  and  simpli- 
city of  thought  are  the  first  marks  of  elegance.  Mil- 
ton observes,  that  nothing  accords  with  true  genius 
but  what  appears  easy  and  natural  when  once  it  is 
produced.  Agreeably  to  which,  Addison  says,  that 
the  secret  of  fine  writing  is,  for  the  sentiments  to  be 
natural,  without  being  obvious  ;  and  contends,  that 
what  produces  surprise  without  being  simple,  will 
never  yield  lasting  pleasure  to  the  mind.  Hume,  in 
his  Essay  on  Refinement  and  Simplicity  in  Style, 
comes  soon  to  this  conclusion :  that  it  is  better  to  err 
in  the  excess  of  simplicitv,  than  in  the  excess  of  re- 
finement; the  former  extreme  being  more  beautiful 
and  less  dangerous  than  the  latter.  He  observes, 
that  the  works  read  again  and  again  with  so  much 
pleasure,  all  lean  more  to  the  one  side  than  to  the 
other — that  it  is  increasingly  needful  to  be  guarded 
against  the  extreme  of  refinement  when  learning  has 
made  much  progress,  and  good  writers  appear  in 
every  species  of  composition ;  as  men  will  then  be 
the  more  tempted  to  endeavor  to  please  by  strange- 
ness and  novelty,  and  so  fill  their  writings  with  af- 
fectation and  conceits — and  that  simplicity  may  be 
lost,  not  only  in  subtlety,  but  in  effort  and  straining; 
and  nature  and  ease  be  buried  under  an  artificial 
load  of  laborious  diffusion. 

But  while  the  preacher  leaves  others  to  speak  up- 
on this  subject  as  a  literary  question,  it  cannot  be 
improper  for  him  to  notice  it  in  another  and  far 
more  important  connection ;  and  to  deprecate  the 
adoption  of  such  a  style  in  divinity,  and  to  warn  his 
younger  brethren  against,  every  approach  and  ten- 
dency towards  it.  For  how  perfectly  is  it  unlike  the 
language  of  inspiration!  What  an  entire  contrast 
does  it  form  with  the  simplicity  there  is  in  Christ 
Jesus !  And  how  useless  must  such  hard  and  unin- 
telligible diction  be  to  ordinary  minds!  And  who 
are  the  mass  in  almost  every  audience  ]  They,  who 
are  often  comparativelv  neglected,  if  not  despised, 
there.  Leighton,  and  Watts,  and  a  thousand  other 
names,  whose  works  praise  them  in  the  gate,  and 
are  now  useful  to  all  might  have  been  so  written  as 
to  be  useless  to  many.  Had  our  Saviour  felt  the 
low  ambition  of  some,  he  might  easily  have  been  be- 
yond the  comprehension  and  the  attraction  of  the 
multitude.  In  him  were  hid  all  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge.  He  spake  as  never  man 
spake.  But  was  it  a  proof  against  his  manner,  or 
the  highest  recommendation  of  it,  that  the  common 
people  heard  him  gladly;  and  that  all  bare  him  wit- 
ness, and  wondered  at  the  gracious  words  which 
proceeded  out  of  his  mouth  ]  The  author  would 
not  for  the  world  be  in  the  condition  of  that  preach- 
er whose  attendants  do  not,  cannot  say,  "  Here  the 
poor  have  the  gospel  preached  unto  them."  They 
not  only  need  it,  and  should  excite  our  compassion 
by  their  temporal  privations  and  sufferings,  as  well 
as  by  their  spiritual  condition ;  but  they  are  capable 
of  understanding,  and  receiving,  and' admiring  it. 
Learning  is  not  necessary  here.  The  doctrines  of 
the  gospel  are  not  the  result  of  research,  but  testi- 
mony. There  are  funds  of  good  sense  and  good 
feeling  in  the  common  people  as  well  as  in  others ; 


and  they  are  even  capable  of  appreciating  what  is 
truly  superior  in  preaching,  if  it  be  properly  pre- 
sented and  illustrated.      The  fault  is  always  much 
more  with  the  preacher  than  with  them.     He  does 
not  adapt  himself  to  those  he  professes  to  teach ;  he 
does  not  make  them  his  aim ;  he  does  not  study 
them;  he  does  not  throw  himself  into  their  modes 
and  habits  of  thinking  and  feeling;  he  has  nothing 
simple  and  natural  in  his  official  being.     They  un- 
derstand and  relish  the  Pilgrim's  Progress ;  and  the 
history  of  Joseph;  and  the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep, 
and  of  the  prodigal  son.     They  are  easily  informed 
and  impressed  by  the  sayings  of  our  Lord,  and  the 
language  of  the  Scriptures.     But  nothing  is  to  be 
done  in  them  without  excitement;  and  they  are  ad- 
dressed without  emotion.      Their  very  understand- 
ings must  be  approached  through  their  imaginations 
and  passions;  and  they  are  lectured  as  if  they  had 
none.     They  are  never  to  be  starved  into  a  surren- 
der; and  they  are  circumvallated  and  trenched  at 
a  distance.      They  are  only  to  be  taken  by  an  as- 
sault; and  they  are  slowly  and  formally  besieged. 
They  want  familiar  and  seasonable  imagery  ;  and 
to  show  the  preacher's  learning,  they  are  furnished 
with  allusions  taken  from  the  arts  and  sciences. — 
They  want  striking  sentences,  and  the  words  of  the 
wise,  which  are  as  goads  and   as  nails;  and  they 
have  long  and  tame  paragraphs.     They  only  want 
truths  to  be  brought  home  to  their  consciences,  for 
they  admit  them  already  ;  and  they  are  argued  and 
reasoned  into  confusion,  or  doubt.     They  want  pre- 
cedents ;  and  are  furnished  with  precepts.     They 
want   instances;  and  are  deadened  by  discussions. 
The  want  facts;  and  are  burdened  with  reflections. 
The  Bible  adapts  itself  to  the  state  of  our  nature ; 
and  knowing  how  little  all  are,  and  how  little  many 
can  be  affected  with  abstract  representations  of  vir- 
tues and  duties,  it  blends  religion  with  history  and 
biography;  so  that  while  we  read  the  rule,  we  may 
seethe  exemplification;  and  be  reproved,  excited, 
and  encouraged,  while  we  are  informed.     It  is  not 
a  series  of  logical  definitions,  like  dead  bodies  well 
laid  out  and  dressed — all  is  life  and  motion.  It  gives 
us  actions  rather  than  words.    We  view  the  fruits 
of  righteousness  growing  on  the  tree.    We  have, 
not  the  pilgrimage,  but  the  pilgrim;  and  go  along 
with  him  from  the  city  of  destruction  to  the  shining 
city.     We  are  not  spectators  only;  we  are  his  com- 
panions ;  we  are  interested  in  all  he  meets  with  ;  we 
weep  when  he  weeps,  and  rejoice  when  he  rejoices. 
It  is  not  Christianity  that  is  set  before  us,  but  the 
Christian;  and  we  attend  him  following  his  Sa- 
viour, denying  himself,  taking  up  his  cross,  resist- 
ing temptation,  struggling  with  unwearied  patience 
through  a  thousand  difficulties,  braving  with  forti- 
tude every  danger,  and  emerging  out  into  glory, 
honor,  and  immortality.     By  nothing  can  the  atten- 
tion of  children  be  so  effectually  caught  as  by  facts 
and  narratives;  and  "men  are  but  children  of  a 
larger  growth."    What  is  the  greater  part  of  the 
Old  Testament  but  history  1      There  is  scarcely  a 
Psalm,  but  refers  to  some  fact  in  the  experience  of 
the  composer.      What  are  the  prophets,  but  histo- 
rians by  anticipation]     Many  of  them  state  various 
past,  and  cotempnrary  events.     The  book  of  Jonah 
has  only  one  prediction  in  it;  but  it  describes  in  a 
most  vivid  and  interesting  manner,  the  actual  and 
wonderful  occurrences  that  befell  the  bearer  him- 
self.    How  pleasing  and  striking  are  the  short  and 
simple  annals  of  Ruth !     What  is  the  book  of  Job 
but  the  matchless  dramatic  story  of  a  good  man  in 
his  affluence,  his  adversity,  and  his  deliverance] — 
In  the  book  of  Genesis,  we  are  present  at  the  crea- 
tion, the  destruction,  and  the  re-peopling  of  the 
world;  we  live,  we  travel,  we  worship  with  the  pa- 
triarchs ;  we  stand  round  their  dying  beds.     It  is 
needless  to  add,  that  the  remainder  of  the  Penta- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


teuch.with  the  books  of  Joshua,  Judges,  Samuel 

Kings,  Chronicles,  Ezra,  Nehemiah,  and  Esther 

are  all  of  the  narrative  kind,  including  general  and    less  at  first,  may  haply  be  seized   aftei 

individual  sketches  of  the  most  wonderful  people  on   precept  must  be  upon  precept,  line  upon  line  ; 


of  illustration  and  confirmation,  and  some  with  an- 
other: and  he  whose  mind  was  wandering  or  hi  ed- 

For 


arth.      But  what  is  the  gospel  itself,  according  to    a  little,  and  these  a  little.      And  the  preacher  will 


Matthew,  Mark,  Lake,  and  John'?  Is  it  any  thint. 
like  our  treatises  and  bodies  of  divinity'?  It  is  the 
history  of  the  Son  of  God:  While  the  Acts  are  a 
portion  of  the  history  of  the  Apostles :  and  the  Epis- 
tles are  evermore  enlivened  with  characters,  inci- 
dents, and  allusions.  Is  this  ilie  work  of  God  1 — 
Does  he  know  perfectly  what  is  in  man,  and  neces- 
sary to  him'!  Has  he  herein  abounded  towards  us 
in  all  wisdom  and  prudence  1  Is  ii  not,  then,  sur- 
prising that  religious  instructers  should  not  think  it 
necessary  or  desirable  to  resemble  him  ?  And  can 
anything  be  more  unlike  this  inspired,  and  attrac- 
tive, and  irresistible,  and  impressive  mode,  than  the 
•structure  of  many  of  the  discourses  that  are  deliver- 
ed in  our  public  assemblies'?  Hence,  they  awaken 
so  little  attention;  and  yield  so  little  pleasure;  and 
take  no  firm  hold  on  the  mind  and  feelings,  espe- 
cially of  the  young  and  the  common  people — 

"And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds." 

General  declamations  and  reflections  do  little  in 
a  popular  audience.  The  preacher  must  enter  into 
detail,  and  do  much  by  circumsiances.  Nothing  can 
penetrate,  but  what  is  pointed.  Every  indictment 
must  particularize  and  specify.  The  eye  may  take 
in  a  large  prospect ;  but  we  are  affected  by  inspec- 
tion. We  must  not  stand  long  with  our  people  on 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  showing  them  a  wide  and  in- 
distinct expansion,  but  take  them  by  the  hand,  and 
lead  them  down  to  certain  spots  and  objects.  We 
are  to  be  characteristic — not  only  with  regard  to 
persons,  though  this  is  of  great  importance,  but  also 
with  regard  to  vice  and  virtue,  faults  and  excellen- 
ces. To  what  purpose  is  it  to  admonish  servants 
to  be  good?  The' question  is,  in  what  is  their  good- 
ness to  appear  ?  Therefore,  says  the  Apostle,  "  Ex- 
hort servants  to  be  obedient  to  their  own  masters, 
and  toplease  them  well  in  all  things;  not  answering 
again;  not  purloining,  but  showing  all  good  fideli- 
ty, that  they  may  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Sa- 
viour in  all  things."  Does  Solomon  only  condemn 
drunkenness'?  What  is  there  in  the  wretched  crime; 
in  its  excitement,  progress,  evil,  danger,  misery, 
that  he  does  not  strike  ?  "Who  hath  wol  who 
hath  sorrow?  who  hath  contentions'?  who  hath  bab- 
bling'? who  hath  wounds  without  cause"?  who  hath 
redness  of  eyes'?  They  that  tarry  long  at  the  wine, 
they  that  go  to  seek  mixed  wine.  Look  not  thou 
upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  his  co- 
lor in  the  cup,  when  it  moveth  itself  aright:  at  the 
last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  stingeth  like  an  ad- 
der. Thine  eyes  shall  behold  strange  women,  and 
thy  heart  shall  utter  perverse  things:  yea,  thou  shall 
be  as  he  that  lieth  down  in  the  midst  of  the  sea',  or 
as  he  that  lieth  upon  the  top  of  a  mast.  They  have 
stricken  me,  shall  thou  say,  and  I  was  not  sick;  they 
have  beaten  me,  and  I  felt  it  not ;  when  shall  I 
awake  ?     1  will  seek  it  yet  again." 

A  preacher  must  also  indulge  in  a  certain  degree 
of  diffusiveness.  He  who  passes  rapidly  from  one 
thing  to  another  is  not  likely  to  impress,  or  indeed 
even  to  inform  the  majority  of  his  audience.  To 
affect  them,  he  must  commonly  dwell  upon  the 
thought  a  little;  and  sometimes  more  than  a  little; 
even  with  an  enlargedness  that  may  seem  needless; 
and  with  a  repetition  in  other  words  and  exemplifi- 
cations, that  may  go  for  tautology,  with  persons  of 
quicker  apprehensiveness.  Hints  will  please  the 
scholar,  and  set  his  own  mind  pleasingly  in  motion ; 
and  he  can  instantly  add  from  his  own  stores.  But 
many  have  nothing  but  what  they  receive.  Besides, 
some  are  more  struck  with  one  species  or  instance 


often  see  by  the  look  and  manner  of  a  In  arer 
what  he  failed  to  accomplish  by  a  first  stroke,  has 
been  done  by  a  second. 

The  author  is  perhaps  furnishing  materials  win 
which  to  condemn  himself.  And  let  him  be  con- 
demned, as  far  as  he  deviates  from  these  rules,  ije 
is  fully  persuaded  of  their  goodness  and  truth.  He 
can  only  say,  it  has  long  been  his  endeavor  to  con- 
form to  them.  Upon  the  same  principles  he  has  act- 
ed with  regard  to  a  few  other  things,  in  which,  if 
he  has  erred,  he  has  erred  from  design. 

Such  is  the  large  use  he  has  made  of  Scripture 
language.     If  holy  men  spake  as  they  were  moved 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  should  prefer  the  words  the 
Holy  Ghost  useth.     They  are  surelv,  on  their  own 
subjects,  the  most  definite  and  significant.  They  are 
also  well  known :  and  it  is  a  great  advantage  in  ad- 
dressing hearers  that  we  are  not  perplexed  with 
terms  and  phrases;  but  have  those  at  hand  which 
they  understand.— What  a  difficulty  do  we  feel  in 
dealing  with  those  who  are  ignorant  not  only  of  the 
doctrine,  but  the  letter,  of  the  Scripture.     It  is  pro- 
bable that  a  very  judicious  critic  and  eloquent  Di- 
vine* would  censure  the  author  as  in  an  extreme 
here;  yet  he  seems  to  allow  it  to  be  an  error  on  the 
safer  side;  and  thinks  that  a  great  and  original 
writer  has  condemned  the  copious  use  of  Scripture 
language  with  too  much  severity.      We  avail  our- 
selves of  his  striking  remarks  in  his  review  of  Mr. 
Foster's  Essays.   "  To  say  nothing  of  the  inimitable 
beauties  of  the  Bible,  considered  in  a  literary  view, 
which   are  universally  acknowledged;    it    is  the 
book  which  every  devout  man  is  accustomed  to  con- 
sult as  the  oracle  of  God ;  it  is  the  companion  of  his 
best  moments,  and  the  vehicle  of  his  strongest  con- 
solation.     Intimately  associated  in  his  mind  with 
every  thing  dear  and  valuable,  its  diction  more  pow- 
erfully excites  devotional  feelings  than  any  other; 
and  when  temperately  and  soberly  used,  imparts  an 
unction  to  a  religious  discourse  which  nothing  else 
can  supply.     Besides,  is  there  not  room  to  appre- 
hend that  a  studied  avoidance   of  the   Scripture 
phraseology,  and  a  care  to  express  all  that  it  is  sup- 
posed to  contain  in  the  forms  of  classical  diction, 
might  ultimately  lead  to  the  neglect  of  the  Scrip- 
tures themselves,  and  a  habit  of  substituting  flashy 
and  superficial  declamation,  in  the  room  of  the  sav- 
ing truths  of  the  gospel  ?     Such  an  apprehension  is 
but  too  much  verified  by  the  most  celebrated  ser- 
mons of  the  French;  and  still  more  by  some  modern 
compositions  in  our  own  language,  which  usurp  that 
title.     For  devotional  impression,  we  can  conceive 
that  a  very  considerable  tincture  of  the  language  of 
Scripture,  or  at  least  such  a  coloring  as  shall  disco- 
ver an  intimate  acquaintance  with  those  inimitable 
models,  will  generally  succeed  best." 

If  it  be  allowed  from  all  these  considerations,  that 
the  language  of  the  Bible  has  such  claims,  will  u 
not  follow  that  the  frequent  use  of  it,  will  tend  to 
bring  the  preacher's  own  language  into  some  degree 
of  keeping  with  it?  Surely  that  style  is  best  for  re- 
ligious instruction  which  most  easily  and  congeni- 
ally incorporates  the  composition  of  the  Bible  with 
it.  This  is  not  the  case  with  some  modes  of  writ- 
ing and  speaking.  But  if  there  be  unsuitnbleness, 
and  difficulty,  and  discordancy,  in  the  junction; 
which  is  to  blame  ?  and  which  requires  to  be  alter- 
ed in  order  to  .their  readier  coalescence?  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  or  our  own  ?  Knox  has  affirm- 
ed, that  no  writer  or  speaker  will  ever  be  so  tender, 

*  Mr.  Hall. 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


and  pathetic,  and  touching,  as  he  whose  diction  is 
most  imbued  with  the  manner  and  phraseology  of 
the  sacred  authors. 

It  will  be  perceived  that  the  lecturer  has  not  un- 
frequently  made  use  also  of  the  language  of  poetry. 
This  is  sometimes  condemned;  but  a  sentence  of 
this  kind  will  often  relieve,  and  often  revive  the  at- 
tention ;  while  it  serves  to  fix  a  sentiment  more 
firmly  in  the  memory.  And  is  it  not  in  this  very 
way  that  God  has  addressed  menl  How  much  of 
the  Bible  is  poetical !  How  curiously  constructed 
are  some  of  its  divisions  !  In  one  case  a  whole 
Psalm  is  divided  into  as  many  sections  as  there  are 
letters  in  the  Hebrew  alphabet ;  every  division  con- 
tains an  equal  number  of  verses;  and  each  verse  be- 
gins with  the  same  letter.  "  I,"  says  inspired  Wis- 
dom, "  dwell  with  prudence,  and  find  out  knowledge 
of  witty  inventions."  And  will  a  man  inquire — 
not  whether  an  usage  accords  with  God's  conde- 
scension, and  is  likely  to  be  useful,  especially  to  the 
middle  and  lower  classes — but  whether,  after  a  po- 
etical quotation,  his  style  will  not  seem  to  sink;  or 
whether  the  thing  be  sanctioned  by  any  first-rate 
authority — and  this  too — this  weighing  of  trifles; 
while  he  is  doing  the  work  of  eternity,  and  has  souls 
perishing  in  view  !  Paul  knew  the  end  would  not 
sanctify  sinful  means;  but  he  knew  it  justified  the 
use  of  any  lawful  ones;  and  therefore,  with  a  no- 
bleness of  mind  that  raises  him  infinitely  above  the 
intellectually  proud  and  unaccommodating,  he  could 
say,  "  Though  I  be  free  from  all  men,  yet  have  I 
made  myself  servant  unto  all,  that  I  might  gain  the 
more.  Unto  the  Jews  I  became  as  a  Jew,  that  I 
might  gain  the  Jews;  to  them  that  are  under  the 
law,  as  under  the  law,  that  I  might  gain  them  that 
are  under  the  law;  to  them  that  are  without  law  as 
without  law,  (being  not  without  law  to  God,  but  un- 
der the  law  to  Christ,)  that  I  might  gain  them  that 
are  without  law.  To  the  weak  became  I  as  weak, 
that  I  might  gain  the  weak:  I  am  made  all  things 
to  all  men,  that  I  might  by  all  means  save  some. — 
And  this  I  do  for  the  gospel's  sake,  that  I  might  be 
partaker  thereof  with  you." 

In  the  following  documents,  some  things  may  be 
found  looking  rather  inconsistent  with  each  other. 
This  arises  from  a  wish  the  author  felt  strongly  to 
represent  and  recommend — whatever  it  was — the 
present  subject.  And  he  is  greatly  mistaken  if  this 
be  not  the  method  of  the  sacred  writers.  They 
never  i-eem  afraid  of  expressing  themselves  too 
forcibly  at  the  time.  They  never  stop  to  qualify 
the  things  they  are  delivering.  There  are  qualifi- 
cations to  be  found;  but  these  are  brought  forward 
in  other  places,  and  where  they  are  themselves  the 
subjects  enforced.  Our  Saviour  makes  no  limita- 
tions or  exceptions,  when  he  is  enjoining  confidence 
in  the  care  and  providence  of  God — "  Take  no 
thought  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  or  what  ye 
shall  drink ;  nor  yet  for  your  body,  what  ye  shall 

Eut  on.  Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat,  and  the 
ody  than  raiment'? — Take  therefore  no  thought 
for  "the  morrow:  for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought 
for  the  things  of  itself.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof."  But  the  same  authority  says  else- 
where- "Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard:  consider 
her  ways  and  be  wise:   which  having  no  guide, 


overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth  her  meat  in  the  sum- 
mer, and  gathereth  her  food  in  the  harvest."  "  How 
long  wilt  thou  sleep,  O  sluggard  1  when  wilt  thou 
arise  out  of  thy  sleep  1"  "  Let  thine  eyes  look  right 
on,  and  thine  eyelids  straight  before  thee."  "He 
becometh  poor  that  dealeth  with  a  slack  hand ;  but 
the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich."  He  must 
be  a  spiritless  teacher  who  never  produces  the  sur- 
prise of  paradox;  who  never  alarms  the  timid  and 
cautious;  and  whose  strength  of  statement  and  ur- 
gency, does  not  furnish  some  seeming  contradictions. 

The  author  is  not  sure  the  same  thought  or  ex- 
pression may  not  occur  more  than  once  in  these 
Lectures;  or  that  he  may  not  have  used  them  be- 
fore, in  some  of  his  other  publications:  for  writers 
are  often  the  least  acquainted  with  their  own  woiks; 
being  afraid  to  read  them,  lest  they  should  discover 
faults  too  late  for  correction,  and  be  only  rendered 
miserable  by  the  discovery.  Should  this  be  the 
case,  it  is  not  only  hoped  that  they  may  be  excused 
on  the  ground  of  inadvertence ;  but  also  that  they 
may  prove  not  wholly  unuseful,  being  found  in  dif- 
ferent connections,  and  applied  to  different  pur- 
poses. 

The  subjects  were  commonplace  in  themselves ; 
and  could  be  only  rendered  novel  in  any  degree, 
by  their  order  and  treatment.  They  were  also 
very  extensive  subjects,  and  the  difficulty  of  the 
preacher  arose  from  the  necessity  of  selection  and 
concentration.  He  was  obliged  to  reject  much  that 
offered,  and  to  confine  himself  in  each  instance  to 
two  or  three  views.  These  ought  to  have  been  the 
most  leading,  and  comprehensive,  and  profitable. 
But  here  the  author  can  only  be  answerable  for  in- 
tentions and  endeavors. 

To  conclude.  No  thought  was  entertained  of 
any  thing  more  than  the  delivery  of  these  Lectures 
from  the  pulpit,  till  many  of  them  were  preached. 
They  were  therefore  only  distinguishable  from  his 
ordinary  public  addresses,  by  their  length.  Into 
this  he.  was  led  by  a  wish  to  do  some  justice  to  the 
subject  without  a  second  discourse  upon  the  same 
topic,  which  always  divides  and  impairs  the  im- 
pression. Till  a  desire  began  to  be  expressed  for 
their  publication'  he  had  only  short  notes  from 
which  they  could  be  written  out.  But  he  then  be- 
gan to  secure  them,  especially  by  hints  and  me- 
mentos after  preaching:  and  he  is  persuaded  his 
friends  will  find  the  Lectures  more  than  substan- 
tially the  same  they  heard  with  so  much  candor 
and' acceptance.  They  will  also  observe,  that  he 
has  secured  as  far  as  possible  even  the  style  in 
which  they  were  delivered. 

One  thing  will  be  perceived  in  each  of  the  dis- 
courses. He  has  largely  treated  the  subject  in  a 
way  of  application.  He  did  not  intend  to  hold  up 
the  Christian  to  barren  contemplation.  His  aim 
was  to  make  his  hearers  fellow-heirs,  and  of  the 
same  body,  and  partakers  of  the  promise  of  Christ 
by  the  gospel. 

Behold  the  awful  portrait,  and  admire. 
Nor  stop  at  wonder :  imitate  and  live. 


William  JaY 


Percy  Place,  Sept.  10. 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


LECTURE  I. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  CHRIST. 

"  I  knew  a  man  in  Christ."— -2  Cor.  xii.  2. 

"  A  Christian7  is  the  highest  style  of  man ; 
And  is  there,  who  the  Cross  wipes  oft", 
\  .  ,i  foal  blot,  from  his  dishonored  brow ! 
li'  angels  tremble,  't  is  at  such  a  sight !" 

So  sings,  with  his  accustomed  energy  and  excel- 
lence, our  admired  Young.  It  is  not,  however,  with 
the  poetry  of  this  passage  we  now  have  to  do,  but 
with  the  'sentiment  contained  in  it. 

Yes;  "  a  Christian  is  the  highest  style  of  man." 
Inspiration  itself  pronounces  him  to  be  "  more  ex- 
cellent than  his  neighbor,"  however  that  neighbor 
may  be  distinguished.  Who,  on  a  fair  trial,  can  bear 
a  comparison  with  him"? — The  rich'?  But  he  has 
"  the  true  riches;"  durable  riches,  with  righteous- 
ness; "the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ." — The 
honorable1?  But  he  is  "great  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord;"  he  has  "the  honor  that  cometh  from  God 
only/' — The  learned  1  But  he  is  made  "wise  unto 
salvation ;"  he  has  "  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One, 
and  kaoweth  all  things."  The  sons  of  heroism  1 — 
But,  "He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the 
mighty,  and  he  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  than  he 
that  takeih  a  city."  He  subdues  enemies  that  van- 
quish all  ether  victors:  he  is  more  than  a  conquer- 
or: and  the  Captain  of  his  salvation  thus  eulogizes 
and  rewards  him:  "Him  that  overcometh  will  I 
make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he  shall 
go  no  more  out;  and  I  will  write  upon  him  the 
name  of  my  God;  and  the  name  of  the  city  of  my 
God,  which  is  New  Jerusalem,  which  cometh  down 
out  of  heaven  from  my  God,  and  I  will  write  upon 
him  my  new  name." 

It  was  a  high  encomium  our  Saviour  pronounced 
on  his  forerunner:  "Among  them  that  are  born  of 
women,  there  hath  not  risen  a  greater  than  John 
the  Baptist."  But  observe  the  addition:  yet  "  he 
that  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater  than 
he."  Even  Adam  in  his  original  state,  was  nothing 
to  a  Christian.  Redemption  delivers  us  from  far 
greater  evils  than  creation ;  the  one  rescues  us  only 
from  non-existence  ;  the  other,  from  sin,  and  death, 
and  hell.  The  blessings  of  grace  are  far  superior 
to  those  of  nature.  What  was  the  garden  of  Eden 
to  "  the  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  wherein  dwell- 
eth  righteousness  V  What  was  the  tree  of  life  to 
Him,  the  true  source  of  immortality,  who  came 
"not  only  that  we  might  have  life,  but  have  it  more 
abundantly!"  We  were  made  by  an  exertion  of 
wisdom  and  power ;  but  we  are  saved  by  the  "  mani- 
fold wisdom  of  God;"  and  by  "  the  exceeding  great- 
ness of  his  power,  according  to  the  working  of  his 
mighty  power,  which  he  wrought  in  Christ  when  he 
raised  him  from  the  dead,  and  set  him  at  his  own 
right  hand  in  the  heavenly  places." 

When  therefore  a  man,  ashamed  of  such  an  infi- 
nite distinction,  endeavors  to  free  himself  from  the 
imputation  as  a  reproach,  it  is  credible  that 

"  If  angels  tremble,  't  is  at  such  a  sight." 

For  however  deluded  we  are,  they  judge  of  things 
according  to  their  real  value  and  importance.  The 
world  may  shout  at  a  victory  that  has  slain  its  thou- 
sands, and  filled  domestic  life  with  "  the  fatherless 
and  the  widow;"  but  "there  is  joy  in  the  presence 
of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repent- 
eth."    Men  may  disesteem  and  neglect  "  the  suffer- 


ings of  Christ,  and  the  glory  that  should  follow;" 
but  "the angels  desire  to  look  into  these  things."  — 
Christ  crucified  was  to  the  Jews  a  stumbling-block, 
and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness  ;  but  John  "  heard  the 
voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and 
the  beasts  and  the  elders;  and  the  number  of  them 
was  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands 
of  thousands,  saying  with  a  loud  voice,  Worthy  is 
the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  power,  and 
riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor,  and 
glory,  and  blessing." 

Your  preacher,  therefore,  is  more  than  justified 
in  a  plan,  the  design  of  which  he  has  already  inti- 
mated, and  which  he  now  proceeds  to  lay  before 
you.  It  is  to  hold  up  the  Christian  to  your  view, 
in  some  very  important  and  comprehensive  condi- 
tions and  relations.  To  this  design,  we  dedicate 
Twelve  Lectures. 

The  First  will  lead  you  to  contemplate  the  Chrit 
tian,  in  Christ. 

The  Second,  in  the  Closet. 

The  Third,  in  the  Family. 

The  Fourth,  in  the  Church. 

The  Fifth,  in  the  World. 

The  Sixth,  in  Prosperity. 

The  Seventh,  in  Adversity. 

The  Eighth,  in  his  Spiritual  Sorrows 

The  Ninth,  in  his  Spiritual  Joys. 

The  Tenth,  in  Death. 

The  Eleventh,  in  the  Grave 

The  Twelfth,  in  Glory. 

"  Consider  what  I  say,  and  the  Lord  give  you  M 
derstanding  in  all  things." 

We  are  this  morning  to  behold  the  Christian, 
In  Christ. 

If  this  Lecture  is  more  general  than  the  remain- 
ing ones,  let  it  be  remembered  that  it  is  fundamen- 
tal to  the  whole  series;  and  with  the  subject  of  it, 
every  thing  in  religion  begins.  All  in  your  Chris- 
tian character  is  derived  from  Christ.  You  cannot 
be  a  Christian  unless  you  are  in  him. 

Of  this  state  the  Apostle  here  speaks.  "  I  knew 
a  man,"  says  he,  "in  Christ."  The  mode  of  ex- 
pression is  humble  and  modest;  but  by  this  "man" 
he  unquestionably  intends  himself.  We  all  have 
known  some  in  Christ;  and  this  should  awaken  our 
joy  and  praise.  But  religion  is  a  personal  thing. — 
We  cannot  be  saved  by  the  grace  of  others.  Yet 
their  experience  should  encourage  and  induce  us  to 
apply  to  the  same  source.  For  they  were  once  des- 
titute; and  he  who  enriched  them  is  able  to  supply 
us,  and  is  equally  willing.  He  even  intends  that 
every  instance  of  his  mercy  should  be  a  plea  against 
despair.  Hence  the  "  man"  before  us  could  say, 
"Howbeit,  for  this  cause  I  obtained  mercy,  that  in 
me  first  Jesus  Christ  might  show  forth  all  long-suf- 
fering for  a  pattern  to  them  that  should  hereafter 
believe  on  him  to  life  everlasting." 

To  come  nearer  our  subject.  There  are  three 
states  mentioned  in  the  Scripture  with  regard  to 
Christ. 

The  first  is  to  be  without  Christ.  "At  that  time." 
says  the  Apostle,  to  the  Ephesians,  "  ye  were  with- 
out Christ."  This  is  true  of  the  heathen  ;  and  it 
is  true  of  all  those  who  are  living  in  sin,  even  in 
the  land  of  vision.  "The  light  shineth  in  darkness, 
and  the  darkness  comprehendeth  it  not."  This  is 
the  >tate  of  Nature. 

The  second  is  to  be  with  Christ.    "  I  long,"  says 


10 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


Pa  ul,  "  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Ch  rist,  which  is  far 
better."  "And  so,"  says  he,  "  shall  we  be  for  ever 
with  the  Lord."     This  is  the  state  of  Glory. 

The  third  is  to  be  in  Christ.  This  is  the  state  of 
Grace.  I  need  not  remark  how  frequently  the  Scrip- 
ture speaks  of  this  condition.  Let  us  reduce  its  de- 
clarations to  some  easy  and  brief  arrangement.  Of 
this  state  let  us  consider, 

I.   The  NATURE. 
II.    The  IMPORTANCE. 
III.   The  EVIDENCE. 

I.  The  nature. — What  is  it  to  be  in  Christ  1  It 
is  to  be  a  Christian.  Paul,  speaking  of  certain  in- 
dividuals, says,  "who  were  in  Christ  before  me:" 
that  is,  they  embraced  Christianity  before  he  did. — 
"  The  churches,"  says  he,  "which  are  in  Christ:" 
that  is,  Christian  churches,  in  distinction  from  those 
which  were  Heathen  and  Jewish.  "  Salute,  (says 
he,)  Apelles  approved  in  Christ;"  that  is,  an  ap- 
proved Christian. 

It  is  needless  to  multiply  examples,  as  the  thing  is 
undeniable.  But  admitting  the  fact,  there  must  be 
some  reason,  and  some  very  powerful  reason,  not 
only  for  the  frequency  of  the  expression,  but  for  the 
expression  itself.  The  language  is  perfectly  pecu- 
liar. There  are  indeed  various  relations  and  con- 
nections in  life;  and  some  of  our  fellow-creatures 
are  much  attached  to  others,  and  very  dependent 
upon  them;  yet  we  never  say,  a  patient  is  in  his 
physician  ;  or,  a  servant  in  his  master;  or,  a  disci- 
ple in  his  teacher.  But  we  constantly  read  of  our 
being  in  Christ — and  "  If  any  man  speak,  let  him 
speak  as  the  oracles  of  God."  New  terms  imper- 
ceptibly make  way  for  new  doctrines  ;  nor  has  any 
subtlety  of  the  enemy  of  souls  succeeded  better  in 
corrupting  the  mind  from  the  simplicity  there  is  in 
Christ,  than  modernizing  the  language  of  divinity. 
When  men  are  shy  of  the  "  words  the  Holy  Ghost, 
teacheth,"  we  are  always  afraid  they  are  beginning 
to  be  ashamed  of  the  things. 

The  expression-  means  a  state  of  union  with 
Christ.  This  union  may  be  considered  as  visible 
and  professional ;  or  real  and  vital.  This  is  not  a 
distinction  without  a  difference;  there  is  a  founda- 
tion for  it,  in  reason;  and  it  is  even  necessary,  to 
harmonize  the  testimonies  of  divine  truth.  Thus 
our  Saviour  says,  "Every  branch  in  me  that  bear- 
eth  not  fruit,  he  taketh  away.  If  a  man  abide  not 
in  me,  he  is  cast  forth  as  a  branch,  and  is  wither- 
ed; and  men  gather  them  and  cast  them  into  the 
fire,  and  they  are  burned."  Thus  a  man  may  be 
in  him,  and  be  fruitless;  and  be  in  him,  and  perish. 
But  can  either  of  these  be  true,  when  applied  to 
those  who  are  Christians  indeed;  and  of  whom,  by 
a  change  of  metaphor,  it  is  said,  "  I  will  put  my 
Spirit  within  them,  and  cause  them  to  walk  in  my 
statutes,  and  to  keep  my  judgments  and  do  them?" 
and  "  I  give  unto  them  eternal  life,  and  they  shall 
never  perish,  neither  shall  any  pluck  them  cut  of 
my  hand?"  We  therefore  must  admit,  that  a  per- 
son may  be  in  him  by  profession,  when  he  is  not  in 
him  in  reality;  in  him,  by  a  form  of  godliness, 
while  he  denies  the  power  thereof;  in  him,  by  an 
external  alliance  with  his  church,  and  by  the  use 
of  his  ordinances,  while  he  is  a  stranger  to  the  re- 
newing of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  grace  of  God  in 
truth.  As  religion  ceases  to  be  persecuted,  and  be- 
comes respectable,  such  pretensions  will  be  frequent ; 
and  they  may  for  a  while  impose  upon  men,  and 
even  good  men :  but  God  is  not  mocked— and  what 
is  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite,  though  he  hath  gained, 
when  God  casteth  away  his  soul  1 

But  there  is  another  union  with  Christ:  and  this 
onion  is  not  only  real  and  vital,  but  the  most  inti- 
mate, and  entire,  and  indissoluble;  independent  of 
the  changes  of  time,  unaffected  by  the  diseases  of 


the  body,  uninjured  by  death,  untouched  by  the  de- 
structions of  the  last  day. 

Let  us  look  at  it.  But  how  shall  we  do  this  1 
Here  the  sacred  writers  lead  the  way ;  and  were  we 
like-minded  with  them,  our  senses  would  minister 
to  our  faith,  and  every  thing  would  admonish  us  of 
the  Lord  of  all.  The  sun  would  tell  us  that  there 
is  a  nobler  orb  above  him,  "with  healing  under  his 
wings."  The  wind  would  remind  us  that  "so  is 
every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  We  should 
think  of  Christ  and  of  Christians  as  one  with  him, 
whenever  we  saw  a  foundation  and  a  building;  a 
fountain  and  a  stream;  a  shepherd  and  his  sheep; 
a  king  and  his  subjects;  an  advocate  and  his  client. 
None  of  these  indeed  can  do  justice  to  the  subject ; 
the  subject  being  so  peculiar  in  its  nature,  and  so 
boundless  in  its  extent.  The  sacred  writers  feel 
this,  and  therefore,  to  increase  their  efficacy,  they 
throw  off  from  the  images  they  employ  every  im- 
perfection in  their  kind ;  they  add  to  them  attributes 
which  are  not  naturally  inherent  in  them;  and  they 
multiply  their  number,  that  they  may  accomplish 
by  combination  what  could  not  be  done  by  indivi- 
duality ;  and  thus,  though  these  allusions  fall  short 
of  the  glory  they  are  applied  to  illustrate,  they  aid 
our  meditations.  With  many  of  these  we  are  fur- 
nished in  the  Scripture.  Let  us  glance  at  a  few  of 
them;  and  let  us  be  thankful  that  instead  of  their 
having  any  thing  novel  in  them,  they  are  well 
known  and  familiar. 

We  are  in  Christ  as  we  are  in  Adam.  "  In  Adam 
all  die:  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive."  From 
the  first  we  derive  our  natural  being,  and  from  the 
second  our  spiritual.  By  the  one  we  fell,  by  the 
other  we  rise  again.  By  the  disobedience  of  one, 
many  were  made  sinners;  and  by  the  obedience  of 
one,  shall  many  be  made  righteous.  Prom  the  one, 
sin  reigned  unto  death;  by  the  other,  grace  reigns 
through  rignteousness  unto  eternal  life.  "  The  first 
man  is  of  the  earth,  earthy ;  the  second  man  is  the 
Lord  from  heaven.  As  is  the  earthy,  such  are  they 
also  that  are  earthy;  and  as  is  the  heavenly,  such 
are  they  also  that  are  heavenly;  and  as  we  have 
borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall  also  bear 
the  image  of  the  heavenly." 

It  is  commonly  supposed  that  the  ark  was  de- 
signed to  be  a  type  of  Christ:  it  certainly  affords 
a  striking  image  of  him.  A  deluge  was  coming 
on,  and  Noah  and  his  family  were  exposed  to  the 
flood,  as  well  as  others.  But  they  escaped  unin- 
jured; for  they  availed  themselves  of  the  shelter 
provided.  They  entered  it  in  time;  and  the  Lord 
shut  them  in;  and  they  could  not  have  been  safer 
had  they  been  in  heaven.  Not  a  drop  of  the  tor- 
rents from  above,  or  of  the  deep  below,  touched 
them;  and  through  the  universal  wreck  they  sailed 
out  into  fair  weather  and  into  a  new  world.  But 
there  was  no  other  mode  of  deliverance.  Swimming 
was  useless ;  a  boat  was  a  vain  thing  for  safety;  and 
truly  in  vain  was  salvation  hoped  for  from  the  hills 
and  the  multitude  of  mountains.  All  were  over- 
whelmed that  contemned  the  Divine  appointment, 
for  though  there  were  abysses  of  destruction  every 
where,  there  was  only  one  ark.  "Neither  is  there 
salvation  in  any  other,  for  there  is  no  other  Name 
given  under  heaven  among  men  whereby  thev  must 
be  saved,"  than  the  name  of  Jesus.  "  I  am,"  says 
he,  "the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life.  No  man 
cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me." 

A  peculiar  provision  under  the  Law  was  also  an 
emblem  of  our  subject.  The  man  committing  ca- 
sual murder  was  exposed  to  the  avenger  of  blood, 
who  had  a  right  to  kill  him  wherever  he  should  be 
found,  unless  in  one  of  the  cities  of  refuge.  The 
place  of  immunity  was  situated  on  an  eminence,  to 
be  visible  from  afar.  The  road  to  it  was  open,  and 
wide,  and  prepared ;  and  when  there  was  any  dan- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


U 


ger  of  mistake,  a  direction  pointed — "  Refuge,  Re- 
fuge." To  this,  therefore,  the  offender,  incapable 
of  trifling  or  tarrying,  fled  for  his  life ;  and  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  what  were  his  feelings,  his  anxiety, 
his  anguish,  till  he  had  entered  the  asylum ;  and  the 
calm  and  confidence  he  enjoyed  as  soon  as  he  could 
turn  and  face  the  foe,  and  say  "  Thou  canst  not 
touch  me  here/'  To  this,  the  author  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  who  would  well  understand  the  al- 
lusion, refers,  when  he  speaks  of  those  "who  have 
lied  lor  refuge  to  lay  hold  of  the  hope  set  before 
them." 

Christians  are  in  Christ  as  the  branches  are  in 
the  tree.  It  matters  not  how  near  a  branch  is  to  a 
tree — yea,  if  it  lean  against  it:  yea,  if  it  be  corded 
to  it.  or  even  nailed,  il  can  neither  flourish  or  live, 
unless  it  be  in  the  stock.  But  when  it  is  in  the  tree, 
the  very  same  sap  that  pervades  the  one,  flows  into 
the  other,  and  sustains  and  fertilizes  it.  And,  says 
our  Saviour,  "  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of 
itself  unless  it  abide  in  the  vine,  no  more  can  ye, 
except  ye  abide  in  rne;  for  zuithout  me  ye  can  do 
nothing." 

And  to  mention  nothing  more — They  are  in 
Christ  as  the  members  of  the  human  body  are  in 
the  head.  For  he  is  called  "  the  head  of  his  body 
the  Church:"  and  believers  are  said  to  be ''mem- 
bers of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of  his  bones." 
They  are  real  and  living  parts  of  him.  As  the 
head  governs  and  directs  the  body,  they  are  under 
his  guidance  and  authority:  and  as  the  body  is  ac- 
tuated by  the  head,  and  depends  upon  ligatures  with 
it,  and  influences  from  it,  so  they  live  by  him;  and 
of  his  fulness  they  all  receive,  and  grace  for  grace 
— Let  us, 


II.  Consider  the  importance  of  this  state. 

We  often,  in  determining  the  worth  of  a  thing. 
appeal  to  authority:  and  we  are  much  influenced  in 
our  decision  by  the  competency  of  the  judge.  Here 
it  must  be  confessed  the  multitude  are  not  a  safe 
guide,  nor  yet  many  of  those  who  by  their  rank  and 
attainments  may  seem  entitled  to  take  the  lead  in 
societv.  They  rise  early  and  sit  up  late,  and  eat 
the  bread  of  sorrow,  and  deny  themselves,  and 
compass  sea  and  land  for  fortune  and  for  fame. 
But  their  urgency  in  the  things  of  time  and  sense, 
forms  a  deplorable  contrast  with  their  insensibility 
and  negligence  with  regard  to  the  things  that  be- 
long to  their  everlasting  peace.  So  that  were  we 
to  estimate  the  value  of  the  prize  by  the  zeal  of  the 
candidates,  we  could  not  deem  it  worth  a  moment's 
thought.  But  we  do  not  appeal  to  the  blind  and  the 
deaf  in  questions  of  color  and  of  sound.  How  can 
the  votaiies  of  the  god  of  this  world  appreciate  a 
kingdom  that  is  righteousness,  peace,  and  jov  in  the 
Holy  Ghost]  "The  world  knew  him  not"  when 
on  earth:  and  it  is  not  wiser  now.  But  the  spiritual 
judgeth  all  things,  though  he  himself  is  judged  of 
no  man.  Let  us  turn  to  Paul.  Paul  was  a  man  of 
learning  and  wisdom.  He  had  been  the  greatest 
enemv  to  the  <itise  of  the  gospel,  and  had,  from  the 
ible  and  perfect  conviction,  become  its 
adherent  and  advocate.  He  was  not  a  novice  in 
experience,  but  had  been  for  many  years  acquaint- 
ed with  the  Saviour,  studying  him  as  a  Minister,  as 
well  as  believinir  in  him  as  a  Christian,  when  he 
wrote  to  the  Philippians.  Yet  what  was  his  lan- 
guage! "Yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all  things 
but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus  my  Lord,  for  whom  I  have  suffered 
the  loss  of  all  things,  and  do  count  them  but  dung, 
that  I  may  win  Christ,  and  be  found  m  him."  Thus 
he  was  fully  persuaded  that  a  union  with  Christ 
was  a  state  infinitely  desirable  ;  and  that  his  esti- 
mation was  well  founded  will  appear — 
If  we  survey  the  state  in  connection  with  the  ad- 


vantages inseparable  from  it,  but  never  to  be  enjoi/ed 
u-Uhout  it.  And  here  I  must  make  a  selection.  For 
I  find  myself  m  a  garden  abounding  with  produc- 
tions, all  of  which  I  wish  to  commend;  but  I  have 
only  tune  to  lead  you  to  notice  a  few  of  the  flowers 
and  the  fruits;  and  in  doing  this,  order  is  not  ne- 
cessary. 

But  is  it  desirable  to  be  delivered  from  captivity 
and  bondage — a  bondage  the  most  degrading;  a 
captivity  the  most  oppressive]  Here  you  enjoy  it. 
"  If  the  Son  therefore  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall 
be  free  indeed.'"  "  In  whom  we  have  redemption 
through  his  blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sins." 

Is  it  desirable  to  be  safe  from  condemnation  ] 
Condemnation  is  to  be  judged  of  by  the  doom  to 
which  it  consigns  us.  Now,  "  Cursed  is  every  one 
that  continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in  the  book 
of  the  law  to  do  them."  And  who  can  appreciate 
the  misery  of  this  curse  ]  Who  knoweth  the  power 
of  his  anger]  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  living  God.  But  "there  is  now  no 
condemnation  to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus." 
That  is,  none  that  will  affect  their  security.  Con- 
science may  condemn ;  the  world  may  condemn ; 
Satan,  the  accuser  of  the  brethren,  may  condemn 
— bur  these  are  not  the  Judge.  "  Who  shall  lay 
any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect]  It  is  God 
that  justifieth.  Who  is  he  that  condemneth]  It  is 
Christ  that  died;  yea,  rather,  that  is  risen,  who  is 
even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh 
intercession  for  us." 

Is  acceptance  with  God  desirable  ]  Here  we  have 
it — "This,"  says  God,  "is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  we'll  pleased."  The  complacency  ex- 
tends to  us,  as  well  as  to  himself.  "  Thou  hast 
loved  them,"  says  the  Saviour,  "as  thou  hast  loved 
me."  He  hath  made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved: 
and  this  is  true  both  of  our  persons  and  our  ser^ 
vices.  "  He  gave  himself  for  us,  an  offering  and 
a  sacrifice  to  God  for  a  sweet  smelling  savor;  and 
we  could  not  have  been  originally  so  dear  to  God 
as  we  now  become,  through  his  mediation. 

Tell  me,  ye  who  delight  in  communion  with  God, 
and  are  so  often  constrained  to  repair  to  him  for 
mercy  and  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need,  Is  it  good 
to  draw  nigh  to  God  ]  And  can  you  go  to  him  free- 
ly as  your  Father]  at  all  seasons]  on  all  occasions] 
and  in  every  tiling  by  prayer  and  supplication  make 
known  your  requests  unto  God,  with  an  assurance 
of  success]  "In  whom  we  have  boldness  and  ac- 
cess with  confidence,  by  the  faith  of  him." 

In  him  we  have  all  our  supplies  and  endowments. 
"We  are  complete  in  him."  Where  can  I  find 
righteousness]  In  vain  I  look  even  to  my  duties 
and  to  my  holy  things.  These  are  all  defective  and 
polluted;  and  if  they  deserve  any  thing,  it  is  con- 
demnation: and  if  he  thus  enters  into  judgment 
with  us,  no  flesh  living  can  be  justified  But  Christ 
is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  everyone 
that  believeth.  Thus  I  appear  before  him,  "not 
having  my  own  righteousness  which  is  of  the  law, 
but  that  which  is  of  faith;"  and  this  not  only  justi- 
•  from  all  things,  but  gives  me  a  title  to  eter- 
nal life. — And  where  but  in  him  can  I  find  strength] 
The  journey  I  have  to  lake,  the  race  I  have  to  run, 
i  fare  I  have  to  accomplish  ;  the  duties  I  have 
to  perforin;  the  trials  I  have  to  bear:  all  these  are 
not  only  above  my  natural  powers,  but  even  above 
the  grace  I  possess,  without  fresh  and  constant  sup- 
plies  of  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  he  cries, 
"  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  for  my  strength  is 
made  perfect  in  weakness."  Surely  therefore  shall 
one  sav,  "  In  the  Lord  have  I  righteousness  and 
strength." 

Where  shall  we  end  ]  "If  children,  then  heirs, 
heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ."  But  he 
is  heir  of  all  things;  therefore,  says  the  Apostle, 


12 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


"All  things  are  yours:  whether  Panl,  or  Apollos, 
or  Cephas,  or  the  world,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things 
present,  or  things  to  come,  all  are  yours;  and  ye 
are  Christ's,' and  Christ  is  God's.  You  are  united 
to  him,  and  he  is  united  to  God.  You  are  in  him, 
and  he  is  in  God.  How  secure,  then,  is  the  happi- 
ness of  helievers !  Their  life  is  hid — with  Christ 
in  God  !  How  incapable  of  rupture  is  the  con- 
nection between  them  and  God,  unless  the  medium 
that  unites  them  can  fail !  But  "  I  am  persuaded 
that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be 
able  to  srparale  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is 
in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 

We  may  also  view  the  importance  of  this  state, 
in  connection  with  certain  seasons  vhen  it  must  be 
peculiarly  felt.     There  are  four  of  these. 

The  first  is  the  hour  of  conviction.  What  is  the 
reason  that  many  of  you  read  and  hear  of  this 


ter  for  me  to  die  than  to  live ;"  for  however  severe 
your  present  sufferings  may  be,  they  are  only  the 
beginning  of  sorrows.  If  death  find  you  out  of 
Christ,  it  would  be  good  for  you  if  yon  had  never 
been  born.  There  will  be  nothing  to  screen  you 
from  the  power  with  which  it  is  armed  by  sin.  It 
will  deprive  you  of  all  you  hold  most  dear.  It  will 
terminate  your  space  for  repentance.  It  will  close 
all  your  opportunities  of  mercy.  It  will  put  a  seal 
upon  your  character  and  condition  for  ever.  It  will 
arrest,  and  deliver  you  to  the  judge,  and  the  judge 
will  deliver  you  to  the  officer,  and  you  will  be  cast 
into  prison,  and  you  shall  not  come  out  thence  till 
you  have  paid  the  uttermost  farthing.  But  hear  the 
voice  from  heaven:  "Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die 
in  the  Lord."  He  in  whom  they  are  found,  has 
abolished  death,  by  the  final  destruction  of  the  state, 
and  the  present  removal  of  the  sting;  by  the  change 
of  its  nature  and  office;  by  turning  it  into  a  depar- 
ture, a  sleep;  by  making  it  endless  gain.     If  death 


state  with  such  indifference  1  that  you  make  light  finds  you  in  Christ,  it  will  be  the  angel  of  the  cove- 
of  the  invitation  to  enter  it  1  and  go  your  way,  one  nant;  it  will  wipe  away  all  your  tears;  it  will  lead 
to  his  farm  and  another  to  his  merchandise'?  You  you  to  the  altar  of  God,  to  God  your  exceeding  joy. 
do  not  feel  yourselves  in  the  wretchedness  and  jeo-  '  You  may  continue  to  neglect  and  despise  the 
pardy  it  implies,  and  is  designed  to  relieve.  One  Friend  of  sinners  now,  but  you  will  have  other 
question  forced  from  a  wounded  spirit— "What  thoughts  soon.  Death  will  discover  and  display 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  "?"  would  magnify  this  state  the  errors  of  life.  How  will  you  then  wonder  that 
more  than  all  the  arguments  your  preachers  can  the  trifles  and  vanities  which  now  engross  you 
ever  employ.  When  a  man  is  awakened  to  serious  should  ever  have  acquired  such  an  ascendancy! 
consideration ;  when  he  examines  his  character  and  j  How  will  you  he  amazed  that  you  constantly  disre 
condition ;  when  he  looks  and  sees  what  he  is,  what 
he  wants,  what  he  deserves;  when  he  perceives  the 
vastness  and  certainty  of  his  danger;  when  he  finds 
himself  perfectly  unable  to  effect  his  own  deliver- 
ance, and  knows  also,  that  the  help  of  men  and  an- 
gels united  could  not  reach  the  desperateness  of  his 
case__then,  how  inexpressibly  desirable  appears  a 
connection  with  him,  who  is  able  to  save  to  the  ut- 
termost !  who  was  delivered  for  our  offences,  and 
raised  again  for  our  justification  !  in  whom  it  hath 
pleased  the  Father  that  all  fulness  should  dwell ! 
Then  how  delightful  to  hear  him  say,  "Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest !"     Then  how  blessed,  by  behev 


.D,  to  enter  into  rest,  and  "joy  in  God,  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  he  has  now  received 
the  atonement !" 

The  second  is  the  day  of  trouble.  And  this  may 
always  be  expected;  for  a  man  is  born  to  trouble  as 
the  sparks  fly  upwards.  And  what,  in  the  wreck 
of  property,  in  the  loss  of  relations  and  friends,  in 
the  failure  of  health  and  comfort— what  will  you 
do  without  "the  consolation  of  Israeli"  While 
-your  cisterns  are  broken,  the  fountain  of  living  wa- 
ter is  far  off;  while  your  lamps  are  extinguished, 
no  Sun  of  Righteousness  is  nigh.  But  if  you  had 
an  interest  in  him  who  is  the  hope  of  Israel,  the 
Saviour  thereof  in  the  time  of  trouble,  your  trials 
would  be  all  sanctified  and  alleviated:  at  what 
time  you  were  afraid,  you  would  be  able  to  trust  in 
him:  in  the  multitude  of  your  thoughts  within  you, 
his  comforts  would  delight  your  soul.  "lam  cast 
down,  but  not  destroyed.  I  feel  my  losses,  but  I  am 
not  lost.  The  waters  are  bitter,  but  this  tree  heals 
them.  The  Cross  takes  away  the  curse ;  yea,  turns 
the  curse  into  a  blessing.  It  is  good  for  me  that  I 
am  afflicted.  I  know  this  shall  turn  to  my  salva- 
tion, through  prayer  and  the  supply  of  the  Spirit 
of  Jesus  Christ." 

The  third  is  an  hour  that  awaits  you  all.  The 
day  of  trouble  may  come — the  hour  of  death  must 
come.  The  one  is  probable,  the  other  is  absolutely 
certain.  For  what  man  is  he  that  liveth  and  shall 
not  see  death!  The  living  know  that  they  shall 
die.  But  though  death  be  a  universal  event,  it  is 
not  a  universal  privilege.  It  would  be  the  most 
dreadful  delusion  in  many  of  you  to  say,  "  It  is  bet- 


gaided  him  who  alone  can  befriend  you  when  all 
other  helpers  fail!  Then  you  will  learn,  but  in 
vain,  that  an  interest  in  Christ  is  the  one  thing 
needful.  Cannot  you  look  forward"]  Cannot  you 
foresee  this,  before  the  knowledge  can  result  only 
in  despair"? 

For,  fourthly,  There  is  another  day,  and  from 
which  the  former  derives  its  greatest  dread — it  is 
appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  this  the 
judgment.  I  do  not  ask  you  what  are  your  thoughts 
now"? — but  what  will  they  be,  when  the  heavens 
shall  pass  away  with  a  great  noise"?  when  the  ele- 
ments shall  melt  with  fervent  heat"!  when  all  that 
are  in  their  graves  shall  come  forth"?  when  the 
dead,  small  and  great,  shall  stand  before  God,  and 
the  books  shall  be  opened  1    What  will  you  then  do 
without  a  friend,  an  advocate"?     Then  the  tribes  of 
the  earth  will  mourn  and  wail  because  of  Him. 
Then  they  who  have  despised  Him,  and  rejected 
Him,  will  cry  to  the  rocks  and  mountains  to  hide 
them  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb.     But  the  be- 
liever in  Jesus  lifts  up  his  head  with  joy,  for  his 
redemption  draweth  nigh.     Here  he  looked  for  the 
mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  unto  eternal  life, 
and  now  he  enjoys  it.     He  is  found  in  him.  and 
therefore  he  is  found  of  him  in  peace — and  hears 
him  say,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit 
the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation 
of  the  world."     To  which  we  may  add,  that  all  this 
admits  of  anticipation  by  faith ;  and  now,  even  now, 
he  can  say — "I  am  not  ashamed;  for  I  know  in 
whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is 
able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed  to  him 
against  that  day." — Let  us,  therefore, 

III.  Consider  the  evidence  of  our  being  in  Christ. 

There  is  no  doubt  but  it  is  very  desirable  to  know 
this ;  and  it  would  be  strange  to  suppose  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  ascertain  it;  especially  since  we  are  not 
only  required  to  examine  ourselves,  and  prove  whe- 
ther we  are  in  the  faith,  but  also  to  rejoice  in  the 
Lord  always.  Paul,  we  see,  was  assured  of  this — 
"I  knew  a  man  in  Christ:"  and  he  knew  himself 
to  be  so,  not  as  he  was  an  Apostle — for  a  man  might 
have  been  an  Apostle,  and  not  in  Christ :  this  was 
the  case  with  Judas— but,  as  a  believer.  Official 
service  is  very  distinguishable  from  personal  expe- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


13 


rience,  and  gifts  do  not  pledge  the  existence  of 
grace.  John  does  not  say,  we  know  that  we  have 
passed  from  death  to  life  because  we  can  prophesy 
or  speak  with  new  tongues,  but  "  because  we  love 
;he  brethren/' 

When,  however,  we  speak  of  this  confidence,  a 
little  explanatory  caution  may  be  necessary.  Peo- 
ple often  caM  it,  the  full  assurance  of  faith.  This 
is  indeed  a  scriptural  expression,  but  it  occurs  only 
once;  and  then  it  is  used  to  denote,  not  a  certainty 
of  appropriation  and  experience,  but  a  full  persua- 
sion of  our  being  allowed,  by  the  new  and  living 
way  which  he  has  consecrated,  to  enter  the  pre- 
sence of  God  in  prayer,  and  partake  of  all  the  bless- 
ings of  his  salvation.  There  is,  therefore,  an  ex- 
pression we  prefer  to  this — it  is  "the  full  assurance 
of  hope."  Our  present  confidence  is  the  confidence 
of  hope,  and  of  hope  only.  This  hope  may  be  con- 
sidered in  a  state  of  conflict  with  doubts  and  fears; 
or  in  a  state  of  victory  and  triumph  over  them :  in 
the  one  case,  there  will  be  anxiety  and  uneasiness; 
in  the  other,  joy  and  repose;  but  the  degree  does 
not  alter  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself. 

On  what,  then,  is  this  confidence  founded! 
Dreams!  Visions!  Voices  in  the  air!  Sudden 
impulses?  Passages  or  promises  accidentally  pre- 
sented on  opening  the  Bible!  and  applied,  regard- 
less of  the  connection  from  which  they  are  taken, 
or  the  characters  pf  those  by  whom  they  are  adopt- 
ed 1  On  what  strange,  what  dubious,  what  unau- 
thorized evidences,  do  some  rest  their  eternal  hope ! 
"  To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony.  If  they  speak 
not  according  to  this  word,  it  is  because  there  is  no 
light  in  them." 

All  the  errors,  however,  in  judging  ourselves,  are 
not  on  one  side.  There  are  mistakes  on  the  right 
hand  as  well  as  on  the  left:  and  though  they  are  not 
so  dangerous,  they  may  be  distressing  and  even  in- 
jurious; and  therefore  we  must  guard  against  them. 
In  deciding  your  condition,  you  should  not  make 
the  experience  of  others  too  much  the  standard  of 
your  judgment;  for  though,  as  in  water,  face  an- 
swereth  to  face,  so  the  heart  of  man  to  man ;  yet, 
along  with  a  general  conformity,  there  is  frequent- 
ly much  difference,  especially  in  the  degree  and 
duration  of  those  spiritual  exercises  which  com- 
monly precede  the  joy  of  God's  salvation,  and  at- 
tend the  part  of  divine  doctrine  that  first  seizes  our 
attention. 

Neither  should  you  be  too  minute  in  your  in- 
quiries. The  blind  man,  who  was  not  able  to  an- 
swer every  question  pertaining  to  his  case,  could 
yet  say,  "One  thing  I  know:  whereas  I  was  blind, 
n  tw  I  see."  A  man  may  be  sure  of  his  natural 
life,  though  he  knows  not  when  it  commenced;  and 
he  actually  possessed  the  boon,  long  before  he  was 
able  to  prove  it  to  himself,  though  he  always 
evinced  it  to  others.  What  we  have  to  look  after 
should  be  influences  and  effects;  and  these  may  be 
undeniable,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  time,  the 
means,  and  the  manner  of  their  production.  A 
slow  and  gradual  operation  is  less  striking  than  a 
sudden  and  instantaneous;  but  the  increase  of  the 
corn  sown,  is  as  real,  and  as  divine  too,  as  the  mul- 
tiplication of  the  barlev  loaves,  in  the  gospel. 

When  we  are  deciding  our  Christian  state,  we 
should  not  try  ourselves  by  attainments.  The  real- 
ity of  divine  grace  is  one  thing;  the  degree  is  an- 
other. We  may  be  of  the  same  species  with  a  fel- 
low-creature, though  not  of  the  same  stature:  and 
though  not  equally  advancing,  we  may  be  in  the 
same  way.  This  I  know  is  liable  to  some  abuse; 
and  we  are  always  afraid,  when  we  thus  speak,  lest 
people  should  avail  themselves  of  it,  "  to  settle,"  as 
the  Scripture  has  it,  "  upon  their  lees;"  or  in  other 
words,  to  be  content  with  a  hope  of  their  safety, 
while  they  are  careless  of  religious  progression. 


Thus  it  is  said,  Cromwell  having  asked  a  minister, 
"  What  was  the  lowest  evidence  of  regeneration," 
said,  on  receiving  an  answer,  "Then  I  am  safe." 
And  yet  there  are  moments  of  gloom  and  depres- 
sion, in  which  the  question  mast  be — not  have  I 
much  grace!  but  have  I  any?  When  the  house  is 
on  fire,  the  tradesman  does  not  think  of  taking 
stock ;  his  only  concern  then  is  to  save. 

It  is  a  good  evidence  in  your  favor,  if  you  value 
the  thing ;  and  while  the  multitude  ask,  "Who  will 
show  us  any  good  !"  can  say — One  good  only  can 
serve  my  purpose;  and  the  language  of  the  Apos- 
tle, and  of  the  martyr,  is  not  too  strong  for  me — 
"None  but  Christ,  none  but  Christ!"  "That  I 
may  know  him,  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection, 
and  the  fellowship  of  his  sufferings,  being  made 
conformable  unto  his  death."  "Blessed  are  they 
that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness;  for  they 
shall  be  filled." 

It  is  a  token  for  good,  when  you  feel  much  concern 
and  anxiety  about  this  slate.  It  has  been  said,  that 
it  is  easy  to  believe  what  we  wish ;  but  Paley  re- 
marks that  the  experience  of  every  man  gives  the 
lie  to  this  maxim.  We  all  know,  that  in  proportion 
as  we  attach  moment  to  a  thing,  and  find  our  hap- 
piness involved  in  it,  we  find  it  hard  to  persuade 
ourselves  that  we  have  a  firm  hold  of  it ;  we  are 
alive  and  awake  to  every  supposition  of  uncertain- 
ty; we  still  want  stronger  proof  and  confirmation. 
Does  the  miser  feel  it  easy  to  believe  that  his  mo- 
ney, the  god  of  his  idolatry,  is  safe!  A  mother 
hears  that  the  vessel  is  wrecked  on  a  foreign  shore, 
but  that  her  son  is  rescued  from  the  deep.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  world  she  so  much  desires  to  be 
true :  yet  is  it  easy  for  her  to  banish  her  solicitude 
and  doubt!  She  will  peruse  every  document;  and 
examine  every  witness ;  and  scarcely  be  able  to 
think  he  is  living,  till  she  presses  him  in  her  arms. 
Now  we  may  reason  from  the  less  to  the  greater.  A 
man  who  feels  the  infinite  importance  attached  to 
the  soul  and  eternity,  will  always  find  it  difficult  to 
consider  himself  a  child  of  God,  and  an  heir  of 
glory;  and  will  never  cease  saying,  "Give  me  a 
token  for  good,  that  I  may  rejoice  in  thee.  Say 
unto  my  soul,  I  am  thy  salvation."  Smoke  is  not 
fire,  yet  there  is  no  smoke  where  there  is  no  fire — 
doubts  and  fears  are  not  faith,  but  they  are  gender- 
ed by  it. 

They  who  are  united  to  Christ  are  characterized 
by  the  change  which  they  have  experienced.  This 
change  is  not  only  real,  but  entire — entire,  not  in 
the  degree,  but  extent.  It  is  complete  in  nothing; 
but  it  is  begun  in  ail  the  Christian's  views,  and  sen- 
timents, and  dispositions,  and  dependence,  and  taste, 
and  motives,  and  pursuits.  Hence,  says  the  Apos- 
tle, "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature : 
old  things  are  passed  away;  behold,  all  things  are 
become  new." 

They  are  also  distinguished  by  the  principle  which 
governs  them.  Hence  we  read,  "  They  that  are  in 
Christ  Jesus  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the 
Spirit."  The  former  will  excite  as  well  as  the 
latter;  but  they  do  not  yield  to  it:  and  his  servants 
3re  are,  whom  ye  obey.  The  one  is  opposed,  the 
other  is  encouraged.  The  one  enters  into  the  mind 
by  fraud  or  force  like  a  robber,  producing  alarm 
and  misery,  and  allowing  of  no  peace  till  he  is  ex- 
pelled. The  other  is  invited;  and  when  he  comes, 
is  welcomed  and  entertained  as  a  friend.  "  They 
that  are  after  the  flesh  do  mind  the  things  of  the 
flesh;  but  they  that  are  after  the  Spirit,  the  things 
of  the  Spirit.  For  to  be  carnally  minded  is  death, 
but  to  be  spiritually  minded  is  peace.  Because  the 
carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God:  for  it  is  not 
subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be. 
So  then  they  that  are  in  the  flesh,  cannot  please 
God.    But  ye  are  not  in  the  flesh,  but  in  the  Spirit, 


14 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


if  the  Spirit  of  God  dwell  in  you.  Now  n  any 
man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  God,  he  is  none  of 
his." 

And  this  leads  us  to  remark,  that  all  they  who 
are  in  him  resemble  him.  "  He  that  saith  he  dwell- 
eth  in  him  ought  himself  also  to  walk,  even  as  he 
walked."  Not  only  gratitude  and  consistency  re- 
quire this,  but  evidence.  "  If,"  says  the  holy  Sa- 
viour, "I  wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part  with 
me."  There  must  be  likeness  in  order  to  fellow- 
ship. "For  what  fellowship  hath  righteousness 
with  unrighteousness,  and  what  communion  hath 
light  with  darkness  ?  Or  what  concord  hath  Christ 
with  Belial  1"  Christ  and  Christians  are  not  like 
Nebuchadnezzar's  statue:  the  head  of  which  was 
of  gold,  while  the  subordinate  parts  were  of  infe- 
rior metal,  down  to  the  feet  which  were  partly  iron 
and  partly  clay.  "  He  that  sanctifieth,  and  they 
who  are  sanctified,  are  all  of  one."  He  is  a  par- 
taker of  their  nature;  and  they  are  the  partakers 
of  his.  They  are  not  of  the  world  even  as  he  is  not 
of  the  world.  They  have  the  same  mind  which 
was  also  in  Christ  Jesus:  a  sameness  of  sentiment 
and  feeling;  a  oneness  of  heart  and  soul — "  he  that 
is  joined  to  the  Lord,  is  one  spirit." 
Men  and  brethren — Are  you  in  Christ? 
Perhaps  you  have  never  yet  asked  yourselves 
this  question.  You  have  been  careful  of  your  pro- 
perty ;  and  every  legal  doubt  has  led  you  to  call 
in  the  lawyer.  You  have  been  anxious  for  your 
character,  and  every  whisper  of  slander  has  led 
you  to  vindicate  your  reputation.  You  have  been 
all  alive  to  your  health,  and  every  symptom  of  dis- 
ease has  instantly  led  you  to  consult  the  physician. 
But  to  this  very  hour — and  you  know  it — to  this 
very  hour — never  once  in  your  lives  have  you  re- 
tired, and  seriously  asked  yourselves — Am  I  in 
Christ  ?  And  yet  you  acknowledge  that  your  eter- 
nal happiness  depends  upon  it,  and  that  this  life 
is  your  only  opportunity  to  attain  i!,  and  that  this 
season  is  not  only  short  but  uncertain,  and  that 
"in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not,  the  Son  of  Man 
cometh!"  Yet  you  call  yourselves  rational  crea- 
tures! Yet  you  allow  that  "a  prudent  man  fore- 
seeth  the  evil,  and  hideth  himself;  but  the  simple 
pass  on  and  are  punished!" 

My  dear  hearers — You  admire  one  and  another 
of  your  fellow-creatures,  and  think  how  happy  you 
should  feel  if  you  could  make  their  advantages 
your  own.  And  what  are  these  advantages'?  Are 
they  not  things  that  perish  in  the  using!  that  afford 
no  satisfaction  in  the  enjoyment  ?  that  profit  not  in 
the  day  of  wrath?  that  cannot  deliver  from  death  1 
And  are  these  the  things  for  which  you  envy  men 
of  the  world,  who  have  their  portion  in  this  nie?  Is 
it  not  time,  especially  for  some  ot  you,  to  grow 
wiser;  and  to  form  your  estimates  by  the  judgment 
of  God  which  is  always  according  to  truth!  "Search 
the  Scriptures."  There  you  will  find  that  they,  and 
they  alone,  are  wise,  and  safe,  and  happy,  who  can 
say,  to  "  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his  grace,  we 
know  that  the  Son  of  God  is  co"me,  and  hath  given 
us  an  understanding,  that  we  may  know  him  that  is 
true:  and  we  are  in  him  that  is  true;  even  in  his 
Son,  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  true  God,  and  eter- 
nal life."  Envy  these— not  by  grudging  them  their 
blessedness,  but  by  longing  for  a  participation  of  it ; 
and  praying  with  one,  who  though  a  king  himself, 
yet  overlooking  all  his  earthly  advantages,  kneeled 
and  said,  "  Remember  me,  O  Lord,  with  the  favor 
thou  bearest  unto  thy  people:  Oh,  visit  me  with  thy 
salvation ;  that  I  may  see  the  good  of  thv  chosen, 
that  I  may  rejoice  in  the  gladness  of  thy  nation,  and 
glory  with  thine  inheritance." 

Let  this  be  your  concern — let  it  be  your  supreme 
concern — "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
his  righteousness."    And  let  it  be  vour  immediate 


concern.  You  cannot  be  happy  too  soon ;  and  while 
you  hesitate  and  linger,  the  opportunity  may  be  ir 
recoverably  lost.  Therefore,  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord 
while  he  may  be  found;  and  call  upon  him  while 
he  is  near."  And  for  your  encouragement,  be  per- 
suaded that  you  will  not,  cannot  seek  him  in  vain 
AH  things  are  now  ready.  Rise,  he  calleth  thee — 
and  says,  "  Him  that  cometh  unto  ml,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out." 

How  ought  we  to  conduct  ourselves  towards  those 
that  are  in  Christ!  Sureiy,  if  they  have  little  of 
earthly  distinction,  they  should  be  judged  of  by  their 
treasure  in  heaven.  Whatever  they  are  in  them- 
selves, their  destination,  their  rank,"  their  relation, 
should  ensure  them  respect.  They  are  to  be  valued 
for  his  sake  with  whom  they  are  one ;  and  shall  be 
one  for  ever.  In  consequence  of  this  union,  if  we 
slight  and  injure  them,  he  feels  it  as  if  done  to  him- 
self: "He  that  touches  them,  touches  the  apple  of 
his  eye."  In  the  same  way,  he  regards  our  atten- 
tions and  kindnesses  to  them,  as  if  they  were  favors 
conferred  upon  himself:  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto 
one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto 
me." 

Finally.  How  ought  they  that  are  in  Christ  to 
conduct  themselves?  How  cheerfully,  how  grate- 
fully ought  you  to  feel !  Once  far  off,  and  now 
nigh!  Once  strangers  and  enemies,  and  now  fel- 
low-citizens with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household 
of  God!  Once  having  nothing,  and  now  possess- 
ing all  things!  You  have  had  much  forgiven — you 
should  love  much.  He  has  done  great  things  for 
you — you  should  largely  inquire  what  vm  can  dc- 
for  him ;  and,  "  by  the  mercies  of  God,  present  you) 
body  a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable,  which 
is  your  reasonable  service."  O  you  who  live  bv 
this  Saviour,  make  him  known.  Recommend  him. 
Begin  with  your  own  family.  You  are  concerned 
to  provide  for  your  children.  But  how  is  your  love 
operating?  Is  it  not  in  laying  up  for  them  trea- 
sure on  earth  ?  or  seeking  great  things  for  them  in 
the  world?  It  would  be  infinitely  better  to  leave 
them  in  Christ,  than  to  leave  them  with  thousands 
of  gold  and  silver;  or  to  leave  them  with  kings 
upon  the  throne.  Forget  not  your  friends  and  )'om 
neighbors.  Hold  forth  the  Word  of  Life  impress- 
ively and  invitingly  to  all  around  you.  Teach 
transgressors  his  ways,  and  let  sinners  be  converted 
unto  him.     What  says  the  poet? 

"  O  'tis  a  Godlike  privilege  to  save; 
And  he  that  scorns  it  is  himself  a  slave. 
Inform  the  mind:  one  beam  of  heavenly  day 
Will  heal  the  heart,  and  melt  his  chains  away." 

What  says  the  Apostle?  "  If  a  man  err  from  the 
truth,  and  one  convert  him,  let  him  know  that  he 
which  converteth  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his 
ways,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death,  and  shall  hidp 
a  multitude  of  sins."     Amen. 


LECTURE  II. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IK  THE  CLOSET 

"  Enter  into  thy  closet." — Matthew  vi.  6. 

The  curiosity  and  attention  of  men  are  awakened 
bv  very  different  excitements,  according  to  their 
temper,  and  education,  and  habits  in  life  ;  and  what 
is  despised  by  some  as  worthless,  is  studied  by  others 
with  peculiar  delight. 

But  there  is  reallv  a  gradation  in  the  value  of  ob- 
jects themselves.  The  works  of  art  display  great 
skill  and  ingenuity ;  but  the  productions  of  nature 
are  much  more  deserving  of  our  inspection;  wit- 
ness the  remark  of  our  Saviour  concerning  the  lilies 
of  the  field—"  Solomon  in  all  h''s  glory  was  not  ar- 
rayed like  one  of  these."    But  the  operations  of 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


15 


grace  far  surpass  the  results  of  nature:  for  they  re- 
gard the  soul  and  eternity,  and  display  more  of  the 
periections  of  Deity.  Therefore,  says  David, "  Thou 
hast  magnified  thy  word  above  all  thy  name.1' — 
Therefore,  he  himself  says,  "Behold,  I  create  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth  :  and  the  former  shall  not 
be  remembered,  nor  come  into  mind." 

The  subjects  of  divine  grace,  therefore,  are  the 
most  interesting  characters  in  our  world.  Many, 
indeed,  neglect  and  despise  them  ;  but  there  is  one 
class  of  persons,  always  dear  to  a  minister  of  Christ, 
who  leel  them  the  most  powerfully  attractive.  They 
are  those  who,  roused  to  a  sense  of  their  danger, 
are  exclaiming,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  V — 
who,  longing  to  return  to  him  from  whom  they 
have  revolted,  are  inquiring,  "  How  shall  I  come 
before  the  Lord,  and  bow  before  the  High  God  V — 
who,  bound  for  the  glory  to  be  revealed,  are  "ask- 
ing their  way  to  Zion,  with  their  faces  thitherward.1' 
If  you  are  going  a  journey  of  great  difficulty,  and 
yet  cf  unspeakable  importance,  and  you  were  in 
company  with  a  multitude  of  individuals,  he  amongst 
them  all  who  had  travelled  the  road  himself,  would 
be  the  man  of  your  preference;  and  yon  would  en- 
deavor to  get  near  and  converse  with  him.  To  a 
suffering  patient,  the  most  engaging  person  he  could 
meet  with,  next  to  the  physician — for  none  would 
tear  a  comparison  with  him — would  be  the  man 
who  had  himself  labored  under  the  same  complaint, 
and  could  tell  of  the  manner  in  which  the  remedy  is 
applied ;  and  whose  own  recovery  would  be  a  living 
\oucher  not  only  of  its  safety,  but  of  its  efficacy  and 

In  a  series  of  discourses,  to  bring  the  Christian' 
before  you,  for  your  admiring  and  practical  con- 
V  mplation,  last  Lord's  Day  we  viewed  him  In 
Christ:  we  are  this  morning  to  consider  him 

Lv  the  Closet. 
"Wonder  not,  my  brethren,  that  we  bring  forward 
this  view  of  the  Christian  so  early.     By  this  he  is 
_'uished  from  the  commencement  of  his  reli- 
gious concern.  He  soon  turns  aside  from  the  vile  and 
the  vain,  and  bewails  himself  alone.     They  cannot 
enter  into  his  feelings  now.    They  know  nothing  of 
a  broken  heart  and  a  contrite  spirit,  unless  as  a  sub- 
j  •'  t  of  wonder  or  contempt.    He  feels  his  sin  to  be 
a  burden  too  heavy  for  him  to  bear,  and  longs  for 
ecse;  but  the  "wide  world"  cannot  relieve  him, 
e-nnot  sympathise  with  him,  cannot  direct  him  to 
"the  rest  and  the  refreshing."    All  great  sorrow 
solitude  and  ^ecreev:  "  He  sitteth  alone,  and 
keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him; 
he  putteth  his  mouth  in  the  dust,  if  so  be  there  may 
be  hope."    Did  ever  language  describe  the  expe- 
rience of  the  penitent  so  beautifully,  so  feelingly,  as 
the  words  of  our  heavenly  bard] 
"  I  was  a  stricken  deer,  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since.   With  many  an  arrow  deep  infix'd 
My  panting  side  was  charged,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  shades. 
There  was  I  found  by  one,  who  had  himself 
Been  hurt  jy  the  archers.    In  his  side  he  bore, 
And  in  his  hands  and  feet,  the  cruel  scars. 
With  gentle  force  soliciting  the  darts, 
He  drew  them  forth,  and  healed,  and  bade  me  live. 
Since  then — 

With  few  associates,  and  not  wishing  more, 
Here  much  I  ruminate,  as  much  I  may, 
With  other  views  of  men  and  manners  now 
Than  once ;  and  others  of  a  life  to  come." 
Yes,  his  chief  business  now  is  with  God;  and  this 
is  not  to  be  mannged  in  a  crowd;  and  as  this  busi- 
ness continues  and  increases  through  life,  abstrac- 
tion and  retirement  will  always  be  desirable,  always 
necessary.      His  religion  cannot  flourish — cannot 
live  without  it. 


Our  theme  is  very  extensive.  Let  us  detach  from 
it  four  things.  Let  us  review  the  Christian  in  his 
Retirement,  with  regard 

I.  To  Place. 
II.  Time. 
III.  Engagement. 
IV    Motives. 

I.  With  regard  to  Place. 

Our  Saviour  says,  "Enter  into  thy  onset."    The 

word  signifies  any  retired  apartment ;  and  some 
imagine  that  he  employs  a  term  of  such  latitude, 
that  we  might  have  no  excuse  for  omission,  if  we 
are  unfurnished  with  a  place  appropriated  more  ex- 
pressly to  pious  use. 

The  connection  requires  this  extension  of  mean- 
ing. Our  Lord  applies  the  word  "closet"  obviously 
in  opposition  to  the  "  corner  of  the  street ;"  and  in 
distinction  from  the  openness  of  the  "  synagogue," 
where  persons  could  be  'seen  of  men,"  and  for 
which  purpose  these  situations  were  chosen  by  the 
Pharisees.  But  He  woull  hrve  his  disciples  to 
avoid  all  appearance  of  oste'itiuion;  and  perform 
their  devotions  where  they  w:ui  1  be  concealed,  un- 
less from  a  witness  in  heaven.  Yet  if  the  end,  which 
is  privacy,  can  be  answered,  the  place  would  be  in- 
different. 

"  Where'er  we  seek  him  he  is  found; 
And  every  place  is  holy  ground." 

"  I  will  that  men  pray  every  where"  says  the  Apostle, 
"  liftine:  up  holy  hands,  without  wrath,  and  doubt- 
ing." God  said  to  Ezekiel,  "  Go  forth  into  the  p'sin, 
and  there  I  will  talk  with  thee."  Isaac  mccte  a 
closet  of  the  field.  Daniel  of  the  river-side,  as  veil 
as  of  his  chamber.  Nathaniel,  of  the  fig-tree.  Peter, 
of  the  house-top. 

A  variety  here  must  be  admitted,  or  the  duty  can- 
not be  performed  by  many  at  all.  For  what  num- 
bers are  there  who  are  unable  to  command  a  con- 
venient room  for  religious  engagement.  This  is  a 
trying  case:  and  especially  to  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  enjoy  such  an  advantage.  The 
preacher  knew  a  pious  female,  who  had  been  re- 
duced from  a  mansion,  and  compelled  to  occupy  a 
hired  and  contracted  apartment;  yet  nothing  in  the 
humiliating  and  distressing  change  seemed  to  af- 
fect her,  but  her  want  now  of  a  place  of  seclusion, 
m  which  to  indulge  her  private  devotion.  For  the 
"  peculiar  people,"  even  in  common  circumstances 
fail  not  to  give  proof  of  their  distinction:  "They 
that  are  after  the  flesh,  do  mind  the  things  of  the 
flesh;  but  thev  that  are  after  the  Spirit,  the  things 
of  the  Spirit."  If,  my  Christian  friends,  you  have 
the  privilege  of  accommodation,  be  grateful  for  it, 
and  use  it  well:  and  if  you  have  not,  remember 
your  Heavenly  Father  knoweth  it,  and  that  where 
"there  is  first  a  willing  mind,  a  man  is  accepted 
according  to  what  he  hath,  and  not  according  to 
what  he  hath  not."  Be  as  retired  as  you  can,  since 
you  cannot  be  so  retired  as  you  would  ;  and  if  your 
circumstances  will  not  allow  of  your  being  hid,  and 
some  of  your  family  must  witness  your  exercises, 
be  not  afraid  of  opposing  the  Saviour's  pleasure. 
Though  you  are  seen  of  men,  you  are  not  seeking 
to  be  seen  bv  them. 

It  is  possible  to  retire  mentally,  even  in  company; 
and  many  an  act  of  devotion  is  performed  by  the 
Christian  without  the  formality  of  the  exercise, 
when  he  is  busied  in  his  ordinary  concerns.  Ne- 
hemiah  worshipped  secretly,  without  retirement; 
and,  while,  as  a  cup-bearer,  he  was  performing  his 
office  in  attending  on  the  king,  "prayed  to  the  God 
of  heaven." 

The  Jews  had  their  Proseuch-p,  oratories,  or 
pmving-bouses,  in  secluded  i      by  streams 

of  water,  and  in  woods,  and  on  the  sides  of  nioun 


16 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


tains.  The  Scripture  more  than  once  refers  to 
such  places.  In  one  of  these  it  is  probable  our  Sa- 
viour passed  the  night  he  spent  in  devotion  ;  ar.d  in 
one  of  these  Paul  seems  to  have  addressed  his 
hearers  in  the  vicinage  of  Philippi.  They  were 
a  pleasing  and  a  wise  provision ;  as  persons  could 
here  indulge  themselves  in  private  devotion  when- 
ever they  were  prompted  by  disposition  and  oppor- 
tunity; and  especially  those  who  had  scarcely  any 
other  sacred  retreat.  We  have  not  such  accommo- 
dations: but  Nature  itself,  during  a  large  portion 
of  the  year,  affords  us  advantages ;  and  it  is  won- 
derful that  persons  do  not  oftener  avail  themselves 
of  these  interesting  spots  of  retirement.  We  have 
known  some  who,  whenever  the  season  and  the 
weather  allowed,  retired  thus,  to  perform  their 
morning  and  evening  devotions.  Instead  of  their 
minds  being  diverted,  and  their  thoughts  dissipated, 
by  the  scenery,  the  works  of  God  refreshed  and 
impressed  them,  and  furnished  them  with  excite- 
ments and  assistance.  And  there  are  those  now 
living,  who,  if  ever  they  feel  devout,  feel  it  in  a 
garden,  or  a  field,  or  a"  meadow.  The  bubbling 
spring;  the  apple-tree  among  the  trees  of  the 
wood;  the  rose  of  Sharon;  the  lily  of  the  valley; 
the  purple  rising  and  the  golden  setting  of  the  sun  ; 
aid  their  communion  with  him  who  is  all  in  all. 
The  sowing  of  the  grain;  the  blade;  the  ear;  the 
full  corn  in  the  ear;  the  mower  filling  his  hand, 
and  the  binder  of  sheaves  his  bosom ;  the  husband- 
man and  the  gleaner — all  these  teach  them  to  think 
and  feel  devoutly.  They  love  the  creatures  of  their 
God,  and  feel  them  their  friends;  and  while  the 
herd  grazes  at  their  feet,  and  the  sheep  repose  at 
their  side,  and  the  lambs  sport  in  sight,  a  voice 
seems  to  say,  "  Thou  shalt  be  in  league  with  the 
stones  of  the  field;  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  shall 
be  at  peace  with  thee."  They  hear  God  in  the 
breeze ;  they  sing  his  praise  in  the  note  of  the  bird; 
they  make  every  scene  a  book;  every  object  a 
preacher ;  every  place  a  temple. 

We  only  add,  what  an  advantage  is  the  omni- 
presence of  devotion,  in  that  solitude  which  is  not 
chosen,  but  brought  upon  us  by  the  necessity  of  cir- 
cumstances; when  lover  and  friend  are  put  far 
from  us  by  death,  and  the  heart  within  us  is  deso- 
late; when  travelling,  and  we  droop  in  the  loneli- 
ness that  is  felt  in  the  midst  of  strangers;  when  by 
distance  or  condition,  our  connections  are  beyond 
our  reach,  and  we  are  inaci  essible  to  them.  Ah  ! 
says  Jonah,  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  "I  will  look 
again  towards  thy  holy  temple."  "  From  the  ends 
of  the  earth,"  says  David,  "will  I  cry  unto  thee, 
when  my  heart  is  overwhelmed."  Cowper  has  not 
overlooked  this  consolation,  in  the  language  he  has 
put  into  the  mouth  of  the  lonely  islander — 

"  But  the  sea-fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest, 
The  beast  is  laid  down  in  his  lair ; 
E'en  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 
And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 
"  There's  mercy  in  every  place, 

And  mercy,  encouraging  thought! 
Gives  every  affliction  a  grace, 
And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot." 
We  consider  it, 

II.  With  regard  to  time. 

When  are  we  to  enter  our  closet  1  and  how  long 
are  we  to  remain  there  1  You  are  not  to  be  there 
always.  You  will  hear,  as  we  proceed,  that  the 
Family,  the  Church,  the  World,  have  all  claims 
upon  you.  Every  duty  has  its  season,  in  which 
alone  it  is  beautiful  and  acceptable.  "  No  duty," 
says  Bishop  Hopkins,  "  will  be  approved  of  God, 
that  appears  before  him  stained  with  the  murder  of 
another  duty."    Yea,  a  Christian  sometimes  forces 


himself  away  from  the  delights  of  solitude,  to  en- 
gage in  services,  far  less  pleasing,  than  lying  down 
in  these  green  pastures,  and  feeding  beside  these 
still  waters.  But  self-indulgence,  even  when  the 
enjoyment  is  religious — must  yield  to  the  will  of 
his  Heavenly  Father,  as  soon  as  it  is  known. 

Retirement,  however,  should  be  frequent.  Yet, 
if  you  ask  how  frequent  1  I  do  not  pretend  abso- 
lutely to  determine.  The  Scripture  does  not  de- 
cide :  it  was  needless  to  decide — as  needless  as  the 
prescribing  how  often  you  should  eat  and  drink. 
Your  wants  will  regulate  the  one;  and  your  love 
will  regulate  the  other.  Love  is  the  Christian's 
grand  principle;  and  love  does  not  require  to  be 
bound;  it  is  ingenuous;  it  is  urgent;  it  is  contriv- 
ing; and  will  get,  with  all  possible  expedition,  to 
its  object.  Besides,  no  rule  can  be  laid  down  that 
will  apply  equally  to  all.  There  is  a  great  differ- 
ence in  our  conditions,  and  our  callings.  At  differ- 
ent periods  too,  the  Providence  of  God  may  vary 
our  duties.  Thus  good  people  formerly  spent 
much  more  time  alone,  than  the  peculiarities  of 
the  day  in  which  Ave  live,  will  allow  us.  It  does 
not  follow  that  they  had  more  piety  than  Christians 
now :  their  religion  was  more  compressed,  and 
flowed  in  a  deeper  channel ;  but  that  of  modern 
Christians,  though  shallower,  is  more  diffusive  and 
rapid.  They  had  not  those  openings  for  activities 
abroad — those  calls  to  extensive  and  manifold  bene- 
ficence and  exertions,  -which  the  followers  of  Christ 
now  have.  These,  therefore,  cannot  gratify  them- 
selves by  spending  hours  together  in  their  loved 
seclusion.  They  hear  a  thousand  voices  crying, 
"  Come,  and  help  us."  They  see  that  "  the  fields 
are  already  white  unto  harvest:"  they  know  that 
"  the  harvest  is  great ;"  that  "  the  laborers  are 
few;"  that  the  season  is  short;  that  the  weather 
is  uncertain  ;  and  the  consequences  of  negligence, 
not  only  incalculable,  but  remediless. 

Christians,  however,  should  get  as  much  leisure 
for  the  closet,  as  they  are  able.  And  in  order  to 
this,  they  should  guard  against  the  waste  of  time  ; 
they  should  economize  time;  they  should  redeem 
time  from  indecision  and  trifling,  and  especially 
from  the  vile  and  wretched  consumptions  of  unne- 
cessary sleep.  David  mentions  three  times  a  day,- 
"  Evening  and  morning,  and  at  noon  will  I  pray, 
and  cry  aloud."  Daniel  observed  the  same  rule : 
"He  went  into  his  house;  and  his  windows  being 
opened  in  his  chamber  towards  Jerusalem,  he 
kneeled  upon  his  knees  three  times  a  day,  and 
prayed,  and  gave  thanks  before  his  God,  as  he  did 
aforetime."  This  was  a  custom  much  recommend- 
ed, and  observed  by  many  of  our  forefathers;  they 
thought,  and  they  wisely  thought,  that  a  few  mo- 
ments of  retirement  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  as 
well  as  morning  and  evening,  tended  to  check 
temptation  and  vanity,  and  to  keep  the  mind  in  the 
things  of  God.  But  twice  a  day,  at  least,  the  Chris- 
tian will  withdraw.  Less  than  this  will  not  surely 
keep  us  "  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  all  the  day  along" 
— and  for  this,  the  morning  and  evening  will  be 
deemed  the  most  suitable  periods.  Under  the  law, 
a  lamb  was  offered  every  morning  and  every  even 
ing.  How  much  is  there  in  each  of  these  return- 
ing seasons  to  excite  and  to  impress !  "  It  is  a  good 
thing."  says  the  Psalmist,  "to  give  thanks  unto  the 
Lord,  and  to  sing  praises  unto  thy  name,  O  Most 
High.  To  show  forth  thy  loving  kindness  in  the 
morning,  and  thy  faithfulness  every  night." 

As  to  the  particular  hour,  this  must  be  a  matter 
of  discretion  :  only  it  should  be  as  early  as  possible 
both  in  the  morning  and  evening,  to  avoid  disturb- 
ance in  the  one,  and  drowsiness  in  the  other.  I  will 
put  amusements  out  of  the  question.  But  if  you 
return  late  from  visitin?,  it  is  better  to  retire  even 
late  than  not  at  all.    Yet  in  many  of  these  cases 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


17 


would  it  not  be  preferable  tu  retire  a  few  moments 
aelbre  you  go?  Would  you  be  less  prepared  for 
company  ?  Would  you  be  less  sale  ?  Would  you 
be  iess  edifying'? 

What  may  be  done  at  any  time,  is  often  done  at 
no  time:  and  while  we  have  no  plan  or  purpose,  we 
are  open  to  every  casualty  that  may  seize  us,  and 
torn  us  aside.  It  is  therefore  necessary  to  have  ap- 
pointed seasons  for  retirement;  and  desirable  to  ad- 
here to  them  as  invariably  as  we  can. 

There  are  also  occasional  and  extraordinary  calls 
to  private  devotion,  wheu  more  than  usual  time 
should  be  allowed,  that  the  mind  may  be  affected 
with  the  event,  and  obtain  the  peculiar  assistance 
the  case  requires.  I  should  have  a  poor  opinion 
of  that  Christian,  who  would  nut  employ  more  than 
common  retirement,  when  going  to  change  his  resi- 
dence, his  calling,  his  condition  in  life;  or  to  take 
any  important  step,  the  consequences  of  which  may 
ahect  not  only  his  comfort,  but  his  conduct  and  cha- 
racter for  ever.  When  Jacob  was  going  to  meet 
his  exasperated  brother  Esau,  who  was  coming 
against  him  with  four  hundred  men,  he  was  found 
alone  wrestling  with  the  angel.  When  our  Saviour 
was  going  to  ordain  his  twelve  Apostles,  the  day 
following,  "He  went  out  into  a  mountain  to  pray; 
and  continued  all  night  in  prayer  to  God."  And 
when  his  hour  of  suffering  was  drawing  near,  we 
find  him  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  and  retiring 
three  times  even  from  his  selected  disciples,  and 
praying.     Let  us, 

III.  Consider  this  retirement  with  regard  to  its 
Engagements. 

Many  retire.  But  the  tradesman  retires  to  cast 
up  his  accounts,  and  to  plan  his  schemes;  the 
statesman,  to  enjoy  his  relaxations  and  ease;  the 
philosopher,  to  pursue  his  theories  and  experiments; 
the  poet,  to  rove  among  the  aspects  of  nature,  or  to 
lose  himself  in  creations  of  his  own — and  perhaps 
God  is  not  in  all  their  thoughts.  So  far  from  in- 
viting Him  into  their  solitude,  when  they  appre- 
hend his  approach,  they  repel  the  impertinent  in- 
truder; and  say  unto  God,  "Depart  from  us;  we 
desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways."  But  we 
are  speaking  of  religious  retirement.  The  Chris- 
tian withdraws  for  three  purposes. 

First,  He  is  engaged  in  reading.  This  enlarges 
his  views,  and  impresses  his  mind,  and  furnishes 
him  with  aids  to  devotion.  But  what  does  he  pe- 
ruse 1  Principally  the  Scriptures.  I  say  principal- 
ly, because  other  books  may  be  occasionally  read 
to  advantage,  and  we  have  a  plenitude  of  excellent 
works  for  the  closet.  Yet  I  confess,  the  Scriptures 
alone  appear  to  be  the  best  reading  in  retirement, 
especially  for  the  poor,  and  those  who  have  little, 
leisure.  They  are  the  fountain;  other  books  are 
streams;  and  streams  are  seldom  entirely  free  from 
something  of  the  quality  of  the  soil  through  which 
they  flow.  Who  would  not  draw  the  water  of  life 
for'himself  from  the  spring-head  !  The  Scriptures 
come  immediately  from  God  and  lend  immediately 
to  him!  There  is  a  boundless  variety  and  fulness 
in  them.  They  are  always  new.  They  entertain, 
while  they  teach;  and  profit,  while  they  please. 
There  is  always  something  in  them  that  bears  upon 
own  character  and  condition,  however  peculiar  it 
may  be.  "  They  are  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  re- 
proof, for  correction,  and  for  instruction  in  right- 
eousness, that  the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect, 
throughly  furnished  unto  all  good  works."  I  would 
recommend,  generally,  a  regular  reading  of  the 
sacred  volume:  for  every  work  of  God  is  pure: 
and  whatsoever  things  were  written  aforetime, 
were  written  for  our  learning;  that  we,  through 

Eatience  and  comfort  of  the  Scripture,  might  have 
ope.    But  "let  him  that  readeth  understand."     It 
37* 


is  better  to  peruse  a  paragraph  with  attention  and 
reflection,  than  carelessly  and  without  observation, 
to  run  over  several  chapters. — For, 

Secondly,  He  is  engaged  in  Meditation.  And, 
my  brethren,  it  is  desirable  that  you  should  employ 
your  own  powers;  for  you  will  be  more  affected 
and  benefited  by  the  efforts  of  your  own  mind.-, 
than  by  the  thoughts  of  others.  The  faculty  will 
be  improved  and  increased  by  exercise;  and  can- 
not be  acquired  without  it,  any  more  than  a  man 
can  learn  to  swim  by  never  entering  the  water.  And 
surely  you  cannot  be  at  a  loss  for  subjects.  If  your 
reading  does  not  supply  you  immediately  with  ma- 
terials, there  are  the  seasons  of  the  year,  the  state 
of  the  world,  the  condition  of  your  family,  your 
own  individual  circumstances,  temporal  and  spirit- 
ual. Two  subjects  are  always  at  hand — your  own 
depravity  and  unworthiness,  of  which  fresh  proof 
is  given  every  day  and  every  hour;  and — the  "love 
of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."  In  his  suf- 
ferings and  glory,  the  angels  always  find  enough  to 
attract  and  engage  their  profoundest  thoughts;  and 
shall  these  be  less  interesting  to  you, — to  whom 
they  are  not  only  true,  but  important;  not  only 
wonderful,  but  infinitely  necessary  ?  They  are  all 
your  salvation;  let  them  be  all  your  desire:  and 
say,  with  David,  "My  meditation  of  him  shall  be 
sweet." — "  My  soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  with  mar- 
row and  fatness,  and  my  mouth  shall  praise  thee 
with  joyful  lips,  when  I  remember  thee  upon  my 
bed,  and  meditate  on  thee  in  the  night  watches." — 
"  How  precious  are  thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O  God  ! 
how  great  is  the  sum  of  them  !  If  I  should  count 
them,  they  are  more  in  number  than  the  sand. 
When  I  awake,  I  am  still  with  thee."  Whatever 
the  subject  of  your  meditation  may  be,  content  no; 
yourselves  with  considering  it  generally  and  ab- 
stractedly; but  take  some  particular  view  of  it,  and 
bring  it  home  to  yourselves.  "  Is  the  Lord  thy  por- 
tion, O  my  soul1?  Dost  thou  hope  in  him'?  Art 
thou  an  heir  of  this  promise]  Dost  thou  stand  in 
the  way  of  this  threatening'?  Art  thou  living  in 
the  performance  or  neglect  of  this  duty]  Say  not, 
'and  what  shall  this  man  d'jV  but,  'Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  vie  to  do  V  " 

Thirdly,  He  is  employed  there  in  Prayer.  This 
is  the  special  design  of  it.  This  is  what  our  Sa- 
viour here  enjoins  :  "  Enter  into  thy  closet ;  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  Pray."  If  ever  you 
are  at  a  loss  to  meditate,  surely  you  can  never  be 
at  a  loss  to  pray  !  How  numberless  are  your  wants  ! 
How  much  have  you  to  implore  for  yourselves  and 
others!  How  much  to  confess  at  the  foot  of  the 
Cross  !  How  much  to  call  forth  your  thanksgivings 
and  praise  !     And  all  this  is  included  in  Prayer. 

And  the  manner  need  not  discourage  you.  For 
here  the  excellency  does  not  consist  in  the  mode  of 
expression — the  desire  is  all  in  all.  "  The  sacrifices 
of  God  are  a  broken  spirit :  a  broken  and  a  contrite 
heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise."  Even  words 
are  not  necessary  here.  God  reads  deep  meaning 
in  the  tear;  and  hears  heavenly  eloquence  in  the 
sighs  of  those  that  seek  him  :  and  often  the  most  ac- 
ceptable and  successful  intercession  is  made  "with 
gronnings  which  cannot  be  uttered." 

These  are  the  engagements  of  the  Christian  in 
his  retired  moments.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  he 
should  perform  all  these  exercises  always;  though 
it  is  very  desirable  that  they  should  be  all  included; 
or  that  he  should  observe  them  precisely  in  the  or- 
der we  have  stated  them.  They  may,  sometimes, 
alternately  precede  each  other  ;  and  they  may  some- 
times be  intermingled.  We  have  an  instance  of  the 
blending  together  of  these  exercises  in  the  retire- 
ment of  David,  with  the  recital  of  which  we  shall 
conclude  this  division  of  our  discourse.  For,  as 
soon  as  Nathan  had  waited  upon  him.  and  had  de- 

VOL.  III. 


a 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


livered  the  words  of  the  vision—"  Then  went  king 
David  in  and  sat  before  the  Lord,  and  he  said,  Who 
am  I,  O  Lord  God,  and  what  is  my  house,  that  thou 
hast  brought  me  hitherto  1  And  this  was  yet  a  small 
thing  in  thy  sight,  O  Lord  God ;  but  thou  hast  spoken 
also  of  thy  servant's  house  for  a  great  while  to  come  ; 
and  is  this  the  manner  of  man,  O  Lord  God  1  And 
what  can  David  say  more  unto  thee  1  for  thou,  Lord 
God,  knowest  thy" servant.  For  thy  word's  sake, 
and  according  to  thine  own  heart,  hast  thou  done 
all  these  great  things,  to  make  thy  servant  know 
them.  And  now,  O  Lord  God,  the  word  that  thou 
hast  spoken  concerning  thy  servant,  and  concerning 
his  house,  establish  it  for  ever,  and  do  as  thou  hast 
said.  For  thou,  O  Lord  of  Hosts,  God  of  Israel, 
hast  revealed  to  thy  servant,  saying,  I  will  build 
thee  an  house  :  therefore  hath  thy  servant  found  in 
his  heart,  to  pray  this  prayer  unto  thee.    And  now, 

0  Lord  God,  thou  art  that  God,  and  thy  words  be 
true,  and  thou  hast  promised  this  goodness  unto  thy 
servant ;  therefore  now  let  it  please  thee  to  bless 
the  house  of  thy  servant,  that  it  may  continue  for 
ever  before  thee  :  for  thou,  O  Lord  God,  hast  spoken 
it;  and  with  thy  blessing  let  the  house  of  thy  ser- 
vant be  blessed  for  ever." — Let  us  consider  retire- 
ment, 

IV.    With  regard  to  its  motives. 

The  obligation  might  be  enforced  from  the  au- 
thority of  God,  whose  will  is  supremely  binding  on 
the  consciences  of  all  those  who  are  informed  of  it ; 
and  whose  language  ought  always  to  be,  "  Speak, 
Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth."  It  might  also  be 
enforced  by  example.  We  could  show,  how  the 
most  eminent  saints,  and  the  most  busy  too,  have 
abounded  in  this  employment — and  at  the  head  of 
all,  we  could  present  the  Lord  Jesus  himself,  whose 
conduct  has  the  force  of  a  law  upon  his  followers, 
who  in  vain  profess  to  abide  in  him,  unless  they  also 
walk  even  as  he  walked.  How  often  do  we  read 
of  his  withdrawing  himself,  to  be  alone  with  his 
Heavenly  Father !  And  can  any  of  you  dare  to 
intimate,  Ah  !  he  needed  relirement ;  but  I  can  dis- 
pense with  it ! — But  while  it  is  enjoined  by  the  high- 
est authority  and  sanctioned  by  the  highest  example, 
it  comes  recommended  by  the  highest  advantage: 
and  every  thing  unites  to  prove  that  it  is  a  reasona- 
ble service.  Mrs.  Berry  says  in  her  diary,  "  I  would 
not  be  hired  out  of  my  closet  for  a  thousand  worlds. 

1  never  enjoy  such  hours  of  pleasure,  and  such  free 
and  entire  communion  with  God,  as  1  have  here: 
and  I  wonder  that  any  can  live  prayerless,  and  de- 
prive themselves  of  the  greatest  privileges  allowed 
to  them."  If  the  twelve  Apostles  were  living  in 
your  neighborhood,  and  you  had  access  to  them, 
and  this  intercourse  drew  you  away  from  the  closet, 
they  would  prove  a  real  injury  to  your  soul ;  for  no 
creature  can  compensate  for  the  want  of  commu- 
nion with  God. 

We  may  connect  retirement  with  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge.  "  Through  desire,  a  man  having 
separated  himself,  seeketh  and  intermeddleth  with 
all  wisdom."  This  is  peculiaily  true  of  one  kind 
of  wisdom,  and  which  the  heathen  oracle  pronounc- 
ed to  be  of  heavenly  descent — Self-knowledge. — 
For  how  can  those,  who  are  for  ever  engaged  in 
company,  and  engrossed  by  business,  become  ac- 
quainted with  their  character  and  their  state  1  How 
can  they  compare  themselves  accurately  with  the 
word  of  truth  ;  and  look  after  the  workings  of  the 
hidden  man  of  the  heart ;  and  weigh  their  motives  ; 
and  measure  their  deficiencies  ;  and  detect  the  sins 
of  their  holy  things;  and  "  walk  humbly  with  their 
God  V — like  those  who  retire  with  Him,  and  in  his 
"  light  see  light  V 

Retirement  is  necessary  to  reduce  the  force  of  sc- 
adar  influence.    Where  is  it  the  world  deceives  us. 


allures  us,  overcomes  us  1  Not  when  we  are  alone. 
Not  when  it  is  contemplated  in  the  presence  of  our 
Bible  and  our  God.  There  the  fascination  drops 
off.  There  we  see  that  whatever  successes  we  have 
gained,  we  are  still  losers,  without  "  the  one  thing 
needful."  There  we  feel  that  the  favor  of  man, 
who  is  a  worm,  is  less  than  nothing  and  vanity,  com- 
pared with  the  friendship  of  God.  There  we  won- 
der that  we  have  ever  submitted  to  be  the  slaves  of 
folly ;  and  vow  against  the  tyrant  in  future. 

"  When  I  can  say,  my  God  is  mine  ; 
When  I  can  feel  his  glories  shine  ; 
I  tread  the  world  beneath  my  feet, 
And  all  that  earth  calls  good  or  great." 

Is  the  resemblance  of  God  a  trifle  1  This  results 
from  our  intimacy  with  him.  "Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners."  But  while  "  a  com- 
panion of  fools  shall  be  destroyed,  he  that  walketh 
with  wise  men,  shall  be  wise."  We  soon  assume 
the  manners,  and  imbibe  the  spirit  of  those  with 
whom  we  are  familiar,  especially  if  the  individual 
be  a  distinguished  personage,  and  we  pre-eminently 
revere  and  love  him.  Upon  this  principle,  the  more 
we  have  to  do  with  God,  the  more  we  shall  grow 
into  his  likeness,  and  "  be  followers  of  him,  as  dear 
children."  When  Moses  descended  from  commu- 
nion with  him,  his  face  shone  :  and  although  he  was 
not  aware  of  the  lustre  himself,  the  people  could  not 
steadfastly  behold  him  for  the  glory  of  his  counte- 
nance; and  he  was  constrained  to  hide  it  under  a 
veil.  The  Christian,  too,  may  be  insensible  of  his 
excellences  and  proficiencies  ;  but  his  profiting  will 
appear  unto  all  men ;  all  will  take  knowledge  of 
him  that  he  has  been  with  Jesus. 

Retirement  prepares  us  for  all  other  services. — 
Judge  Hale,  in  his  Letters  to  his  children,  makes 
no  scruple  to  say,  "  If  I  omit  praying,  and  reading 
a  portion  of  God's  blessed  word  in  the  morning,  no- 
thing goes  well  with  me  all  the  day."  Dr.  Boer- 
haave  said,  that  "  his  daily  practice  of  retiring  for 
an  hour  in  the  morning,  and  spending  it  in  devotion 
and  meditation,  gave  him  firmness  and  vigor  for 
the  business  of  the  whole  day."  He  who  goes  forth 
from  God,  after  inquiring  his  will,  and  committing 
himself  to  his  care,  is  the  best  fitted  for  all  the  suc- 
cesses or  disappointments  of  life.  It  is  alone  with 
God,  that  the  minister  best  qualifies  himself  for  his 
work  ;  it  is  there  that  he  is  wrought  into  the  due 
temper  of  his  office  ;  it  is  there  he  rises  above  the 
fear  of  man,  that  "  bringeth  a  snare,"  and  resolves 
not  to  "  shun  to  declare  all  the  counsel  of  God  ;"  it 
is  there  he  is  inspired  to  say, 

"  Careless,  myself  a  dying  man, 
Of  dying  men's  esteem  : 
Happy,  O  God,  if  thou  approve, 
Though  all  beside  condemn." 

He  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  who  should  be  "  to 
be  had."  He  should  learn  to  resist,  with  the  firm- 
ness of  a  martyr,  all  encroachments  on  his  holy  soli- 
tude. His  hearers  will  soon  learn,  by  the  want  of 
savor  in  his  ministrations,  that  he  loves  to  be  more 
abroad  than  at  home,  and  is  fonder  of  the  parlor 
than  of  the  closet.  Whereas,  the  man  that  issues 
from  frequent  and  long  retirement,  will  ascend  the 
pulpit  as  Aaron  entered  the  Tabernacle  of  the  Con- 
gregation, when  the  holy  oil  had  been  poured  upon 
his  head,  and  the  fragrance  filled  the  place.  To 
speak  of  the  Christian's  preparation  for  public  wor- 
ship, may  be  deemed  legal  or  superstitious  by  some ; 
but  the  Scripture  speaks  of  it,  and  the  godly  have 
always  found  their  account  in  it.  Previous  retire- 
ment detaches  the  mind  from  earth ;  it  composes 
the  thoughts  ;  it  tends  to  prevent  distractions  in  wait- 
ing: upon  God  ;  and  aids  to  produce  that  seriousness 
of  spirit,  which  is  essential  to  our  edification  by  th<- 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


19 


means  of  grace.     They  Mill  always  profit  most  by 
the  sanctuary,  who  are  much  in  the  closet. 

It  furnishes  also  a  good  evidence  of  our  slate.  Do 
not  judge  of  yourselves  by  what  you  are  before  men 
— What  are  you  with  God  1  Your  sincerity  is 
chiefly  evinced  by  your  regard  to  the  unseen  duties 
of  religion.  These  show  that  you  are  actuated  by 
pious  principle,  and  not  by  any  of  those  inferior  mo- 
tives which  produce  appearances.  In  public  duties 
you  are  open  to  the  observation  of  others.  Hypo- 
crites may  lift  their  hands  and  eyes  ;  and  attect  great 
fervor  and  zeal.  Curiosity  may  prompt  our  repair- 
ing to  the  ordinances  of  the  Temple  ;  and  the  dis- 
pensation even  of  divine  Truth,  in  excellency  of 
speech  and  elegance  of  manner,  may  prove  an 
amusement ;  and  persons  may  flock  to  it  as  to  a 
concert.  Thus  we  know  it  was  with  Ezekiel's  hear- 
ers. "  And,  lo,  thou  art  unto  them  as  a  very  lovely 
song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and  can  play 
well  on  an  instrument ;  for  they  hear  thy  words,  but 
they  do  them  not."  If  you  are  with  a  person  whom 
you  dislike,  his  presence  is  tolerable  in  a  large  com- 
pany, where  you  have  other  attractions — though 
even  then  you  would  rather  he  was  absent ;  but 
should  they  withdraw,  how  embarrassed  and  mi- 
serable would  you  be  with  him  alone  !  Some  of  you 
seem  attached  to  the  House  of  God  ;  but  we  often 
wonder  how  you  would  feel,  if.  upon  the  separation 
of  the  assembly,  you  were  "detained"  like  Dueg 
"  before  the  Lord." 

The  freedom  we  enjoy  in  the  exercise,  is  no  in- 
considerable recommendation  of  private  devotion. 
Here  we  come  even  to  his  seat :  we  reach  the  secret 
place  of  the  Most  High.  Here  we  are  free  from 
the  restraints  we  feel  in  public.  Here  we  are  not 
condemned  as  deceivers,  or  ridiculed  as  enthusiasts, 
if  we  prostrate  ourselves  before  God,  or  pray  like 
our  Saviour  "  with  strong  cryings  and  tears."  I 
know  not  why  we  should  be  ashamed  to  be  seen 
weeping,  yet  so  it  frequently  is — but  here  the  eye 
can  pour  out  tears  unto  God.  Here  we  may  sigh, 
and  pause,  and  kneel  a  third  time  "saying  the  same 
words."  Here  the  mind  is  affected  with  those  mi- 
nute but  touching  recollections  and  peculiarities 
which  cannot  be  admitted  into  public  worship. — 
Here  we  may  pray  for  others,  in  a  way  we  could 
not  do  before  them,  without  offence.  Would  they 
abide  to  hear  us  beseech  God  to  deliver — One  of 
them  from  the  love  of  money  1  Another,  from  a 
fondness  for  extravagance  1  A  third,  from  a  hate- 
ful and  odious  temper  1  Here  you  can  lay  open, 
with  proper  self-abasement,  the  secret  workings  of 
your  own  pride,  or  envy,  or  carnality.  Here  you 
may  pour  into  the  bosom  of  God,  things  which  you 
could  not  divulge  to  your  dearest  friend  or  relation. 
Every  heart  has  a  bitterness  of  its  own  ;  and  this  is 
frequently,  what  it  is  least  at  liberty  to  communi- 
cate. But  here  no  secret  is  hid  ;  here  no  complaint 
is  suppressed.  Here,  "  in  every  thing  by  prayer 
and  supplication,  wilh  thanksgiving,  Ave  make 
known  our  requests  unto  God  ;"  and,  as  the  conse- 
quence of  the  full  disclosure,  we  are  "  careful  for 
nothing  ;"  and  "  feel  a  peace  that  passeth  all  un- 
derstanding, keeping  our  heart  and  mind  through 
Christ  Jesus." 

But  ought  we  to  overlook  the  promise  which  the 
Saviour  has  here  given  us,  and  with  which  he 
would  engage  us  to  the  performance  of  this  duty? 
It  would  be  a  reflection  upon  his  wisdom  and  good- 
ness. "  Enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou  hast 
shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret, 
and  thi/  Father  which  seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee 
openly.'"    Let  us  observe  the  inducement. 

It  includes  the  Divine  Presence.  "Thy  Father 
which  is  in  secret."  He  is  everywhere ;  but  he  is, 
it  seems,  peculiarly  in  the  closet.  Here  "he  is 
waiting  to  be  gracious,  and  exalted  to  have  mercy." 


Here  he  is  clothed  in  no  terror  to  make  you  afraid. 
Here  he  is,  not  as  a  Judge  on  his  tribunal  to  arraign 
you  as  criminals ;  nor  even  as  a  monarch  on  a 
throne  of  state,  to  receive  you  as  subjects;  but  as 
your  Father — eager  to  embrace  you  as  "the  sons 
and  daughters  of  The  Lord  Almighty."  Do  children 
dread  to  enter  a  room  where  a  loved  and  honored 
father  is  to  be  found  I  Would  not  this  be  a  suffi- 
cient attraction  to  enter  it?  "  When  shall  I  come." 
says  David.  "  and  appear  before  Godl" 

It  includes  his  inspection.  "And  thy  Father 
which  seeth  in  secret. "  He  is  not  regardless  of  you; 
he  is  not  ignorant  of  your  condition;  he  knows 
what  is  the  mind  of  the  Spirit.  Your  desires  are 
before  him,  and  your  groaning  is  not  hid  from  him. 
He  see's  you,  but  not  with  eyes  of  flesh.  He  is  no 
respecter  of  persons.  He  will  not  fail  to  notice 
you,  however  poor  and  despised.  He  views  you 
with  approbati  n.  The  prayer  of  the  upright  is  his 
delight.  "  Let  me  see  thy  countenance,  let  me  hear 
thy  voice  ;  for  sweet  is  thy  voice,  and  thy  coun- 
tenance is  comely." 

it  includes  recompense.  "He  shall  reward  thee 
openly."  He  "  never  said  to  the  seed  of  Jacob, 
seek  ye  me  in  vain."  But  surely  it  is  enough  for  a 
benefactor  to  be  ready  to  attend  "to  the  applications 
of  the  distressed,  without  promising  to  reward  beg- 
gars for  knocking  at  his  door;  and  to  bestow  on 
them,  honor  that  shall  distinguish  them  in  public  ! 
as  if,  instead  of  being  urged  by  their  necessities, 
they  had  been  performing  some  very  meritorious 
action!  The  advantage  of  prayer  is  all  our  own: 
there  can  be  nothing  like  desert  in  it.  And  yet  to 
stimulate  us  to  attend  to  a  course  founded  entirely 
in  a  regard  to  our  welfare,  the  Lord  of  all  makes 
himself  a  debtor  to  his  suppliants;  and  engages  to 
confer  upon  them  not  only  a  real,  but  a  public  and 
acknowledged  recompense.  Even  here  he  puts  a 
difference  between  his  people  and  others.  Even 
now  he  induces  observers  to  say,  "  Verily  there  is  a 
reward  for  the  righteous;"  "  This  is  the  seed  which 
the  Lord  hath  blessed."  He  can  make  even  a 
Balaam  exclaim,  "How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  O 
Jacob;  and  thy  tabernacles,  O  Israel!  Let  me  die 
the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be 
like  his."  But  if  at  present  any  dispensations  hum- 
ble them,  any  clouds  obscure  them ;  they  will  be  ex- 
alted in  due  time;  they  will  soon  shine  forth  as  the 
sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father.  "Judge  no- 
thing before  the  time,  until  the  Lord  come",  who 
will  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness, 
and  make  manifest  the  counsels  of  the  heart,  and 
then  shall  every  man  have  praise  of  God." 

And  now,  my  dear  hearers,  upon  the  ground  of 
this  important  subject,  let  me  address  you  with  all 
fidelity  and  seriousness.  For  it  is  not  a  light  thing 
— it  is  your  life.  I  remember  the  observation  of 
an  old  divine,  and  it  is  not  too  strongly  expressed: 
"It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  be  godly,  who  ne- 
glects secret  devotion,  and  next  to  impossible  that 
he  should  ever  become  so."  To  which  he  adds, 
"You  may  as  well  talk  of  a  wise  fool,  a  wicked 
saint,  a  sober  drunkard,  or  an  honest  thief,  as  of  a 
prayerless  Christian !"  If  this  witness  be  true, 
what  are  we  to  think,  even  of  many  who  make 
some  pretensions  to  religion!  Their  lives  are  full 
of  action,  and  void  of  thought.  They  visit  the 
temple,  and  are  ever  hearing  sermons;  but  they 
are  shy  of  the  closet.  Some  of  them,  in  this  day 
of  pious  and  benevolent  institutions  and  exertions, 
make  a  figure  in  public;  and  their  zeal  flames  at  a 
distance;  but  it  diminishes  as  it  approaches  nearer 
home,  and  it  goes  out  in  a  dreadful  darkness  and 
coldness  between  God  and  their  own  souls. 

In  others,  a  little  of  this  practice  of  retirement 
remains,  lingering  as  the  effect  of  custom  or  con- 
viction only.    But  though  they  do  not  constantly, 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


CO 

laey  ye)  frequently  neglect  private  reading,  medi- 
tation, and  prayer.  Business,  company,  the  most 
trifling  pretensions,  keep  them  from  the  duty;  and 
they  must  be  aware,  it  they  would  deal  honestly 
win  themselves,  that  whatever  they  do  in  this  way, 
is  their  task,  and  not  their  pleasure.  And  need 
they  be  told  to  what  character  Job  alludes,  when 
he  asks,  "  Will  he  delight  himself  in  the  Almighty, 
will  he  always  call  upon  God  1" 

But  some  have  wholly  incurred  the  reproach; 
"  Thou  hast  not  called  'upon  me,  O  Jacob;  thou 
hast  been  weary  of  me,  O  Israel."  Yes— for  it  was 
not  thus  with  you  once;  you  have  left  off  to  be 
wise,  and  to  do  good.  "Apostasy,"  says  Henry, 
"  begins  at  the  closet-door."  There  your  irreligion 
commenced;  and  ever  since  this  revolt  from  God, 
you  have  been  departing  more  and  more  from  him. 
"0  !  what  a  day  was  that,  when  you  first  left  your 
apartment  without  prayer !  Perhaps  you  have  for- 
gotten it.  But  no  !  How  can  you  forget  your  he- 
sitation—your stragglings  wi'th  conscience— the 
shame  and  uneasiness  you  endured,  so  that  you 
longed  and  endeavored  as  soon  as  possible  to  lose 
the  feeling.  And  you  succeeded.  You  felt  less  the 
day  following.  At  length  you  obtained  a  victory 
over  every  moral  embarrassment.  And  now  you 
lie  down  and  rise  up  like  the  beasts  that  perish,  and 
feel  nothing. 

But  allow  me  to  ask,  Is  not  this  neglect  of  reli- 
gious retirement,  a  proof  that  the  love  of  God  is 
riot  in  you  1  You  treat  men  with  attention  ;  but  He 
is  not  in  all  your  thoughts.  You  salute  your  fellow 
creatures  according  to  their  rank  and  quality  ;  but 
you  never  give  Him  the  glory  that  is  due  unto  his 
holy  name.  You  visit  your  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances, but  you  never  call  upon  God,  though  he  is 
not  far  from  any  one  of  you.  And  have  you  no- 
thing to  do  with  Him?  Is  he  not  your  Creator  1 — 
Your  Preserver  1  Your  Governor  1  Your  Judge  1 
Have  you  nothing  to  hope  from  Him  7  Nothing  to 
fear'.!  In  his  hand  your  breath  is,  and  his  are  all 
your  ways.  Men  deny  the  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture ;  but  we  want  no  other  proof  of  the  mortifying 
truth,  than  this  alienation  of  your  mind  from  God. 
Can  this  be  an  innocent  state!  Could  this  be  the 
condition  of  man,  when  God  made  him  upright  1 — 
No  !  We  do  not  go,  we  need  not  go  to  the  refuse 
of  society  in  prisons,  and  galleys.  Setting  aside  all 
immorality  and  profligacy ;  when  we  see  creatures 
shunning  "their  Creator,  and  beneficiaries  hating  to 
retain  their  Benefactor  in  their  knowledge  ;  when 
we  see  men,  instead  of  loving  God  with  all  their 
heart,  banishing  him  from  his  own  temple,  and  for- 
bidding him  the  bosom  that  was  made  for  himself 
— we  know  they  must  be  fallen,  and  perverted,  and 
guilty  creatures;  and  without  pardon  and  renova- 
tion can  never  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  And 
this  is  your  character;  your  danger.  You  are  liv- 
ing without  God.  You  are  enemies  to  him.  In 
vain  you  reckon  upon  your  virtue  and  safety,  be- 
cause you  may  be  free  from  the  iniquities  which 
lisgrace  others.  Sins  of  omissions  expose  to  con- 
demnation, as  well  as  positive  transgressions.  They 
are  violations  cf  the  same  authority.  He  that  for- 
bids, also  enjoins.  And  you  show  your  contempt 
-.f  God,  by  neglect,  as  well  as  by  insult.  If  two 
persons  living  together  in  the  same  house,  were  ne- 
ver to  speak  to  each  other,  it  would  be  deemed  by 
all,  as  much  a  proof  of  dislike,  as  their  fighting.  Be 
not  therefore  deceived.  You  are  wronging  your 
own  souls.  All  they  that  are  far  from  God  shall 
perish.  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  with 
all  the  nations  that  forget  God." 

Is  not,  therefore,  another  cause  of  your  neglect  of 
the  closet,  a  guilty  conscience'?  You  are  afraid  to 
enter  into  solitude.  You  know  that  however  cheer- 
ful you  appear,  you  are  far  from  being  happy  in 


reality.  You  have  your  occasional  forebodings  ; 
and  it  is  safer  not  to  look  into  your  condition  lest 
they  should  be  confirmed.  You  surround  your- 
selves with  company,  lest,  being  alone,  truth  should 
invade  your  delusion,  or  you  should  be  haunted  by 
the  ghosts  of  your  own  thoughts.  The  value  of 
your  amusements  does  not  consist  in  the  pleasure 
they  yield,  but  in  their  power  to  divert  you  from  re- 
flection. And  this  power  they  must  soon  lose.  And 
its  effect  at  present  is  limited.  It  is  no  easy  thing 
to  keep  out  light,  where  there  are  so  many  aper- 
tures to  blind  up;  or  to  sleep  on,  where  stillness  is 
impossible.  What  a  life  of  constraint  and  uneasi- 
ness are  you  leading !  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith 
my  God,  unto  the  wicked." 

Another  prevention  is  to  be  found  in  creature  at- 
traction and  worldly  cares.  You  "mind  earthly 
things."  Your  farm  and  your  merchandise  ;  your 
rising  early,  and  sitting  up  late,  and  compassing  sea 
and  land,  to  carry  some  temporal  interest — these 
furnish  you  with  excuses ;  these  yield  you  substi- 
tutes; these  keep  you  from  seeking  those  things  that 
are  above.  We  wish  not  to  render  you  indifferent 
to  your  stations  in  life,  or  to  induce  you  to  underva- 
lue the  good  things  which  he  gives  you  to  enjoy.  But 
while  you  are  "not  slothful  in  business,  be  fervent 
in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord,"  "  Labor  not"  only,  or 
principally,  "  for  the  meat  which  perisheth,  but  for 
that  meat  which  endureth  unto  everlasting  life." — 
"  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  i  ighte- 
ousness,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto 
you."  And  if  you  obtain  them  not  in  this  subordi- 
nation, you  will  find  them  to  be  nothing  but  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit.  Your  table  will  become  a 
snare.    Your  prosperity  will  destroy  yrou. 

We  have  thus  again  called  you  to  enter  your 
closet.  And  as  to  many  of  you,  it  is  probable  the  ^ 
application  will  be  again  refused.  But  another  call 
will  soon  be  addressed  to  you.  It  will  be  to  die. — 
That  call  you  cannot  refuse.  You  live  in  a  crowd 
— but  you  must  die  alone.  You  now  hate  silence — 
but  you  are  hastening  to  "  the  house  appointed  fo; 
all  living ;"  and 

"  Darkness,  death,  and  long  despair, 
"  Reign  in  eternal  silence  there." 


LECTURE  III. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  THE  FAMILY. 

"  Then  David  returned  to  bless  his  Household.'" 
2  Sam.  vi.  -20. 

The  human  frame  is  "  a  body  fitly  joined  to- 
gether, and  compacted  by  that  which  every  joint 
supplieth,  according  to  the  effectual  working  of  eve- 
ry part."  There  is  nothing  in  it  irregular;  nothing 
defective;  nothing  superfluous.  The  eye  cannot 
say  to  the  ear,  I  have  no  need  of  thee:  nor  the  hand 
to  the  foot,  I  have  no  need  of  thee.  The  members 
are  all  connected  with,  all  dependent  upon,  all  sub- 
servient to,  each  other;  and  were  you  to  separate 
them,  the  body,  which  is  composed  of  the  whole, 
would  be  at  once  disfigured  and  destroyed. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  system  of  Christianity,  as 
presented  in  the  Scriptures  of  truth.  By  separa- 
tion, it  loses  both  its  beauty  and  its  energy;  its 
beauty— for  this  consists  in  the  fine  adjustment  of 
the  parts;  its  energy — for  this  results  from  the  har- 
monious operation  of  the  whole.  What  God  there- 
fore has  joined  together,  whether  it  be  doctrine 
and  duty;  or  command  and  promise;  or  privilege 
and  service;  or  hope  and  fear— let  not  man  put 
asunder. 

The  zeal  of  some  professors  is  not  always  accord- 
ing to  knowledge,  or  such  as  to  evince  a  "  heart 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


21 


righ  with  God"  It  is  not  full  of  "good  fruits 
without  partiality  and  without  hypocrisy."  For 
these  are  nearly  allied.  Partiality  is  always  a  proof 
of  hypocrisy,  for  if  you  are  upright  before  God, 
and  sincerely  desirous  of  pleasing  him,  you  will 
come  to  him,  not  to  dictate,  but  to  submit ;  not 
to  choose,  but  to  say,  "Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  dol"  "  Then  shall  1  not  be  ashamed  when 
I  have  respect  unto  all  thy  commandments." 

A  Christian  is  not  a  perfect  character;  but  he  is 
a  character.  He  is  always  the  same;  every  where 
the  same.  The  same  in  prosperity  and  adversity  ; 
the  same  in  public  and  in  private;  the  same  in  the 
dwelling-place,  as  in  the  temple;  the  same  in  the 
family,  as  in  the  Church.  If  there  be  any  differ- 
ence, his  immediate  connections  will  have  the  ad- 
vantage; and  looking  towards  those  who  have  the 
best  opportunities  of  knowing  and  observing  his  re- 
ligion, he  will  be  able  to  say,  "Our  rejoicing  is 
tlii*.  the  testimony  of  our  conscience  ;  that  in  sim- 
plicity and  godly  sincerity,  not  with  fleshly  wisdom, 
but  by  the  grace  of  God,  we  have  our  conversation 
in  the  world,  and  more  abundantly  to  you-ward." — 
When  Whitefield  was  asked,  whether  a  certain  per- 
son was  a  good  man,  he  replied,  "  I  know  not — I 
never  lived  with  him."  And  Philip  Henry  re- 
marks, that  "  Every  man,  in  religion,  is  really,  what 
he  is  relatively." 

We  have  to  exhibit  the  Christian  this  morning 
In  the  Family. 

Here  it  is  supposed  that  he  has  a  family.  He  is 
not  a  poor,  illiberal,  solitary  individual;  preferring 
vice,  or  mopishness,  or  an  escape  from  expense, 
care,  and  trouble,  to  a  state  which  was  designed  to 
complete  the  happiness  of  Adam  in  paradise ;  and 
which  Inspiration  has  pronounced  to  be  "honorable 
in  all."  He  believes  in  the  wisdom  and  veracity  of 
God,  who  has  said,  "  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be 
alone;"  and  instead  of  reflecting  upon  his  parents, 
and  undervaluing  and  injuring  the  most  amiable 
part  of  society,  where  too  they  are  not  even  allowed 
to  complain;  he  forms  no  leading  permanent  plan 
of  life,  in  which  marriage  is  not  considered  as  the 
foundation.  And  having  entered  the  condition,  he 
will  be  anxious  to  fulfil  its  duties.  He  will  love  his 
wife,  even  as  himself.  He  will  train  up  his  child- 
ren "in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord." 
He  will  behave  towards  his  servants,  as  one  who 
knows  that  he  has  "a  Master  in  heaven,"  and  that 
there  is  no  respect  of  persons  with  God.  He  will 
say,  with  David,  "I  will  behave  myself  wisely  in  a 
perfect  way.  Oh!  when  wilt  thou  come  unto  me! 
I  will  walk  within  my  house  with  a  perfect  heart. — 
I  will  set  no  wicked  thins;  before  mine  eyes.  I  hate 
the  work  of  them  that  turn  aside;  it  shall  not  come 
nisrh  me !" 

"  Then  David  returned  to  bless  his  household." 
Then — for  the  period  and  the  occasion  are  previous- 
ly marked.  The  day  had  been  a  very  pleasing  one 
to  David ;  but  it  had  proved  a  very  active  and  busy 
one  too.  For  many  hours  he  had  been  engaged  in 
bringing  up  the  Ark  of  God  from  the  house  of  Obed- 
Edom  into  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  He  had  not  onlv 
attended,  to  witness  all  the  indications  of  piety  and 
joy;  but  had  contributed  himself,  in  the  sacred  per- 
formances. And  when  the  symbol  of  the  Divine 
presence  was  set  in  the  Tabernacle  prepared  to 
receive  it ;  he  offered  burnt-offerings  and  peace- 
offerings  before  the  Lord  ;  and  dismissed  the  multi- 
tude with  presents,  after  blessing  them  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  But  the  monarch  does  not  make  him 
forget,  the  master;  nor  does  public  service  hinder 
domestic.  "  Then  David  returned  to  bless  his  house- 
hold."— Let  us  pass  from  this  instance  of  excellen- 
cy, to  consider  at  large, 


I.  The  WAY  IN  WII1CU  THX  HEAD  OF  A  FAMILY  MAY 
BLESS  HIS  HOUSEHOLD. 

II.  TO  Show  THE  REASONS  WHtCU  SHOULD  ENGAGE 
HIM  TO  ATTEMPT  IT. 

III.  TO   ANSWER   SOME    OBJECTIONS  TO  THE  DUTY. 

And, 

IV.  TO  CONCLUDE  WITH  SOME  ANIMADVERSIONS  AND 
ADMONITIONS  RESPECTING  IT. 

I.  If  it  be  asked,  now  the  head  of  a  family  may 
bless  his  household  1  we  would  answer,  by  Exam- 
ple— by  Government — by  Discipline— -by  Instruction 
— by  Attendance  an  the  Means  of  Grace— by  the  Per- 
formance of  Domestic  Devotion. 

Some  of  these  particulars,  we  are  aware,  in  a  de- 
gree imply  and  include  each  other;  yet  they  are 
distinct  enough  for  the  utility  of  separate  remark. 
Thus  we  distinguish  countries  and  provinces; 
though  in  some  places  they  approximate:  and  where 
they  unite,  the  air,  and  the  soil,  and  the  produce 
will  display  resemblance  and  even  sameness. 

First,  He  may  "bless  his  household"  by  Exam- 
ple. I  begin  with  this,  because  nothing  can  supply 
the  want  of  personal  religion.  He  who  despises  his 
own  soul,  will  feel  little  disposition  to  attend  to  the 
souls  of  others.  Destitute  of  principle,  he  will  be 
determined  only  by  circumstances;  and  his  ex-"- 
tions,  if  he  makes  any,  will  be  partial  and  rare.- 
Having  nothing  to  animate  him  from  experience, 
his  endeavors  will  be  dull  and  cold.  Where  all  is 
merely  formal  and  official,  a  man  will  not  go  far 
even  in  the  use  of  means;  but  what  probability  is 
there  of  his  success,  when  he  does  use  theml  Who 
loves  to  take  his  meat  from  a  leperous  hand  ]  A 
drunkard  will  make  a  poor  preacher  of  sobriety 
to  servants.  A  proud  and  passionate  father  is  a 
wretched  recommender  of  humility  and  meekness 
to  his  children.  What  those  who  are  under  his  care, 
see,  will  more  than  counteract  what  they  hear ;  and 
all  his  efforts  will  be  rejected  with  the  question— 
"  Thou  that  teachest  another,  teachest  thou  not  thy- 
self? Thou  thatpreachest  a  man  should  not  steal, 
dost  thou  steal7?  Thou  that  sayest  a  man  should 
not  commit  adultery,  dost  thou  commit  adultery  T'— 
To  what  is  it  owing,  that  the  offspring  of  many  pro- 
fessors are  worse  than  those  of  other  men  1  Incon- 
sistency. Inconsistency  is  more  injurious  than  ne- 
glect. The  one  may  be  resolved  into  a  forgetfulness 
of  principle;  the  other  shows  a  contempt  of  i. 
You  little  imagine  how  early  and  how  effective^ 
children  remark  things.  They  notice  them  when 
they  seem  incapable  of  any  distinct  observation; 
and  while  you  would  suppose  no  impression  could 
be  left  on  such  soft  materials,  a  fixed  turn  is  given 
to  many  a  part  of  the  future  character.  You  must 
therefore  reverence  them,  and  be  circumspect  even 
in  your  most  free  and  relaxing  moments.  You  must 
do,  as  well  as  teach  ;  and  while  you  are  humble  be- 
fore God,  you  must  be  able  to  say  to  them,  "Be  ye 
followers  of  me,  even  as  I  also  am  of  Christ." 

It  is  commonly  observed,  that  example  does  more 
than  precept.  But  the  young  are  peculiarly  alive 
to  example;  and  when  example  has  the  advantage 
of  nearness  and  constant  exhibition,  and  unites  both 
authority  and  endearment,  it  must  prove  the  most 
powerful  and  insensible  transformer;  and  requires 
in  those  who  furnish  it,  and  who  will  necessarily  be 
imitated,  that  they  "abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil."  We  only  add  here,  that  they  who  constitute 
your  moral  charge,  are  not  so  much  affected  and 
swayed  by  any  direct  and  positive  urgings,  ns  by  the 
presence,  and  exemplification,  and  sight  of  "  what- 
soever things  are  lovely  and  of  good  report."  The 
force  of  the  hothouse  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the 
genial  influence  of  the  spring,  by  which,  without 
violence,  and  without  noise,  every  thing  is  drawn 
into  bud  and  bloom. 


22 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


Secondly,  He  may  "  bless  his  household"  by  Go- 
vernment. Order  is  Heaven's  first  law.  God  him- 
self is  the  example  of  it;  and  by  nothing  does  he 
bless  his  creatures  more,  than  by  the  steadiness  of 
the  order  of  Nature,  and  the  regularity  of  the  sea- 
sons. "What  uncertainty  is  there  in  the  ebbing  and 
flowing  of  the  tides  1  What  deviations  in  the 
changes  of  the  moon  1  The  sun  knoweth  his  going 
down,  and  his  rising  up.  Even  the  comet  is  not  ec- 
centric :  in  traversing  the  boundlessness  of  space, 
he  performs  his  revolutions  of  fifty  or  a  hundred 
years,  to  a  moment.  And  in  all  the  works  of  God, 
what  seems  disorder,  is  only  arrangement  beyond 
our  comprehension ;  for  "  in  wisdom  he  has  made 
them  all." 

Hear  the  Apostle.  "  Let  every  thing  be  done  de- 
cently, and  in  order."  The  welfare  of  your  house- 
hold requires  that  you  should  observe  times.  Every 
thing  should  have  its  season — your  businesses,  your 
meals,  your  devotional  exercises,  your  rising,  and 
your  rest.  The  periods  for  these  will  vary  with  the 
condition  of  families;  but  labor  to  be  as  punctual  as 
circumstances  will  allow.  It  is  of  importance  to 
peace  and  temper,  and  diligence,  and  economy.  Con- 
fusion is  friendly  to  every  evil  work.  Disorder  also 
multiplies  disorder.  For  no  one  thinks  of  being  ex- 
act with  those,  who  set  at  nought  all  punctuality. 

The  same  principle  requires  that  you  should  keep 
every  thing  in  its  place.  Subordination  is  the  es- 
sence of  all  order  and  rule.  Never  suffer  the  dis- 
tinctions of  life  to  be  broken  down.  All  violations 
of  this  kind  injure  those  who  are  below  the  grada- 
tion, as  well  as  those  above  it.  The  relinquishment 
of  authority  maybe  as  wrong  as  its  excesses.  He 
that  is  responsible  for  the  duties  of  any  relation, 
should  claim  its  prerogatives  and  powers — how 
else  is  he  to  discharge  them?  Be  kind  and  affa- 
ble to  servants;  but  let  nothing  divest  you  of  the 
mistress.  Be  the  tenderest  of  fathers;  but  be  the 
lather — and  no  sensible  woman  will,  I  am  sure,  be 
offended  if  I  add — Be  the  most  devoted  of  husbands, 
but  be  the  husband. 

Thirdly,  By  Discipline.  This  regards  the  treat- 
ment of  offences:  "For  it  must  needs  be  that  of- 
fences will  come;"  and  what  is  to  be  done  with 
them"?  Here  are  two  extremes  to  be  avoided.  The 
one  is  severity.  You  are  not  to  magnify  trifles  into 
serious  evils ;  and  instead  of  a  cheerful  counte- 
nance, to  wear  a  gloom  ;  and  instead  of  commend- 
ing, to  be  always  finding  fault;  and  instead  of  en- 
livening every  thing  around  you  like  the  weather 
in  spring,  to  be  a  continual  dropping  in  a  rainy, 
winter-day.  Instead  of  making  home  repulsive,  let 
it  possess  every  attraction,  and  abound  with  every 
indulgence  and  allowance  the  exclusions  of  Scrip- 
ture do  not  forbid.  Instead  of  making  a  child  trem- 
ble and  retreat,  gain  his  confidence  and  love,  and 
let  him  run  into  your  arms.  "Fathers,"  says  the 
Apostle,  (for  this  fault  lies  mostly  with  our  sex,) 
"  Fathers,  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath,  lest 
they  be  discouraged."  The  other  is  indulgence— 
a  foolish  fondness,  or  connivance  at  things  actually 
wrong,  or  pregnant  with  evil.  This  often  shows 
itself  with  regard  to  favorites.  And  here  ye  mo- 
thers, let  not  your  good  be  evil  spoken  of.  Do  not 
smother  your  darlings  to  death  with  kisses;  and  let 
not  your  tender  bosom  be  an  asylum  for  delinquents 
appealing  from  the  deserved  censures  of  the  father. 
The  success  of  such  appeals,  with  kind  but  weak 
minds,  is  very  mischievous ;  it  makes  preferences 
where  there  should  be  an  evenness  of  regard,  and 
tends  to  check  and  discourage  wholesome  reproof; 
and  "  he  that  spareth  the  rod  hateth  his  son,  but  he 
thatloveth  him  chasteneth  himbetimes."  "  Chasten 
thy  son  while  there  is  hope,  and  let  not  thy  soul 
spare  for  his  crying."  Here  Eli  failed:  "his  sons 
made  themselves  vile,  and  he  restrained  them  not." 


Here  also  David  erred ;  he  had  not  displeased  Ado- 
nijah,  at  any  time  in  saying,  "  Why  hast  thou  done 
sol"  When  the  head  of  a  family  cannot  prevent 
the  introduction  of  improper  books;  the  visits  of 
infidel  or  profane  companions ;  the  indulgence  of 
ensnaring  usages,  and  indecent  discourse;  the  put- 
ting forth  of  pretensions  above  his  rank ;  the  incur- 
ring of  expenses  beyond  his  income ; — does  he  bear 
rule  in  his  own  house  1  Is  it  thus  that  he  puts  away 
evil  from  his  tabernacle?  Is  it  thus  that  he  blesses 
his  household  1 

For  what  is  Abraham  commended  1  "I  know 
him,  that  he  will  command  his  children  and  his 
household  after  him,  and  they  shall  keep  the  ways 
of  the  Lord  to  do  justice  and  judgment."  Not  that 
he  was  a  tyrant ;  and  terrified  his  family  with  the 
blackness  of  his  frown,  or  the  roughness  of  his  voice. 
We  no  more  admire  a  despot  in  the  house,  than  in 
the  state  :  but  he  was  decided  and  firm  ;  not  only 
telling  his  servants  and  children  what  they  were  to 
avoid  or  what  they  were  to  perform  ;  but  requiring 
and  enforcing  obedience  by  the  authority  of  his  sta- 
tion. But  proper  authority  requires  dignity,  as  well 
as  power.  What  can  he  do,  whose  levities,  and 
follies,  and  ignorance,  and  weakness,  deprive  him 
of  all  awe,  and  all  influence,  and  all  impression  1 — 
Are  we  to  smile  or  sigh  at  the  thought  of  some  child- 
ren being  in  subjection  to  their  parents  ;  and  of  some 
wives  being  called  upon  to  reverence  their  husbands  1 
Is  there  no  law  to  protect  females  and  children  1 — 
As  to  children,  the  case  with  them  is  not  voluntary ; 
they  deserve  pity.  But  no  sympathy  is  due  to  fe- 
males who  throw  themselves  into  the  empire  of  folly 
and  weakness ;  and  willingly  choose  a  condition, 
whose  duties  it  is  sinful  for  them  to  neglect,  and 
impossible  for  them  to  perform. 

Fourthly,  By  Instruction.  "  For  the  soul  to  be 
without  knowledge,  it  is  not  good."  And  this  holds 
supremely  true  of  religious  knowledge.  Hear  the 
address  of  Moses :  "  These  words,  which  I  com- 
mand thee  this  day,  shall  be  in  thine  heart :  and 
thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children, 
and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine 
house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by  the  way,  and  when 
thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou  risest  up.  And  thou 
shalt  bind  them  for  a  sign  upon  thine  hand,  and  they 
shall  be  as  frontlets  between  thine  eyes.  And  thou 
shalt  write  them  upon  the  posts  of  thy  house,  and 
on  thy  gates."  Here  observe  not  only  the  duty,  but 
the  manner  in  which  he  has  enjoined  the  perform- 
ance of  it.  He  would  make  it  a  constant,  a  fa- 
miliar, an  easy,  a  pleasing  exercise — a  recreation 
rather  than  a  task.  In  another  place  he  says, — 
"  When  thy  son  asketh  thee  in  time  to  come,  say- 
ing, What  mean  the  testimonies  and  the  statutes 
and  the  judgments  which  the  Lord  our  God  hath 
commanded  you "?  Then  thou  shalt  sav  unto  thy 
son,  We  were  Pharaoh's  bond-men  in  Egypt;  and 
the  Lord  brought  us  out  of  Egypt  with  a  mis'hty 
hand.  And  the  Lord  shewed  signs  and  wonders, 
great  and  sore,  upon  Egypt,  upon  Pharaoh,  and  upon 
all  his  household,  before  our  eyes  :  and  he  brought 
us  out  from  thence,  that  he  might  bring  us  in,  to  give 
us  the  land  which  he  sware  unto  our  fathers.  And 
the  Lord  commanded  us  to  do  all  these  statutes,  to 
fear  the  Lord  our  God  for  our  good  always,  that  he 
miafht  preserve  us  alive,  as  it  is  at  this  day.  And 
it  shall  be  our  righteousness,  if  we  observe  to  do  all 
these  commandments  before  the  Lord  our  God  as 
he  hath  commanded  us."  Nothing  can  be  more 
natural  than  this  recommendation.  The  curiosity 
of  children  is  great,  and  will  commonly,  if  judi- 
ciously treated,  furnish  you  Avith  sufficient  opportu- 
nities to  inform  them.  Their  questions  will  show 
you  the  bias  of  their  disposition,  the  state  of  their 
minds,  and  the  nature  and  degree  of  the  informa- 
tion it  is  proper  to  administer;    and  in  various 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


23 


cases,  it  is  less  necessary  to  go  before  them,  than  to 
follow.  Events  too  are  always  turning  up ;  and 
these  will  afford  a  wise  parent  a  thousand  hints  of 
natural  and  seasonable  improvement.  Yet  there 
are  those  who  though  they  levy  a  tax  upon  every 
thing  their  avarice,  sagacity,  and  zeal  can  find,  to 
promote  the  temporal  interests  oi  their  offspring, 
never  seize,  and  turn  to  a  religious  account,  any  of 
those  occurrences  of  the  day,  and  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, whether  pleasing  or  awful,  that  might  so  easi- 
ly be  made  to  speak  not  only  to  the  understanding, 
but  to  the  imagination  and  the  heart. 

Fifthly,  By  securing  their  attendance  onlhe  Means 
of  Grace.  Servants  should  be  allowed  opportunities 
of  public  worship  and  instruction,  as  often  as  cir- 
enmstances  will  permit;  and  we  admire  the  plan  of 
our  forefathers,  who  disengaged  their  domestics  as 
much  as  possible  on  the  Sabbath  from  the  prepara- 
tions of  the  table,  that  they  might  be  at  liberty  to  go 
themselves,  and  get  food  for  their  souls.  Children 
also  should  be  led  to  the  house  of  God — though  there 
is  a  proper  time  for  their  "  shewing  unto  Israel." — 
In  determining  this,  it  is  not  easy  to  draw  the  line. 
If  they  are  taken  too  early,  besides  hindering  the 
attention  of  those  who  have  the  charge  of  them, 
there  is  danger  that  holy  exercises  will  become  irk- 
some by  frequent  and  long  detensions,  before  they 
can  feel  any  interest  in  them.  Yet  an  early  attend- 
ance is  valuable,  as  it  tends  to  render  the  habit  na- 
tural; and  impressions  may  be  occasionally  made, 
even  upon  infant  minds,  sufficient  to  lead  them  to 
inquire,  and  to  aid  you  much  in  your  endeavors  to 
instruct  them  at  home. 

Lastly,  By  Domestic  Devotion.  This  service 
ought  to  be  performed  every  morning  and  evening. 
It  includes  prayer.  Prayer  is  not  only  to  be  made 
for  your  family — though  this  is  a  duty,  and  a  privi- 
lege, and  enables  you  to  obtain  for  your  household 
a  thousand  blessings;  but  also  with  them.  It  takes 
in  also  reading  the  Scriptures.  Mr.  Henry  goes 
further :  "  They,"  says  he,  "  who  daily  pray  in  their 
houses  do  well ;  they  that  not  only  pray,  but  read  the 
Scriptures,  do  better;  but  they  do  best  of  all,  who 
not  only  pray,  and  read  the  Scriptures,  but — sing 
the  praises  of  God."  This  exercise  is  very  enliven- 
ing, and  tends  to  throw  off  the  formality  which  ad- 
heres perhaps  more  to  domestic  worship  than  either 
to  public  or  private  devotion,  as  it  allows  of  less 
variety.  If  singing  be  not  practicable,  a  psalm  or 
hymn  may  be  read.  It  will  often  produce  a  good 
effect,  by  impressing  the  minds  of  servants  and 
children.  The  whole  of  the  service  will  help  yon 
in  performing  what  we  have  previously  recommend- 
ed, the  duty  of  teaching  and  admonishing  your  fami- 
lies. The  psalm  or  hymn  will  furnish  them  with 
sentiments  and  sentences.  The  reading  of  the  word 
will  store  their  minds  with  facts  and  doctrine. — 
While  the  prayer  itself  will  be  no  inconsiderable 
instructor.  The  very  engagement  will  remind  them 
of  the  presence  and  agency  of  God.  Your  address- 
ing him  for  pardon,  will  convince  them  of  guilt; 
your  interceding  for  your  country,  will  leach  them 
patriotism  ;  for  your  enemies,  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries; for  all  mankind,  universal  benevolence. — 
Thus  a  man  may  bless  his  household.— Let  us  con- 
sider, 

II.     The  reasons  which  should  engage  him  to 

ATTKMPT  IT. 

For  this  purpose,  let  us  view  Domestic  Religion. 

First,  In  reference  to  God.  To  Him  it  has — a 
relation  of  responsibility.  We  are  required  to  glo- 
rify God  in  every  condition  we  occupy  ;  in  every  ca- 
pacity we  possess.  A  poor  man  is  required  to  serve 
him  ;  but  if  he  becomes  rich,  his  duty  is  varied  and 
eniarged;  and  from  the  hour  of  his  requiring  wealth, 
he  will  be  judged  by  the  laws  of  affluence."    A  sin- 


gle man  is  required  to  serve  God  as  an  individual 
only  ;  but  if  he  enters  into  connected  life,  he  must 
serve  God  as  the  head  of  a  family,  and  will  be  judg- 
ed by  the  duties  arising  from  his  household  relation. 
God  has  given  him  a  talent,  and  he  is  to  make  use 
of  that  talent.  He  has  committed  to  him  a  trust, 
and  he  is  to  be  faithful  to  that  trust.  He  has  made 
him  a  steward,  and  he  is  to  give  account  of  his 
stewardship.  "  I  assigned  you,"  will  God  say,  "  the 
empire  of  a  family.  To  qualify  you  for  the  office, 
I  furnished  you  with  authority,  and  influence,  and 
resources.  How  have  you  employed  them  1  Where 
are  the  servants  and  children  you  were  to  have 
trained  up  for  me  ?" 

— A  relation  of  gratitude.  How  much  dost  thou 
owe  to  his  kindness  and  care  !  Who  crowned  the 
wish  of  thy  heart,  in  granting  thee  the  object  of  thy 
dearest  choice  ?  Behold  thy  wife,  like  a  fruitful 
vine  by  the  sides  of  thy  house;  and  thy  children, 
like  "  olive  plants  round  about  thy  table."  Who 
has  supplied  not  only  all  thy  personal,  but  all  thy 
relative  wants  ?  Whose  secret  has  been  upon  thy 
tabernacle  1  Whose  providence  has  blessed  (he  la- 
bor of  thy  hand  ?  Whose  vigilance  has  suffered  no 
evil  to  befall  thee,  and  no  plague  to  come  nigh  thy 
dwelling  ?  And  will  thou  refuse  to  serve  him,  with 
a  family  which  He  has  formed,  and  secured,  and 
sustained,  and  indulged  ?  And  wilt  thou,  instead 
of  making  thy  house  the  temple  of  his  praise,  ren- 
der it  the  grave  of  his  mercies  ! 

— A  relation  of  dependence.  Can  you  dispense 
with  God  in  your  family  1  What  are  all  your 
schemes,  all  your  exertions,  all  your  expectations, 
without  him'?  "  Except  the  Lord  build  the  house, 
they  labor  in  vain  that  build  it ;  except  the  Lord 
keep  the  city,  the  watchman  waketh  but  in  vain. — 
It  is  vain  for  you  to  rise  up  early,  to  sit  up  late,  to 
eat  the  bread  of  sorrows;  for  so  he  giveth  his  be- 
loved sleep."  How  wise  is  it  then  to  secure  the 
favor  of  one,  who  has  all  things  under  his  control, 
and  is  able  to  make  them  all  work  together  for  your 
good,  or  conspire  to  your  destruction.  And  has  he 
not  bound  himself  by  promise  and  by  threatening'? 
"  The  curse  of  the  Lord  is  in  the  house  of  the  wick- 
ed ;  but  he  blesseth  the  habitation  of  the  just." — 
What  may  not  be  dreaded  from  the  curse  of  the 
Almighty?  What  may  not  be  expected  from  his 
blessing?  Under  the  one,  the  evils  of  life  becume 
intolerable;  we  sow  much,  and  bring  home  little; 
we  earn  wages  to  put  it  into  a  bag  with  holes  ;  our 
table  becomes  a  snare  ;  our  successes  gender  many 
foolish  and  hurtful  lusts;  our  prosperity  destroys 
us.  Under  the  other,  a  little  is  better  than  the  riches 
of  many  wicked  ;  our  trials  are  alleviated  ;  our  sor- 
rows are  tokens  for  good  ;  our  comforts  are  enjoyed 
with  a  relish  others  never  taste;  the  voice  of  re- 
joicing and  of  salvation  is  in  the  tabernacles  of  the 
righteous. — Therefore, 

Secondly,  View  it  in  reference  to  yourselves. — 
You  ought  to  be  concerned  chiefly  for  your  spiritual 
welfare;  and  should  value  things  as  they  tend  to 
restrain  you  from  sin,  and  excite  you  to  holiness. — 
If  this  maxim  cannot  be  denied,  let  us  judge  by  this 
rule — the  man  who  performs  this  duty,  and — the 
man  who  neglects  it.  Can  he  give  way  to  swearing 
and  falsehood,  who  is  going  to  hear  from  God,  and 
to  speak  ti>  him  ?  Can  he  throw  himself  into  a  fury, 
who  is  just  going  to  hold  intercourse  with  the  source 
of  peace  and  love?  Must  he  not  guard  his  temper 
and  conduct,  even  on  the  principle  of  consistency? 
The  other  exonerates  himself  from  the  reproach  of 
hypocrisy  ;  and  because  he  makes  no  pretensions  to 
duly,  thinks  he  is  justified  in  living  as  lie  pleases. — 
And  this  it  is  that  restrains  many  from  adopting  the 
practice.  They  think  that  it  would  embarrass  them; 
that  it  would  abridge  their  liberty  ;  that  it  would  fix 
upon  them  the  charge  of  inconsistency.     And  so 


24 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


far  they  think  justly.  But  here  is  their  folly  ;  in 
viewing  a  freedom  from  moral  motives  and  re- 
straints as  a  privilege  i  and  an  obligation  to  urge 
them  to  what  is  right  and  beneficial  in  itself,  as  an 
hardship  and  complaint ! 

And  the  practice  is  not  only  right,  but  every  way 
profitable.  While  you  teach,  you  learn :  while  you 
do  good,  you  are  gaining  good.  Your  mind  will  be 
tranquilized  by  a  confidence  in  God,  which  you 
alone  are  justified  in  reposing,  and  which  you  alone 
can  repose  in  Him.  How  much  does  your  comfort 
depend  on  the  dutifulness  of  those  that  are  under 
you!  But  how  can  you  look  for  morality  without 
piety  ]  It  is  by  teaching  them  to  regard  God,  that 
you  must  teach  them  to  regard  yourselves,  and  to 
be  diligent  and  submissive  in  their  places.  It  is 
thus  you  bind  them  by  sanctions  the  most  powerful, 
and  which  operate  in  your  absence  as  well  as  when 
you  are  nigh.  It  is  thus  you  are  not  only  obeyed, 
but  regarded  and  honored.  Religion,  when  it  is 
consistently  exemplified,  always  inspires  respect  and 
reverence.  But  what  hold  have  the  irreligious  on 
the  homage  of  others  1  So  true  it  is  even  here, 
"  They  that  despise  me  shall  be  lightly  esteemed." 
View  it, 

Thirdly,  In  reference  to  the  Family.  By  how 
many  ties  ought  the  members  of  your  household  to 
be  endeared  !  "And  we  do  love  them."  But  where- 
in does  your  love  appear"?  Can  you  imagine  that  it 
only  requires  you  to  ask  what  shall  they  eat,  and 
what  shall  they  drink,  and  wherewithal  shall  they 
be  clothed  %  What  is  the  body  to  the  soul  1  What 
is  time  to  eternity  1  Do  you  wish  to  do  them  good7? 
Can  any  good  equal  that  godliness  which  is  profita- 
ble unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that 
now  is,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  cornel 

Were  you  to  suffer  your  children  to  go  naked,  to 
perish  with  hunger ;  were  you  to  leave  them  in  sick- 
ness to  die  alone;  you  would  be  shunned  as  mon- 
sters. But  you  are  far  more  deserving  of  execra- 
tion, if  you  infamously  disregard  their  spiritual  and 
everlasting  welfare.  Doubtless  Herod  was  viewed 
with  horror  by  those  who  had  witnessed  the  massa- 
cre of  the  infants  of  Bethlehem:  but  he  was  far  less 
cruel  than  some  of  you.  He  slew  the  children  of 
others;  you  destroy  your  own.  He  only  killed  the 
body;  you  destroy  both  bodv  and  soul  in  hell.  Had 
you  any  real  love  to  your  children,  what  would  be 
your  feelings  in  life  to  see  them  going  astray,  and 
verifying,  by  the  evils  of  their  conduct,  that  tlie  way 
of  transgressors  is  hard — while  conscious  that  you 
have  done  nothing  to  secure  them  from  it !  But 
what,  at  death,  would  you  think  of  a  meeting  that 
must  take  place  between  you  and  your  children,  in 
the  great  day !  Then  they  will  rise  up  against  you 
in  'he  judgment,  and  cause  you  to  be  put  to  death. 
"Cursed  be  the  day  of  my  birth!  Why  died  I  not 
from  the  wombl  Why  was  I  not  as  a  hidden  un- 
timely birth,  as  infants  ihat  never  see  light'?  Thou 
father,  and  thou  mother,  the  instruments  of  my  be- 
ing— to  you  I  am  under  no  obligations.  You  only 
consulted  your  barbarous  inclinations — you  gave 
me  an  existence  over  which  you  watched  while  I 
could  not  be  guilty;  but  mercilessly  abandoned  me 
as  soon  as  I  became  responsible:  as  the  creature  of 
a  day,  you  provided  for  me;  but  as  an  immortal, 
you  left  me — you  made  me — to  perish.  I  execrate 
your  cruelty.  I  call  for  damnation  upon  your  heads 
— and  the  only  relief  of  the  misery  to  which  you 
have  consigned  me  is,  that  I  can  reproach  and  tor- 
ment you  for  ever !" 

From  such  a  dreadful  scene,  how  delightful  is  it 
to  think  what  a  happy  meeting  there  will  be  between 
those  who  have  blessed  their  households  and  the  fa- 
vored subjects  of  their  pious  care!  Yea,  without 
going  forward  to  this  period  of  mutual  and  happy 
acknowledgment,  what  a  joy  unspeakable  and  full 


of  glory  must  such  benefactors  feel  even  now,  when 
they  hear  a  servant  saying,  "  Blessed  be  God  for  the 
hour  I  entered  such  a  family.  I  was  as  ignoiant 
and  careless  as  a  heathen — but  there  the  eyes  of  my 
understanding  were  opened,  there  my  feet  were 
turned  into  the  path  of  peace."  Or  when  they  hear 
a  child  confessing,  "  O  what  a  privilege  that  I  was 
born  of  such  parents!  How  early  did  they  teach 
me  to  know  the  Holy  Scriptures !  How  soon  they 
led  me  to  the  throne  of  grace :  and,  by  teaching  me 
to  pray,  furnished  me  with  the  best  privilege  of 
life !  How  patiently  they  watched,  and  how  ten- 
derly they  cherished,  and  how  wisely  they  directed, 
every  pious  sentiment  and  every  holy  purpose! — 
And, 

"As  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries, 
To  tempt  her  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
They  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way." 

It  is  thus  their  children  rise  up  and  call  them 
blessed  ! — Let  us  view  it, 

Fourthly,  In  reference  to  Visitants  and  Guests. 
These,  instead  of  inducing  you  to  decline  the  prac- 
tice, should  furnish  you  with  an  argument  in  sup- 
port of  it.  Wo  be  it'to  you,  if  you  shrink  back  from 
the  duty  in  compliment  to  the  rich,  the  infidel,  the 
irreligious,  or  the  dissipated — should  such  ever  be 
found  beneath  your  roof!  For  "he  that  is  ashamed 
of  me  and  of  my  words,"  says  the  Saviour,  "of  him 
will  the  Son  of  Man  be  ashamed  when  he  comes  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven,  with  the  holy  angels." 

It  is  not  by  concealing  your  principles,  but  by 
owning  them  verbally  and  practically,  that  you 
must  be  useful  to  others,  and  gain  their  respect. 
And  here  you  have  an  opportunity  to  confess  Him 
before  men ;  and  withou'  going  out  of  your  way 
to  effect  it.  It  cannot  appear  to  be  sought  after,  to 
give  offence.  It  comes,  in  the  regular  course  of 
your  household  arrangement.  And  nothing  is  more 
likely,  without  effort  and  without  officiousness,  to 
awaken  attention;  to  inform;  to  admonish.  The 
preacher  remembers  well  the  acknowledgment  of 
a  man  now  with  God.  He  moved  in  superior  life  ; 
and  from  his  rank  and  talents,  and  extensive  and 
various  acquaintance,  was  likely  to  have  persons 
frequently  at  his  house  who  were  sirangers  to  his 
religious  economy.  He  said  his  manner  was,  when 
the  time  of  domestic  service  arrived,  to  inform  them 
that  he  was  always  accustomed  to  worship  God  with 
his  family:  if  they  disliked  the  practice,  they  might 
remain;  if  they  chose  to  attend,  they  might  accompa- 
ny him  into  the  library.  He  said  he  had  never  known 
any  that  refused  ;  and  many  of  them  owned  they 
we're  much  struck  with  the  propriety  and  usefulness 
of  the  usage,  and  resolved  on  their  return  to  adopt 
it  themselves.  The  lecturer  has  also  known  several 
individuals  himself,  whose  religious  course  com- 
menced during  a  visit  to  a  family  who  thus  honored 
God,  and  were  thus  honored  by  him.  It  is  record- 
ed, I  believe,  of  Sir  Thomas  Abney,  that  even  when 
he  was  lord  mayor,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  feast, 
he  told  the  company  that  he  always  maintained  the 
worship  of  God  in  his  house ;  that  he  was  now  with- 
drawing for  the  purpose,  and  should  presently  re- 
turn. There  are  few  professors  of  religion  who 
could  have  done  this.  They  would  not  have  had 
consciousness  enough  of  their  claim  to  confidence 
in  their  integrity.  But  where  the  thing  was  known 
to  be,  not  the  pretence  or  show  of  extraordinary 
sanctity,  but  the  steady  and  uniform  operation  of 
principle;  not  an  exception  from  common  co;i;'uct, 
but,  fine  ns  it  was,  only  a  fair  specimen  of  the  uhe'e 
piece;  this  noble  resolution  must  have  producer, 
some  impression  even  in  such  an  assembly.  Ob- 
serve it, 

Fifthly,  In  reference  to  the  Country.    None  of  us 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


2b 


should  live  to  ourselves.  Everyone  should  be  con- 
cerned to  benefit  and  improve  a  community  in  which 
he  has  enjoyed  so  many  advantages.  But  we  know 
that  "  righteousness  exalteth  a  nation."  ami  that  "sin 
is  a  reproach  to  any  people."  What  an  enemy  then 
are  yon,  if  irreligious,  to  a  country  that  deserves  so 
much  at  your  hands.  However  loyally  you  may 
talk,  you  contribute  to  its  danger  and  disgrace,  not 
only  by  your  personal  tran>gressions,  but  by  sending 
out  into  the  midst  of  it  so  much  moral  contagion,  so 
many  unprincipled  and  vicious  individuals  from 
your  own  family.  And  how  much  would  you  be- 
friend it  were  you  to  fear  God  yourselves;  and  to 
send  forth  those  from  under  your  care,  who  will 
serve  their  generation  according  to  his  will ;  and 
induce  Him  to  say,  "  Destroy  it  not,  for  a  blessing 
is  in  it."  Who  can  imagine  the  good  even  one  of 
vhese  individuals  may  effect,  by  his  prayers,  his  ex- 
amples, his  influence,  his  exertions  ?  What  a  bless- 
ing did  Elkanah  and  Hannah  prove  to  Israel  by 
their  training  up  such  a  child  as  Samuel !  And  what 
gratitude  do  all  ages  owe  to  his  grandmother  Lois 
and  his  mother  Eunice,  for  such  a  character  as 
Timothy! 

Finally,  Let  us  regard  it  in  reference  to  the 
Church.  Baxter  thinks  that  if  family  religion  was 
fully  discharged,  the  preaching  of  the  word  would 
not  long  remain  the  general  instrument  of  conver- 
sion. Without  being  answerable  for  the  extent  of 
this  observation,  we  know  who  hath  said,  "Train 
up  a  child  in  the  way  that  he  should  go,  and  when 
he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it."  We  know 
that  among  our  earlier  godly  ancestors,  religion 
was  a  kind  of  heir-loom,  that  passed  by  descent; 
and  instead  of  the  fathers  were  the  children.  Fa- 
milies were  then  the  nurseries  of  the  churches;  and 
those  who  were  early  "planted  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  flourished  in  the  courts  of  our  God,  and  still 
brought  forth  fruit  in  old  age."  Even  the  minis- 
ters of  the  sanctuary  were  commonly  derived  from 
hence ;  and  these  domestic  seminaries  prepared  them 
to  enter  the  more  public  institutions.  And  what  well 
defined  and  consistent  characters  did  they  display — 
and  what  just  notions  did  they  entertain  of  divine 
truth — and  how  superior  were  they  to  those  teacher  i 
who,  brought  up  in  ignorance,  and  after  a  profligate 
course,  are  suddenly  converted ;  who,  impressed  be- 
fore they  are  informed,  are  always  in  danger  of 
extremes  or  eccentricities!  who  hold  no  doctrine 
in  its  just  bearings,  but  are  carried  away  dispro- 
portionably  by  some  one  truth,  which  first  caught 
their  attention;  and  who  often  continue  crude  and 
incoherent  in  their  notions,  and  illiberal  and  con- 
demnatory in  their  sentiments,  through  life !  They 
were  not  always  making  discoveries,  but "  continued 
in  the  things  which  they  had  learned,  and  been  as- 
sured of,  knowing  of  whom  they  had  learned  them." 
They  were  enlightened,  but  not  dazzled.  They 
were  refreshed  with  divine  truth,  but  not  intoxi- 
cated. They  staggered  not,  but  kept  on  steady  in 
their  course;  neither  turned  to  the  right  hand  nor 
to  the  left.  Thev  were  not  Antinomians;  they  were 
not  legalists.  None  could  honor  the  grace  of  God 
more  ;  but  they  never  abused  it. 

Not  only  therefore  would  the  Churches  of  Christ 
be  more  filled,  but  better  filled:  and  though  our  eve 
is  not  evil,  because  God  is  good,  and  so  far  from 
wishing  to  limit  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  we  rejoice 
in  the  conversion  of  any:  we  reckon,  and  not  with- 
out much  observation,  that  the  best  members  and 
the  best  ministers  of  our  churches — they  who  in 
their  conduct  and  in  their  preaching  most  adorn  the 
doctrine  of  God  oar  Saviour  in  aH  things,  are  those 
who  are  brought  from  pious  families. 

III.   We  were  to  answer  some  objections  to  the 

PRACTICE. 

But  I  have  been  hesitating  whether  I  should  pass 


over  this  division  of  our  subject;  not  only  because 
we  perceive  that  we  must  trespass  on  your  time,  but 
because  objections  can  be  raised  easily  against  any 
doctrine,  or  practice.  The  weakest  reasoners  most 
frequently  advance  them;  and  no  wise  ones  will 
ever  be  influenced  by  them.  They  will  look  at  ar- 
gument and  proof;  and  if  a  principle  be  established 
By  sufficient  evidence,  they  are  satisfied,  even  if 
there  should  be  difficulties  which  they  must  leave 
unsolved.  I  will  however  glance  at  four  or  five 
tilings. 

The  first  regards  Leisure.  "We  are  so  much 
engaged,  that  our  affairs  leave  us  no  time  for  these 
exercises."  But  what  time  do  they  require  1  And 
is  there  one  of  you  that  does  not  waste  more  time 
every  day  of  his  life  than  is  expended  in  such  de- 
votions'] And  if  more  time  be  really  necessary, 
could  you  not  gain  more  ]  How  do  you  manage 
your  concerns  ]  Could  nothing  be  saved  by  more 
diligence  and  order'?  At  what  time  do  you  rise  I 
Could  nothing  be  saved  from  late  slumberings  -o 
the  bed,  without  anyinjury  to  health;  yea,  with  ih  ■ 
likelihood  of  improving  it  1  If  time  falls  short  for 
any  thing,  should  it  not  fall  short  for  things  of  less 
moment  1  Is  not  the  serving  of  God  the  "one  thing 
needful?'  And  cannot  He,  by  his  grace  and  pro- 
vidence, more  than  indemnify  you  for  every  saci  i- 
fice  you  make]  Is  there  not  truth  in  the  proverb, 
"  There  is  nothing  got  by  stealing,  or  lost  by  pray- 
ing]" Are  yon  more  employed  than  David  was, 
who  presided  in  his  council,  and  gave  audience  to 
ambassadors,  and  orders  to  generals — who  reigned 
over  an  extensive  and  distracted  empire'?  Yet  lie 
found  time  for  domestic  worship;  and  even  on  a 
day  of  peculiar  activity  "  returned  to  bless  his 
household." 

The  second  regards  Capacity.  "We  envy  those 
who  are  qualified  for  such  a  work;  but  we  are  un- 
able to  perform  it,  as  we  wish — and  as  we  ought." 
This  is  perhaps  the  only  instance  in  which  you 
think  and  speak  humbly  of  yourselves.  But  we 
will  not  accept  of  your  voluntary  humility,  till  we 
have  obtained  from  you  an  answer  to  a  few  in- 
quiries. Is  it  not  the  want  of  inclination  you  lee), 
rather  than  of  ability]  Have  you  ever  fairly  made 
the  trial]  Have  you  done  every  thine  in  your 
power  to  gain  a  fitness  for  the  duty]  Would  not 
your  capacity  increase  by  exercise]  Is  refinement 
here  necessary]  Is  not  the  most  imperfect  per- 
formance preferable  to  neglect]  Suppose  you  were 
to  do  nothing  more  than,  after  reading  a  portion  of 
God's  word,  to  kneel  down  with  your  household, 
and  address  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven  in  the 
words  which  the  Saviour  himself  taught  his  own 
disciples]  Are  there  not  helps  to  Family  Devo- 
tion of  which  you  may  avail  yourselves]  We  pre- 
fer in  this  service  free  prayer  to  forms;  but  prefer- 
ence is  not  exclusion.  We  love  not  the  contempt 
with  which  forms  have  been  treated  by  some.  A 
Baxter,  a  Howe,  a  Watts,  a  Doddridge,  did  not  ri- 
dicule them  as  "crutches."  But,  admitting  the  just- 
ness of  the  depreciating  figure,  yet  surely  crutches 
are  a  help  and  a  blessing  to  the  lame:  and  we  know 
who  hath  said,  "Where  there  is  first  a  willing 
mind,  it  is  accepted  according  to  what  a  man  hath, 
and  not  according  to  what  he  hath  not." 

The  third  regards  Shame.  "  We  are  ashamed  to 
begin  !"  What!  ashamed  of  your  glory]  Ashamed 
of  following  the  great]  Ashamed  of  following  a 
David — a  King — who  "  returned  to  bless  his  house- 
hold]" Of  following  a  Joshua;  a  hero;  a  com- 
mander; the  first  man  in  the  commonwealth  of  Is- 
rael; who  said,  "as  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will 
serve  the  Lord !"  Of  following  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob,  and  who  made  it  their  first  care,  wher- 
ever they  came,  to  build  an  altar  for  God]  Wa 
his  late  majesty  ashamed  always  to  worship  G 


2G 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


with  his  household  morning  and  evening!  Is  there  | 
not  an  increasing  number  of  persons  in  our  own 
day,  of  high  rank  and  nobility,  who  keep  up,  even 
in  theii  establishments,  a  custom  so  laudable  and 
useful  1  The  shame  is  that  you  have  neglected  it 
so  long,  not  that  you  are  willing  to  begin  it  now. 
Follow  the  example  of  a  man  who  was  well  known 
to  seme  of  us,  but  whose  name  we  must  suppress. 
He  had  heard  the  minister  preach  in  the  morning 
of  the  Sabbath  on  Family  Worship.  The  very 
same  evening  he  called  together  his  wife,  and 
children,  and  servants,  and  apprentices;  and  reca- 
pitulated the  arguments  and  motives  they  had 
heard,  appealed  to  their  reason  and  conscience 
whether  they  were  not  unanswerable  and  irresisti- 
ble. He  then  said,  I  condemn  myself  for  the  ne- 
glect  of  this  duty,  in  which  I  have  hitherto  lived: 
but  as  the  best  proof  of  repentance  is  practice,  I 
will  now  commence  it;  and,  by  the  help  of  God,  I 
will  omit  it  no  more,  as  long  as  I  live.  Was  this 
weakness  1  or  moral  heroism'? 

The  four  Ik  regards  false  or  mistaken  Orthodoxy. 
God  forbid  we  should  undervalue  divine  truth;  but 
there  is  a  highness  in  doctrine  so  commonly  con- 
nected with  lowness  of  conduct,  that  we  have 
known  not  a  lew,  whose  creed  has  soon  led  to  the 
abandonment  of  family  worship;  and  it  is  indeed 
the  natural  tendency,  not  of  the  principles  they 
abuse,  but  of  their  abuse  of  the  principles. — "  The 
Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his.  And  he  will  call 
them  in  his  own  due  time;  and  make  them  willing 
in  the  day  of  his  power,  without  our  anxiety."  But 
we  are  not  sure  of  this.  Our  exertions  may  be  the 
very  means  which  he  has  appointed  by  which  to 
accomplish  the  end.  And  when  does  He  work 
without  means'?  He  gives  the  increase;  but  Paul 
plants,  and  Apollos  waters — and  what  right  have 
we  to  ask  for  a  moral  miracle,  by  expecting  the  one 
without  the  other'? 

"  Where  is  the  use  of  it1?  We  cannot  give  our 
servants  and  our  children  grace."  And  why  not  1 
"  If,"  says  James,  "  a  man  err  from  the  truth,  and 
one  convert  him,  let  him  know  that  he  which  con- 
verted a  siaaer  from  the  error  of  his  ways,  shall 
save  a  soul  from  death,  and  hide  a  multitude  of 
sins."  Here  it  is  supposed  that  you  may  save  and 
convert.  "Yes,  but  not  meritoriously  or  efficient- 
ly." How  then'?  "Why  only  instrumentally." 
We  have  no  objection  to  this.  Still  it  seems  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  you  may  do  it.  "  Yes,  under 
God."  This  again  is  right.  We  never  wish  to 
exclude  him.  But  he  is  with  us :  and  by  prayer  we 
secure  his  assistance. 

There  is  indeed  a  sense  in  which  you  cannot 
give  grace;  it  is  as  to  the  success  of  means.  But 
for  this  you  are  not  responsible.  This  is  the  Lord's 
part.  But  Avhat  is  yours'?  Think  of  another  case. 
The  husbandman  cannot  raise  an  ear  of  corn;  but 
he  can  manure  the  land,  and  plough,  and  sow. 
And  he  knows  this  is  indispensable  to  a  crop.  And 
how  rarely  does  he  labor  in  vain !  If  God  promises 
io  communicate  his  blessing  in  the  use  of  means, 
they  who  refuse  them  have  no  right  to  complain; 
and  they  who  employ  them,  have  no  reason  to  be 
discouraged. 

Another — But  I  will  answer  no  more  of  your  ob- 
jections. You  know  they  are  excuses.  You  know 
they  are  such  as  you  will  be  ashamed  to  urge  be- 
fore the  Judge  of  all.  You  know  that  your  con- 
sciences are  not  satisfied  with  them  even  now. — I 
tp.  ill  therefore,  in  the 

IV.  Place,  conclude  with  some  animadversions 

AND   ADMONITIONS. 

And  "to  whom,"  as  says  the  Prophet,  "shall  I 
speak  and  give  warning?" 


I  must  first  address  those  who  at  present  are  un 
connected  in  life. — How  powerfully  does  our  sub- 
ject say  to  such,  "  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  to- 
gether with  unbelievers."  This  will  render  the 
performance  of  family  religion  in  all  cases  difficult, 
and  in  many,  impossible.  It  is  lamentable  enough 
with  regard  to  pious  individuals  themselves,  that 
while  they  want  every  kind  of  encouragement  and 
assistance,  they  are  allied  to  those  who,  instead  of 
helping  them,  must  oppose  and  injure :  but  it  is  also 
to  be  deplored,  as  producing  partially  or  wholly  the 
ruin  of  domestic  godliness.  When  Peter  enforces 
relative  duties,  he  admits  that  unless  we  dwell  "  as 
heirs  together  of  the  grace  of  life,"  our  "prayers 
will  be  hindered."  How  can  they  rule  well  their 
own  house'?  How  can  they  seek  a  godly  seed, 
while,  instead  of  striving  together,  they  thus  draw 
different  ways'?  and,  alas!  the  one  drawing  hea- 
venward is  the  least  likely  to  be  successful;  the  op- 
posite attractions  falling  in  with  the  depravity  of 
human  nature'?  For  evil  wants  only  to  be  seen  or 
heard;  but  good  must  be  enforced  with  "line  upon 
line,  and  precept  upon  precept." 

But  there  are  those  who  are  already  in  family 
alliance,  who  are  living  in  the  neglect  of  family  de- 
votion. And  this  is  the  case,  I  fear,  with  not  a  few. 
And  yet  you  would  be  offended  if  you  were  called 
infidels — but  according  to  the  apostle  you  have  no 
reason:  "He  that  provideth  not  for  his  own,  and 
especially  those  of  his  own  house,  hath  denied  the 
faith,  anil  is  worse  than  an  infidel."  Many  of  yon 
attend  regularly  the  public  services  of  the  sanctu- 
ary, and  we  love  to  see  you  in  the  courts  of  the 
Lord,  and  willing  to  hear  his  words.  But  if  you 
gained  good  in  the  house  of  God,  you  would  carry 
it  away,  and  diffuse  it  in  your  own.  Yet  when  yon 
are  followed  home,  there  is  no  more  appearance  of 
religion  in  your  habitations,  than  in  the  houses  of 
heathens.  Heathens!  forgive  me  this  wrong.  We 
blaspheme  you  by  the  comparison.  You  had,  not 
only  your  gods  for  the  country,  but  your  household 
gods:  which  you  regarded  as  your  defenders,  and 
guardians,  and  comforters;  and  which  nothing 
could  induce  you.  to  give  up  or  neglect. 

What  can  I  say  more'?  He  has  threatened  to 
pour  out  his  fury  upon  the  nations  that  know  him 
not,  and  upon  the  families  that  call  not  upon  his 
name.  But  I  would  rather  work  upon  your  inge- 
nuousness, than  upon  your  fears.  God  has  revealed 
himself  under  a  domestic  relation,  and  calls  him- 
self "The  God  of  all  the  families  of  the  earth." 
And  will  you  refuse  him  in  this  endearing  charac- 
ter'? Wili  you  rob  yourselves  and  your  families  of 
your  greatest  mutual  honor  and  blessedness  1  An 
angel,  in  his  intercourse  with  this  world,  sees  no- 
thing so  uninviting  and  dreary  as  a  house,  though 
rich  as  a  mansion  and  splendid  as  a  palace,  devoid 
of  the  service  and  presence  of  God!  But  what  so 
lovely,  so  attractive  as  the  family  altar,  "  garlanded 
by  the  social  feelings,"  and  approached  morning 
and  evening  by  the  high-priest  of  the  domestic 
temple,  and  his  train  of  worshippers'?  There  the 
master's  authority  is  softened,  and  he  feels  respect 
for  the  servant  who  is  kneeling  at  his  side,  and 
"free  indeed."  There  the  servant's  submission  is 
sweetened,  and  he  loves,  while  he  obeys,  a  master 
who  is  praying  for  his  welfare.  Here  the  father, 
worn  down  with  the  labor  of  the  day,  is  cheered 
and  refreshed.  Here  the  anxious  mother  hushes 
her  cares  to  rest.  "  If  any  thing  in  the  day  has 
been  diverted  from  its  course,  now  all  finds  its 
place,  and  glides  along  its  wonted  channel.  If  the 
relative  affections  have  declined  during  the  day, 
the  evening  service,  like  the  dew  of  heaven,  revives 
and  enlivens  them.  If  offences  have  come,  they 
are  easily  forgiven,  when  all  are  asking  for  pardon 
for  themselves.    Every  angry  word,  every  wrcng 


Til  £    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


turner,  every  petulant  feeling,  flies  before  the  hal- 
lowing influence  of  social  devotion." 

I  must  address  myself  to  those  who  perform  it. 
I  beseech  you,  brethren,  "surfer  the  word  of  exhor- 
tation."— Beware  of  formality.  God  is  a  Spirit. 
He  looketh  to  the  heart. — Beware  of  tediousness 
and  length.  "Use  not  vain  repetitions  as  the 
heathen  do;  for  they  think  they  shall  be  heard  for 
their  much  speaking."  "God"  is  in  heaven,  and 
thou  upon  the  earth;  therefore  ltt  thy  words  be 
lew."  God  cannot  be  fatigued:  but  lie  knows  our 
i'rame;  he  remembers  that  we  are  dust.  Beware 
-if  lateness.  When  langour  and  drowsiness  and 
iistlessness  prevail,  you  would  bless  your  house- 
holds more  by  suffering  them  to  retire,  than  en- 
gaging them  in  services  irksome  to  the  performers, 
and  insulting  to  the  receiver.  "If  ye  offer  the 
blind  for  sacrifice,  is  it  not  evil  1  and  if  ye  offer 
the  lame  and  sick,  is  it  not  evil  1  Offer  it  now  unto 
thy  governor,  will  he  be  pleased  with  thee,  or  ac- 
cept thy  person'?  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  But 
cursed  be  the  deceiver  which  hath  in  his  flock  a 
male,  and  voweih  and  sacrificeth  unto  the  Lord 
a  corrupt  thing:  fori  am  a  great  King,  saith  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  and  my  name  is  dreadful  among  the 
heathen." 

1  must  not  overlook  those  who  are  living  in  re- 
ligious families.  The  lines  have  fallen  to  you  in 
pleasant  places;  you  have  a  goodly  heritage.  From 
how  many  snares  are  you  secured!  What  oppor- 
tunities of  instruction  and  improvement  do  you 
possess!  What  pious  excitements,  and  encourage- 
ments, and  aids  do  you  enjoy!  But  your  responsi- 
bility grows  with  your  advantages.  To  you  much 
is  given.  From  you  much  will  be  required.  For 
"to  him  that  knoweth  to  do  good,  and  doeth  it  not, 
to  him  it  is  sin."  There  may  be  wicked  servants 
in  religious  families:  such  an  one  was  Gehazi,  who 
waited  upon  Elisha.  And  there  may  be  wicked 
children  in  religious  families:  such  an  one  was 
Ham,  who  called  even  Noah  his  father!  But  if 
you  abuse  or  neglect  your  means  and  privileges, 
your  guilt  and  your  condemnation  will  be  greater 
than  those  of  Pagans.  "  It  shall  be  more  tolerable 
for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the  day  of  judgment 
than  for  you." — "  There  shall  be  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  when  ye  shall  see  Abraham  and 
Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  God  and  ye 
yourselves  shut  out." 

Finally,  there  are  some  who  reside  in  irreligious 
You    we  sincerely  pity.      Whatever 
temporal  advantages  you   enjoy,   they  can  never 
compensate   for  your  spiritual   privations.      How 
sad,  and  how  awful,  to  see  the  Sabbath  polluted, 
the  house  of  God  forsaken;  every  book  read,  but 
the  Bible.       To  hear,  instead  of  prayer,  profane 
swearing,  and  the  taking  God's  name  in  vain,  in- 
of  praise.      Or,  if  no  gross  immoralities  pre- 
vail, to  witness,  lying  down  and  rising  up,  no  ac- 
ledgment  of  God;  but  a  practical,  if  not  ver- 
bal rejection  of  him;    every  thing   really  saying 
unto  God,   "Depart   from    us,   we   desire  not  the 
knowledge  of  thy  ways." 

Surely  such  a  situation,  since  you  have  known 
God,  or  rather  have  been  known  of  him,  has  not 
been  the  object  of  your  choice.  But  you  may  have 
been  providentially  placed  here.  You  have  per- 
haps been  called  here,  being  a  servant;  or  you  have 
been  called  here  being  a  child.  Be  mindful  of  your 
danger,  and  "  watch  and  pray,  lest  you  enter  into 
temptation."  Look  to  him  who  preserved  saints  in 
Cae  ar'a  household,  and  Abijah  in  the  family  of 
Jeroboam,  that  he  may  secure  you.  You  are  much 
observed.  Therefore  walk  circumspectly.  Be  harm- 
less and  blameless.  And  not  only  be  without  re- 
buke, but  hold  forth  the  word  of  life — not  by  step- 
ping out  of  your  sphere— not  by  talking,  (though  a 


•  word  fitly  spoken,  O  how  good  is  it  1)  but  by  your 
|  tempers,  your  behavior,  your  character. 

And  thus  you  may  be  the  instruments  of  introduc- 
ing religion  where  you  ought  to  have  found  it.  Not 
only  lime  wives  thus  won  their  husbands  without 
the  word,  but  servants  have  removed  prejudices 
from  their  masters  and  mistresses,  and  induced 
them  to  attend  the  gospel.  And  thus  children  have 
conveyed  religion  to  those  from  whom  tl.cy  ought 
to  have  derived  it.  "  Well,"  said  a  mother,  one  day, 
weeping — her  daughter  being  proposed  as  a  candi- 
date tor  Christian  communion — "  I  will  resist  no 
longer.  How  can  I  bear  to  see  my  dear  child  love 
and  read  the  Scripture,  while  I  never  look  into  the 
Bible — To  see  her  retire,  ahd  seek  God,  while  I  ne- 
ver pray — To  see  her  going  to  the  Lord's  table, 
while  his  death  is  nothing  tome."  "  Ah  !"said  she, 
to  the  minister  who  had  called  to  inform  her  of  her 
daughter's  desire — wiping  her  eyes — "  Yes,  sir,  I 
know  she  is  right — and  I  am  wrong.  I  have  seen 
her  firm  under  reproach,  and  patient  under  provo- 
cation, and  cheerful  in  all  her  sufferings.  When  in 
her  late  illness  she  was  looking  for  her  dissolution, 
heaven  stood  in  her  face.  O  !  that  I  was  as  fit  to  die ! 
I  ought  to  have  taught  her  ;  but  I  am  sure  she  has 
taught  me.  How  can  I  bear  to  sec  her  joining  the 
Church  of  God,  and  leaving  me  behind — perhaps 
forever!"  From  that  hour  she  prayed  in  earnest, 
that  the  God  of  her  child  would  be  her  God,  and  was 
soon  seen  walking  in  company  with  her  in  the  way 
everlasting.  Is  this  mere  supposition  1  More  than 
one  eye  in  reading  this  allusion,  will  drop  a  testi- 
mony to  the  truth  of  it.  "We  speak  that  we  do 
know,  and  testily  that  we  have  seen."  May  God 
bless  us,  and  make  us  blessings!  Amen. 


LECTURE  IV. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  THE  CHURCH. 

"  That  thou  mayest  know,  hoio  thou,  oughtest  to  behave 
thyself  in  the  House  of  God,  which  is  the  Church  of 
the  living  God." — I  Tim.  iii.  15. 

The  connections  of  life  are  many  and  various  ; 
and  they  have  all  their  appropriate  claims  and  ad- 
vantages. Some  of  these  relations  are  natural; 
some,  civil ;  some,  commercial;  some,  intellectual 
and  literary.  But  the  most  important  of  all  alli- 
ances are  those  of  a  religious  quality.  The  bonds 
of  these  are  not  flesh  and  blood;  but  faith  and  love 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  These  regard  the  spirit  in 
man  ;  and  fall  under  the  power  of  the  world  to  come. 
All  other  connections  have  their  sphere  only  in  this 
life;  but  these  aspire  after  "new  heavens  and  a.  new 
earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness."  All  other 
unions,  however  firm,  or  however  tender,  having 
answered  the  destinations  of  Providence,  will  be  dis- 
solved by  death;  but  though  Christians  die,  they 
are  still  related.  The  separation  between  them  is 
only  temporary;  a  period  of  re-union  will  assur- 
edly and  speedily  arrive.  Yea,  it  is  only  partial  .- 
even  now — 

"  The  saints  below,  and  all  the  dead, 
But  one  communion  make; 
All  join  in  Christ  their  living  head, 
And  of  his  grace  partake." 

You  are  to  view  the  Christian,  this  morning, 
In  the  Church. 

In  tli is  state  Timothy  was  when  Paul  addressed 
him  in  the  words  which  we  have  chosen  for  our 
motto — "  That  thou  mayest  know  how  thou,  oughtest 
to  behave  thyself  in  the  House  uf  God,  which  is  the 
Church  of  the  living  God." — Him,  it  is  true,  he  ad- 
dressed as  a  minister ;  and  his  official  station  de- 


23 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


manded  a  line  of  conduct  becoming  it.  But  every 
Christian  has  a  place  to  fill,  and  a  part  to  act,  in  the 
Church  of  God;  and  he  needs  to  he  informed  and 
admonished  concerning  it.     Let  us, 

I.  Explain  the  condition  our  subject  supposes. 

II.    The  OBLIGATIONS    WE  ARE  UNDER    TO  ENTER  IT. 

III.  The  duties  which  arise  out  of  it. 
I.  The  condition  our  subject  supposes. 

Now  when  we  speak  of  the  Christian's  being  in 
the  Church,  it  is  necessary  to  observe  two  accepta- 
tions of  the  word  in  Scripture,  as  well  as  in  common 
discourse. 

It  is  sometimes  used  to  comprise  all  the  redeemed 
and  sanctified  people  of  God.  These,  in  every  age, 
in  every  country;  under  every  dispensation,  whe- 
ther Patriarchal,  Jewish,  or  Evangelical ;  all  these, 
whether  residing  in  earth,  or  in  heaven;  all  these 
constituie  one  church.  And  of  this  we  read,  when 
it  is  said,  "  The  church  of  God,  which  he  hath  pur- 
chased with  his  own  blood."  "  We  are  come  to  the 
church  of  the  first-born."  "Christ  loved  the  church, 
and  gave  himself  for  it."  "That  he  might  present 
it  to  himself  a  glorious  church,  not  having  spot,  or 
wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing."  However  distinguish- 
ed from  each  other,  all  real  Christians,  "  who  wor- 
ship God  in  the  Spirit,  and  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus, 
and  have  no  confidence  in  the  flesh,"  belong  to  this 
church;  and  to  be  found  in  it,  is  an  unspeakable 
privilege,  and  constitutes  what  we  mean  by  "  the 
communion  of  saints"  in  the  Apostles'  Creed — a  mu- 
tual participation  in  all  their  work,  honor,  and  bless- 
edness. But  it  is  not  of  this  we  now  speak.  This 
is  the  Church  universal ;  and  in  this  we  are  neces- 
sarily found,  as  soon  as  ever  we  are  chosen,  and 
called  out  of  the  world. 

But  the  word  much  more  frequently  means  a  par- 
ticular community,  or  company  of  believers  associated 
together  for  religious  purposes.  This  coincides  with 
the  language  of  ihe  Nineteenth  Article—"  A  church 
is  a  congregation  of  faithful  men,  in  which  the  pure 
word  of  God  is  preached,  and  the  Sacraments  are 
duly  administered  according  to  Christ's  ordinance 
in  all  things  that  of  necessity  are  requisite  to  the 
same."  In  conformity  to  this,  we  read  of  "  the  mes- 
sengers," not  of  the  Church — but  "  of  the  Churches" 
—not  of  the  Church — but  "the  Churches  which 
were  in  Christ."  And  thus  we  read  of  "the  seven 
Churches  which  are  in  Asia:"  of  "the  Churches 
which  were  in  Galatia;"  and  of  "the  Churches 
throughout  all  Judea,  and  Galilee,  and  Samaria;" 
and  what  they  were  may  be  inferred  from  their 
"walking  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  in  the  com- 
forts of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  being  multiplied." — 
Thus,  too,  we  read  of  "the  Church  at  Philippi," 
and  "  the  Church  at  Colosse,"  and  so  of  the  rest. 

In  advancing  further,  nothing  would  be  more 
easy  than  to  furnish  matter  for  dispute.  My  object, 
however,  is  not  controversional,  but  practical  It 
does  not  require  me  to  undertake  the  task  of  at- 
tempting to  determine  the  particular  form  of  a 
Christian  Church,  or  the  precise  mode  of  adminis- 
tering divine  ordinances  in  it ;  but  only  to  show, 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  be  found  in  a 
Church-state;  giving  up  himself  not  only  to  the 
Lord,  but  to  his  people  by  the  will  of  God;  and 
walking  with  those  who  profess  to  continue  stead- 
fastly in  the  Apostle's  doctrine,  and  in  fellowship, 
ard  in  breaking  of  bread,  and  in  prayer. 

Yet  there  are  some  who  have  here,  we  will  not 
call  them  their  arguments,  but  their  excuses.  To 
such  union,  they  prefer  rambling,  or  at  least  de- 
tachment. They  fix  no  where,  or  at  least  commune 
no -where.  No  church  is  wide  enough,  or  strict 
enough,  or  pure  enough,  or  sound  enough  —  for 
them  ;  no  one  is  completely  modified  to  their  taste. 


Constantine  said  to  such  a  self-conceited  Christian, 
"  Take  a  ladder,  and  climb  to  heaven  by  thyself." — 
If  all  were  like-minded  with  some,  there  would  be 
no  such  thing  as  a  church  on  earth. 

I  am  aware  of  what  I  shall  incur  from  certain 
quarters;  but  I  shall  deliver  myself  with  the  firm- 
ness of  conviction.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we 
should  approve  of  every  opinion  or  usage  among 
those  with  whom  we  connect  ourselves.  It  is  far 
better  in  lesser  matters,  if  we  have  faith,  to  have  it 
to  ourselves  before  God;  and  to  exercise  forbear- 
ance and  self-denial,  rather  than  for  the  sake  of 
some  trifling  difference,  to  endeavor  to  originate  a 
new  party,  or  remain  destitute  of  the  benefits,  and 
violating  the  obligations  of  social  Christianity.  We 
should  guard  against  an  undue  attachment  to  any 
particular  scheme  of  Church  policy,  when,  though 
the  abettors  profess  to  be  governed  by  the  Scripture 
only,  and  consider  every  iota  of  their  system  as  per- 
fectly clear  and  binding;  others,  more  numerous 
than  themselves,  and  equally  wise  and  good,  and 
entitled  to  the  leading  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  draw 
a  very  different  conclusion  from  the  same  premises. 
Mr.  Newton,  speaking  of  the  several  systems  under 
which,  as  so  many  banners,  the  different  denomina- 
tions of  Christians  are  ranged,  observes,  "  That 
there  is  usually  something  left  out,  which  ought  to 
have  been  taken  in,  and  something  admitted  of  sup- 
posed advantage,  unauthorized  by  the  Scripture 
standard.  A  Bible-Christian,  therefore,  will  see 
much  to  approve  in  a  variety  of  forms  and  parties  ; 
the  providence  of  God  may  lead  and  fix  him  in  a 
more  immediate  connection  with  some  one  of  them; 
but  his  spirit  and  affection  will  not  be  confined  with- 
in these  narrow  enclosures.  He  insensibly  borrows 
and  unites  that  which  is  excellent  in  each,  perhaps 
without  knowing  how  far  he  agrees  with  them,  be- 
cause he  finds  all  in  the  written  word."  With  re- 
gard to  myself,  though  I  have  a  preference,  and  at- 
tach comparative  importance  to  the  things  wherein 
pious  men  differ,  yet  there  is  no  body  of  Christians, 
holding  the  Head,  with  whom  I  could  not  hold  com- 
munion ;  and  to  whom  I  would  not  join  myself,  if 
circumstances  withheld  me  from  my  own  denomi- 
nation, rather  than  remain  a  religious  solitai  re* 

It  will  be,  I  presume,  committing  an  unpardona- 
ble sin  with  bigots,  when  I  express  my  persuasion, 
after  all  I  have  read  of  the  claims,  whether  Episco- 
palian, or  Presbyterian,  or  Independent,  to  the  o-nljf 
Scriptural  standard,  that  there  is  no  very  definite 
plan  of  Church  government  laid  down  in  the  New 
Testament;  so  that  while  one  mode  is  canonized, 
every  other  is  absolutely  wrong.  Deviation  from 
prescribed  orders  is  sinful;  but  where  there  is  no 
law,  there  is  no  transgression.  "  As  oft,"  says  the 
Apostle,  "as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup, 
ye  do  show  the  Lord's  death  till  he  come."  Now  had 
he  told  us  how  often  we  are  to  do  this,  we  must  ob- 
serve such  times  only,  or  oppose  the  will  of  God. 
Is  it  so  now  the  thing  is  left  undecided'?  May  there 
not  be  a  difference  in  the  frequency  of  its  observ- 
ance, without  sin  1  It  is  otherwise  with  the  recur- 
rence of  the  Sabbath;  this  is  determined  both  by 
command  and  example.  It  would  have  been  cri- 
minal in  Moses  not  to  have  made  the  snuffers  of 
pure  gold  ;  or  the  holy  oil  of  a  mixture  of  certain 
ingredients;  or  the  priest's  robe  of  such  a    quality, 

*  A  Scriptural  constitution  of  the  church  of 
Christ,  is  believed  to  be  more  clearly  revealed,  and 
of  more  practical  importance,  than  would  seem  to 
be  recognized  by  our  excellent  author.  See  a  Re- 
view of  these  Lectures  in  the  American  Baptist 
Magazine,  Vol.  IX.  January  and  February  Num- 
bers. Also,  James'  Church  Member's  Guide,  Chap. 
I.     On  the  Nature  of  a  Christian  Church. 

Fubusher. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


5J9 


sach  a  color,  and  such  a  length  ;  for  he  had  express 
instructions  to  do  so,  and  the  pattern  of  every  thing 
was  shown  him  in  the  Mount.  But  in  what  mount 
has  our  model  of  circumsiantial  regulation  been  ex- 
hibited ?  What  Moses  received  it  ?  Where  do  we 
find  a  particularity  of  detail  in  the  gospels  of  the 
Evangelists;  or  in  the  Acts,  and  Epistles  of  the 
Apostles'?  Where  do  we  find  many  of  the  mate- 
rials of  angry  debate  and  exclusiveness  which  have 
occupied  so  much  time,  and  spoiled  so  much  tem- 
per, in  the  system  of  Christianity? — A  system  de- 
signed for  every  nation,  and  people,  and  kindred, 
and  tongue — a  system  too  sublime  in  its  aim  to  lose 
itself  in  minuteness — too  anxious  to  unite  its  fol- 
lowers in  great  matters,  to  magnify  little  ones — too 
truly  noble,  not  to  be  condescending — too  tender,  not 
to  be  tolerant — too  impartial,  not  to  say  to  its  sub- 
jects, receive  one  another  as  Christ  also  has  receiv- 
ed you;  you  that  are  strong,  bear  the  infirmities  of 
the  weak,  and  not  please  yourselves. 

Now  we  do  not  pretend  to  say,  that  all  who  do 
not  thus  enter  a  Christian  church,  are  not  in  a  state 
of  grace.  Some,  after  they  are  converted,  may  not 
have  the  opportunity.  Some  are  repulsed  by  the 
rigidness  of  admission ;  they  cannot  pronounce 
every  Shibboleth  of  a  confession ;  or  express  their 
belief  of  the  divinity  of  every  part  of  the  discipline. 
These  are  to  be  pitied :  the  blame  lies  with  the  ex- 
actors of  such  righteousness.  Some,  otherwise 
disposed  to  come  forward,  are  held  back  by  a  sense 
of  un worthiness,  or  a  dread  of  hypocrisy,  or  a  fear 
df  causing  "  the  way  of  truth  to  be  evil  spoken  of," 
by  their  acting  unbecoming  the  gospel.  These  are 
to  be  instructed  and  encouraged. 

But  after  these  concessions,  we  make  no  scruple 
to  say,  that  if  a  Christian  does  not  belong  to  a 
Christian  church,  he  is  not  walking  according  to 
God's  appointment,  and  the  order  of  the  gospel; 
but  is  living  in  the  loss  of  privilege,  and  the  omis- 
sion of  duty.  It  was  not  thus  with  the  Christians 
of  whom  we  have  accounts  in  the  New  Testament. 
They  are  represented  not  as  wandering  sheep,  but 
a  flock  having  a  shepherd  and  a  fold.  Not  as 
stones  loose  and  scattered  on  the  ground,  but  built 
up  a  spiritual  house.  Not  as  separate  and  solitary 
plants  and  trees,  but  as  a  vineyard,  a  garden  watched 
and  watered.  Not  as  rovers  and  vagrants,  in  the 
highways  and  hedges — but  as  "  fellow-citizens  with 
the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God."  This 
brings  us  to  consider, 

II.  The  obligations  we  are  under  to  enter  this 

STATE. 

Let  us  notice  four  articles — Suitability — Conso- 
lation— Safety — and  Usefulness. 

The  first  claim  is  derived  from  Suitability.  This 
state  accords  with  the  very  constitution  of  man. 
He  is  not  only  a  rational,  but  a  social  creature  : 
and  so  natural  are  his  social  feelings,  that  they  can 
only  be  rooted  up  with  his  very  being.  Religion 
therefore  does  not  aim  to  destroy  or  injure  those 
propensions  ;  but  it  sanctifies  them.  It  opens  a  new 
sphere  for  their  development.  It  presents  new  ob- 
jects of  interest  and  attachment. 

Like  attracts  like;  and  when  we  become  godly, 
our  longing  is  for  godly  association.  Then  we 
pray,  "  Be  merciful  unto  me,  as  thou  usest  to  do 
nnto  them  that  love  thy  name;"  then,  we  confess, 
"  I  am  a  companion  of  them  that  fear  thee  :"  then, 
"we  take  hold  of  the  skirt  of  him  that  is  a  Jew, 
saying,  we  will  go  with  you,  for  we  have  heard 
that  God  is  with  you  ;"  then,  we  "  choose  rather  to 
suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God.  than  enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season."  These  fall  in 
with  our  new  views,  and  hopes,  and  fears,  and 
joys,  and  sorrows.  These  are  now  our  fellow- 
learners    fellow-travellers    fellow-laborers,  fellow- 


I  warriors — yea,  whosoever  now  doeth  the  will  of 
our  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  our 
brother  and  sister  and  mother. 

Saul,  therefore,  upon  his  conversion,  assayed  to 
join  Himself  to  the  disciples:  E.nd  every  one,  when 
he  falls  under  the  same  influence,  will  be  like- 
minded  with  him.  It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if 
when  we  turn  away  from  the  vain  and  the  wicked, 
we  should  find  ourselves  in  a  state  of  destitution 
and  abandonment.  But  God  has  expressly  provided 
against  this  repulsion  of  loneliness.  We  do  not 
become  outcasts.  He  takes  us  up.  "  Wherefore," 
says  he,  "  come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye 
separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing,  and  I 
will  receive  you,  and  be  a  father  unto  you;  and  ye 
shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Al- 
mighty." Ye  shall  not  be  homeless  and  friendless. 
I  will  place  you  in  my  family.  You  shall  have 
better  relations  than  those  you  have  resigned  ;  and 
more  valuable  connections  than  those  who  have  re- 
nounced you.  When  you  part  with  the  world,  you 
enter  the  church,  and  this  is  more  glorious  than  all 
the  mountains  of  prey.  You  rise  in  rank;  and  so 
far  from  being  losers,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  you, 
there  is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or  brethren, 
or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children, 
or  lands,  for  my  sake,  and  the  gospel's,  but  he  shall 
receive  an  hundred  fold  now  in  this  time,  houses, 
and  brethren,  and  sisters,  and  mothers,  and  children, 
and  lands,  with  persecutions;  and  in  the  world  to 
come  eternal  life." — We  therefore 

Derive  the  second  claim  from  Consolation.  This 
is  the  law  of  Christ :  as  we  "  have  opportunity,  let 
us  do  good  unto  all  men  ;  but  especially  unto  them 
that  are  of  the  household  of  faith."  Their  mem- 
bers, therefore,  have  the  first  claim  upon  a  Christian 
church  for  sympathy  and  succor.  And  the  privi- 
lege arising  from  hence  will  appear  to  be  the 
greater,  when  it  is  considered,  that  the  discharge  of 
this  duty  does  not  depend  upon  obligation  only. 
Christians  feel  themselves  disposed,  as  well  as 
bound  to  this  good  work.  Their  principles  lead 
them  "  to  rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,"  and  to 
"  weep  with  them  that  weep."  And  is  it  nothing 
to  belong  to  a  community,  who,  instead  of  envying 
and  hating  you  for  your  successes,  and  endowments, 
and  comforts — it  is  so  always  with  the  world — will 
glorify  God  on  your  behalf?  Is  it  nothing  to  be 
connected  with  those  who  feel  it  to  be  their  duty 
and  their  privilege  to  guard  your  reputation,  to  ex- 
plore your  wants,  to  soften  your  cares,  to  soothe 
your  sorrows;  and  where,  not  only  the  minister  and 
the  office-bearers,  but  all  the  members,  will  visit 
the  fatherless  and  the  widows  in  their  affliction,  and 
comfort  them  that  are  cast  down  ? 

The  poor  and  the  needy  are  too  generally  over- 
looked, not  to  say  despised,  by  the  world ;  and  from 
the  treatment  they  receive  from  others,  there  is 
danger  of  their  feeling  a  kind  of  sdf-degradation 
that  makes  them  regardless  of  their  conduct.  But 
here  they  have  a  name  and  a  place.  Here  they 
feel  an  importance,  that  while  it  raises  them  mo- 
rally, does  not  injure  them  in  their  civil  depend- 
ence. Here  their  elevation  does  not  draw  them 
off  from  their  stations;  but  improves  them  for 
every  relative  duty,  by  producing  self-respect,  and 
augmenting  a  sense  of  responsibility.  Here  their 
fellow-members,  above  them  in  condition,  can  with- 
out envy  or  uneasiness  see  their  equality  with  them- 
selves, or  even  their  pre-eminence,  in  experience. 
"  Let  the  brother  of  low  degree  rejoice  in  th.it  he 
is  exalted;  but  the  rich,  in  that  he  is  made  i  ow 
because  as  the  flower  of  the  grass  he  slia>  j.-ass 
away." 

The  church  is  the  only  society  in  whicu  it  is 
either  possible  or  proper  to  merge  the  ranks  of  »ife. 
Temporal  things  divide  men,  and  keep  them  sepa- 


30 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


rate;  and  they  have  always  a  tendency  to  carry  to 
excess  those  distinctions  which  are  allowable,  and 
even  necessary.  However  disposed  towards  each 
other,  the  small  and  the  great  cannot  unite  in,-  secu- 
lar friendship.  The  master  and  the  servant  cannot 
consort  together  either  in  the  upper  or  the  lower 
room.  The  peasant  and  the  nobleman  cannot  in- 
habit the  same  cottage,  or  the  same  mansion. — 
The  noble  and  the  vulgar  cannot  feed  together, 
either  at  the  dinner  of  herbs,  or  at  the  stalled  ox. 
But,  here  they  all  surround  the  same  table.  Here 
all  eat  the  same  spiritual  meat,  and  drink  the  same 
spiritual  drink.  Here  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet 
together.  Here  all  are  partakers  of  the  same  com- 
mon salvation.  Here  all  are  one  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Here  every  disadvantage  is  compensated.  "  Also 
the  sons  of  the  stranger  that  join  themselves  to  the 
Lord,  to  serve  him,  and  to  love  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  to  be  his  servants,  every  one  that  keepeth  the 
Sabbath  from  polluting  it,  and  taketh  hold  of  my 
covenant ;  even  them  will  I  bring  to  my  holy  moun- 
tain, and  make  them  joyful  in  my  house  of  prayer; 
their  burnt-offerings  and  their  sacrifices  shall  be 
accepted  upon  mine  altar;  for  mine  house  shall  be 
called  an  house  of  prayer  for  all  people." 

Safety  furnishes  a  third  claim.  For  it  is  not  to 
be  overlooked  that  this  state  fortifies  individuals 
against  the  influence  of  example,  and  number,  and 
ridicule,  and  reproach.  It  will  be  allowed  that  a 
man  ought  to  do  what  is  right,  if  no  one  stands  by 
him.  Yet  singularity  is  sometimes  a  great  trial: 
and  to  brave  all  the  'consequences,  in  many  cases, 
requires  more  moral  heroism  than  is  always  pos- 
sessed even  by  one  that  is  upright  and  sincere.  But 
when  he  stands  in  connection  with  others;  when 
he  sees  himself  countenanced  and  supported  by 
those  he  deems  wiser  and  better  than  himself;  this 
gives  him  confidence  and  courage  ;  and  he  resem- 
bles a  soldier  who  advances  boldly  with  his  com- 
rades, when  he  would  hesitate  and  falter  alone. 
"  Two  are  better  than  one ;  because  they  have  a 
good  reward  for  their  labor.  For  if  they  fall,  the 
one  will  lift  up  his  fellow:  but  wo  to  him  that  is 
alone  when  he  falleth  ;  for  he  hath  not  another  to 
help  him  up.  And  if  one  prevail  against  him,  two 
shall  withstand  him :  and  a  three-fold  cord  is  not 
quickly  broken." 

Indecision  is  as  perilous  as  it  is  uncomfortable. 
And  therefore  the  apostle  says,  "  Resist  the  devil, 
and  he  will  flee  from  you."     For  while  the  enemy 
sees  you  unfixed  and  hesitating,  he  yet  hopes  to 
succeed,  and  this  protracts  his  endeavors;  whereas 
when  he  finds  you  determined,  he  desponds,  and 
departs.     How  many  temptations  are   cut  off,  as 
soon  as  we  cease  to  halt  between  two   opinions, 
and  proclaim  ourselves  to  be  on  the  Lord's  side. 
And  how  much  circumspection  is  also  hereby  in- 
duced.    He  who  makes  no  pretences  to  a  thing,  is 
not  judged  by  it ;  but  a  profession  of  religion  is  of 
great  value,  as  it  tends  to  check  what  is  evil,  and 
to  bind  us  to  what  is  righteous,  by  subjecting  us  to 
self-reproach  and  the  censure  of  others,  when  we 
act  inconsistently.     "  Does  this  temper  or  conduct 
become  a  member  of  the  church  of  Christ  1     Do  I 
wear  his  livery,  and  disown  him  1     Have  I  opened 
my  mouth  to  the  Lord,  and  can  I  go  back  1     Are 
not  the  eyes  of  many  upon  me  7     And  have  they 
not  a  right  to  ask,  "What  do  ye  more  than  oihersl" 
And  let  me  put  it  to  your  conscience,  whether 
this  be  not  one  of  the  reasons  which  operate  to 
keep  you  out  of  the  church.    Ye  feel  yourselves 
now  in  a  larger  place.    You  have  more  liberty. 
You  can  do  your  own  ways,  and  find  your  own 
pleasures,  and  speak  your  own  words,  on  God's 
holy  day.    Your  tongues  are  your  own:  who  is 
Lord  over  you  1    And—"  I  do  not  profess  to  be  a 
saint,"  seems  an  excuse  to  prevent  or  silence  all 


the  qualms  of  the  sinner.  "I  know  not,"  sajs 
Doddridge,  "  a  more  dreadful  mark  of  destruction 
upon  a  man,  than  a  fear  to  be  under  an  obligation 
to  avoid  what  is  evil,  and  to  cleave  to  that  which 
is  good."  A  man  properly  concerned  for  his  spi- 
ritual and  everlasting  welfare,  would  feel  every  as- 
sistance, every  excitement,  every  motive,  in  such 
an  important  course,  a  privilege ;  and  such  a  privi- 
lege constitutes  a  powerful  argument  on  behalf  of 
a  church  relation. 

Therefore  it  has  a  fourth  claim.  It  is  Useful- 
ness. How  much  more  is  a  man's  zeal  drawn 
forth  as  soon  as  he  has  declared  himself  in  any 
cause ;  and  he  partakes  of  the  spirit  of  the  party. 
When  his  vote  is  solicited  for  a  candidate  at  the 
time  of  an  election,  though  he  feels  scarcely  a  pre- 
ference before,  yet  as  soon  as  he  has  avowed  him- 
self for  either  of  the  applicants,  his  indifference  is 
destroyed,  his  fervor  is  excited,  and  he  is  carried 
along  with  the  proceedings,  until  he  is  intensely  in- 
terested ;  and  his  happiness  or  misery  seems  sus- 
pended on  the  success.  Indeed,  whatever  we  keep 
concealed  within,  is  likely  to  lose  some  of  its  hold 
upon  us  :  it  is  by  speaking  of  it,  by  pushing  it  for- 
ward, by  acting  constantly  upon  it,  that  we  feel 
more  of  its  impression  and  influence. 

But  there  is  another  view  to  be  taken  of  the  sub- 
ject. We  all  know  how  much  is  to  be  done  by  union, 
even  when  the  parts  are  inconsiderable  in  them- 
selves. Thus  sands  make  the  mountains.  The 
cable  that  holds  the  ship  in  the  storm  is  composed 
of  threads.  A  single  soldier  that  has  missed  his 
way,  may  chance-wise  do  some  little  good  ;  but  he 
is  efficient  only  as  acting  with  a  corps;  and  the  war 
requires  an  army.  If  the  liberal  soul  deviseth  liberal 
things,  how  are  good  schemes  to  be  carried  into  ef- 
fect, and  how  are  useful  institutions  to  be  siqyported, 
but  by  union  and  co-operation  7  How  much  often 
does  one  Christian  society  accomplish  by  its  collect- 
ive wisdom,  and  benevolence,  and  exertion  !  Why 
are  the  Churches  called  candlesticks,  but  because 
they  are  instruments  holding  forth  and  diffusing  the 
light  of  life'? 

The  public  worship  of  God  ought  always  to  be 
considered  as  an  unspeakable  benefit  to  mankind. 
Amidst  the  cares  and  toils  and  distresses  of  life, 
"  God  is  known  in  his  palaces  for  a  refuge."  He  is 
"the  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  the  Husband  of 
the  widow,  in  his  holy  habitation."  There  the  tempt- 
ed are  succored;  and  the  weak  strengthened;  and 
the  wandering  directed.  The  sanctuary  opens  a 
door  for  the  weary  traveller  to  enter  and  refresh 
himself.  It  awakens,  by  its  administrations,  the 
curiosity  of  the  thoughtful  and  the  attention  of  the 
careless;  and  how  often  have  those  who  came  from 
no  pious  motive,  been  known  of  all,  judged  of  all, 
and  compelled  to  exclaim,  God  is  in  the  midst  of 
them  of  a  truth !  While  we  are  anxious  for  more 
success  to  attend  the  means  of  grace,  we  are  not 
aware  of  the  extent  and  the  degree  in  which  they 
are  useful.  What  an  injury  would  be  sustained  in 
a  neighborhood,  if  they  were  given  up ! 

But  it  is  by  Churches  that  the  ministry  of  the  word 
and  the  ordinances  of  religion  are  supported  and 
i  dispensed;  and  by  their  means  the  system  of  con- 
|  version  and  edification  is  continued  and  perpetuated. 
Individuals  die:  but  thus,  as  some  are  removed 
others  are  added.  Thus  member  succeeds  member, 
and  pastor  succeeds  pastor ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  river,  change  leaves  sameness,  and  permanency 
is- produced  by  succession.     But  we  have, 

III.    To  consider  the  duties  arising  from  the 

STATE. 

These  are  various  as  well  as  important.    They 
j  relate, 
1     First,   To  the  Worship.    This  a  Christian  wiE 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


31 


value  as  the  appointment  of  Him,  who  knowing 
what  is  in  man,  ordains  what  is  necessary  to  him, 
and  delights  in  the  prosperity  of  his  servants. — 
When,  therefore,  he  says,  "  Seek  ye  my  face,"  his 
heart  answers,  "  Thy  face,  Lord,  will  I  seek."  And 
as  he  obeys  from  love,  he  will  never  exclaim — 
"  What  a  weariness  is  it  to  serve  the  Lord;  when 
will  the  Sabbath  be  gone !"  He  calls  the  Sabbath  a 
delight,  and  the  holy  of  the  Lord,  honorable.  He 
loves  the  habitation  of  his  house.  He  finds  his  word 
and  eats  it;  and  it  is  to  him  the  joy  and  the  re- 
joicing of  his  heart.  If  others  can  dispense  with 
ordinances,  he  never  rises  above  his  need  of  them. 
He  feels  that  something  is  still  wanting  to  his  know- 
ledge, his  graces,  his  comfort;  and  though  he  holds 
communion  with  God  habitually,  and  wishes  in  all 
his  ways  to  acknowledge  him,  he  sees  what  an 
adaptation  there  is  in  the  means  of  grace  to  afford 
him  relief  and  assistance.  His  own  experience  sti- 
mulates him — for  he  has  seen  his  power  and  glory 
in  the  sanctuary ;  while  the  promise  justifies  his 
most  enlarged  expectation — "  In  all  places  where  I 
record  my  Name,  I  will  come  unto  thee,  and  I  will 
bless  thee."  "  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall 
renew  their  strength  ;  they  shall  mount  up  with 
wings  as  eagles;  they  shall  run  and  not  be  weary, 
and  they  shall  walk  and  not  faint." 

Cases  of  prevention  will  sometimes  occur;  but 
he  will  take  heed  that  they  are  not  excuses.  And, 
as  he  would  not  love  and  serve  the  creature  more 
than  the  Creator,  he  will  see  that  the  hinderances 
are  such  as  would  keep  him  from  all  other  engage- 
ments. And  if  they  can  be  removed  by  order  and 
skill  and  diligence  in  his  affairs,  or  by  a  little  ex- 
pense in  conveyance,  saved  from  vanity  and  excess; 
lie  will  remove  them.  And  when  the  sick  relation, 
or  his  own  bed  of  languishing,  or  the  painful  acci- 
dent, detains  him  at  home,  he  will  feel  himself  the 
prisoner  of  the  Lord,  and  say,  with  the  royal  exile, 
"When  I  remember  these  things,  I  pour  out  my 
soul  in  me:  fori  had  gone  with  the  multitude;  I 
went  with  them  to  the  house  of  God,  with  the  voice 
of  joy  and  praise,  with  a  multitude  that  kept  holy- 
day."  I  never  believe  those  who,  turning  their 
backs  upon  the  temple,  tell  us  that  they  pass  their 
time  in  retired  devotion.  One  duty  pleads  for  an- 
other, and  prepares  for  another,  and  helps  another. 
It  is  the  same  with  neglect:  we  may  infer  one  omis- 
sion from  another.  It  is  very  questionable,  too, 
when  they  tell  us  that  the  preacher  can  teach  them 
no  more  than  they  know  already.  It  is  the  remark 
of  an  old  writer,  that  "he  who  will  learn  of  none 
but  himself,  is  sure  to  have  a  fool  for  his  master." 
Besides,  novelty  of  information  is  not  the  only  or 

?rincipal  object  in  attending  the  house  of  God,  but,  as 
udge  Hale  said,  with  regard  to  himself, ''  to  be  im- 
pressed and  affected;  and  to  have  old  and  known 
truth  reduced  to  experience  and  practice." 

He  therefore  regards  the  means  of  grace  con- 
stantly. He  attends  not  one  part  of  the  Sabbath 
only,  but  both  parts:  and  surely  two  public  services 
cannot  be  too  much  for  a  day  dedicated  to  devotion. 
Nor  will  he  attend  on  the  Sabbath  only,  but  on  the 
week-day  also.  He  will  be  thankful  for  a  service 
which  refreshes  and  nerves  his  mind  amidst  the 
cares  and  toils  of  his  calling;  and  he  will  remember 
that,  as  a  professor  of  religion,  he  has  stipulated  for 
his  regnlar  attendance,  by  his  joining  the  church  to 
which  he  belongs.  Nothing  can  be  more  painful  to 
the  feelings  of  a  minister,  when  he  comes  to  water 
his  flock,  than  to  find  many  of  them  not  at  the  well. 
Perhaps,  too,  he  has  chosen  his  suhject,  and  studied 
it,  and  praved  over  it  with  a  peculiar  reference  to 
the  individual  then  absent.  And  how  often  has 
something  been  delivered  in  the  absence  of  that  in- 
dividual, singularly  appropriate  to  his  condition  or 
experience;  something  that  might  have  directed  and 


comforted  him  to  the  end  of  life,  and  have  been  re- 
membered in  death  with  pleasure.  And  thus  ne- 
glect has  been  punished  with  regret. 

But  you  are  required  to  attend  the  means  of  di- 
vine appointment  spiritually.  Ye  are  not  to  think 
it  enough  to  draw  nigh  to  Him  with  the  mouth, 
and  honor  him  with  the  lip,  while  the  heart  is  far 
from  him.  The  Lord  looketh  to  the  heart.  There 
is  Mich  a  thing  as  an  attendance  on  ordinances, 
when  there  is  no  attention  in  them;  at  least  none 
that  comes  up  to  the  demand,  to  "  worship  in  spirit 
and  in  truth." 

And  as  Paul  may  plant  and  Apollos  ivater,  but 
God  alone  can  give  the  increase,  we  must  attend  in 
humbleness  of  mind,  and  never  without  prayer,  that 
the  Spirit  may  help  our  infirmities,  and  render  the 
means  available  to  our  profit.  When  the  preacher 
enters  upon  his  work  in  such  an  assembly  as  this, 
"it  is  as  the  smell  of  a  field  which  the  Lord  hath 
blessed:" — And 

Secondly,  These  duties  regard  the  Minister,  who 
is  placed  over  you  in  the  Lord.  Add  not  to  his  dif- 
ficulties. He  has  his  trials  as  a  man;  and  he  has 
his  trials  as  a  Christian;  and  in  addition  to  both 
these,  he  has  trials  peculiar  to  his  office.  Could  he 
have  foreseen  all  at  the  beginning,  he  would  have 
been  f.'sheartened  at  the  entrance ;  but  his  work  is 
like  John's  little  book,  a  bitter  sweet,  and  the  sweet 
comes  first.  You  find  it  hard  enough  to  manage 
one  temper;  what  must  be  the  task  of  governing  a 
multitude,  including  every  diversity  !  After  the 
engagement  of  years,  he  would  yield  to  many  a 
temptation  to  withdraw,  but  that  necessity  is  laid 
upon  him.  Never  successful  according  to  his  wish- 
es, and  sometimes  apparently  useless,  he  is  often 
ready  to  lay  down  his  commission  at  his  Master's 
feet,  to  say,  "I  have  labored  in  vain,  I  have  spent 
my  strength  for  nought  and  in  vain."  Bound  to  en- 
gage at  the  times  appointed,  and  knowing  what  is 
expected  from  him,  in  his  perplexity  arising  from 
choice  of  subjects,  in  his  barrenness  of  thought,  in 
his  unfitness  of  feeling  in  the  study  which  is  a  wea- 
i  iness  to  the  flesh,  and  the  exhaustion  of  spirits  gen- 
dered by  intense  application  ;  his  heart  knoweth  his 
own  bitterness;  death  worketh  in  him,  but  life  in 
you.  Encourage  him.  Welcome  his  instructions. 
Yield  to  his  reproofs.  Respect  that  authoritv  which 
he  has  received,  not  for  destruction  but  edification. 
"  Obey  them  that  have  the  rule  over  you,  and  sub- 
mit yourselves:  for  they  watch  for  your  souls,  as 
they  that  must  give  account ;  that  they  may  do  it 
with  joy,  and  not  with  grief:  for  that  is  unprofitable 
for  you." 

A  minister  must  be  very  mean-spirited  if  he  re- 
gards his  salary  as  alms  or  benefactions  from  his 
people.  What  they  give,  they  more  than  have  out 
in  services;  and  "the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire." 
Has  not,  God  ordained,  that  they  who  preach  the 
gospel,  should  live  of  the  gospel  1  And  is  not  this 
law  founded  in  equity  and  justice'?  Would  not  the 
same  talents  the  man  devotes  to  the  service  of  the 
sanctuary,  provide  for  himself  and  his  family,  if 
employed  in  secular  concerns  1  This  is  a  delicate 
point  for  a  minister  to  handle;  and  he  surely  would 
never  brine;  it  forward  if  he  could  do  justice  to  the 
part  of  the  subject  before  us  without  it.  But  he  will 
resign  it  ns  soon  as  possible;  and  leave  it  in  the 
words  the  Holy  Ghost  ieacheth.  Let  congregations 
compare  themselves  with  it;  and  especially  those 
individuals  in  them  who  pay  more  annually  to  the 
most  menial  of  their  attendants,  than  to  the  shep- 
lii'i.l  of  their  souls;  while  others,  with  all  their  com- 
ion,  never  confer  upon  him  one  token  of 
respect  in  their  lives. 

"  Let  him,"  says  the  Apostle.  "  be  with  you  with- 
out fear."  And  again:  "Know  them  that  labor 
among  you,  and  are  over  you  in  the  Lord,  and  ad- 


32 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


rnonish  you;  and  esteem  them  very  highly  in  love 
for  their  work's  sake."  He  means  not  only  in  re- 
ward of  their  work,  but  in  aid  of  it ;  for  unless  you 
magnify  his  office,  you  are  not  likely  to  be  impressed 
by  it;  and  as  your  regard  for  the  preacher  declines, 
so  will  your  profit  by  him.  Your  relation  to  him  is 
such,  that,  if  he  is  degraded,  you  are  disgraced  in 
him  ;  and  if  he  is  honored,  you  share  in  his  respect- 
ability. Ministers  are  men ;  and  "  the  best  of  men 
are  but  men  at  the  best."  You  are  not  required  to 
approve  of  their  infirmities,  or  even  to  be  ignorant 
of  them:  but  surely  you  will  not  be  suspicious;  }rou 
will  not  invite  or  welcome  reflection  and  insinua- 
tion; nor,  like  too  many,  speak  of  him,  or  suffer 
him  to  be  spoken  of,  before  children  and  servants 
and  strangers,  with  a  levity  and  freedom,  far  from 
being  adapted  to  increase  or  preserve  esteem  and 
respect.  You  will  consider  his  character  not  only 
as  forming  his  crown,  but  as  essential  to  his  accept- 
ance and  success.  "  Receive  him,  therefore,  in  the 
Lord  with  all  gladness ;  and  hold  such  in  reputation." 

Thirdly,  These  duties  respect  your  Fellow-Mem- 
bers. They  are  all  comprehended  in  love :  and  you 
are  required  to  "love  one  another  out  of  a  pure 
heart  fervently;"  to  "  love  as  brethren."  Has  a  fel- 
low Christian  erred  1  "  Thou  shalt  not  hate  thy  bro- 
ther in  thine  heart ;  thou  shalt  in  anywise  rebuke  thy 
neighbor,  and  not  suffer  sin  upon  him."  Has  he 
been  overtaken  in  a  fault  1  "Ye  that  are  spiritual, 
are  to  restore  such  an  one  in  the  spirit  of  meekness, 
considering  yourselves  lest  you  also  be  tempted." 
Is  he  declining  in  zeal,  and  negligent  in  duty  1  You 
are  "to  consider  him,  to  provoke  him  to  love  and  to 
good  Avorks."  Is  he  oppressed  1  You  are  to  bear 
his  "  burdens,  and  so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ."  Is 
he  in  want?  You  are  to  give  him  such  things  as 
are  needful.  "Now,"  says  the  Apostle,  "we  ex- 
hort you,  brethren,  warn  them  that  are  unruly, 
comfort  the  feeble-minded,  support  the  weak,  be 
patient  toward  all  men.  See  that  none  render  evil 
for  evil  unto  any  man;  but  ever  follow  that  which 
is  good,  both  among  yourselves  and  to  all  men." 

Fourthly,  Your  duty  concerns  the  welfare  and 
prosperity  of  the  whole  Interest.  Net  that  you  are 
to  be  exclusively  attentive  to  your  own  community. 
You  are  unfit  to  be  a  member  of  any  Christian 
Church  unless  you  can  say,  "  grace  be  with  all  them 
that  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity."  But 
our  conditions  and  circumstances  must  regulate  not 
the  principle,  but  the  exercises  and  the  impressions 
of  duty.  The  private  affections  are  not  incompati- 
ble with  the  public,  but  conduct  to  them  ;  and  the 
way,  the  best  way,  the  only  way,  by  which  we  can 
promote  the  good  of  the  whole,  is  by  advancing  the 
good  of  a  part.  The  man  who,  in  opposing  patriot- 
ism, pleads  that  the  world  is  his  country,  and  all 
mankind  his  fellow-citizens,  has  no  country,  no  fel- 
low-citizens. The  object  for  which  he  pretends  to 
be  concerned  is  too  indistinct  to  impress ;  too  dis- 
tant to  approach  ;  too  extensive  to  grasp.  To  come 
nearer.  If  a  man  were  to  disregard  his  family, 
under  pretence  that  he  was  acting  on  a  broader, 
nobler  principle,  and  for  an  object  less  selfish  and 
contracted,  even  the  nation  at  larsre  ;  he  would  soon 
be  told  that  the  nation  consists  of  families ;  that  one 
of  these  is  committed  to  his  care  ;  that  this  he  can 
improve;  that  this  he  ought  peculiarly  to  regard, 
even  for  the  sake  of  the  public.  "  He  that  provideth 
not  for  his  own,  especially  those  of  his  own  house, 
hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infidel." 
It  is  much  the  same  here.  It  is  the  will  of  God  that 
we  feel  a  special  sympathy  with  the  religious  socie- 
ty to  which  we  belon?.  This  demands  our  imme- 
diate attention,  and  efforts,  and  sacrifices;  and  all 
the  members  in  their  respective  places  and  by  all 
the  influences  they  can  employ,  should  ?eek  to  ex- 
cel to  the  edifying  of  the  Church. 


Now  the  first  thing  that  seems  to  strike  us  with 
regard  to  the  prosperity  of  a  cause  is,  the  increase 
of  its  members.  There  is,  however,  one  kind  of 
accession  which  a  Church  should  not  value  nor 
seek  after.  It  is  the  drawing  members  from  other 
churches,  where  they  already  hear  "  the  truth  as 
it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  enjoy  the  fellowship  of  the  gos- 
pel. We  do  nothing  in  filling  one  place,  by  empty- 
ing another,  where  the  same  work  is  carrying  on. — 
The  transferring  of  soldiers  from  one  regiment  into 
another,  does  not  increase  the  king's  army,  or  add 
to  the  defence  of  the  country.  The  thing  is  to  gain 
fresh  recruits.  Our  aim  should  be  to  make  con- 
verts, not  proselytes.  But  it  is  delightful  when  the 
inquiry  isoften  made,  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved? 
— when  sinners  are  turned  from  darkness  unto  light, 
and  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God  :  when  Zion,  sur- 
prised at  the  quality  and  number  of  her  sons  and 
daughters,  exclaims,  "  who  hath  begotten  me  these  1 
these,  where  have  they  been  1" — and  the  Lord  adds 
to  the  Church  daily  such  as  shall  be  saved, 

But  harmony  is  included  in  the  welfare  of  a 
Church.  It  can  only  edify  itself  in  love.  "  For 
where  envying  and  strife  is,  there  is  confusion  and 
every  evil  work.  But  the  wisdom  that  is  from 
above  is  first  pure,  then  peaceable,'  gentle,  and  easy 
to  be  entreated,  full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits,  with- 
out partiality,  and  without  hypocrisy.  And  the 
fruit  of  righteousness  is  sown  in  peace  of  them  that 
make  peace." 

It  takes  in  also  purity.  "  Therefore,"  says  the 
Prophet,  "  keep  peace  and  truth :"  and,  says  the 
Apostle,  "  speaking  the  truth  in  love."  The  Church 
of  Ephesus  is  commended  for  not  bearing  them  that 
are  evil.  Our  concern  for  the  sanctity  of  our  com- 
munion is  to  appear  in  maintaining  godly  discipline; 
in  not  admitting  irreligious  characters,  whatever 
recommendations  they  may  otherwise  possess  ;  and 
in  excluding  them  when  they  discover  themselves 
to  be  ungodly  after  they  have  been  admitted. — 
Improper  individuals  will  occasionally  enter  the 
Church  :  there  is  no  preventing  it,  unless  we  were 
omniscient.  But  we  cannot  search  the  heart ;  and 
our  leaning  ought  always  to  be  on  the  side  of  cha- 
rity :  it  is  better  to  be  mistaken  and  deceived,  than 
to  be  suspicious  and  censorious,  or  to  destroy  one 
for  whom  Christ  died.  But  when  the  mask  under 
which  the  man  entered  is  shifted  aside,  and  his  con- 
duct appears  sinful,  "  put  away  from  among  you," 
says  the  Scripture,  "  that  wicked  person."  He  dis- 
graces you ;  and  he  will  contaminate — "  a  little 
leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump." 

Some  Christians  not  only  individually  but  col- 
lectively do  not  sufficiently  think  upon  and  pursue 
"  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good  report." 
A  Church  may  be  austere  and  harsh  and  forbid- 
ding :  but  much  of  its  usefulness  depends  upon  its 
amiableness.  And  this  will  arise  from  its  charac- 
ter for  benevolence,  and  public  spirit,  and  liberality; 
and  from  its  joining,  with  firmness  of  adherence  to 
essential  truth,  latitude  in  things  circumstantial ; 
from  its  tenderness  in  receiving  the  weak,  but  not 
to  doubtful  disputations;  from  its  readiness  to  re- 
ceive all  as  Christ  has  received  us,  to  the  glory  of 
God. 

Towards  this  prosperity  every  member  should 
aim  and  labor  to  contribute,  by  his  prayers,  his  con- 
versation, his  example,  his  temper,  his  influence.— 
And  a  Church  thus  flourishing;  increasing -with  all 
the  increase  of  God,  in  number,  and  peace,  and 
sanctity,  and  every  moral  excellency,  is  the  noblest 
sight  on  earth;  and  full  of  attraction,  and  impres- 
sion ;  and  "  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  to  angels,  and 
to  men  ;"  it  looks  forth  as  the  morning,  clear  as  the 
moon,  bright  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army 
with  banners.     Let  us  conclude. 

First,  We  have  been  speaking  of  those  that  are 


THE    CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


33 


within.  But  there  are  some  who  are  yet  icithout, 
whose  condition  we  lament,  and  to  whom  we  there- 
lore  would  address  the  language  of  inquiry  and  in- 
vitation, "  Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord;  why 
tarriest  thou  without  ?"  And  where  do  we  find  these  1 
We  find  them  among  you,  whose  character  and 
conduct  are  irreproachable,  who  constantly  attend 
the  preaching  of  the  cross,  who  are  glad  when  they 
say  unto  you,  Let  us  go  into  the  House  of  the  Lord ; 
who  have  even  the  worship  of  God  in  your  families ; 
and  are  not  strangers  to  your  closets — and  yet  keep 
aloof  from  the  table  of  the  Lord,  where  with  his 
dying  breath  he  is  savin?,  "Do  this  in  remem- 
brance of  me."  We  find  them  amongst  those  of  you 
who  so  often  remain  as  spectators  at  the  holy  so- 
lemnity, and  looking  down  upon  the  privileged  par- 
takers, sigh  and  say,  "  How  goodly  are  thy  tents, 
O  Jacob,  and  thy  tabernacles,  O  Israel !" — yet  are 
restrained  from  approaching,  not  by  carnality  but 
timidity  ;  and  by  forgetting  that  "  ail  the  fitness  he 
requireth  is  to  feel  your  need  of  him."  We  find 
them  among  you,  my  young  friends  ;  you,  who  are 
shunning  the  paths  of  the  destroyer;  you,  whose 
consciences  are  awake,  whose  hearts  are  tender, 
whose  minds  are  impressed  by  divine  things, — and 
who  are  detained  by  looking  for  a  change  too  sud- 
den and  too  sensible  ;  and  for  a  kind  and  degree  of 
evidence  and  assurance  by  no  means  necessary. 

People  talk  of  the  young,  and  seem  to  require 
more  satisfaction  with  regard  to  them,  than  with 
regard  to  older  candidates.  But  wherefore  1  Do 
persons  grow  more  simple  and  open  and  undesign- 
ing  as  they  advance  in  life  1  Who  are  the  mem- 
bers by  whom  churches  have  been  troubled  and  dis- 
graced 1  Not  those  who  joined  themselves  to  the 
Lord  young,  and  very  young  too.  I  never  knew  a 
minister  who  had  to  repent  of  encouraging  such 
communicants.  And  how  many  youths  have  I 
known,  who,  humanly  speaking,  would  have  been 
excellent  and  useful  characters  now,  but  they  were 
not  encouraged,  when,  as  our  Saviour  says,  they 
were  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.  Their  foot 
was  on  the  threshold  of  conversion  ;  but  no  one  took 
them  by  the  hand,  to  draw  them  in — but  there  were 
enough  ready  to  draw  them  back:  the  world  laid 
hold  of  them:  or  their  convictions,  for  want  of 
cherishing,  died  away.  Some  of  them  are  now  sit- 
ting in  the  seat  of  the  scornful :  others,  though  not 
the  victims  of  error  and  vice,  are  in  a  state  of  in- 
difference with  regard  to  the  holy  communion, 
which  is  likely  to  continue  for  life.  Whereas,  had 
they  entered  the  Church  when  there  was  nothing 
to  justify  their  refusal,  they  would  have  been  de- 
cided ;  their  return  into  the  world  would  have  been 
cut  off;  they  would  have  felt  identified  with  a  pe- 
culiar people  ;  their  impressions  would  have  been 
formed  into  principles  aid  habits;  and  the  whole 
man  would  have  been  changed  from  glory  to  glory 
as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 

Mv  young  friends,  hesitate,  we  beseech  you,  no 
longer.  Fulfil  ye  our  joy  in  verifying  the  promise, 
"  I  will  pour  water  upon  him  that  is  thirsty,  and 
floods  upon  the  dry  ground  ;  I  will  pour  mv  Spirit 
upon  thy  seed,  and  my  blessingupoi)  thine  offspring: 
and  they  shall  spring  up  as  among  the  grass  as  wil- 
lows by  the  water-courses.  One  shall  say,  I  am  the 
Lord's;  and  another  shall  nail  himself  by  the  name 
of  Jacob;  and  another  shall  subscribe  wiih  his  hand 
unto  the  Lord,  and  surname  himself  by  the  name  of 
Israel." 

Then  will  your  peace  be  as  a  river.  You  will 
gain  all  the  succors  your  age  and  your  condition 
require.  You  will  become  examples  to  others  in 
the  same  period  of  life  :  and  the  young  love  to  fol- 
low the  young.  Your  usefulness,  early  commenc- 
ed, will  advance  with  your  character,  and  influence, 
and  years:  and  planted  so  soon  in  the  house  of  the 
Number  28. 


Lord,  you  will  Sourish  in  the  courts  of  our  God, 
and  bring  forth  fruit  in  old  age. 

Many  of  you  are  the  children  of  religious  pa- 
rents. How  are  they  now  praying  that  my  attempt 
to  bring  you  to  a  decision  may  be  effectual !  See 
you  not  the  tears  now  dropping  from  the  cheek  of 
thy  father — thy  mother — at  thy  side  ;  while  each 
says,  "  if  thy  heart  be  wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice, 
even  mine."  Some  of  us  can  speak  from  experi- 
ence. We  only  recommend  what  we  have  exem- 
plified. We  were  enabled  early  to  dedicate  our- 
selves unto  God  ;  and  we  have  found  his  yoke  easy, 
and  his  burden  light.  We  have  found  his  ways 
pleasantness  and  peace.  We  have  found  "godli- 
ness profitable  unto  all  things,  having  promise  of 
the  life  that  now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come." 
And,  next  to  the  salvation  of  our  souls,  we  daily 
praise  him  for  an  early  conversion.  "  I  bless  thee, 
O  God,  for  many  things,"  says  Beza  in  his  will  and 
testament,  "  but  especially  that  I  gave  up  myself  to 
thee  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen." 

Wait  then  no  longer.  Be  encouraged  by  the  as- 
surance, "  I  love  them  that  love  me  :  and  those  that 
seek  me  early  shall  find  rae."  If  the  flower  be  not 
blown,  offer  the  bud — 

"  The  flowrer,  when  offered  in  the  bud, 
Is  no  mean  sacrifice" 

in  his  account.  And  through  all  the  changes  of 
life,  and  from  the  borders  of  the  grave,  he  will 
honor  this  surrender,  and  say,  "  I  remember  thee 
the  kindness  of  thy  youth." 

Secondly,  We  see  that  while  Christianity  expects 
us  to  enter  the  Church,  it  does  not  leave  us  to  our- 
selves in  it,  but  accompanies  us  with  its  social  obli- 
gations, and  requires  us  to  be  found  in  the  perform- 
ance of  every  part  cf  relative  duly.  Unless  you 
cultivate  the  principles  and  dispositions  pertaining 
to  the  condition,  you  have  no  right  to  its  benefits. — 
Unless  you  bring  forth  fruit  in  the  vineyard,  you 
are  cumberers  of  the  ground.  If  in  the  master's 
house,  you  are  unprofitable,  you  are  wicked  ser- 
vants. Here,  as  every  where  else  in  religion,  privi- 
lege and  duty  go  together.  You  had  therefore  bet- 
ter resign  your  connection  with  the  Church,  if  you 
are  blanks  in  it.  How  much  more  if  you  are  blots  ! 
Your  relation  to  the  body  of  Christ  stamps  upon  you 
a  sacred  character.  It  produces  a  responsibility  pe- 
culiarly awful.  As  professors  of  his  religion,  you 
are  witnesses  for  God  ;  and  you  depose  by  your  ac- 
tions, as  well  as  by  your  words — and  will  you  bear 
a  false,  or  a.  defective  testimony  1  You  are  charged 
individually  with  a  portion  of  the  glory  of  the  Re- 
deemer ;  and  will  you  not  be  concerned  to  carry  it 
unsullied  to  the  grave  1 

Beware,  therefore,  lest  by  any  temper  or  carriage 
you  should  cause  the  adversaries  of  the  Lord  to 
blaspheme,  and  the  way  of  truth  to  be  evil  spoken 
of.  Do  not  sadden  the  heart,  and  slacken  the  hands 
of  your  minister.  Do  not  prove  a  grief  to  the 
strong,  and  a  stumbling-block  to  the  weak  among 
your  brethren  :  but  "  make  straight  paths  for  your 
feet,  lest  that  which  is  lame  be  turned  out  of  the 
way;  but  let  it  rather  be  healed."  "Walk  worthy 
of  the  vocation  wherewith  ye  are  called,  with  all 
lowliness  and  meekness,  with  long-suffering,  for- 
bearing one  another  in  love;  endeavoring  to  keep 
the  unity  of  the  Spirit,  in  the  bond  of  peace.  Let 
no  corrupt  communication  proceed  out  of  your 
mouth,  but  that  which  is  good  to  the  use  of  edify- 
ing, that  it  may  minister  grace  unto  the  hearers. 
And  grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  whereby  ye 
are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption.  Let  all  bit- 
terness, and  wrath,  and  anger,  and  clamor,  and 
evil-speaking,  be  put  away  from  you,  with  all  ma- 
lice." Thus  you  will  be  harmless  and  blameless, 
the  sons  of  God,  without  rebuke,  in  the  midst  of  a 


fc» 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


crooked  and  perverse  nation,  among  whom  ye 
shine  as  lights  in  the  world,  holding  forth  the  word 
of  life. 

Even  then,  you  may  not  escape  censure  and  re- 
proach. But  you  will  not  be  buffeted  for  your  faults; 
and  therefore  may  take  it  patiently.  Your  enemies 
Avill  find  nothing  whereof  to  accuse  you,  but  in  the 
law  of  your  God.  You  will  suffer  for  righteous- 
ness' sake,  for  well-doing,  as  Christians:  and  then 
you  need  not  be  ashamed,  but  rejoice  that  you  are 
partakers  of  Christ's  sufferings ;  that  when  his  glory 
shall  be  revealed,  ye  also  may  rejoice  with  exceed- 
ing joy. 

Thirdly,  We  may  learn  that  Avhile  we  are  under 
obligation  to  make  a  profession  of  religion,  and 
come  to  the  table  of  communion,  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per is  not  a  passport  to  heaven;  and  a  connection 
with  a  visible  Church  does  not  prove  our  belonging 
to  the  invisible.  The  form  of  godliness  is  becoming, 
and  useful,  and  necessary,  as  the  dress  of  godliness; 
but  it  is  nothing,  it  is  worse  than  nothing,  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  the  reality.  For,  in  this  case,  there  is  the 
utmost  familiarity  with  divine  things;  and  this  pre- 
vents, this  destroys  their  impressiveness.  The  very 
position  of  the  man  screens  conscience  from  alarm, 
while  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  are  addressed  to  those 
that  are  without :  and  as,  by  his  assumption  of  the 
character,  he  passes  for  a  Christian,  and  is  so  treat- 
ed by  the  world  and  by  his  brethren,  and  is  so  ad- 
dressed and  encouraged  and  comforted  by  the  mi- 
nister, he  is  in  danger  of  taking  it  for  granted  that 
he  is  such — when  the  end  of  these  things  is  death. 
"For  what  is  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite,  though  he 
hath  gained,  when  God  taketh  away  his  soull"  He 
may  be  discovered  and  exposed  in  life;  and  if  not, 
his  name  and  his  place  in  the  Church  will  soon 
avail  him  nothing.  The  privileges  he  has  enjoyed, 
instead  of  affording  him  any  security,  will  aggra- 
vate the  awfulness  of  his  condemnation.  He  not 
only  perishes  "from  the  way,"  but  from  the  holy 
hill  of  Zion — from  the  sanctuary  of  God.  He  falls 
at  the  foot  of  the  altar.  He  drops  into  hell,  from 
the  table  of  the  Lord,  and  with  the  sacred  symbols 
of  his  body  and  his  blood  in  his  hand  and  in  his 
mouth.  The  house  of  God,  in  which  he  pretended 
to  worship;  the  pew  in  which  he  trifled  so  many 
hours  away,  in  hearing  the  word  only;  the  pulpit, 
and  the  form  of  the  man  of  God  exerting  himself 
in  it:  the  chalice  that  never  trembled  in  his  unwor- 
thy hand— these  will  be  the  most  dreadful  images 
that  will  present  themselves  to  the  eye  of  his  tost 
mind.  The  truths  he  professed  to  believe  and  re- 
commend ;  the  sacred  exercises  in  which  he  en- 
gaged, with  those  who  call  on  the  name  of  the 
Lord;  his  favorite  psalms  and  hymns  in  which  he 
so  often  mocked  him  with  "  a  solemn  sound  upon  a 
thoughtless  tongue;"  his  sitting  to  hear,  and  to 
judge  of  the  qualifications  of  candidates;  his  join- 
ing with  the  Church  in  reproving,  suspending,  ex- 
communicating other  members  with  all  the  grimace 
of  feigned  sanctity  and  zeal — this  will  be  the  food 
of  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  never 
shall  be  quenched. 

Yet  in  some  cases,  it  would  appear  that  the  ex- 
tent and  the  continuance  of  religious  delusion  may 
be  as  wonderful,  as  the  detection  will  be  tremen- 
dous. "When  once  the  master  of  the  house  is 
risen  up,  and  hath  shut  to  the  door,  and  ve  begin  to 
stand  without,  and  to  knock  at  the  door,  saying, 
Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us;  and  he  shall  answer  and 
say  unto  you,  I  know  ye  not  whence  ye  are;  then 
shall  ye  begin  to  say"— Not  know  us?  "Why,  "We 
have  eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast 
taught  in  our  streets.  But  he  shall  say,  I  tell  you,  I 
know  not  whence  ye  are;  depart  from  me,  all  ve 
workers  of  iniquity.  There  shall  be  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall  see  Abraham  and 


Isaac  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the  king- 
dom of  God,  and  yourselves  thrust  out.  And  in»y 
shall  come  from  the  east,  and  from  the  west,  and 
from  the  north,  and  from  the  south,  and  shall  sir 
down  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  And,  behold,  there 
are  last  which  shall  be  first,  and  there  are  first 
which  shall  be  last." 

"But,  beloved,  we  hope  better  things  of  you,  and 
things  that  accompany  salvation,  though  we  thus 
speak."  You  are  poor  in  spirit.  You  mourn  for 
sin.  You  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness. 
You  love  his  salvation,  and  you  love  his  services. 
You  glory  in  his  cross,  and  you  admire  his  charac- 
ter, and  long  to  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly. 
Yet  you  are  often  ready  to  shrink  back:  you  often, 
you  always  pray,  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know 
my  heart;  try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts;  and  see 
if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in 
the  way  everlasting."  Well,  be  assured  of  this, 
that  you  are  more  welcome  to  his  house,  than  you 
ever  feel  yourself  to  be  unworthy.  He  himself 
rises  up,  and  in  all  the  freeness  and  tenderness  of 
his  love,  invites  you  to  his  table;  and  cries,  "Eat, 
O  friends;  drink  you,  drink  abundantly,  0  be- 
loved !" 

And  we,  fourthly,  conclude  by  hailing  those  who 
are  not  only  members  of  a  Christian  Church,  but 
are  joined  to  the  Lord,  and  are  of  one  spirit  with 
him.  Not  resting  in  the  outward  and  visible  sign, 
you  realize  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace.  You 
discern  the  Lord's  body;  and,  by  the  exercise  of 
faith  on  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Cross,  your  experience 
tells  you  that  his  flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  his  blood 
drink  indeed.  You  have  a  joy  in  divine  things 
which  mere  professors  and  formalists  know  no- 
thing of.  How  often,  in  his  word  and  ordinances, 
do  you  sit  under  his  shadow  with  delight,  and  find 
his  fruit  sweet  to  your  taste.  How  often  when  lying 
down  in  green  pastures,  and  feeding  beside  the  still 
waters,  do  you  exclaim,  "Oh!  how  great  is  his 
beauty,  and  how  great  is  his  goodness."  While  the 
men  of  the  world  consider  you  as  enslaved  by  su- 
perstition, you  walk  at  liberty,  because  you  keep 
his  commandments.  While  they  represent  you  as 
given  up  to  dulness  and  melancholy,  you  can  look 
them  in  the  face,  and  say, 

"  The  men  of  grace  have  found 
Glory  begun  below ; 
And  heavenly  fruits  on  earthly  ground 
From  faith  and  hope  may  grow. 

"  The  hill  of  Zion  yields 
A  thousand  sacred  sweets, 
Before  we  reach  the  heavenly  fields, 
Or  walk  the  golden  streets." 

Yes,  you  are  already  blessed.  But  what  a  pros- 
pect is  before  you !  Death  has  been  called  a  going 
home — but  it  is  going  to  church — going  from  the 
church  below  to  the  Church  above.  Your  commu- 
nion on  earth  has  its  trials.  It  is  a  mixed  state  of 
things;  and  owing  to  the  apostacies  of  some,  and 
the  backslidings  of  others,  and  the  infirmities  of  all. 
you  are  often  sorrowful  for  the  solemn  assembly, 
and  the  reproach  of  it  is  a  burden.  Yet  it  is  a 
pleasing  emblem,  and  earnest  of  the  fellowship  of 
heaven;  but  its  defects,  as  well  as  its  excellences, 
should  lead  you  to  aspire  after  that  world  were  the 
Canaanite  will  be  no  more  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
for  ever;  and  where  the  spirits  of  just  men  are 
made  perfect.  "  Therefore  are  they  before  the 
throne  of  God,  and  serve  him  day  and  night  in  his 
temple:  and  he  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  sha.. 
dwell  among  them.  They  shall  hunger  no  more 
neither  thirst  any  more;  neither  shall  the  sun  ljf.:ht 
on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  ir 
the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and  shal 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


*?5 


lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters:  and  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

Ah!  Christian,  though  you  will  soon  change 
your  place,  you  will  not  change  your  associates. 
When  death  lets  you  go,  you  will  return  to  your 
own  company.  Now  were  you  setting  off  for  a 
country  which  you  had  never  seen,  would  it  not  be 
very  relieving  to  think  that  you  would  find  your- 
self at  home  there — many  of  your  connections  be- 
ing there  already — and  the  rest  assuredly  coming 
after!  If,  Christian,  you  are  at  present  a  stranger 
to  the  heavenly  world,  the  heavenly  world  is  not  a 
stranger  to  you.  There  is  your  Father.  There  is 
your  Saviour.  There  are  the  angels  who  have 
been  your  ministering  spirits.  There  are  all  the 
saints,  your  brethren  in  Christ.  There  are  your 
dear  friends  and  fellow-worshippers,  who  have  pre- 
ceded you — while  those  you  leave  behind  are  loosen- 
ing and  preparing  to  foilow. 

And  can  you  imagine  that  your  religious  ac- 
quaintance will  not  be  renewed,  and  your  holy  in- 
timacies be  completed,  there'?  "I  am  fully  per- 
suaded," says  Baxter,  "  that  I  shall  love  my  friends 
in  heaven,  and  therefore  know  them.  And  this 
principally  binds  me  to  them  on  earth.  And  if T 
thought  I  should  never  know  them  more,  nor  there- 
fore love  them  after  death,  I  should  love  them  com- 
paratively little,  as  I  do  all  other  transitory  objects. 
But  I  now  delight  in  conversing  with  them,  as  be- 
lieving I  shall  commune  with  them  for  ever."  Paul 
was  like-minded.  "For  what  is  our  hope,  or  joy, 
or  crown  of  rejoicing?  are  not  even  ye  in  the  pre- 
sence of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming"?  For 
ye  are  our  glory  and  our  joy." 


LECTURE  V. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,   IN   THE   WORLD. 

"  And  noto  lam  no  more  in  the  world,  but  these  are 
in  the  world." — John  xvii.  11. 

According  to  Isaiah,  it  is  a  privilege  to  "hear  a 
word  behind  us,  saying,  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye 
in  it,  when  we  turn  to  the  right  hand,"and  when 
we  turn  to  the  left."  Truth  and  safety  lie  in  the 
middle.  The  pilgrim,  ascending  the  Hill  Diffi- 
culty, saw  a  lion  on  the  right  hand,  and  a  lion  on 
the  left;  and  was  afraid  to  advance.  But  he  was  in- 
formed by  a  voice  from  above,  that  these  lions  were 
chained ;  and  need  only  alarm  those  who  approach- 
ed the  sides  of  the  road.  The  middle  was  perfectly 
secure:  and  keeping  in  this,  though  these  creatures 
might  look  and  roar  at  him,  they  could  not  hurt. 
This  is  another  instance  of  the  profound  truth,  as 
well  as  genius,  with  which  Bunyan  describes  things 
in  his  exquisitely  simple  and  admired  book.  The 
wisest  of  men  but  gives  us  the  same  fact,  when  he 
represents  Wisdom  as  saying,  "  I  lead  in  the  way 
of  righteousness,  in  the  midst  of  the  paths  of  judg- 
ment." The  sentiment  may  be  exemplified  in  every 
thing  moral  and  religious.  Economy  is  equally 
remote  from  profusion  and  parsimony.  Courage 
stands  between  rashness  and  fear.  Patience  is 
equally  destroyed  by  feeling  too  little  or  too  much  : 
for  which  reason  we  are  forbidden  both  to  despise 
the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  and  to  faint  when  we 
are  rebuked  of  him.  The  evils  to  be  avoided  in  all 
these  cases  come  so  near  together,  that  "narrow  is 
the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be 
that  find  it." 

Let  us  take  this  general  reflection,  and  apply  it  to 
a  particular  case.  Our  Lord  said  to  his  disciples — 
"  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world."  "Ye  are  not. 
of  the  world,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world."  And 
they  cannot  remember  and  feel  this  too  powerfully;  I 
not  only  when  they  assume  a  profession  of  religion,  ' 
but  in  every  stage  of  their  subsequent  progress. —  J 


But  though  their  inheritance  is  above,  their  resi- 
dence is  below.  Though  they  are  bound  for  glory, 
they  are  now  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  earth.— 
Though  they  are  not  of  the  world,  they  are  in  it.— 
"  I  am  no  more,"  says  the  Saviour,  "  in  the  world, 
but  these  arc  in  the  world." 

They  arc  in  the  world,  in  distinction //•owiAcaiwt 
This  is  the  final  abode  of  the  blessed  ;  and  this  high 
and  holy  place  is  much  more  congenial  with  their 
views  and  feelings  than  the  earth,  where  they  are 
now  left.  In  the  natural  creation,  things  are  distin- 
guished and  separated  according  to  their  qualities  ; 
and  the  Apostle  asks  with  regard  to  the  Church — 
"  What  communion  hath  light  with  darkness;  and 
what  fellowship  hath  righteousness  with  unrighte- 
ousness, and  what  part  hath  he  that  believeth  with 
an  infidel  1"  Order,  therefore,  seems  to  require  that 
as  soon  as  men  are  converted,  and  bear  the  image 
of  the  heavenly,  they  should  go  to  their  own  com- 
pany ;  and  not  remain  in  "  a  world  lying  in  wicked- 
ness." But  were  this  to  be  the  ca-e,  the  triumph 
would  be  obtained  without  the  fight;  and  the  prize 
would  be  reached  without  running  the  race:  conver- 
sion would  be  always  the  signal  of  dissolution ;  and 
religion  would  enter  our  families  like  an  undertak- 
er, to  carry  off  our  connections  to  the  grave.  But 
there  is  a  way ;  and  the  end  of  this  is  peace;  there 
is  a  course ;  and  this  is  to  be  finished  with  joy.  The 
Jews  imagined  they  were  to  possess  the  land  flow- 
ing with  milk  and  honey  as  soon  as  they  were  de- 
livered from  the  house  of  bondage;  but  "the  wilder- 
ness was  their  abode  for  forty  years;  and  though 
this  condition  was  far  better  than  the.  place  from 
whence  they  came  out,  it  was  not  to  be  compared 
with  their  destination.  "Ye  are  not  yet  come  unto 
the  rest  and  the  inheritance  which  the  Lord  your 
God  giveth  you." 

They  are  in  the  world,  in  opposition  to  the  re- 
quirements of  Superstition.  This  degrading  and 
perverting  system  very...early  prevailed,  saying, 
touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not:  forbidding  also  to 
marry,  and  commanding  to  abstain  from  meats 
which  God  hath  created  to  be  received  with  thanks- 
giving of  them  which  believe  and  honor  the  truth; 
and  inducing  the  votaries,  if  not  always  by  precept 
yet  by  commendation,  to  resign  their  "secular  call- 
ings, and  recede  from  society,  and  live  in  cells  and 
dens  and  caves  of  the  earth — which  things  have  in- 
deed a  show  of  wisdom  in  will-worship  and  humili- 
ty and  neglecting  of  the  body,  not  in  any  honor  to 
the  satisfying  of  the  flesh.  But  all  this  was  really 
after  the  commandments  and  doctrines  of  men.- 
Christianity  yields  it  no  real  countenance.  This  is 
not  overcoming  the  world,  but  refusing  the  combat. 
This  is  not  fighting  but  fleeing.  This  is  putting  the 
candle  under  a  bushel  instead  of  in  a  candlestick, 
where  it  can  give  light  to  all  that  are  in  the  house. 
But,  says  the  Saviour,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  be- 
fore  men,  that  they  may  i %ce  your  good  works,  and 
glorify  your  Father  who  is  in  heaven." 

They  are  in  the  world,  in  qualification  of  a  mis- 
take, to  which  some  Christians  even  now  are  prone, 
and  which,  though  it  does  not  carry  them  into 
Popery,  withdraws  them,  shall  I  say,  too  much,  or 
rather  improperly,  from  the  v;orld.  For  here  we  may 
err,  not  only  in  the  article  of  conformity,  but  sepa- 
ration ;  not  only  in  our  indulgence,  but  in  our  mor- 
tification ;  not  only  in  our  love,  but  in  our  aversion. 
If  we  are  the  friends  of  the  world,  we  are  the  ene- 
mies of  God;  yet  we  are  to  honor  all  men.  If  we 
shun  the  course  of  this  world,  we  are  not  to  neglect 
their  welfare.  While  we  decline  the  wicked  as  com- 
panions, we  are  to  attend  to  them  as  patients,  an-'. 
endeavor  to  recover  and  save  and  bless  them.  Th 
ground  that  at  present  does  not  yield  us  pleasure 
must  furnish  us  with  employment;  that  cultivating 
the  barren  and  the  briery  soil,  under  the  divine 


36 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


agency,  for  us — in  some  few  spots  at  least— the  wil- 1  was  David  overcome'?  Was  it  not  when,  instead 
derness  and  the  solitary  place  may  be  made  glad,  of  commanding  his  army  in  the  field,  he  was  indulg- 
and  the  desert  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose.  This  ,  ing  himself  at  noon,  upon  the  house-top'!  Where 
brings  us  to  the  subject  of  our  present  meditation —  j  grossness  of  vice  is  not  produced,  evils  of  a  less  odi- 
The  Christian  |  ous  quality,  but  no  less  anti-christian,  are  cherish- 

In  the  World.  I  ed,  especially  the  indulgence  of  impertinent  curiosi- 

j  ty,  and  whisperings,  and  backbitings,  and  slanders. 
The  theme  would  fill  volumes;   and  we  have  |  _«< "vvitbal  they  learn  to  be  idle,  wandering  from 
only  a  single  Lecture  for  the  discussion  of  it.     But  j  house  t0  house;  and  not  only  idle,  but  tattlers  also, 


let  us  do  what  we  can.  Let  us  take  five  views  of 
the  subject.  Let  us  consider  the  Christian  in  the 
World,  as 

In  a  sphere  of  Activity. 

In  a  sphere  of  Observation. 

In  a  sphere  of  Danger. 

In  a  sphere  of  Self-Improvement. 

In  a  sphere  of  Usefulness. 

I.  In  a  sphere  of  Activity. 

God  obviously  intended  us  for  a  life  of  engage- 
ment ;  and  the  design  is  no  less  conducive  to  our 
own  advantage  individually,  than  to  the  welfare  of 
the  community  in  which  we  live.  It  is  said,  that  in 
Turkey  the  Grand  Seignior  himself  must  have  been 
articled  to  some  mechanical  trade.  Paul  had  a 
learned  education,  yet  he  was  taught  the  craft  of 
tent-making;  and  we  see  of  what  importance  it  was 
to  him  in  a  particular  emergency.  The  Jews  pro- 
verbially said,  that  he  who  did  not  bring  up  his  son 
to  some  employment,  taught  him  to  be  a  thief. — 
Bishop  Sanderson  said,  that  the  two  curses  of  the 
day  in  which  he  lived,  were  "  beggary  and  shabby 


and  busy-bodies,  speaking  things  they  ought  not." 
What  is  the  prevention  of  these  vices,  and  a  thou- 
sand morel  Is  the  Apostle  too  severe!  "When 
we  were  with  you,  this  we  commanded  you,  that  if 
any  would  not  work,  neither  should  he  eat.  For  we 
hear  that  there  are  some  which  walk  among  you 
disorderly,  working  not  at  all,  but  are  busy-bodies. 
Now  them  that  are  such  we  command  and  exhort 
by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  with  quietness  they 
work,  and  eat  their  own  bread."  Thus  Adam  and 
Eve  were  placed  in  the  garden  of  Eden — not  to  live 
as  some  of  you  do;  but  to  dress  and  to  keep  it.  All 
through  the  Old  and  New  Testament  you  will  find 
that  those  to  whom  God  appeared,  to  communicate 
information,  or  bestow  prerogative,  were  all  engag- 
ed and  following  their  occupations  at  the  time.  If 
the  unemployed  think  that  he  visits  them,  let  them 
suspect,  and  inquire  whether  it  be  not  another  being 
under  disguise;  for  "even  Satan  also  transformed 
himself  into  an  angel  of  light." 

Yet  is  it  not  sufficient  that  we  are  engaged.    The 

Christian  must  appear  in  the  man  of  business.    He 

is  not  only  to  have  a  calling,  but  to  "  abide  with 

God  in  his  calling." — To  abide  with  him  by  the 

gentility."     Beggary  is  too  well  understood,  and  too  |  moderation  of  his  desires  and  exertions  :  not  entan 


much  encouraged ;  but  what  his  lordship  very  pro- 
perly calls  shabby  gentility,  means  the  pride  of  fami- 
ly, and  the  show  of  finery,  and  the  expensiveness  of 
indulgence,  with  insufficient  means;  while  all  aid 
derived  from  any  kind  of  business  is  declined  and 
contemned.  Some,  now  in  easy  circumstances, 
meanly  endeavor  to  conceal  the  merchandise  or 
trade  in  which  their  parents  were  engaged— though 
it  is  pleasing  to  think  the  attempt  is  always  vain; 
as  the  affectation  of  these  people  leads  every  one  to 
ferret  out  the  secret,  and  to  exclaim,  what  a  pity  it 
is  that  any  should  possess  property  who  are  asham- 
ed of  the  honorable  way  in  which  it  was  acquired 
for  them !  Of  all  pride,  the  most  contemptible  is 
that  which  blushes  at  trade  ;  especially  in  a  country 
whose  greatness  results  so  much  from  commerce ; 
and  "whose  merchants  are  princes,  and  whose 
traffickers  are  the  honorable  of  the  earth."  They 
only  ought  to  blush  who  rise  in  the  morning,  not 
knowing  that  they  have  any  thing  in  the  world  to 
do,  but  to  eat  and  drink,  and  trifle  and  sleep.  An 
angel  would  pray  for  annihilation,  rather  than  sub- 
mit to  such  disgracefulness  for  a  single  day.  Acti- 
vity is  the  noblest  life;  it  is  the  life  of  the  soul.  It 
is  also  the  most  pleasant,  and  most  healthful.  No 
drudgery  equals  the  wretchedness  of  ennui.  The 
idle  know  nothing  of  recreation.  Peace  and  con- 
tent flee  from  their  feelings.  Weakness,  and  de- 
pressed spirits,  and  trembling  nerves,  and  foolish 
apprehensions,  haunt  them;  so  that  these  people 
seem  referrible  to  the  physician,  rather  than  to  the 
divine. 

But  the  thing  has  a  moral  bearing,  and  so  comes 
under  the  notice  of  the  Lecturer.  A  life  of  inac- 
tion is  a  disuse  of  talents,  and  a  perversion  of  facul- 
ties, for  which  we  are  responsible.  It  is  the  inlet 
of  temptation.  Our  leisure  days  are  the  enemy's 
busy  ones — 

"  For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still, 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

"  Behold,  this  was  the  iniquity  of  Sodom — pride, 
'ulnessof  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness."  When 


ling  himself  in  the  affairs  of  this  life;  diligent  in 
business,  but  not,  by  multiplication  and  complexity, 
injuring  the  health  of  his  body  and  the  peace  of  his 
mind,  and  compelling  himself,  if  not  to  omit,  to  cur- 
tail his  religious  duties;  if  not  to  neglect  the  Sab- 
bath, and  the  sanctuary,  and  the  closet,  yet  to  render 
himself  unable  to  attend  on  the  Lord  without  dis- 
traction.— To  abide  with  him  by  invariable  con- 
scientiousness; doing  nothing  but  what  is  conform- 
able with  truth  and  rectitude:  not  content  to  keep 
himself  within  the  precincts  of  legal  obligation,  but 
shunning  and  detesting  in  all  his  dealings,  every 
thing  that  is  mean  and  overreaching;  and  exem- 
plifying every  thing  that  is  fair  and  honorable. — 
Toabide  with  him  by  a  devout  temper  and  habit ; 
that  will  remind  him  of  the  presence  of  God  and 
his  all-seeing  eye ;  that  will  keep  him  from  planning 
or  achieving  any  enterprise  without  dependence 
upon  Heaven ;  that  will  not  allow  him  to  say,  "  To- 
day or  to-morrow  we  will  go  into  such  a  city,  and 
continue  there  a  year,  and  buy  and  sell,  and  get 
gain ;"  while  he  knows  not  what  shall  be  on  the 
morrow;  but  induce  him  to  preface  every  project 
with  the  pious  acknowledgment,  "  If  the  Lord  will, 
we  shall  live  and  do  this  or  that;"  practically  own- 
ing the  agency  of  his  providence  in  all  the  contin- 
gencies of  his  affairs;  in  every  failure  and  disap- 
pointment submitting  to  his  pleasure;  in  every  fa- 
vorable turn,  in  every  degree  of  success,  not  sacri- 
ficing unto  his  own  net,  and  burning  incense  unto 
his  own  drag,  as  if  by  them  his  pasture  was  made 
fat,  and  his  meat  plenteous;  but  ascribing  all  to  the 
blessing  of  the  Lord  that  maketh  rich,  and  addeth 
no  sorrow  with  it. 

Thus  secular  life  is  christianized,  and  the  bounds 
of  religion  enlarged  far  beyond  the  district  of  what 
we  commonly  mean  by  devotion.  If  the  Christian 
could  abide  with  God  only  in  the  express  exercises 
of  worship,  whether  in  the  closet,  the  family,  or  the 
temple,  he  could  be  with  him  very  little.  In  all  si- 
tuations, the  cares  of  life  demand  the  vaster  part  of 
his  time  and  attention ;  but  he  may  always  walk  be- 
fore the  Lord  in  the  land  of  the  living :  and  whethc 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED, 


37 


he  eats  or  drinks,  or  whatever  he  does,  he  may  do 
all  to  the  glory  of  God.  Let  him,  as  often  as  he  has 
opportunity,  repair  for  impression,  refreshment,  and 
aid,  to  the  means  of  grace  in  private  and  public: 
but  let  him  also  remember,  that  making  the  word 
of  God  his  principle,  and  the  honor  of  God  his  aim, 
he  is  still  serving  God,  while  he  is  working  with 
his  own  hands  in  his  secular  vocation,  and  provid- 
ing things  honest  in  the  sight  of  all  men.  The  spi- 
rit of  devotion  actuates  him  in  the  absence  of  its 
forms ;  and  this  principle,  as  is  reported  of  the  phi- 
losopher's stone,  turns  all  it  touches  into  gold. — 
Thus  his  natural  actions  become  moral;  his  civil 
duties  become  religious ;  the  held  or  the  warehouse 
is  holy  ground ;  and  the  man  of  business  is  the  "  man 
of  God." 

II.  In  the  World  he  is  in  a  sphere  of  Observa- 
tion. 

"Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world:  a  city  that  is  set 
on  an  hill  cannot  be  hid."  "Ye  are  manifestly  the 
epistles  of  Christ,  known  and  read  of  all  men." — 
"  We  are  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  to  angels,  and  to 
men."  It  is  obvious  from  hence,  that  as  religious 
characters,  you  ought  not  to  be  concealed;  you  will 
not  be  concealed ;  you  cannot  be  concealed.  Of 
this  I  fear  you  think  too  little.  Did  you  sufficiently 
consider  how  many  eyes  are  upon  you,  and  the  ef- 
fects that  may  result  from  their  inspection,  you 
would  surely  pray,  with  David,  "  Teach  me  thy 
way,  O  Lord,  and  lead  me  in  a  plain  path,  because 
of  mine  enemies:"  or,  as  it  is  in  the  margin,  "be- 
cause of  them  that  observe  me." 

In  the  Church  you  have  observers.  The  minister 
who  watches  for  you  souls  as  one  that  must  give  an 
account ;  the  office-bearers,  all  your  fellow-members 
— all  these  observe  you.  But  these  are  good  ob- 
servers, friendly  observers:  these  observe  you  to 
consider  you,  in  order  to  provoke  you  to  love  and 
to  good  works.  But  the  world  furnishes  observers 
of  a  very  different  kind,  both  as  to  their  qualities 
and  their  purposes — 

Curious  observers.  For  "  you  are  men  wondered 
at."  They  think  it  stftinge  "that  you  run  not  to  the 
same  excess  of  riot  with  them.  They  are  amazed 
at  your  resigning  dissipations,  without  which  they 
cannot  live;  and  yet  profess  to  be  happy;  and  to 
see  you  bear  reproach  and  persecution ;  and  rejoice 
that  you  are  accounted  worthy  to  suffer.  They  are 
staggered  at  your  principles;  and  they  are  not  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  their  own;  and  so  resemble  Fe- 
lix, who  wished  to  hear  Paul  concerning  the  faith 
in  Christ:  and  the  Jews,  to  whom  the  Apostle  ap- 
pealed when  he  came  to  Rome — "  And  they  said 
unto  him,  We  neither  received  letters  out  of  Judea 
concerning  thee,  neither  any  of  the  brethren  that 
came  shewed  or  spake  any  harm  of  thee.  But  we 
desire  to  hear  of  thee  what  thou  thinkest;  for,  as 
concerning  this  sect,  we  know  that  every  where  it 
is  spoken  against." 

— Malignant  observers.  Your  temper  and  con- 
duct and  pursuits  throw  censure  upon  them;  and 
they  hate  you,  because  you  testify  that  their  deeds 
are  evil.  They  therefore  watch  not  to  commend, 
but  to  condemn  ;  not  to  notice  the  many  good  steps 
you  take,  but  to  mark  the  least  halting;  and  are 
delishted  when  they  can  detect  any  thing  to  de- 
grade yon  down  to  their  level,  any  thing  to  justify 
their  insinuations  against  you,  any  thing  to  make 
them  better  pleased  with  themselves,  any  thing  that 
may  help  their  faith  in  the  hypocrisy  of  all  reli- 
gion. 

— Unjust  observers.  It  is  proper  enough  for  them 
to  compare  your  conduct  with  your  principles,  and 
your  practice  with  your  profession  :  but  they  do 
more  than  this.  For  you  do  not  profess  to  be  per- 
fect ;  yet  by  nothing  less  than  this  rule,  do  they  af- 


fect to  try  you.  Yea,  all  irreligious  as  they  are, 
they  exalt  themselves  into  moral  censors,  and  ex- 
act more  from  you  than  even  your  religion  exacts; 
lor  your  religion  will  allow  you  to  be  sincere  though 
you  have  infirmities;  but  they  will  not.  Hence 
they  magnify  little  failings  into  crimes.  Hence 
they  impute  the  improprieties  of  a  few  to  the  whole 
body.  Hence,  instead  of  judging  of  your  religion 
by  the  Scripture,  they  judge  of  your  religion  by  you. 
Hence  they  even  estimate  the  leader  by  his  follow- 
ers, and  the  master  himself  by  the  disciple. 

This  is  awful;  and  it  shows  what  incalculable 
injury  we  may  do  when  we  walk  unworthy  of  the 
vocation  wherewith  we  are  called.  For  as  the  poor) 
Indians  said  of  the  Spaniards,  what  a  God  must  he 
be,  who  has  such  hell-hounds  for  his  servants  and 
children :  so  what  must  many  think  of  Christ,  were 
they  to  judge  of  him  by  the  folly  and  pride,  and, 
avarice  and  implacability  of  many  who  are  called! 
by  his  name  1 

And  what  inferences,  my  fellow-Christians,  ought 
you  to  draw  from  hence  1  It  is  in  vain  to  fret  your- 
selves, and  complain  of  the  injustice  of  the  world. 
You  must  regulate  yourselves  accordingly.  Yea, 
you  must  turn  this  vile  disposition  into  a  blessing. 
You  must  walk  in  the  fear  of  your  God,  because  of 
the  reproach  of  the  heathen  your  enemies.  You 
are  not  of  the  night  nor  of  darkness :  you  must 
therefore  walk  honestly  as  in  the  day.  You  are  on 
a  stage:  you  must  therefore  be  attentive  to  your 
movements.  "  What  manner  of  persons  ought  ye 
to  be  in  all  holy  conversation  and  godliness !"  Never 
be  careless  of  your  reputation.  Never  adopt  the 
maxim  of  some  indiscreet  professors — "  I  care  not 
what  the  world  thinks  or  says  of  me."  You  ought 
to  care.  You  ought  to  value  a  good  name  above 
great  riches.  You  ought  to  let  no  accusation  attach 
to  you,  but  in  matters  pertaining  to  the  law  of  yourJ 
God. 

III.   In  the  World  he  is  in  a  sphere  of  Danger. 

Our  Lord  reminds  us  of  this,  when  he  prays  not 
that  we  might  be  taken  out  of  the  world,  but  kept 
from  the  evil.  Hence  we  are  required  to  pass  the 
time  of  our  sojourning  here  in  fear.  And  hence  we 
read,  "blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always." 

We  are  liable  to  be  drawn  sometimes  beyond  the 
bounds  of  permission  and  duty:  and  so  to  intermin- 
gle with  the  ungodly  as  to  neglect  the  command, 
"  Save  yourselves  from  this  untoward  generation." 
"  Come  ye  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye  sepa- 
rate, saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean 
thing."  There  are  companies,  and  places,  and 
scenes,  to  which  a  Christian  may  b*  tempted,  but 
in  which  he  must  never  be  found.  We  have  read 
in  ecclesiastical  history  of  a  damsel  supposed  to  be 
possessed  of  the  devil.  The  bishop  approached  her, 
and  commanded  the  unclean  spirit  to  come  out  of 
her.  But  he  stonily  replied,  "  I  will  not;"  adding, 
as  the  reason  of  his  refusal,  "  she  is  my  lawful  prize. 
I  took  her  on  my  own  territorv.  I  found  her,  not  in 
the  temple,  but  in  the  theatre."  I  have  no  faith  in 
the  fact:  but  the  moral  of  the  fable — how  much  of 
ecclesiastical  history  is  no  better  than  fable! — the 
moral  is  good  and  useful;  and  teaches  us  that  we 
have  no  warrant  to  look  for  divine  protection  when 
we  are  on  forbidden  ground. 

We  must  needs  go  out  of  the  world,  if  we  would 
avoid  all  intercourse  with  the  ungodly.  There  is 
scarcely  a  day  in  which  we  are  not  brought  into 
such  contact  with  them  as  duty  allows  and  re- 
quires. But  is  there  no  caution  necessary  even 
then  1  Is  there  no  danger  of  infection,  when  we 
are  among  the  diseased?  Has  not  a  heathen  told 
us,  that  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man- 
ners'? Need  you  be  informed  that  even  the  pre- 
sence of  the  wicked  may  chill  your  religious  fer- 


38 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


vor;  and  that  their  conversation  may  throw  doubts 
into  your  minds,  and  leave  stains  on  the  imagina- 
tion, which  cannot  be  easily  removed'?  How  in- 
sensibly are  we  drawn  to  feel  and  talk  and  act  like 
others ;  especially  if  there  be  rank  to  impress,  and 
talent  to  fascinate,  and  friendship  to  allure,  and  de- 
pendence to  excite  hope,  and  favors  to  attach  gra- 
titude ! 

The  danger  as  to  the  case  before  us  is,  not  only 
from  what  we  meet  with  in  the  condition,  but  from 
what  we  bring  into  it.  The  world  is  always  the 
same.  Its  errors,  vices,  examples,  endeavors,  frowns, 
smiles,  promises,  and  threatenings,  yield  incessant 
and  powerful  temptations.  Yet  an  angel  is  not  en- 
dangered by  them ;  he  has  not  the  senses,  the  pas- 
sions, the  appetites,  the  corruptions,  on  which  they 
can  operate.  But  we  are  not  only  rational  but  ani- 
mal creatures.  We  have  not  only  an  immaterial 
spirit,  but  a  material  body  accessible  to  every  exter- 
nal impression.  We  are  also  fallen  creatures,  and 
much  of  the  derangement  induced  by  our  depravity 
consists  in  the  ascendency  of  the  sensual  over  the 
intellectual  part  of  our  nature. 

And  if  we  are  sanctified,  we  are  not  completely 
renewed.  And  owing  to  the  sin  that  dwelleth  in 
us,  we  are  in  danger  from  our  dress,  our  food,  our 
calling,  our  connections.  We  are  in  danger  not 
only  from  sinful,  but  lawful  things.  The  piece  of 
ground,  the  yoke  of  oxen,  the  married  wife — all 
these  are  innocent  in  themselves;  yet  they  may  ex- 
cuse the  acceptance  of  the  invitation  to  the  feast, 
and  become  the  means  of  perdition.  The  know- 
ledge we  possess  may  puff  us  up  with  vanity.  The 
applause  we  meet  with,  may  show  how  drossy  we 
are ;  for  as  the  fining-pot  for  silver,  and  the  furnace 
for  gold,  so  is  man  to  his  praise.  Owing  to  our  sus- 
ceptibility of  shame  and  suffering,  the  fear  of'man 
bringeth  a  snare,  and  may  drive  us  back  or  turn  us 
aside  from  the  path  of  duty.  How  perilous  is  it  to 
have  not  only  an  active  and  sleepless  enemy  with- 
out, but  a  traitor  within,  to  give  him  every  inform- 
ation and  advantage.  And  with  regard  to  the  soul, 
a  man's  foes  are  indeed  those  of  his  own  household. 
"  Then  a  man  is  tempted,  when  he  is  drawn  away 
of  his  own  lust  and  enticed."  How  apprehensive 
and  cautious  should  those  be  who  carry  gunpowder, 
while  moving  in  the  neighborhood  of  sparks.  "Can 
a  man  take  fire  in  his  bosom,  and  his  clothes  not  be 
burned '?  Can  one  go  upon  hot  coals,  and  his  feet 
not  be  burned  V 

Be  not  therefore  high-minded,  but  fear.  Some 
are  indeed  obliged  by  their  condition  and  calling  to 
enter  further  into  the  world  than  others;  and  so  are 
more  exposed ;  but  what  we  say  unto  one,  we  say 
unto  all,  Watch.  "Watch  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter 
into  temptation."  Whose  attainments  are  such  as 
to  warrant  the  dismission,  or  even  the  relaxation  of 
his  vigilance!  Whose  standing  is  so  secure  as  to 
feel  it  needless  any  longer  to  pray,  "  Hold  thou  me 
up,  and  I  shall  be  safe'?"  Are  we  young  1  Timothy 
with  all  his  faith  and  godliness,  is  admonished  to 
flee  youthful  lusts.  Are  years  beyond  the  reach  of 
harm'?  Solomon,  after  a  youth  of  manhood  and 
piety,  is  drawn  aside  in  his  old  age.  We  may  fail 
even  in  those  qualities  and  graces  wherein  we  most 
excel.  Abraham,  the  father  of  the  faithful,  stag- 
gered through  unbelief;  and  how  did  it  debase  him 
in  Gerar !  Moses,  more  meek  than  any  man  on  the 
earth,  provoked  by  the  perverseness  of  the  murmur- 
ers,  "spake  unadvisedly  with  his  lips."  The  dis- 
ciple who  disowned  the  Saviour,  even  with  oaths 
and  curses,  was  he  who  had  just  said,  "  though  I 
should  die  with  thee,  yet  will  I  not  deny  thee;"  and 
who  had  just  drawn  his  sword,  and  in  the  presence 
of  a  number  of  Roman  soldiers  had  cut  off  the  ear 
of  the  High-Priest's  servant.  If  any  imagine  that 
though  these  admonitions  and  warnings  are  needful 


for  others,  they  are  not  necessary  for  him,,  he  is  the 
man  who  far  more  than  every  other  requires  them 
for  "  pride  goes  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty 
spirit  before  a  fall." 

It  is  therefore  a  great  thing,  and  a  thing  for  which 
you  ought  to  be  thankful  to  the  God  of  all  grace,  if, 
after  so  long  an  exposure  in  an  enemy's  land,  your 
hearts  have  not  turned  back,  neither  have  your 
steps  declined  from  his  ways.  Review  the  hour 
when  you  first  gave  up  your  ownselves  to  the  Lord 
and  to  his  people  by  his  will ;  recall  the  subsequent 
vicissitudes  of  your  condition  and  experience ;  and 
exclaim  with  wonder  and  praise, 

"  Many  years  have  passed  since  then ; 
Many  changes  I  have  seen ; 
Yet  have  been  upheld  till  now — 
Who  could  hold  me  up  but  Thoul" 

You  have  had  your  infirmities;  and  these  ought 
to  humble  you.  But  it  is  an  unspeakable  privilege 
that  thus  far  you  have  not  only  been  sincere,  but 
without  offence;  and  have  not  caused  the  way  of 
truth  to  be  evil  spoken  of. 

"  Ah !"  say  some  of  you,  "  such  are  to  be  congra- 
tulated. Through  all  the  pollutions  of  a  world  like 
this,  they  have  not  defiled  their  garments ;  and 
they  are  ready  to  walk  with  their  Redeemer  in 
white,  for  they  are  worthy.  But  we  are  only  com- 
mencing our  religious  course.  Their  warfare  may 
be  considered  as  accomplished :  our  fight  is  scarcely 
begun.  The  dangers  which  are  behind  them,  are 
all  before  us;  and  the  prospect  frequently  smites  our 
heart  down  to  the  ground."  But  be  not  discouraged. 
Their  friend  and  keeper  is  with  you.  He  will  never 
leave  you  nor  forsake  you.  He  is  able  to  keep  you 
from  falling,  and  to  present  you  faultless  before  the 
presence  of  his  glory  with  exceeding  joy.  Look  to 
that  grace  which  is  sufficient  for  you;  and  be  con- 
cerned to  abstain  from  all  appearance  of  evil.  And 
the  very  God  of  peace  will  sanctify  you  wholly:  and 
I  pray  God  your  body,  soul,  and  spirit  may  be  pre- 
served blameless  unto  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Faithful  is  he  that  calleth  you,  who  also 
will  do  it. 

IV.  In  the  World  he  is  in  a  sphere  of  Self- 
Improvement, 

The  Lord  takes  pleasure  in  them  that  fear  him. 
His  love  to  them  is  infinite.  And  as  he  is  possess- 
ed of  unbounded  resources  to  give  his  friendship 
effect,  it  follows  that  he  would  not  detain  them  here, 
unless  the  condition  was  compatible  with  their  ad- 
vantage, and  the  trials  by  which  they  are  exercised 
could  be  found  unto  their  praise,  and  glory,  and 
honor. 

When  Isaiah  would  distinguish  the  guilt  of  a 
sinner,  he  said,  "Even  in  the  land  of  uprightness 
will  he  deal  unjustly" — and  nothing  can  aggravate 
a  man's  wickedness  more,  than  to  go  on  still  in  his 
transgressions,  when  every  thing  in  his  situation, 
every  thing  he  hears  and  sees,  excites  and  encou- 
rages him  to  godliness.  By  the  same  principle  of 
reasoning  it  will  appear,  that  the.  highest  religious 
excellence  is  that  which  is  displayed  in  the  land  of 
wickedness;  and  where  evil  examples  and  seduc- 
tions press  on  every  side.  Hence  the  portrait  drawn 
by  the  sublimest  hand  that  ever  held  a  pencil. 

"  Abdiel  faithful  found 


Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he ; 

Among  innumerable  false,  unmov'd, 

Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified, 

His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal: 

Nor  number,  nor  example  with  him  wrought 

To  swerve  from  truth,  cr  change  his  constant  mind 

Though  single.     From  amidst  them  forth  he  passed 

Long  way  through  hostile  scorn,  which  he  sustained 

Superior,  nor  of  violence  fear'd  aught." 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


3? 


This  gave  splendor  to  the  faith  of  those  Chris- 
tians who  were  saints  even  in  Caesar's  household. 
This  magnified  the  sanctity  of  Daniel,  and  Moses, 
and  Joseph,  who  lived  in  the  midst  of  heathenish, 
and  luxurious,  and  corrupt  courts;  and  yet  kept 
themselves  pure.  This  was  the  honor  of  Noah; 
that  when  God  had  explored  the  whole  world,  he 
said,  "  Thee  have  I  seen  righteous  before  me  in  this 
generation." 

What  is  virtue  untested'?  "Blessed  is  the  man 
that  endureth  temptation ;  for  when  he  is  tried,  he 
shall  receive  the  crown  of  life."  It  is  not  by  the 
fire-side,  or  in  the  circle  of  his  friends,  or  in  the 
rear  of  the  army  with  the  "staff,"  that  the  hero  ga- 
thers his  laurels;  but  amidst  the  confused  noise  of 
warriors,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood.  If  we  were 
exposed  to  no  frowns  and  menaces,  how  could  we 
show  the  firmness  of  our  religious  principles  !  If 
we  met  with  no  kind  of  reproach  and  persecution 
for  the  Saviour's  sake,  how  could  we  evince  our 
belief  of  his  truth  and  our  love  to  his  cause!  Were 
we  urged  to  follow  no  will  but  his,  how  could  we 
obey  God  rather  than  man! 

Am  I  offended'?  What  an  opportunity  have  I  to 
prove  that  I  can  forgive  my  brother  his  trespasses! 
Am  I  opposed  and  injured!  Here  my  patience  and 
meekness  are  called  forth.  Here  I  am  in  the  no- 
blest field  of  action.  I  am  more  than  a  conqueror. 
I  am  not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with 
good. 

Can  I  pass  a  day  or  an  hour,  and  not  perceive 
the  goodness  and  forbearance  of  that  God,  who, 
though  still  insulted  by  the  world  which  he  has 
made,  yet  spares  it,  and  is  never  weary  in  filling  it 
with  plenteousness  1 — Is  my  soul  vexed  with  the 
filthy  conversation  of  the  wicked  !  and  do  I  not 
wonder  at  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who 
came  into  such  a  world,  and  resided  here  for  three 
and  thirty  years,  bearing  the  contradiction  of  sin- 
ners against  himself? — Can  I  view  the  depravity  of 
others,  and  know  that  I  am  a  partaker  of  the  very 
same  nature,  and  not  feel  abased  and  ashamed,  like 
the  martyr,  who  whenever  hs  saw  a  sinner  in  his 
sins,  said  "  There  goes  Bradford,  but  for  the  grace 
of  God."  How  can  we  view  the  vassalage  of  the 
ungodly  under  the  tyranny  of  their  passions,  and 
led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will,  and  not  remem- 
ber that  we  ourselves  also  were  sometimes  foolish 
and  disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers  lusts  and 
pleasures;  and  not  ask  who  made  us  to  differ  from 
others;  and  what  have  we  that  we  have  not  re- 
ceived!— How  can  we  see  the  vileness  of  sin  in  its 
u^ly  tempers  and  detestable  practices,  and  not  be 
excited  to  abhor  that  which  is  evil  and  cleave  to 
that  which  is  good"?  How  can  we  contemplate  the 
miseries  of  the  sinner,  and  not  have  our  faith  con- 
firmed in  the  testimony  of  the  Scripture  that  as- 
sures us  the  end  of  these  things  is  death;  the  way 
of  transgressors  is  hard ;  there  is  no  peace  to  the 
wicked  !  And  when  we  behold  them  blind  and 
deaf,  madly  rushing  on  to  destruction,  will  not  all 
the  compassion  of  our  souls  be  moved — will  not  all 
our  zeal  be  inflamed — to  endeavor  to  save  them  1 

V.  In  the  World  he  is  in  a  sphere  of  Useful- 
ness. 

We  principally  mean  religious  usefulness.  We 
would  not  indeed  limit  your  exertions.  Do  all  the 
erood  that  is  in  your  power.  Feed  the  hungry, 
clothe  the  naked,  administer  to  the  sick,  visit  the 
fatherless  and  widows  in  their  affliction — But  for- 
get not,  that  charity  to  the  soul  is  the  soul  of  charity. 
There  is  no  evil  from  which  you  can  deliver  a  fel- 
low-creature to  be  compared  with  sin  ;  and  there  is 
no  good  you  can  obtain  for  him  like  that  grace 
"whose  fruit  is  holiness,  and  whose  end  is  everlasting 
life. 


And  fix  in  your  minds,  niv  Christian  friends,  not 
only  the  importance  of  the  object,  but  the  possibility 
of  accomplishing  it.  David  did  not  despair  of  suc-» 
cess  when  he  said,  "  Then  will  I  teach  transgress- 1 
ors  thy  ways,  and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  \ 
thee."  And  what  says  the  Apostle  James  1  "Bre- 
thren, if  any  of  you  do  err  from  the  truth,  and  one 
convert  him  ;  let  him  know,  that  he  which  convert- 
eth  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  save 
a  soul  from  death,  and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of 
sins."  God  works  by  means ;  and  it  is  by  his  peo- 
ple that  he  principally  carries  on  his  cause  in  the 
world.  They  are  his  witnesses.  They  are  his  ser- 
vants. He  first  makes  them  the  subjects  of  his  grace, 
and  then  the  mediums.  He  first  turns  them  from 
rebels  into  friends,  and  then  employs  them  to  go  and 
beseech  others  to  be  reconciled  unto  God.  For  they 
know  the  wretchedness  of  a  state  of  alienation  from 
him.  They  know  the  blessedness  of  a  return. — 
They  have  "  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious." — 
Their  own  experience  gives  them  earnestness  and 
confidence  in  saying  to  those  around  them,  "  O 
taste,  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good  :  blessed  is  the 
man  that  trusteth  in  him." 

Let  us  enter  more  fully  into  this  most  essential 
part  of  our  subject. 

The  persons  for  whom  you  are  to  be  concerned 
are  represented  as  without ,-  and  your  object  is  to 
bring  them  in.  They  are  ignorant,  and  you  must 
inform  them.  They  are  prejudiced,  and  you  must 
remove  their  objections.  They  are  full  of  aver> 
sion,  and  you  must  subdue  this  dislike.  The  Scrip-  l 
ture  calls  this  "gaining"  them;  "winning"  them 
In  order  to  this,  address  is  necessary,  as  well  a.' 
zeal :  "  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise."  Hence  the 
Apostle  requires  you  to  "  walk  in  wisdom  towards 
them  that  are  without."  The  question  is,  what  this 
wisdom  includes.  Here  I  wish  I  had  more  time  f> 
enlarge  and  particularize.  I  know  nothing  con- 
cerning which  the  conduct  of  many  religious  peo 
pie  needs  more  correction.  I  will  therefore  venture 
to  exceed  a  little  the  limits  allotted  to  this  exercise; 
though,  after  all,  we  can  only  throw  out  a  few  hints  \ 
for  your  observance. 

If  then  you  would  bring  in  those  that  are  without 
— Show  nothing  like  a  contemptuous  superiority  or 
distance.  Avoid  every  air  of  the  Pharisee,  who 
says,  "  Stand  by  thyself;  come  not  near  me  ;  I  am 
holier  than  thou."  "  Convince  them  that  you  love 
them,  and  have  no  object  in  view  but  their  own  wel- 
fare. And  therefore  be  kind,  and  tender,  and  ready 
to  serve  them.  Especially  be  attentive  to  them  in 
trouble;  for  nothing  affects  persons  more  deeply, 
than  the  notice  you  take  of  them  in  distress.  It  will 
look  disinterested  ;  and  will  not  fail  to  form  in  their 
minds  a  striking  contrast  between  you  and  the  peo- 
ple of  the  world,  and  lead  them  to  say,  "  How  these 
people  differ  from  others!  Other  friends  drop  us 
in  adversity ;  but  then  these  take  us  up.  They  are 
not  meanly  governed  by  advantage  ;  but  love  their 
neighbors  as  themselves." 

— Learn  to  distinguish  things  that  differ.  What 
fisherman  would  employ  the  same  bait  for  every 
kind  offish,  and  at  every  season  of  the  year!  Who, 
wishing  to  convince,  would  seize  the  moment  of 
passion  and  irritation  ;  and  not  wait  the  return  of 
calmness  and  reason  !  Who,  having  to  reprove, 
would  not  administer  the  rebuke  privately,  rather 
than  mortify  and  exasperate  by  public  exposure! — 
"Tell  him  his  fault  between  him  and  thee  alone  ; 
if  he  hear  thee,  thou  hast  gained  thy  brother." — 
How  different  are  the  conditions,  the  habits,  the 
principles,  the  tempers  of  men  !  And  who  was  it 
that  said,  "  Let  every  one  of  us  please  his  neighbor 
for  his  good  to  edification  !"  And  did  not  his  own 
example  enforce  his  advice!  "  Though  I  be  free 
from  all  men,  yet  have  I  made  myself  servant  unto 


40 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


all,  that  I  might  gain  the  more."  "  And  this  I  do 
for  the  gospel's  sake."  "  Even  as  I  please  all  men 
in  all  things,  not  seeking  mine  own  profit,  but  the 
profit  of  many,  that  they  may  be  saved." 

— Never  begin  in  a  way  of  attack.  This  puts  you 
into  the  posture  of  an  enemy,  and  provokes  a  feel- 
ing of  defence  and  resistance.  Recommend  what  is 
right,  rather  than  oppose  what  is  wrong ;  and  let 
them,  by  the  perception  of  the  one,  discover  and  con- 
demn the  other.  The  best  way  of  effecting  the  ex- 
pulsion of  evil,  is  by  the  introduction  of  good. — 
What  is  it  to  tear  people  away  from  their  amuse- 
ments, before  any  superior  source  of  pleasure  be 
opened  to  their  minds  1  Their  hearts  are  still  after 
their  idols.  They  only  act  the  hypocrite  in  their 
abstinence  ;  and  hate  the  religion  that  forbids  their 
happiness.  Let  something  better  be  substituted; 
and  the  soul  is  even  as  a  weaned  child. 

— And  do  not  attempt  every  thing  at  once. — 
"  There  is,"  says  Henry,  "  not  only  an  underdoing 
but  an  overdoing ;  arid  such  an  overdoing,  as 
sometimes  proves  an  undoing."  When  the  disci- 
ples of  John  asked  our  Saviour,  "  Why  do  we  and 
the  Pharisees  fast  oft,  but  thy  disciples  fast  not  1" — 
He  said  unto  them,  "  Can  the  children  of  the  bride- 
chamber  mourn,  as  long  as  the  bridegroom  is  with 
them  1  but  the  days  will  come,  when  the  bridegroom 
shall  be  taken  from  them,  and  then  shall  th<,y  fast. 
No  man  putteth  a  piece  of  new  cloth  unto  an  old 
garment ;  for  that  which  is  put  in  to  fill  it  up  taketh 
from  the  garment,  and  the  rent  is  made  worse. — 
Neither  do  men  put  new  wine  into  old  bottles  :  else 
the  bottles  break,  and  the  wine  runneth  out,  and  the 
bottles  perish :  but  they  put  new  wine  into  new  bot- 
tles, and  both  are  preserved."  Now  what  you  have 
here  to  consider,  is,  not  so  much  the  imagery  of  the 
comparisons,  as  the  principle.  His  meaning  is,  that 
some  things,  proper  in  themselves,  are  yet  not  sea- 
sonable ;  and  that  we  may  do  hurt  rather  than  good, 
by  endeavoring  to  effect  too  much.  Look  to  his  life 
for  an  illustration  of  his  doctrine.  Did  he  despise 
the  day  of  small  things  1  Did  he  break  the  bruised 
reed,  or  quench  the  smoking  flax  1  Did  not  he  say 
to  his  disciples,  "  I  have  many  things  to  say  unto 
you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now  V  How  unlike 
him  are  they  who  force  upon  the  mind  every  diffi- 
I  cult  sentiment,  regardless  of  any  preparation  made 
ty  experience  for  the  reception  of  it.  "  How  un- 
vise,"  as  an  old  writer  has  it,  "is  the  conduct  of 
those  who  send  their  pupils  to  the  university  of  pre- 
destination, before  they  have  entered  the  grammar- 
school  of  repentance."  How  injurious  is  it,  when 
the  tenderness  of  age  requires  only  milk,  to  feed 
babes  with  strong  meat, — yea,  and  even  to  furnish 
them  with  the  bones  of  controversy. 

—Do  not  attach  great  importance  to  little  things. 
This  is  the  way  to  make  people  think  that  your  re- 
ligion consists  of  whims  or  trifles ;  and  that  your 
integrity  and  firmness  are  but  squeamishness  and 
obstinacy.  Show  that  though  you  have  a  tender 
conscience,  you  have  not  a  weak  one.  Show  that 
your  convictions  are  not  opinions,  but  principles.— 
Show  that  your  object  is  not  to  make  proselytes  to 
your  party,  but  converts  to  the  cause  of  real  Chris- 
tianity. 

—Beware  of  every  thing  in  your  conduct  that 
would  prove  a  scandal.  They  who  see,  can  get  over 
jstumbhng-blocks ;  but  who  would  throw  them  in 
/the  way  of  the  blind  1  "  Make  straight  paths  for 
I  your  feet,  lest  that  which  is  lame  be  turned  out  of 
|  the  way;  but  let  it  rather  be  healed."  Administer 
no  cause  of  censure  but  what  your  religion  itself 
supplies.  You  are  not  answerable  for  the  offence 
of  the  Cross.  But  there  are  many  other  offences— 
and  wo  to  the  world  because  of  them !  The  falls 
of  professors  are  judgments  on  the  neighborhood  in 
which  they  live.    What  a  noble  spirit  dictated  the 


resolution,  "  Wherefore  if  meat  make  my  brother 
to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  flesh  while  the  world  stand- 
eth,  lest  I  make  my  brother  to  offend."  And  how 
far  did  Ezra  carry  the  delicacy  of  his  religious  zeal ! 
There  was  no  real  inconsistency  between  depend- 
ence upon  God,  and  the  use  of  means ;  biit  he  had 
to  deal  with  a  poor  ignorant  heathen,  who  might 
easily  misapprehend  and  pervert  the  language  of 
his  confidence  ;  and  therefore,  says  he,  "  I  was 
ashamed  to  require  of  the  king  a  band  of  soldiers 
and  horsemen  to  help  us  against  the  enemy  in  the 
way,  because  we  had  spoken  unto  the  king,  saying, 
The  hand  of  our  God  is  upon  all  them  for  good  that 
seek  him ;  but  his  power  and  his  wrath  is  against 
all  them  that  forsake  him.  So  we  fasted,  and  be- 
sought our  God  for  this ;  and  he  was  entreated  of 
us." 

— While  your  religion  is  impressive  by  its  con- 
sistency, let  it  be  attractive  by  its  amiableness. — 
Therefore,  think  upon  and  pursue  whatsoever 
things  are  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  In  excuse 
for  the  disagreeable  tempers  and  the  repulsive  man- 
ners of  some  Christians,  it  is  said,  that  grace  may 
be  sometimes  grafted  on  a  crab-stock.  Be  it  so. — 
But  instead  of  excusing  the  improprieties,  the  meta- 
phor condemns.  When  a  tree  is  grafted,  it  is  al- 
ways, expected  to  bear  fruit  according  to  the  scion, 
and  not  according  to  the  stock  :  and  "  the  fruit  of 
the  Spirit  is  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentle- 
ness, goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance :  against 
such  there  is  no  law." 

— Nothing  recommends  godliness  more  than 
cheerfulness.  All  men  desire  happiness ;  and  if 
while  every  other  candidate  for  the  prize  fails,  you 
succeed,  your  success  may  determine  others  to  fol- 
low your  envied  course.  Hence  it  is  not  very  de- 
sirable that  religion  should  be  so  often  expressed 
by  the  word  seriousness.  Among  many  people,  as 
soon  as  ever  a  man  is  becoming  religious,  it  is  said 
he  is  becoming  "  serious."  But  does  not  religion 
also  make  him  humble,  and  benevolent,  and  hope- 
ful, and  blessed  1  Why  then  should  we  select  so 
exclusively  for  the  designation  of  its  influence,  an 
attribute  or  an  effect  which  is  common  with  many 
others,  but  yet  the  least  inviting,  and  most  liable  to 
an  injurious  construction  1  I  never  use  it — and  if 
I  were  obliged  to  use  any  other  term  than  religious 
itself,  I  would  rather  say  the  man  was  becoming 
happy. 

It  will  be  allowed  that  many  of  these  advices  are 
of  a  negative  kind.  But  there  are  many  ways  in 
which  you  may  positively  exert  yourselves.  Such 
as — By  conversation.  By  epistolary  correspond- 
ence. By  recommending  good  books.  By  bring- 
ing persons  under  the  preaching  of  the  word;  for 
"  faith  cometh  by  hearing."  As  soon  as  Andrew 
knew  the  Lord,  "he  findeth  his  own  brother  Simon, 
and  sailh  to  him,  we  have  found  the  Messiah,  which 
is,  being  interpreted,  the  Christ ;  and  he  brought 
him  to  Jesus."  As  soon  as  Philip  knew  him,  he 
findeth  his  friend  Nathaniel,  and  saith  unto  him, 
"  we  have  found  him  of  whom  Moses  in  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets  did  write."  As  soon  as  the  wo- 
man of  Samaria  knew  him,  "she  left  her  water- 
pot,  and  went  into  the  city,  and  saith  to  her  neigh- 
bors, come,  see  a  man  that  told  me  all  things  that 
ever  I  did."  And  how  many  was  she  the  instru- 
ment of  inducing  to  believe  on  the  Saviour  of  the 
world ! 

The  opportunities  and  influences  of  individuals 
will  be  very  unequal ;  but  all  should  seek  to  obtain 
the  commendation  conferred  on  Mary  in  the  gos- 
pel, "  She  hath  done  what  she  could." 

Yet  it  is  not  always  by  direct  effort,  that  you  will 
best  succeed.  A  word  fitly  spoken  is  valuable;  but 
in  general,  it  is  better  for  persons  to  see  your  reli' 
gion  than  to  hear  it :  it  is  better  to  hold  forth  the 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


11 


word  of  truth,  in  your  lives,  rather  than  in  your 
language;  and  by  your  tempers,  rather  than  by 
your  tongues.  The  relations  in  which  some  pious 
characters  are  found  peculiarly  require  the  observ- 
ance of  this  distinction.  Such,  for  instance,  are 
professing  servants.  Their  province  of  usefulness 
is  not  by  teaching  and  exhorting  and  reproving. 
One  of  these  was  recently  speaking  to  the  preacher 
of  her  master  and  mistress,  and  complained,  "No- 
thing I  say  to  theia  seems  to  '.lo  them  any  good." 
To  whom — knowing  the  class  of  the  individual,  he 
replied — "What  you  say  to  them!  But  this  is  not 
the  way  in  which  you  are  to  expect  to  do  them 
good — but  by  early  rising;  by  neatness,  and  order, 
and  diligence;  by  'not  answering  again;  by  not 
purloining,  but  showing  all  good  fidelity :'  it  is  thus 
that  you  are  to  'adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  your 
Saviour  in  all  things.'  "  I  am  far  from  ranking 
wives  with  servants  and  dependants.  My  female 
hearers,  you  will  bear  me  witness  that  I  never  plead 
for  the  degradation  of  your  sex ;  and  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  count  me  your  enemy  because  I  tell  you  the 
truth.  We  need  not  remind  you  of  the  language 
of  the  Apostle ;  "  I  suffer  not  a  woman  to  teach,  nor  I 
usurp  an  authority  over  the  man;  but  to  be  in  si-  | 
lence."  He  can  only  speak  comparatively.  We  | 
know  you  are  well  endued  with  speech;  and  we  | 
delight  to  hear  your  readiness  and  skill.  But  we  j 
yet  question  whether  any  talent,  even  of  this  kind,  i 
be  your  most  advantageous  and  successful  instru- 
ment. The  love  of  home;  the  concern  to  please; 
the  silent  tear  ;  the  graceful  sacrifice  ;  the  willing 
concession  ;  the  placid  temper — these  upon  men — 
and  we  presume  you  would  not  have  married  brutes 
— these  upon  ingenuous  an1  attached  husbands,  will 
seldom  fail  of  producing  their  effect,  really  if  not 
instantly.  "Likewise,  ye  wives,  be  in  subjection 
to  your  own  husbands;  that  if  any  obey  not  the 
word,  they  also  may  without  the  word  be  won  by 
the  conversation  of  the  wives,  while  they  behold 
your  chaste  conversation  coupled  with  fear.  Whose 
adorning  let  it  not  be  that  outward  adorning  of 
plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of 
putting  on  of  apparel;  but  let  it  be  the  hidden  man 
of  the  heart,  in  that  which  is  not  corruptible,  even 
the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is 
in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price."  There  is  no 
eloquence  so  powerful  as  the  address  of  a  holy  and 
consistent  life.  It  shames  the  accusers.  It  puts  to 
silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men.  It  con- 
strains them,  by  the  good  works  which  they  behold, 
to  glorify  God  in  the  day  of  visitation. 

— We  hope  there  is  no  Cain  here  this  morning, 
who  in  answer  to  all  this  is  ready  to  say,  "  Am  I 
my  brother's  keeper"?"  from  this  obligation  to 
seek  the  salvation  of  others,  none  are  exempted. 
But  if  some  are  more  peculiarly  bound  than  others, 
they  are  those  who  have  been  saved  from  a  long 
and  awful  course  of  vice  themselves.  You  ought 
to  feel,  above  others,  a  claim  of  gratitude,  and  of 
justice.  You  have  had  much  forgiven,  and  you 
should  love  much.  You  have  been  a  curse  to 
many;  you  ought  now  to  be  a  blessing.  Oh!  it 
seems  enough  to  make  -you  shed  tears  of  blood  to 
think  that  there  are  some  now  in  hell  who  ascribe 
their  destruction  to  you:  while  others  a^e  walking 
the  downward  road,  urged  on  and  encouraged  by 
Vour  former  errors  and  crimes  and  influence.  Some 
of  these  are  placed  beyond  your  reach.  Others  are 
yet  accessible.  O !  repair  to  them  immediately. 
They  know  your  former  condition ;  describe  to 
them  your  present;  and  acquaint  them  with  the 
peace  and  pleasure  which  have  resulted  from  your 
conversion.  Who  can  tell  what  an  affectionate  and 
earnest  testimony,  derived  from  experience,  and 
accompanied  with  a  change  too  obvious  to  be  de- 
nied, may  accomplish! 


— But  "  them  that  honor  me,"  says  God,  "  I  will 
honor."  Let  all  your  attempts  therefore  be  pre- 
ceded and  attended  and  followed  by  prayer.  This 
will  prepare  you  for  your  work;  this  will  encourage 
you  in  it.  This  will  preserve  you  from  growing 
weary  in  well-doing.  This  will  teach  you  not  to 
consider  any  of  your  fellow-creatures  as  abandon- 
eel;  this  will  keep  you  from  giving  over  the  use  of 
means  to  reclaim  them  Nothing  is  too  hard  for 
the  Lord ;  and  prayer  brings  Aim  into  the  scene; 
we  are  workers  together  with  God — "Not  by  might, 
nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord." 

— And  need  I  say,  "  whatsoever  your  hand  find- 
eth  to  do,  do  it  with  your  might :"  do  it  immedi- 
ately 1  While  you  delay,  they  may  be  gone,  and 
their  condition  determined  for  ever.  While  you 
linger,  you  may  be  gone,  and  every  possibility  of 
usefulness  be  shut  out.  "  For  what  is  your  life  1 
It  is  even  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time, 
and  then  vanisheth  away."  Yet  all  your  opportu- 
nities of  doing  good  are  limited  to  this  short  and 
equally  uncertain  duration.  In  consequence  of  this, 
what  an  inestimable  value  attaches  to  the  present 
hour.  Awake,  my  fellow-Christians,  and  redeem 
the  time.  Remember,  earth  has  one  privilege  above 
heaven.  It  is  the  privilege  of  Beneficence.  The 
privilege  of  passing  by  a  transgression,  of  relieving 
the  distressed,  of  spreading  the  Scriptures,  of  evan- 
gelizing the  heathens,  of  instructing  the  ignorant, 
of  reclaiming  the  vicious,  of  seeking  and  saving 
them  that  are  lost.  They  who  are  now  in  joy  and 
felicity,  would  be  ready,  were  it  the  will  of  God,  to 
descend  from  their  glory,  and  re-enter  the  body,  and 
traverse  the  vale  of  tears  again,  to  be  able  to  do, 
for  a  number  of  years,  what  at  present  lies  within 
the  reach  of  every  one  of  you.  Is  this  incredible  ! 
They  are  now  perfect  in  knowledge;  and  see  that 
"it  is  not  the  will  of  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven, 
that  one  of  these  little  ones  should  perish."  Their 
benevolence  is  now  perfect;  they  dwell  in  love,  and 
God  dwelleth  in  them.  They  are  filled  with  the 
Spirit  of  Him  who  "though  he  was  rich,  yet  for 
your  sakes  became  poor,  that  he  through  hi?  poverty 
might  be  rich." 

Christians!  we  have  thus  spoken  of  your  being 
in  the  world.  Let  me  now  speak  of  your  leaving 
it.  After  David  had  served  his  generation  by  the 
will  of  God,  he  fell  on  sleep,  and  was  gathered  to 
his  fathers.  Jesus  went  about  doing  good;  but  at 
last  he  said,  "  I  have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth,  I 
have  finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  me  to 
do."  "  And  now  I  am  no  more  in  the  world.  Holy 
Father,  I  come  to  thee."  Such  is  the  removal  that 
awaits  you  all.  You  will  soon  be  no  more  in  this 
world — how  soon,  it  is  impossible  to  determine. 
But  as  to  some  of  you,  from  the  infirmities  of  na- 
ture and  the  course  of  years,  the  event  cannot  be 
very  remote,  and  you  need  not — you  do  not  deplore 
it.  "Your  salvation  is  now  nearer  than  when  you 
believed."  "The  night  is  far  spent.  The  day  is 
at  hand." 

You  are  not  required  to  be  indifferent  to  what  is 
passing  around  you,  or  insensible  to  the  events  that 
befall  yourselves;  but  you  are  to  feel  as  Christians; 
and  you  are  to  declare  plainly  you  seek  a  country. 
You  are  not  to  undervalue  a  state  in  which  you  en- 
joy many  comforts,  and  are  favored  with  the  means 
of  grace,  and  are  blessed  and  dignified  with  oppor- 
tunities of  usefulness;  but  considered  as  your  por- 
tion, and  your  dwelling-place,  the  voice  cries,  and 
you  ought  to  hear  it,  "Arise,  and  depart  hence,  for 
this  is  not  your  rest,  because  it  is  polluted."  You 
are  not  to  be  in  haste  to  leave  it  while  God  has  any 
thing  for  you  to  do,  or  to  suffer:  but  while  bearing 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  you  may  resemble 
the  man  in  harvest:  he  does  not  throw  down  his 
implements  and  rim  out  of  the  field  before  the 


42 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


time;  but  he  occasionally  erects  himself  and  looks 
westward,  to  see  when  the  descending  sun  will  fur- 
nish him  with  an  honorable  discharge. 

"Jesus,"  the  Evangelist  tells  us,  "knew  that  his 
hour  was  come  that  he  should  depart  out  of  this 
world  unto  the  Father."  There  was  something  pe- 
cuij°r  here.  He  knew  the  time  of  his  departure, 
and  nad  his  eye  upon  it,  and  regulated  his  mea- 
sures by  it  from  the  beginning — But  you  must  say 
whn  Isaac,  "I  know  not  the  day  of  my  death." 
Yet  you  also  have  your  hour  appointed  for  this 
purpose ;  and  appointed  by  Infinite  Wisdom  and 
Goodness.  And  till  it  arrives,  you  are  immortal ; 
and  friends  cannot  retard,  and  enemies  cannot  ac- 
celerate its  approach. 

— And  what  will  it  then  be  but  a  departure  out 
of  this  world?  This  vain  world — this  vexing  world 
—this  defiling  world — this  tempting  world— this 
world  which  crucified  the  Lord  of  Glory — this 
Avorld  in  which  you  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight; 
and  in  which  you  so  often  exclaim,  "  Wo  is  me, 
that  I  dwell  in  Mesech,  and  make  my  tents  in  Ke- 
dar." 

— What  will  it  be  but  a  departure  out  of  this 
world  to  the  Father '!— To  his  world  1  To  his  abode  1 
— And  to  yours  also?  For  since  you  are  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  Lord  Almighty,  your  going 
lo  the  Father,  is  going  home.  The  poet  represents 
the  traveller  returning  at  eve,  buried  in  the  drifted 
snow,  as  "stung  with  the  thoughts  of  home;"  a 
home  he  was  not  permitted  to  see.  But,  Christian, 
no  disaster  shall  hinder  your  arriving  at  your  Fa- 
'her's  house  in  peace.  And  as  your  home  is  sure, 
so  it  is  replenished  with  every  attraction  that  can 
draw  you  forward.  When  the  venerable  Mede, 
whose  grey  hairs  were  a  crown  of  glory,  being 
found  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  was  asked  how  he 
was— resting  upon  his  staff,  he  cheerfully  answered 
— "  W  hy  going  home  as  fast  as  I  can ;  as  every 
honest  man  ought  to  do  when  his  day's  work  is 
done:  and  I  bless  God,  I  have  a  good  home  to  go 
to."  G>.'d  forbid,  Christians,  that  you  should  be  all 
your  life  time  subject  to  bondage  through  fear  of  an 
event  that  hits  so  much  to  render  it  not  only  harm- 
less, but  desirable.  Does  the  Lord  Jesus  stand  in 
no  relation  to  you'?  Is  not  he  your  ransom  and 
your  advocate  1  Is  not  he  your  righteousness  and 
strength'?  Has  not  he  abolished  death  and  brought 
JLe  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel  1 
Has  not  he  opened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all 
believers'?  Has  not  he  said,  "If  a  man  keep  my 
sayings,  he  shall  never  see  death  1"  What  is  dying 
now,  but  your  hour  to  deDart  out  of  this  world  unto 
the  Father  1- 

"  There  is  my  house  and  portion  fair; 
My  treasure  and  my  heart  is  there, 

And  my  abiding  home: 
For  me  my  elder  brethren  stay, 
And  angels  beckon  me  away, 
And  Jesus  bids  me  come." 


LECTURE  VI. 

THE   CHRISTIAN,   IN   PROSPERITY. 

"  I  speak  unto  thee  in  thy  Prosperity ;  but  thou  saidst, 
I  will  not  hear." — Jer.  xxii.  21. 

The  providence  of  God  was  presented  in  vision 
to  Ezekiel,  under  the  image  of  a  vast  wheel.  The 
design  was  to  show,  that  its  dispensations  were  con- 
stantly changing.  For  as  in  the  motion  of  a  wheel, 
one  spoke  is  always  ascending,  and  another  is  de- 
scending ;  and  one  part  of  the  ring  is  grating  on  the 
ground,  and  another  is  aloft  in  the  air;  so  it  is  with 
the  affairs  of  empires,  families,  and  individuals — 
they  never  continue  in  one  stay.    And  not  only  is 


there  a  diversity  in  human  conditions,  so  that  while 
some  are  rich,  others  are  poor ;  and  while  some  are 
in  honor,  others  are  in  obscurity  and  disgrace  ;  but 
frequently  the  same  person  is  destined  successively  •/ 
to  exemplify,  in  his  own  experience,  the  opposite 
estates  of  prosperity  and  adversity.  Such  charac- 
ters strike  us  in  the  Scripture ;  they  abound  in  his- 
tory; they  are  to  be  met  with  in  our  daily  walk; 
they  are  to  be  addressed  in  every  congregation. 

But  these  vicissitudes  are  great  trials  of  religious 
principle  ;  and  happy  is  he  who  can  press  forward  k 
undismayed  by  the  rough,  and  unseduced  by  the 
pleasant  he  meets  with,  in  his  course;  who  can 
preserve  the  balance  of  the  mind  in  all  the  un- 
equal pressures  of  human  life ;  and  who,  prepared 
for  each  change  of  circumstances  in  which  he  can 
be  placed,  is  authorized  to  say,  "  I  know  both  how 
to  be  abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound ;  every 
where,  and  in  all  things,  I  am  instructed  both  to  be 
full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound  and  to  suffer 
need.  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
strengtheneth  me."  Such  is  the  Christian — or 
must  I  say,  such  he  ought  to  be  !  The  present  ex- 
ercise brings  him  before  us  in  the  possession  of 

Prosperity. 

I  need  not  detain  you  in  specifying  the  ingredi- 
ents of  this  envied  state.  It  must  include  health. 
This  is  the  salt  that  seasons,  and  the  honey  that 
sweetens  every  temporal  comfort.  Yet  how  little 
of  it  do  some  enjoy.  How  affecting  is  the  com- 
plaint not  a  few  are  constrained  to  utter — "  I  am 
made  to  possess  months  of  vanity,  and  wearisome 
nights  are  appointed  unto  me;  when  I  lie  down,  I 
say  when  shall  I  arise,  and  the  night  be  gone  ;  I  am 
full  of  tossings  to  and  fro,  until  the  dawning  of  the 
day." — "  He  is  chastened  also  with  pain  upon  his 
bed,  and  the  multitude  of  his  bones  with  strong 
pain,  so  that  his  life  abhorrelh  bread,  and  his  soul 
dainty  meat." — While  others  scarcely  know  from 
their  own  feelings  what  disease,  or  indisposition,  or 
infirmity,  means. 

— It  must  take  in  agreeable  relations.  What  are 
the  caresses  of  the  world,  if  a  man  be  chilled  with 
neglect,  or  repulsed  with  frowns  at  home  1  What 
are  the  productions  of  the  field  and  the  garden,  if, 
as  the  Prophet  says,  "  thorns  are  in  our  tabernacle  1" 
"  Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than  a 
stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith."  What  a  differ- 
ence is  there  between  "  a  brawling  woman  in  a  wide 
house,"  and  "  a  wife  that  is  as  a  loving  hind  and  a 
pleasant  roe  !"  Job,  looking  back  to  the  day  of  his 
prosperity,  says,  "  when  my  children  were  about 
me."  They  were  united  and  affectionate  and  duti- 
ful. What  must  be  the  wretchedness  of  a  parent 
whose  offspring  are  the  reverse  of  all  this! — Friend- 
ship must  not  be  absent.  Who  can  dispense  with 
this  balm  of  life  1  Who  does  not  feel  his  need  of 
another's  bosom,  if  not  of  another's  hand  1  What 
is  general  and  indiscriminate  society  !  I  must  have 
one  whose  sympathies  lead  him  to  rejoice  when  I 
rejoice,  and  to  weep  when  I  weep ;  or  my  grief  is 
too  heavy  for  me  to  bear ;  or  my  pleasure  loses  half 
its  relish.  "Ointment  and  perfume  rejoice  the 
heart ;  so  doth  the  sweetness  of  a  man's  friend  by 
hearty  counsel."  Who  can  be  so  low  and  grovel- 
ing as  to  have  no  regard  for  the  opinion  and  appro- 
bation of  his  fellow  creatures  1  "A  good  name  is 
rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches  ;  and  loving 
favor  rather  than  silver  and  gold."  "  The  light  of 
the  eyes  rejoiceth  the  heart:  and  a  good  report 
maketh  the  bones  fat."— But  the  use  of  the  term 
more  directly  reminds  us  of  the  fruit  of  our 
wishes,  and  the  success  of  our  endeavors,  in  our 
calling:  or  profession ;  and  the  securing  and  com- 
manding a  degree  of  wealth  above  competency. 
For  "  money  is  a  defence,"  and  screens  us  from  the 


THE    CHRISTIAN  CONT  EMPLATED.                                      43 

evils  of  dependence  and  embarrassment.    "Money  ;  and  of  tins  he  never  leaves  himself  without  wit- 

answereth  all  things,"  it  procures  a  thousand  act-  ness ;  and  it'  ever  we  err  in  conduct,  or  fail  in  cha- 

vantages;  and  affords  not  only  the  necessaries,  but  racter,  it  is  owing  to  our  disbelief  of  his  word,  or 

the  conveniences,  and  indulgences,   and  embellish-  inattention  to  it.    For  the  Scripture  is  not  only  able 

ments  of  life.  to  make  us  wise  unto  salvation ;  but  "  is  profitable 

Now  the  portion  only  of  a  very  few  favored  in-  " 


dividuals,  includes  all  these  ingredients ;  but  the 
greater  the  confluence  of  them  in  number  and  de- 
gree, the  better  we  consider  the  cup  of  prosperity 
replenished. 

But  can  such  a  cup  be  seen  in  the  hand  of  a 
Christian  ?  Why  not  ?  In  general,  indeed,  the 
language  of  the  Scripture  befriends  the  needy  and 
distressed ;  and  what  generous  mind  does  not  re- 
joice in  this  aspect  of  benevolent  preference  ?  Who 
does  not  read  with  pleasure,  "  I  will  leave  in  the 
midst  of  thee  a  poor  and  an  afflicted  people,  and 
they  shall  trust  in  the  Lord  their  God."     "  The 

f)oor  have  the  gospel  preached  unto  them."  "  God 
lath  chosen  the  poor  of  this  world,  rich  in  faith, 
and  heirs  of  the  kingdom  which  he  hath  promised 

to  them  that  love  him."  But  this  is  not  true  of 
them,  universally  and  exclusively.  We  are  told 
that  not  -many  of  the  higher  ranks  in  life  are  called ; 
but  the  very  assertion  implies  that  there  are  »ome. 
Our  Saviour  said  to  his  followers,  "  If  any  man 
will  be  my  disciple,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take 
up  his  cross  daily."  "  In  the  world  ye  shad  have 
tribulation."  Yet  he  also  said,  "  Seek  ye  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  and  all 
these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  The  apos- 
tle who  taught,  that  "  through  much  tribulation  we 
must  enter  the  kingdom,"  made  no  scruple  to  say, 
,:  Godliness  has  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is, 
as  well  as  of"  that  which  is  to  come."  Peter,  also, 
who  charged  Christians  not  to  think  it  strange 
"concerning  the  fiery  trial  as  if  some  strange  thing 
had  happened  unto  them,"  confidently  asserts,  "  He 
that  will  love  life,  and  see  good  days,  let  him  re- 
frain his  tongue  from  evil,  and  his  lips  that  they 
speak  no  guile  ;  let  him  eschew  evil,  and  do  good  ; 
let  him  seek  peace  and  ensue  it.  For  the  eyes  of 
the  Lord  are  over  the  righteous,  find  his  ears  are 
open  unto  their  prayers :  but  the  face  of  the  Lord 
is  against  them  that  do  evil.  Who  is  he  that  will 
harm  you,  if  ye  be  followers  of  that  which  is  good?" 
And  religion,  by  its  natural  influence  as  well  as  by 
the  blessing  of  an  overruling  Providence,  tends  in 
various  ways  to  advance  the  temporal  welfare  of 
men. 

We  have  not  time  to  exemplify  these  remarks ; 
but  we  mention  them  the  more  readily,  because 
some  Pietists  seem  to  look  upon  all  the  distinctions 
and  endowments  of  life,  as  nearly  sealing  .their 
owners  unto  the  day  of  perdition  ;  and  to  conclude 
that  their  good  things  here  are  only  pledges  of 
their  evil  ones  hereafter.  It  is  true  this  was  the 
result,  in  the  case  of  the  rich  man  in  the  parable. 
But  it  was  not  so  with  Abraham,  mentioned  in  the 
same  story — yet  Abraham  had  been  very  wealthy. 
We  allow  that  there  is  enough  to  alarm  the  pros- 
perous; but  they  have  no  ground  for  despair.  The 
proprietors  of  no  condition  here  are  under  any  sen- 
tence of  reprobation.  They  that  have  riches  shall 
hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  but  with 
God  all  things  are  possible.  There  is  a  way  to 
heaven  from  all  the  diversities  of  human  life  :  and 
there  is  a  passage  from  the  mansion  as  well  as 
from  the  cottage,  though  it  is  more  narrow,  and 
perplexing,  and  difficult.  In  a  word;  a  Christian 
is  never  to  be  known  by  his  condition  ;  but  he  must 
be  always  known  in  it ;  for  he  belongs  to  "  a  pecu- 
liar people,  zealous  of  good  works." 

In  confirmation  of  which,  let  us  proceed  to  hear 
what  God  the  Lord  has  to  say  concerning  us  in 
the  estate  we  are  now  surveving — I  spake  unto  thee 
in  thy  prosperity — He  is  always  alive  to  our  welfare. 


for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  and  for  in- 
struction in  righteousness,  that  the  man  of  God 
may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all  good 
works."  Now  in  your  prosperity  he  requires  c.~ 
you  three  things : 

I.  That  you  should  be  aware  of  its  perils 

II.  That  you  should  employ  its  safeguards. 

III.  That  you  should  improve  its  advantages. 

O  let  him  not  complain — But  thou  saidsi,  J  will 
not  hear. 

I.  You  are  required  to  be  aware  of  the  perils 
of  prosperity. 

Here  it  must  be  acknowledged  we  are  furnished 
with  a  very  mortifying  view  of  human  nature.  The 
produce  of  creation,  and  the  bounties  of  Providence, 
are  good  in  themselves ;  and  they  are  the  gifts  of 
God ;  and  they  ought,  to  induce  us  to  love  and 
serve  the  Giver.  And  they  would  have  this  effect, 
were  we  not  in  a  state  of  moral  perversion  and 
depravity.  The  goodness  of  God  leadeth  to  re- 
pentance— this  is  the  design  of  it ;  this  is  the  ten- 
dency of  it.  But  what  is  the  effect!  Answei 
this,  ye  who  suppose  that  man  is  so  innocent,  si 
amiable,  so  dignified  a  creature !  You  deny  that 
the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  despe- 
rately wicked.  You  deny  that  man,  as  he  now 
comes  into  the  world,  is  otherwise  than  he  was 
originally  created.  But  can  you  deny  that  we  are 
evil,  because  God  is  good  ?  That  we  are  unable  to 
bear  gratification  uninjured'?  That  what  should 
draw  us  to  God,  with  the  cords  of  a  man  and  the 
bands  of  love,  leads  us  away  from  him?  That  the 
very  blessings  we  receive  from  him  we  convert 
into  weapons  of  rebellion  against  our  Benefactor  ? 
Or  will  you  affirm  that  we  thus  came  from  our 
Maker's  hand  ?  "  Lo!  this  only  have  I  found,  thar 
God  hath  made  man  upright ;  but  they  have  sought 
out  many  inventions." 

There  is  one  case  in  which  prosperity  is  pecu- 
liarly perilous — when  it  is  not  hereditary,  but  ac- 
quired; and  when  it  is  acquired,  not  by  degrees, 
but  suddenly.  He  is  most  likely  to  be  giddy  who 
has  not  been  accustomed  to  elevation.  He  is  most 
likely  to  have  his  health  injured,  who  passes  all  at 
once  from  one  climate  to  another;  while,  by  use, 
nature  may  be  attempered  to  almost  any  extremity. 
But  though  prosperity  is  peculiarly  dangerous  when 
it  is  neither  natural  nor  gradual,  it  will  be  easy 
to  prove  that  it  is  never  free  from  numberless  moral 
hazards. 

Let  us  turn  first  to  the  faithful  word.  What 
says  David  ?  "  Because  they  have  no  changes, 
therefore  they  fear  not  God."  What  says  Job? 
"  Their  seed  is  established  in  their  sight  with  them, 
and  their  offspring  before  their  eyes.  Their  houses 
are  safe  from  fear,  neither  is  the  rod  of  God  upon 
them.  Their  bull  gendereth,  and  faileth  not ;  their 
cow  calveth,  and  castefh  not  her  calf.  They  send 
forth  their  little  ones  like  a  flock,  and  their  chil- 
dren dance.  They  take  the  timbrel  and  harp,  and 
rejoice  at  the  sound  of  the  organ.  They  spend 
their  days  in  wealth,  and  in  a  moment  s;o  down  to 
the  grave.  Therefore  they  say  unto  God,  Depart 
from  us ;  for  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy 
ways.  What  is  the  Almighty  that  we  should  serve 
him?  and  what  profit  should  we  have,  if  we  pray 
unto  him?"  What  is  Jeremiah's  report  concern- 
ing Moab?  "  Moab  hath  been  at  ease  from  his 
youth,  and  he  hath  settled  on  his  lees,  and  hath 
not  been  emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel,  neither 


a 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


hath  he  gone  into  captivity ;    therefore   his  taste  i 
"emaineth  in  him,  and  his  scent  is  not  changed."  I 
But  surely  it  was  otherwise  with  the  Jews.     Hear  J 
Moses:  "He  made  him  to  ride  on  the  high  places  I 
of  the  earth,  that  he  might  eat  the  increase  of  the 
fields;  and  he  made  him  to  sack  honey  out  of  the  ' 
rock,  and  oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock ;  butter  of  kine,  I 
and  milk  of  sheep,  and  fat  of  lambs,  and  rams  of 
the  breed  of  Bashan,  and  goats,  with  the  lat  of  ! 
kidneys  of  wheat ;  and  thou  didst  drink  the  pure  ! 
blood  of  the  grape.     But  Jeshurun  waxed  fat,  ami 
kicked:  thou  an  waxen  fat,  thou  art  grown  thick,  j 
thou  art  covered  with  fatness:  then  he  forsook  God 
which  made  him,  and  lightly  esteemed  the  rock  of  I 
his  salvation."    Hear  Hosea  :  "  According  to  their 
pasture,  so  were  they  filled;  they  were  filled,  and  | 
their  heart  was  exalted ;  therefore  have  they  for- 
gotten me."     Are  we  better  than  they  ?     Let  us  ap- 
peal to  reason,  to  observation,  to  experience.     How 
many  duties  are  there  which  prosperity  tends  to 
discourage    and    hinder'?      How  many   evils   are 
there  which  its  influence  upon  depraved  beings  is 
adapted  to  cherish  and  increase  1    What  are  these  ? 
Let  us  particularize  a  few  of  them — for  their  name 
is  Legion. 

— Such  is  Unmind fulness  of  God.  Hence  the 
caution  of  Moses,  "When  thou  shalt  have  eaten 
and  art  full,  then  beware  lest  thou  forget  the  Lord 
that  brought  thee  forth  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt, 
from  the  house  of  bondage."  Hence  the  prayer  of 
Agar,  "  Lest  I  be  full,  and  deny  thee,  and  say,  who 
is  the  Lord  ?"  The  disciples  suffered  the  Saviour 
to  sleep  while  the  vessel  was  sailing  smoothlyr:  but 
when  the  wind  and  the  waves  threatened,  they  went 
to  him,  saying,  "Master,  carest  thou  not  that  we 
perish  ?"  It  is  in  affliction  we  seek  him  early.  It 
is  then  we  think  of  his  moral  agency ;  and  fear 
that  he  is  come  to  call  our  sins  to  remembrance. 
It  is  then  we  feel  our  dependence  upon  him — then 
other  helpers  fail;  then  we  have  no  substitutes; 
then  we  have  no  diversion — we  can  dispense  with 
him  no  longer — we  are  forced  upon  him.  "  Who 
is  the  Lord,  that  J  should  obey  his  voice  1"  said 
Pharaoh,  iu  all  the  affluence  of  his  greatness. 
"  Entreat  the  Lord  for  me,"  was  the  suppliant  lan- 
guage of  the  same  haughty  monarch,  brought  down 
by  the  judgments  of  heaven. 

— Such  is  Pride.  David  remarks  this.  "  Pride 
compasseth  them  like  a.  chain."  Nebuchadnezzar 
is  an  example  of  it.  The  king  spake  and  said,  "  Is 
not  this  great  Babylon  that  I  have  built  for  the 
house  of  the  kingdom,  by  the  might  of  my  power, 
and  for  the  honor  of  my  majesty  V 

"  Pigmies  are  pigmies  still,  though  perched  on  Alps: 
And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales." 

Yet  men  estimate  their  height,  not  by  their  figure, 
but  by  their  elevation.  A  man  is  as  distinguish- 
able from  his  circumstances  as  a  steed  is  from  his 
caparisons :  and  as  the  latter  would  be  judged  of 
by  his  stature,  and  strength,  and  gracefulness,  and 
speed,  so  the  former  should  be  valued  only  by  his 
personal  and  intrinsic  worth.  But  to  make  our- 
selves to  be  something  when  we  are  nothing,  we 
compose  ourselves,  so  to  speak,  of  every  thing"  out- 
ward and  adventitious;  we  add  houses,  and  lands, 
and  equipage,  and  offices,  and  titles,  and  attend- 
ants ;  and  thus  enlarged  and  magnified,  we  think 
ourselves  Anakims,  while  others  are  but  grass- 
hoppers in  our  sight.  Wealth  can  even  give  wis- 
dom. It  enlarges  the  understanding  of  the  pos- 
sessor. It  qualifies  him  to  speak  and  decide ;  so 
that  his  drivellings,  which  were  despised  before, 
become  oracular.  For  the  world  is  as  blameable 
as  the  fool  himself.  The  one  no  more  readily  re- 
ceives than  the  other  pays  this  vile  homage.    The 


image  of  gold  is  sure  of  worshippers,  if  it  be  only 
a  golden  calf. 

— Such  is  Self-delusion.  The  prosperous  seldom 
hear  the  truth.  They  are  never  reproved.  Their 
failings  are  often  admired.  Their  faults  are  even 
turned  into  virtues,  and  imitated,  by  their  depend- 
ants. All  join  to  flatter  and  delude  them.  Yea, 
God  himself  is  accessory  to  their  flattery  and  delu- 
sion— not  by  his  design,  but  by  their  misconstiuc- 
tions  of  his  conduct.  For  they  are  induced  to  think 
that  they  are  his  favorites,  because  he  not  only 
spares,  but  indulges  them;  and  conclude  that  he 
will  not  treat  them  worse  in  another  world  than  he 
has  done  in  this. 

— Such  is  Unwillingness  to  bear  the  Cross.  Why- 
did  the  young  man  in  the  gospel  go  away  sorrow - 
lul  ?  "  He  was  very  rich."  He  had  much  that  was 
amiable,  and  much  that  was  promising.  He  en- 
gaged our  Saviour's  affections;  and  wished  to  fol- 
low him;  but  he  had  too  much  to  leave  behind. — 
Why  did  not  the  Pharisees,  who  believed  en  him, 
confess  him  ?  "  They  feared  lest  they  should  have 
been  put  out  of  the  synagogue,  for  they  loved  the 
praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of  God."  Euse- 
bius,  in  speaking  of  the  persecution  under  Decius, 
observes,  that  most  of  those  who  apostatized  were 
not  from  among  the  poor,  but  the  rich.  They  who 
are  softened  by  care,  and  rendered  delicate  by  in- 
dulgence, are  little  prepared  for  a  rough  campaign, 
and  cannot  be  expected  to  endure  hardness  as  good 
soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ. 

— Such  is  Earthly-mindedness.  Who  are  so  like- 
ly to  mind  earthly  things  as  those  who  abound  with 
them?  Who  has  so  many  ties  to  life?  No  cendi- 
tkn,  indeed,  here,  will  bear  any  comparison  with 
the  future  state  of  the  blessed  :  yet,  according  to  our 
present  views  and  feelings,  the  mansion  and  the 
pleasant  scenery  around,  have  more  power  to  attract 
and  detain  than  the  desolateness  of  the  poor-house. 
How  little  have  some  to  resign  !  How  much  have 
they  to  urge  their  departure!  How  often  does  the 
heart's  bitterness  lead  them  to  sigh,  "  I  loathe  it,  I 
would  not  live  alway" — "  0!  that  1  had  wings  like 
a  dove,  for  then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest; 
I  would  haste  me  from  the  stormy  wind  and  tem- 
pest." What  uneasinesses  have  others  to  excite  them! 
How  much  have  ihey  to  give  up !  How  deep-rooted 
are  they;  and  what  force  is  necessary  to  loosen 
them  from  their  position  !  "  Ah !"  said  Johnson  to 
Garrick,  as  he  was  walking  over  his  bowers,  "  these 
are  the  things  that  make  us  unwilling  to  die." 

— Such  is  Worldly  Conformity.  They  are  not  the 
poor,  but  the  rich,  who  have  intercourse  with  the 
world.  These  are  they  who  are  tempted  to  recom- 
mend themselves  to  their  friendship;  to  emulate 
their  pretensions ;  to  adopt  their  maxims,  and  man- 
ners, and  hours. 

— We  may  also  mention  Self -indulgence.  We  are 
far  from  pleading  for  monkish  austerities  and  abste- 
miousness. Yet  a  Christian  is  to  deny  himself. — 
Yet  temperance  is  a  part  of  godliness.  Yet  we  are 
forbidden  to  provide  for  the  flesh  to  fulfil  the  lusts 
thereof.  But  who  is  most  likely  to  be  profuse  in 
dress  and  in  furniture  ?  Whose  table  is  likely  to 
tecome  a  snare?  Who  is  in  danger  of  feasting 
himself  without  fear?  Whose  precious  mornings 
are  most  likely  to  be  wasted  in  bed  ? 

—  To  this  we  may  add  Unfeelingness.  He  is  most 
likely  to  be  kind  to  a  stranger  who  knows  the  heart 
of  a  stranger,  having  been  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land.  Who  ever  thinks  of  repairing  to  the  gay  and 
the  dissipated  in  the  hour  of  trouble  ?  What  inter- 
est will  he  feel  in  my  grief  who  never  wept  him- 
self? The  tenderest  and  most  active  sympathy 
flows  from  experience.  What  dees  a  king  know  of 
the  miseries  of  his  subjects?  He  never  looked  into 
their  hovel;  never  tasted  their  bitter  bread.    They 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


45 


wuose  condition  or  office  exempts  them  from  the 
common  vexations  and  distresses  of  life,  are  always 
the  most  insensible  to  the  duties  and  calls  of  com- 
passion. Only  a  priest  or  a  Levite  could  have  pass- 
ed by  on  the  other  side;  and  left  the  poor,  wounded, 
bleeding  traveller  to  his  fate. 

After  all,  we  have  only  presented  a  few  speci- 
mens of  the  dangers  of  Prosperity,  But  surely  they 
are  enough  to  keep  you  from  looking  with  grudg- 
ing and  uneasines>  on  the  condition  of  those  that 
abound  in  the  world.  Surely  they  are  enough  to 
induce  yo'i,  instead  of  envying  those  that  rise,  to 
pity  them  and  pray  for  them ;  for  they  are  set  in 
slippery  places. 

Surely  we  have  said  enough  to  excite  those  who 
are  denied  prosperity  to  be  resigned  and  satisfied. — 
Ah!  ye  who  have  had  your  purposes  broken  off, 
even  the  thoughts  of  your  hearts;  ye  who  hove 
wished  to  build  your  nests  on  high,  and  to  say  to 
your  soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many 
years;  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry; 
ye  to  whom,  after  all  your  importunings  of  his  pro- 
vidence, God  has  said,  "  Let  it  suffice:  say  no  more 
to  me  of  that  matter" — Ah!  who  can  tell  what  you 
have  escaped  1  Who  can  tell  what  you  might  have 
been  ]  You  might,  as  Solomon  lias  it,  have  been 
talking  with  your  feet,  and  have  swaggered  by  your 
neighbors.  You  might  have  answered  roughly. — 
You  might  have  pleased  a  tyrant's  heart,  in  making 
yourselves  feared.  You  might  have  acted  a  Dio- 
trephes  in  the  parish  or  the  church.  You  might 
have  heard  with  indifference  every  tale  of  wo.  You 
might  have  abandoned  the  worship  of  God  in  your 
families,  and  have  lost  your  attachment  to  his  Sab- 
baths and  his  house.  You  might  have  made  your 
passage  your  portion;  and  instead  of  arising  and 
departing  hence,  have  felt  yourselves  at  home  in 
the  body :  and  "  careful  about  many  things,"  have 
overlooked  that  "  good  part"  which  now  you  have 
happily  chosen,  and  which  shall  not  be  taken  away 
from  you. 

Let  all  abandon  their  eager  desires  after  the 
world;  and  if  they  must  increase,  be  concerned  to 
increase  with  all  the  increase  of  God.  "  Seekest 
thou  ^reat  things  to  thyself]  seek  them  not."  "  Let 
your  conversation  be  without  covetousness;  and  be 
content  with  such  things  as  ye  have:  for  he  hath 
said  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee."  "  For 
they  that  will  be  rich,  fall  into  temptation  and  a 
snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which 
drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition.  For  the  love 
of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil;  which  while  some 
coveted  after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and 
pierced  themselves  through  with  many  arrows." — 
The  Apostle,  in  this  passage,  seems  to  refer  to  two 
classes  of  persons.  First,  to  those  who  perish  in  their 
worldly  things,  making  shipwreck  of  faith  and  a 
good  conscience.  These  he  compares  to  men  at 
sea  who  founder,  and  are  seen  no  more — they  are 
drowned  in  destruction  and  perdition.  Secondly,  to 
those  who  are  not  destroyed  but  injured.  These  he 
compares  to  travellers,  who,  seeing-,  as  they  are  go- 
ing along,  some  invitin?  fruit  a  little  out  of  their 
road,  step  aside  to  gather;  but  as  it  is  surrounded 
with  thorns  and  briers,  they  wound  themselves  in 
the  attempt.  These  err  from  the  faith,  and  pierce 
themselves  through  with  many  sorrows. 

For  while  the  prosperity  of  fools  destrovs  them, 
the  prosperity  of  wise  men  may  harm  them.  Saul 
was  lost  by  his  advancement;  but  David  himself 
was  injured :  and  hence  we  read  of  his  "  first  ways." 
The  hero,  the  conqueror,  the  king,  never  equalled 
the  shepherd  of  Bethlehem. 

Upon  this  principle,  if  you  had  to  choose,  you 
should  not,  you  would  not  choose  a  state  so  fre- 
quently destructive:  so  commonly  hurtful.  You 
would  not  conclude  that  you  were  better  than  others, 


and  that  you  should  be  safe  where  your  brethren 
have  so  generally  failed.  If  you  did,  you  would  be 
sure  to  yield;  for  "  Pride  goeth  before  destruction, 
and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall." 

But  the  option  is  not  left  to  yourselves.  The 
Lord  chooses  your  inheritance  for  you;  and  in  his 
pleasure  you  must  acquiesce.  Only  be  sensible  of 
the  perils  of  the  condition. 

II.  You  are  required  to  employ  its  safeguards. 

And  first,  if  you  would  escape  the  evils  of  Pros- 
perity, consider  much  your  Responsibility.  Never 
imagine  that  the  things  you  possess  are  your  own, 
and  that  you  are  at  liberty  to  do  what  you  please 
with  them.  They  are  all  in  the  nature  of  a  trust. 
You  are  not  the  proprietors,  but  the  stewards. — 
When  you  receive  them,  a  voice  cries  "  Occupy  till 
I  come  :"  and  then  the  same  voice  will  say,  "  Give 
account  of  thy  stewardship,  for  thou  shalt  be  no 
longer  steward."  Keep  your  minds  alive  to  the  cer- 
tainty of  this  account;  the  extent  of  this  account; 
the  strictness  of  this  account;  the  nearness  of  this 
account — "  Behold,  the  Judge  standeth  before  the 
door."  "  Let  your  moderation  be  known  unto  all 
men :  the  Lord  is  at  hand." 

Secondly,  Reflect  on  the  brevity  of  your  Posses- 
sions. There  is  a  day  coming  when  the  heavens 
shall  pass  away  with  a  great  noise,  and  the  earth, 
and  all  the  works  that  are  therein,  shall  be  burned 
up.  And  then,  "  to  whom  will  ye  flee  for  help,  and 
where  will  you  leave  your  glory]" — But  this  pros- 
pect seems  very  far  off;  and  the  distance  prevents 
impression.  Is  death  then  far  off]  You  have  only 
a  life-interest  in  your  estate.  And  "what  is  your 
life  ]  It  is  even  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for  a  little 
time,  and  then  vanisheth  away."  Then  you  must 
part  with  all  for  ever.  "  For  we  brought  nothing 
with  us  into  the  world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can  car- 
ry nothing  out."  But  how  frequently  is  the  conti- 
nuance of  your  possessions  and  enjoyments  much 
shorter  than  life  itself!  "Wilt  thou,"  therefore, 
says  Solomon,  "  set  thy  heart  on  that  which  is  not  ] 
For  riches  make  to  themselves  wings  and  flv  away." 
"  Brethren,"  says  the  Apostle,  "  the  time  is  short : 
it  remaineth,  that  both  they  that  have  wives  be  as 
though  they  had  none,  and  they  that  weep,  as  though 
they  wept  not;  and  they  that  rejoice,  as  though  they 
rejoiced  not ;  and  they  that  buy,  as  though  they  pos- 
sessed not." 

Thirdly,  Study  the  vanity  of  your  Acquisitions. — 
How  little  can  they  contribute  to  the  reality  of  your 
happiness!  Look  at  those  in  the  circle  of  your  ac- 
quaintance. Do  you  know  any  of  them,  I  will  not 
say,  that  have  improved  in  religion,  but  that  have 
increased  in  comfort !  As  to  yourselves  ;  have  your 
contentment,  and  peace,  and  pleasure,  risen  with 
your  circumstances  in  the  world]  Can  riches  pro- 
fit in  the  day  of  wrath]  Can  any  abundance  re- 
lieve the  anguish  of  a  wounded  spirit]  What  a 
source  of  perplexity  and  anxiety  is  a  prosperous  es- 
tate! "In  the  midst  of  his  sufficiency  he  shall  he  in 
straits."  What  an  attraction  is  it  of  ill-will  I  What 
an  excitement  to  envy  and  slander!  The  success 
of  a  rival ;  the  superior  display  of  a  neighbor;  yea, 
even  the  disregard  of  an  individual  seemingly  inca- 
pable of  annoying  us— even  his  neglect  may  spoil  the 
relish  of  a  courtier's  bliss,  the  favorite  of  the  owner 
of  a  hundred  and  twenty-seven  provinces.  "When 
he  came  home  he  sent  and  called  for  his  friends, 
:md  Zeresh  his  wife.  And  Haman  told  them  of  the 
glory  of  his  riches,  and  the  multitude  of  his  child- 
ren, and  all  the  things  wherein  the  king  had  pro- 
moted him.  and  how  he  had  advanced  him  above 
the  princes  and  servants  of  the  king.  Haman  said, 
moreover,  Yea,  Esther  the  queen  did  let  no  man 
come  in  with  the  king  unto  the  banquet  that  she  had 
prepared,  but  myself;  and  to-morrow  am  I  invited 


4G 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


unto  her  also  with  the  king.  Yet  all  this  availeth 
me  nothing,  so  long  as  I  see  Mordecai  the  Jew  sit- 
ting at  the  king's  gate." 

People  often  wonder  at  your  uneasiness  ;  but  the 
heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness.  You  i'eel  some 
worm  at  the  root  withering  the  gourd  that  over- 
shadows you.  Perhaps  some  personal  or  relative 
trial  preys  upon  the  peace  of  your  mind.  Perhaps  the 
dear  companion  who  once  walked  with  you  along 
your  flowery  path  is  removed  far  from  you;  and 
5isinclined  to  retrace  the  spots  once  endeared  by  so- 
cial converse,  you  watch  and  are  alone,  as  a  spar- 
row upon  the  house-top.  Perhaps  when  you  sit 
down  at  table,  David's  seat  is  empty — and  tears  are 
your  meat  day  and  night.  Perhaps  the  heir,  who 
was  to  perpetuate  your  name  and  inherit  your  pro- 
perty, now  occupies  a  tomb,  on  which  you  have  in- 
scribed, "  And  Thou  destroyest  the  hope  of  man." 
Perhaps  an  infirmity  is  entailed  upon  you  for  life. 
Perhaps  some  disease  is  gradually  undermining  your 
frame.  Perhaps  your  senses  are  declining:  and 
desire  fails;  and  the  days  are  come  wherein  you 
have  no  pleasure.  "  Then  I  looked  on  all  the  works 
that  my  hands  had  wrought,  and  on  the  labor  that  I 
had  labored  to  do:  and,  behold,  all  was  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit,  and  there  was  no  profit  under  the 
sun." 

Fourthly,  Think  how  little  worldly  prosperity  has 
distinguished  many  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth. — 
When  you  are  tempted  to  glory  in  wealth,  remem- 
ber what  a  multitude  there  is  in  poor  life  who  would 
make  you  shrink  into  nothing,  if  you  were  morally 
compared  with  them ;  and  what  is  gold  to  godli- 
ness ?  What  superior  grace  and  wisdom  and  use- 
fulness dignified  numbers  of  those  servants  of  the 
Most  High  God  and  benefactors  of  men,  who  passed 
their  days  in  a  state  of  dependence,  or  ended  them 
in  a  prison !  Read  the  history,  examine  the  lives  of 
those  preachers  and  writers  whose  immortal  works 
praise  them  in  all  the  churches.  Take  Luther,  that 
great  reformer,  who  has  levied  a  tax  of  admiration 
and  gratitude  on  every  age.  He  has  this  passage 
in  his  last  will  and  testament :  "  O  Lord  God,  I  thank 
thee  that  thou  hast  been  pleased  to  make  me  a  poor 
and  indigent  man  upon  earth.  I  have  neither  house 
nor  land  nor  money  to  leave  behind  me.  Thou  hast 
given  me  a  wife  and  children,  whom  I  now  restore 
to  thee.  Lord,  nourish,  teach,  and  preserve  them, 
as  thou  hast  me."  The  Apostles  could  say,  "Even 
unto  this  present  hour,  we  both  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no  certain 
dwelling  place  "  And  the  Lord  of  Glory,  the  image 
of  the  iii visible  God,  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
And  yet  we  think  wealth  the  standard  of  excel- 
lence ! 

— Again.     Daily  realize  the  assurances  of  Revela- 
tion.    "This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the 
world,  even  our  faith."     The  influence  of  a  greater 
good  will  abolish  the  impression  of  a  less.     The 
man  who  walks  by  sight,  is  sure  to  be  conquered  : 
the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal ;  and  he 
sees  no  other;  these,  therefore,  strike  and  please 
and  engross  him.    But  the  man  who  walks  by  faith, 
sees  things  invisible  to  the  eye  of  sense ;  and  these 
are  eternal:  and  they  are  infinite.    What  is  the  ho- 
nor that  cometh  from  man,   compared  with   the 
smiles  of  God  ?    What  is  a  handful  of  shining  dust 
compared  with  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory  1"     Can  the  stars  be  seen  in  the 
shining  of  the  sun  1    What  saved  Moses  in  circum- 
stances far  more  perilous  than  those  of  his  birth  1 
"  By  faith  Moses,  when  he  was  come  to  years,  re- 
fused to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter; 
choosing  rather  to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people 
of  God,  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  sea- 
son."    What  led  Abraham  to  "  sojourn,"  even  "  in 
the  land  of  promise,  as  in  a  strange  land,  dwelling 


in  tabernacles  with  Isaac  and  Jacob,  the  heirs  with 
him  of  the  same  promise  V  Faith.  "For  he  looked 
for  a  city  which  had  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  God.  These  all  died  in  faith,  not  having 
received  the  promises,  but  having  'seen  them  afar 
off,  and  were  persuaded  of  them,  and  embraced 
them,  and  confessed  that  they  were  strangers  and 
pilgrims  on  the  earth.  For  they  that  say  such 
things,  declare  plainly  that  they  seek  a  country. 
And  truly  if  they  had  been  mindful  of  that  country 
from  whence  they  came  out,  they  might  have  had 
opportunity  to  have  returned  :  but  now  they  desire 
a  better  country,  that  is,  an  heavenly:  wherefore, 
God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their  God;  for  he 
hath  prepared  for  them  a  city." 

Finally.  Forget,  not  the  Admonition  of  the  Sa- 
viour: "Watch  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter  into  tempta- 
tion." And  what  he  has  joined  together  let  no  man 
put  asunder.  In  vain  I  invoke  God  if  I  am  care- 
less ;  and  expose  myself  needlessly  in  dangerous 
places  and  company;  and  leave,  without  a  sentinel, 
my  senses,  and  appetites,  and  passions:  and  keep 
not  my  heart  with  all  diligence  ;  and  use  not  all  the 
means  of  preservation  which  are  placed  within  my 
reach — prayer  without  watching  is  hypocrisy.  And 
— watching  without  prayer  is  presumption.  Our 
strength  is  in  God  alone.  He  will  make  us  know 
this,  not  only  by  the  testimony  of  his  word,  but  by 
our  experience.  And  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  the 
growing  conviction.  When  we  are  weak,  then  are 
we  strong.  For  he  to  whom  a  sense  of  our  weak- 
ness will  urge  us  to  repair,  is  able  to  keep  us  from 
falling.  Whatever  be  onr  inability  and  danger,  if 
he  holds  us  up  we  shall  be  safe.  Let  not  those  be 
discouraged  who  seek  his  help.  The  very  exercise 
of  prayer  tends  to  secure  you.  But  you  have  more 
to  rely  upon  than  the  moral  influence  of  the  duty. 
If  there  be  any  meaning  in  the  Scriptures,  God 
hears  prayer:  he  grants  our  petitions;  he  strength- 
ens us  with  might  by  his  Spirit  in  the  inward  man. 
"  Ask,"  says  the  Saviour,  "and  ye  shall  receive,  that 
your  joy  may  be  full." 

Thus  his  grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  you  even  in 
prosperity.  But  a  Christian  should  not  only  be  con- 
cerned to  use  the  world  as  not  abusing  it ;  he  should 
not  only  be  anxious  to  avoid  the  evils  of  his  condi- 
tion ;  but  to  exercise  its  virtues,  and  perform  its  du- 
ties, and  sanctify  its  resources.     And  the 

III.  Part  of  our  subject  calls  upon  you  to  improve 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PROSPERITY. 

This  is  to  be  exemplified  in  three  things.  Grati- 
tude, Beneficence,  and  Enjoyment.  The  first  re- 
gards God.  The  second  our  fellow-creatures.  The 
third,  ourselves. 

First,  you  are  to  improve  your  Prosperity  in  a 
way  of  gratitude.  God  is  to  be  owned  as  the  author 
of  all.  The  streams  of  comfort  are  many,  and  flow 
in  various  channels:  but  with  him  is  the  fountain 
of  life  "Do  not  err,  my  beloved  brethren:  every 
good  gift  and  every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and 
cometh  down  from  the  Father  of  lights."  The  sil- 
ver and  the  gold  are  his.  However  you  have  ob- 
tained it,  whether  from  inheritance  or  the  legacies 
of  friendship,  or  the  labor  of  your  own  hands,  he  it 
is  that  giveth  you  power  to  get  wealth.  And  your 
prosperity  lacketh  its  firmest  support,  its  loveliest 
ornament,  its  sweetest  relish,  if  you  do  not  acknow- 
ledge in  it  the  providence  of  him  whose  blessing 
alone  maketh  rich,  and  addeth  no  sorrow  with  it. 
Is  this  acknowledgment  made"?  And  is  it  reall 
And  is  it  constant  1  And  is  it  fervent  1  What 
would  you  think  of  a  dependant  who  had  no  claim 
on  your  bounty;  whom  you  not  only  relieved,  but 
supported,  and  supported  in  affluence;  being  not 
only  attentive  to  his  necessities,  but  meeting  all  his 
wishes— what  would  you  think  of  such  a  dependant 


THE    CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


47 


if  he  should  never  call  upon  you,  never  send  to 
you  ;  never  speak  of  you  favorably  to  others ;  never 
think  of  you — but  should  take  all  this  goodness  as  a 
matter  of  right  rather  than  of  kindness  :  and  act  as 
if  he  would  have  all  around  him  to  believe  that  it 
was  all  of  his  own  producing  or  purchasing  ]  How 
soon  would  you  discontinue  your  unacknowledged 
favors;  and  how  hateful  would  his  conduct  appear, 
not  only  to  yourself,  but  to  every  one  who  witness- 
ed ii ! 

Yet  how  little  is  God  owned.  We  sacrifice  to  our 
own  net,  and  burn  incense  to  our  own  drag.  We 
ascribe  our  success  to  the  wisdom  of  our  own  un- 
derstanding ;  or  the  power  of  our  own  arm;  or  the 
interest  we  have  in  the  favor  of  our  fellow-mortals; 
or  we  take  it  as  the  effect  of  chance,  while  God  is 
not  in  all  our  thoughts.  "  Therefore,"  says  God, 
"  I  will  return  and  take  away  my  corn  in  the  time 
thereof,  and  my  wine  in  the  season  thereof;  for 
she  did  not  know  I  gave  her  corn,  and  wine,  and 
oil,  and  multiplied  her  silver  and  gold,  which  they 
prepared  for  Baal."  This  is  a  trying  method  to 
bring  us  to  reflection :  but  it  is  often  necessary. — 
Continued  enjoyment  seems  to  give  a  kind  of  pre- 
scription; at  least  it  makes  us  forget  our  reliance  and 
obligation.  We  are  struck  with  what  is  new  and 
out  of  course:  while  we  overlook  what  is  regular 
and  habitual.  Whereas,  this  should  be  the  grand 
reason  for  your  praise;  for  the  claim  arises  not 
from  our  benefits  being  occasional,  but  frequent  and 
constant:  new  every  morning  and  every  moment. 
How  soon  could  the  Great  Ruler  and  Benefactor 
convince  you  that  he  is  not  obliged  to  continue  what 
you  deem  your  own;  and  that  he  can  as  easily,  as 
justly  recall  what  he  has  given.  That  this  may  not 
be  the  case,  sanctify  the  Lord  God  in  your  thoughts. 
Think  of  your  desert.  Compare  your  condition  with 
that  of  others.  And  while  you  see  that  the  lines 
have  fallen  to  you  in  pleasant  places,  and  that  you 
have  a  goodly  heritage,  sa)r,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my 
soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits."  The  begin- 
ning of  some  of  you  was  small.  You  remember  a 
time  when  you  had  no  inheritance,  no  not  so  much 
as  to  set  your  foot  on ;  and  had  your  subsequent  en- 
largement been  foretold,  you  would  have  exclaimed 
with  the  surprised  nobleman,  "  If  the  Lord  should 
make  windows  in  heaven,  might  such  a  thing  be." 
Surely  you  will  follow  the  example  of  Jacob,  who 
said,  "Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  least  of  all  the 
mercies,  and  of  all  the  truth,  which  thou  hast  show- 
ed unto  thy  servant ;  for  with  my  staff'  I  passed  over 
this  Jordan,  and  now  I  am  become  two  bands." — 
Surely  you  will  retire  with  David  before  the  Lord, 
and  say,  "  O  Lord  God,  what  is  my  house,  that  thou 
hast  brought  me  hitherto  ?  And  this  was  yet  a 
small  thing  in  thy  sight,  O  Lord  God;  but  thou 
hast  spoken  also  of  thy  servant's  house  for  a  great 
while  to  come:  and  is  this  the  manner  of  man,  O 
Lord  God  1" 

Secondly,  You  are  to  improve  your  Prosperity  in 
a  way  of  beneficence.  In  this  respect  you  are  fa- 
vored above  many  of  your  brethren.  Their  ear  is 
not  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear;  but  their  hand  is 
shortened  that  it  cannot  save.  They  see  wants  and 
miseries  which  only  distress  them;  for  they  have 
only  the  disposition  to  relieve.  But  you  can  indulge 
it — you  have  the  power.  Value  the  substance  you 
possess  on  this  account.  And  remember,  also,  ihat 
you  have  it  for  this  very  purpose.  In  the  bestow- 
ment,  God  looked  beyond  yourselves;  and  designed 
to  make  you  not  only  the  subjects  of  his  goodness, 
but  the  instruments;  not  only  the  recipients,  but  the 
diffnsers.  And  how  can  yon  neglect  to  impart  re- 
lief and  comfort  to  others,  while  God  is  perpetually 
communicating  to  you  ;  and  your  condition,  as  w  ell 
as  your  religion,  cries, "  Freely  ye  have  received, 
freclv  give."    This  is  the  wa,v  to  have  your  posses- 


sions blessed.  This  is  the  way  also  to  have  them 
increased.  "Give  alms  of  such  things  as  you  have, 
and  behold  all  things  are  clean  unto  you."  "The 
liberal  soul  deviseth  liberal  things,  and  by  liberal 
things  shall  he  stand." 

Therefore  says  the  Apostle,  "  Charge  them  that 
are  rich  in  this  world  that  they  do  good,  that  they 
be  rich  in  good  works,  ready  to  distribute,  willing 
to  communicate. ;  laying  up  in  store  for  themselves 
a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that 
they  may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life."  The  objects  of 
your  charity  are  numberless.  Some  of  these  have 
preferable  claims ;  but  none  of  them  are  to  be  ex- 
cluded. As  you  have  opportunity,  you  are  to  do 
good  unto  all  men,  especially  unto  them  that  arc  of 
the  household  of  faith.  There  are  the  fatherless  and 
the  widows  to  visit :  and  the  sick  to  heal ;  and  the 
naked  to  clothe;  and  the  hungry  to  feed.  "The 
pcor  you  have  always  with  you  :"  and  if  you  have 
the  ability  to  succor,  and  withhold  relief,  your  reli- 
gion would  perplex  an  inspired  Apostle.  "  Whoso 
hath  this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his  brother  have 
need,  and  shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion 
from  him,  how  dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  himl" 
But  there  are  also  the  careless  to  awaken  ;  the  ig- 
norant to  instruct;  the  vicious  to  reclaim;  and  the 
backsliding  to  restore.  The  soul  is  of  supreme  im- 
portance ;  and  it  becomes  us  peculiarly  to  aid  in 
supporting  those  institutions  and  exertions,  which 
have  in  view  the  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare  of 
men.  Even  these  require  much  pecuniary  assist- 
ance;  and  it  is  the  highest  honor  that  can  be  con- 
ferred upon  money  that  it  is  employed  in  carrying 
on  the  concerns  of  the  gospel.  These  have  nobly 
multiplied  in  our  day  ;  and  they  occasion  frequent 
applications  to  your  liberality. 

But  surely  you  cannot  complain  of  this  frequency. 
It  shows  the  improved  state  of  your  beloved  country, 
religiously  considered  ;  and  Christians  should  deem 
those  the  best  times  in  which  the  best  cause  flourish- 
es most.  Surely  you  would  not  wish  to  bring  back 
the  state  of  things  a  century  ago,  when,  for  a  year 
together,  avarice  ami  selfishness  might  have  escaped 
these  evangelical  vexations.  Have  you  not  your- 
selves been  accessory  to  this  improvement  1  Have 
you  not  been  praying  that  God's  kingdom  may  come, 
and  that  his  word  may  have  free  course  and  be  glo- 
rified 1  And  will  you  complain  or  rejoice  when 
those  prayers  are  answered  1  When  you  offered 
them,  did  you  suppose  that  what  you  implored  was 
to  be  carried  on  by  miracles,  or  by  means  1  If  by 
means,  did  you  stipulate  in  these  prayers  that  God 
should  employ  the  instrumentality  of  others,  and 
not  require  your  own  1  Or,  did  you  not  mean  to 
place  yourselves  at  his  disposal ;  and  to  ask,  as  the 
work  was  going  on,  "  L^rd,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do  1"  This  must  have  been  your  meaning 
if  you  prayed  sincerely  and  earnestly  ;  and  consist- 
ency requires,  if  you  would  not  be  condemned  out 
of  your  own  mouth,  every  sa-'rifice  in  your  power. 
And  how  much  is  in  the  power  of  jom^  of  you  ! — 
And  how  would  your  efficacy  be  increased,  if  you 
would  be  satisfied  with  a  decent  distinction  above 
the  vulgar,  instead  of  being  splendid  ;  if  you  would 
avoid  every  extravagance  and  superfluousness  in 
your  mode  of  living;  if  you  would  exercise  a  little 
of  that  self-denial,  which,  after  all,  is  the  principal 
test  of  real  benevolence. 

Many  rules  have  been  laid  down,  as  to  the  pro- 
portion of  your  estate  or  income  which  should  be 
dedicated  to  benevolence.  If  conscience  was  not 
so  often  asleep,  or  if  when  awake  it  ha  I  any  chance 
of  being  heard  in  the  same  hour  with  the  love  of 
money,  the  degree  might  safely  be  left  to  every 
man's  own  mind.  Nothing  however  can  be  more 
just  and  reasonable  than  the  injunction  of  the  Apos- 
tle,  "  Let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in  store  as 


48 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED, 


God  hath  prospered  him."  This  rule  is,  we  fear, 
seldom  observed.  Yea  some,  by  a  perverse  process, 
feel  the  disposition  diminishing  as  the  ability  in- 
creases. They  give  not  only  less  in  proportion,  but 
less  in  reality  than  they  once  did.  In  their  contri- 
butions, as  well  as  in  their  qualities,  there  is  a  gra- 
dation from  gold  to  silver,  and  from  silver  to  cop- 
per. Once  they  hardly  thought  it  worth  while  to 
be  covetous.  They  had  little  to  set  up  in  that  cha- 
racter with.  But  wealth  increased,  and  they  soon 
began  to  hoard.  Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  then- 
eagerness  to  accumulate  is  declining  with  age. — 
The  less  time  they  have  to  keep,  the  harder  they 
are  determined  to  hold  ;  for,  as  Young  says,  "  there 
is  a  dying  grasp  as  well  as  a  dying  gasp." 

"  Of  other  tyrants,  short  the  strife  ; 
But  Avarice  is  king  for  life  : 
The  despot  twists  with  hard  control 
Eternal  fetters  round  the  soul." 

But  with  enlarged  circumstances,  be  ye  also  en- 
larged. This  is  the  case  with  a  few  we  have  the 
pleasure  to  know.  Their  fortune  is  a  blessing  to 
the  neighborhood  and  the  nation.  Their  rising  in 
life  resembles  the  rising  of  the  sun  ;  the  elevation 
illuminates  and  enlivens  and  fertilizes;  and  joy 
springs  from  its  beams.  Their  wealth  is  like  the 
dew,  raised  indeed  from  the  earth,  but  only  to  be 
filtrated  from  its  grossness,  and  to  descend  in  silent 
refreshment,  and  vigor,  and  life.  So  it  was  with 
Job.  He  was  the  greatest  man  in  the  east ;  and  he 
was  also  the  most  generous.  His  substance  is  men- 
tioned; but  it  was  not  his  possession,  but  his  use  of 
it,  that  rendered  him  so  estimable.  I  envy  not  the 
bosom  of  that  man  who  can  hear  without  emotion 
his  touching  and  eloquent  appeal.  "  If  I  did  despise 
the  cause  of  my  man-servant,  or  of  my  maid-ser- 
vant, when  they  contended  with  me ;  what  then 
shall  I  do  when  God  riseth  up  1  and,  when  he  visit- 
etb,  what  shall  I  answer  him  1  Did  not  he  that 
made  me  in  the  womb  make  him  1  and  did  not  one 
fashion  us  in  the  womb  1  If  I  have  withheld  the 
poor  from  their  desire,  or  have  caused  the  eyes  of 
the  widow  to  fail ;  or  have  eaten  my  morsel  myself 
alcne,  and  the  fatherless  have  not  eaten  thereof; 
(for  from  my  youth  he  was  brought  up  with  me,  as 
with  a  father,  and  I  have  guided  her  from  my  mo- 
ther's womb ;)  if  I  have  seen  any  perish  for  want 
of  clothing,  or  any  poor  without  covering ;  if  his 
loins  have  not  blessed  me,  and  if  he  were  not  warm- 
ed with  the  fleece  of  my  sheep  :  if  I  have  lifted  up 
my  hand  against  the  fatherless,  when  I  saw  my  help 
in  the  gate  :  then  let  mine  arm  fall  from  my  shoul- 
der-blade, and  mine  arm  be  broken  from  the  bone." 
David  also  had  acquired  much  wealth :  but  hear 
his  acknowledgment.  "Now  I  have  prepared  with 
all  my  might,  for  the  house  of  my  God,  the  gold  for 
things  to  be  made  of  gold,  and  the  silver  for  things 
of  silver,  and  the  brass  for  things  of  brass,  the  iron 
for  things  of  iron,  and  wood  for  things  of  wood  ; 
onyx  stones,  and  stones  to  be  set,  glistening  stones, 
and  of  divers  colors,  and  all  manner  of  precious 
stones,  and  marble  stones  in  abundance.  More- 
over, because  I  have  set  my  affection  to  the  house  of 
my  God,  I  have  of  mine  own  proper  good,  of  gold 
and  silver,  which  I  have  given  to  the  house  of  my 
God,  over  and  above  all  "that  I  have  prepared  for 
the  holy  house,  even  three  thousand  talents  of  gold, 
of  the  gold  of  Ophir,  and  seven  thousand  talents  of 
refined  silver,  to  overlay  the  walls  of  the  houses 
withal :  the  gold  for  things  of  gold,  and  the  silver 
for  things  of  silver,  and  for  all  manner  of  work  to 
be  made  by  the  hands  of  artificers.  And  who  then 
is  willing  to  consecrate  his  service  this  day  unto  the 
Lord  V  Here  indeed  was  accumulation  ;  but  the 
iieciirn  of  it  was  not  for  the  pleasure  of  possessing. 
I:  was  not  for  his  own  aggrandizement,  or  splendor, 


!  or  indulgence  ;  or  those  of  his  household  ;  but  for 
a  moral  and  religious  purpose.  It  is  a  sad  reflec- 
tion, especially  in  our  day,  for  a  good  man  to  die 
wealthy.  But  if  he  must  die  rich,  let  him  die  rich 
towards  God.  Let  him  not  at  his  last  hour  testify 
only  his  selfish  regards.  Let  the  benefactor  appear 
as  well  as  the  man ;  and  the  Christian  as  well  as 
the  friend  and  the  relation.  While  he  provides  for 
his  own,  especially  those  of  his  own  house,  let  him 
not  forget  the  Saviour  who  loved  us,  and  gave  him- 
self for  us ;  and  whose  cause  has  claims  infinitely 
above  all  mortal  interests. 

Thirdly,  You  are  to  improve  your  Prosperity, 
in  a  way  of  enjoyment.  I  need  not  say  that  there 
is  a  great  difference  between  possession  and  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  that  many  who  have  more  than  heart 
can  wish,  have  yet  no  heart  to  use  it.  They  are 
hungry  in  the  midst  of  food  ;  and  are  parched  with 
thirst,  though  the  stream  is  at  their  lip.  Solomon 
more  than  once  notices  this  wretchedness ;  and  con- 
siders it  as  one  of  the  sorest  evils  under  the  sun. — 
It  is  worthy  of  observation  that  the  Latin  woid  for 
miserable  has  been  applied  to  designate  an  indi- 
vidual who  possesses,  but  cannot  enjoy.  And  well 
may  he  be  called  a  miser ;  for  of  all  men  he  is  the 
most  mean,  and  abject,  and  comfortless.  And  no 
one  can  more  oppose  the  kindness  of  God  in  furnish- 
ing us  with  the  supplies  of  his  Providence.  For  he 
obviously  designs  to  show  us,  that  he  is  concerned, 
not  for  our  existence  only,  but  for  our  happiness. — 
He  could  have  supported  us  by  means  of  food,  as 
disagreeable  to  our  palate  as  medicine  :  but  he  has 
rendered  our  sustenance  grateful  and  inviting ;  and 
though  eating  is  necessary  to  life,  no  one  eats  to 
avoid  death.  Our  senses  might  all  have  been  the 
inlets  of  pain  only,  instead  of  pleasure.  Can  any 
one  question  whether  agreeable  sounds  were  in- 
tended to  delight  the  ear;  or  agreeable  scents  to 
gratify  the  smell  1  Look  at  the  trees  in  a  garden, 
or  an  orchard.  The  fruit  could  have  been  produced 
without  the  blossom  :  but  in  this  process  his  b»auty 
appears  in  the  one,  before  his  bounty  is  seen  in  the 
other:  and  the  eye  is  charmed  as  well  as  the  taste. 
Well  therefore  does  the  Apostle  say,  "  He  gives  us 
all  things  richly  to  enjoy."  And  there  is  therefore 
ttuth  in  the  remark  of  the  poet,  "  To  enjoy  is  to 
obey."  It  is  falling  in  with  the  indications  of  God's 
will ;  for  he  has  given  us  an  express  injunction — 
"  In  the  day  of  prosperity  rejoice." 

Religion,  therefore,  instead  of  being  an  enemy  to 
the  enjoyment  of  this  state,  enjoins  it.  And  it  pro- 
duces what  it  requires.  We  are  not  afraid  to  ad- 
vance it  as  a  maxim  capable  of  demonstration,  that 
in  proportion  as  men  are  religious,  they  are  prepared 
to  relish  prosperity ;  and  that  though  others  may 
possess  more,  they  will  enjoy  most ;  for.  even  in  this 
sense,  "  a  little  that  a  righteous  man  hath,  is  better 
that  the  riches  of  many  wicked." 

Religion  refines  and  exalts  our  relish  of  temporal 
things.  How  low  and  despicable  is  a  life  filled  up 
only  with  sleeping,  and  eating,  and  drinking,  and 
trifling  '  A  Christian  rises  above  such  an  ignoble 
mode  of  being.  Even  in  his  enjoyments,  reason 
unites  with  sense  ;  and  faith  with  reason  ;  and  de- 
votion with  faith.  What  is  material  is  animated 
by  mind  ;  and  what  is  animal,  though  its  quality  be 
not  abolished,  loses  its  grossness  by  intercourse  with 
intellect  and  spirit.  The  earth  grows  richer  by  the 
reflections  and  touches  of  all  that  is  heavenly.  The 
rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lily  of  the  valley  acquire  a 
kind  of  sacredness  and  divinity  in  their  fragrance 
and  beauty,  when  thev  remind  us  of  Him  who  is 
altogether  lovely ;  and"  the  charms  of  creation  are 
hallowed  and  felt  as  means  of  grace,  while  they 
bring  us  into  communion  with  the  Creator,  address- 
ed and  adored  in  language  almost  inspired— 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED, 


49 


*  These  are  thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  good —    | 
Almighty  !     Thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair:    Thyself  how   wondrous 
then  !" 

— And  thus  religion  also  enlarges  as  well  as  im- 
proves the  enjoyment  of  prosperity.  We  readily 
nli'ow  that  it  forbids  licentiousness  and  excess.  But 
so  does  reason.  So  does  health.  Yea,  so  does  plea- 
sure itself.  The  moderate  use  of  the  indulgences 
of  prosperity,  unspeakably  exceeds  in  enjoyment 
the  intemperate  use  of  the  glutton  and  drunkard. — 
The  very  restraints  which  religio"  imposes  are  use- 
ful and  necessary  to  give  the  more  lively  and  potent 
le'iish  to  our  participations.  For  who  needs  to  be 
informed  that  the  measure  of  enjoyment  corresponds 
with  the  strength  and  freshness  of  the  desire  or  the 
appetite']  Thus  the  pleasure  of  eating  depends 
upon  hunger;  and  where  no  degree  of  this  is  felt, 
the  most  delicious  viands  would  be  insipid.  The 
full  soul  loathes  the  honeycomb,  but  to  the  hungry 
soul  every  bitter  thing  is  sweet.  Thus  the  unwea- 
ried do  not  welcome  repose;  but  the  sleep  of  the 
laboring  man  is  sweet.  It  is  therefore  easy  to  see 
that  temperance  is  the  handmaid  of  enjoyment. — 
By  not  impairing  our  appetites  and  desires,  it  keeps 
us  from  the  languor  and  irksomeness  of  the  dissi- 
pated: and  by  maintaining  uninjured  the  capacities 
for  enjoyment,  it  really  cherishes  and  increases  the 
resources  which  excess  spoils  and  destroys. 

—  But  this  is  not  the  only  way  in  which  religion 
befriends  the  enjoyment  of  prosperity.  We  muse 
remark  its  moral  influence  in  rectifying  our  dispo- 
sitions and  removing  the  causes  of  disquietude  and 
isfaction.  All  outward  things  affect  us  ac- 
cording to  the  state  of  the  mind.  It  is  well  known 
to  every  man,  that  a  scene  which  delights  us  at 
one  time,  will  be  perfectly  uninteresting,  if  not  re- 
pulsive, at  another.  The  object  in  this  case  is  the 
same,  but  the  medium  through  which  it  appears, 
and  the  feelings  in  which  it  is  received,  are  chang- 
ed. No  one  can  deny  but  that  the  agreeable  im- 
pressions of  outward  things  is  impaired  by  infir- 
mity and  sickness  of  body.  But  many  are  no' 
aware,  that  it  may  be  equally  injured  by  a  disorder 
of  the  soul.  Yet  so  it  is.  A  pain  in  the  tooth,  or 
in  the  joint,  will  no  more  preclude  enjoyment,  than 
the  workings  of  jealousy,  or  suspicion,  or  envy,  or 
aneer,  or  revenge.  Under  the  corrosion  of  these 
evils,  a  man  must  be  wretched  in  all  the  entertain- 
ments of  a  palace,  and  all  the  scenery  of  a  para- 
dise. But  religion  forbids  and  subdues  these  self- 
tormenting,  as  well  as  vile  tempers.  It  teaches  the 
man  to  love  his  neighbor  as  himself.  It  enables 
him  to  rejoice  in  another's  welfare.  It  renders  him 
an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  there  is  no  guile;  and 
enables  him  to  confide  in  others  by  judging  of  them 
from  his  own  feelings  of  sincerity  and  narmless- 
ness.  Why  is  that  man  so  cheerless  and  uneasy? 
Is  he  poor]  Has  he  been  robbed  of  his  estate] 
Look  at  his  portion.  What  one  more  thing  can  he 
desire]  But  all  will  not  bend  to  his  humor.  All 
will  not  respect  him  as  the  first  man  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. He  has  the  sorrow  of  the  world  that 
worketh  death.  A  Christian  does  not  feel  this  dis- 
ease. He  is  meek  and  lowly  in  heart;  and  finds 
rest  unto  his  soul.  Here  is  another  dissatisfied  and 
peevish  mortal.  Nothing  pleases  him.  He  reflects 
upon  every  one  around  him.  His  house  is  the  hos- 
pital of  ill-nature,  and  every  ward  is  filled  with 
complaint.  What  is  the  cause  ]  He  will  not  own 
it:  but  guilt  makes  him  fretful.  He  is  conscious 
of  some  duty  he  has  neglected  ;  some  sin  which  he 
his  committed;  some  restitution  which  he  ought  to 
make;  some  connection  which  he  ought  to  succor. 
This  consciousness  makes  him  uneasy.  When  cen- 
mred,  he  knows  he  deserves  it:  when  praised,  he 

2S* 


feels  he  is  unworthy  of  it.    He  is  a  burden  to  him- 
si  It'.     Bui  a  '   iod  man,  says  Solomon,  shall  be  satis- 
fied IV  '.n  himself.    His  rejoicing,  though  not  his 
ndence,  is  the  testimony  of  his  conscience.    He 

is  not  free  from  infirmity;  but  he  can  say  with  Da- 
vid, "  I  was  upright  before  Him,  and  have  kept  my- 
self from  mine  iniquity." 

Religion  makes  a  man  grateful;  and  gratitude 
is  a  lively  and  cheerful  temper:  and  though  to  be 
under  obligation  to  the  mean  and  worthless,  or  to 
an  enemy,  be  trying;  nothiug  can  be  more  delight- 
ful than  to  feel  and  acknowledge  what  we  owe  to 
one  we  greally  esteem  and  love,  anil  who  is  worthy 
to  be  praised.  David  therefore  sneaks  of  the 
"  pleasant  harp;"  and  says,  "Praise  ye  the  Lord; 
for  the  Lord  is  good  :  sing  praises  unto  his  name  ; 
for  it  is  pleasant."  And  to  show  what  a  connection 
this  exercise  has  with  happiness,  we  are  assured 
that  it  will  continue  in  heaven,  and  perfect  the  en- 
joyment of  the  glorified. 

Religion  also  makes  a  man  beneficent ;  and  this 
also  contributes  to  his  happiness.  What  do  the 
selfish  know  of  the  pleasure  of  prosperity,  com- 
pared with  those  who  love  to  do  good  and  to  com- 
municate ]  Is  it  not  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive]  Can  any  gratification  be  so  pine,  so  cor- 
dial, so  divine,  so  fresh  and  interesting  in  review, 
as  that  which  is  reflected  back  into  the  bosom  from 
the  feelings  and  tears  and  joy  of  the  partakers  of 
your  bounty]  What  voluptuary  from  his  most 
studied  and  costlv  procurements  ever  tasted  luxury 
like  Job's?  "When  the  ear  heard  me,  then  it 
blessed  mc  ;  and  when  the  eye  saw  me,  it  gave  wit- 
ness to  me  :  because  I  delivered  the  poor  that  cried, 
and  the  fatherless,  and  him  that  had  none  to  help 
him.  The  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish 
came  upon  me  :  and  I  caused  the  widow's  heart  to 
sing  lor  joy.  I  was  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  feet  was 
I  to  the  lame.  I  was  "a  father  to  the  poor:  and  the 
cause  which  I  knew  net  I  searched  out." 

There  is  one  view  more  to  be  taken  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  it  is,  the  confidence  in  God  which  religion  in- 
spires. "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace 
whose  mind  is  fixed  on  tnee,  because  he  trusteth 
in  thee."  Why  do  not  many  enjoy  what  God  has 
given  them  ?  They  are  anxious  and  foreboding. 
They  suspend  their  satisfaction  on  some  future  oc- 
currence— thev  may  meet  with  losses — they  may 
come  to  want :  thus  "they  are  not  in  quiet  from 
the  fear  of  evil."  But  the  soul  of  the  Christian 
dwells  at  ease.  He  knows  not  what  a  day  may 
bring  forth  ;  nor  docs  he  desire  it.  He  has  nothing 
to  do  with  events.  He  knows  that  he  is  under  the 
providence  of  his  heavenly  Father,  who  is  able  and 
engaged  to  make  all  things  work  together  for  his 
good. 

But  this  implies  the  previous  adjustment  ot  a 
case  most  awfully  interesting.  Belshazzar's  enter- 
tainment was  destroyed  as  soon  as  he  saw  a  hand- 
writing against  the  wall.  Then  neither  the  wine, 
nor  the  music,  nor  the  company  of  a  thousand  of 
his  lords,  had  the  least  power  to  rharm  :  and  though 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  inscription, 
he  foreboded  evil ;  ami  the  joints  of  his  loins  were 
loosed,  and  his  knees  smote  one  against  another. 
If  a  man  was  at  the  most  enchanting  banquet,  with 
a  sword  hanging  over  his  head  by  a  small  and  rot- 
ten ligature,  he  could  not  enjoy  it;  or  if  he  did.  it 
must  bo  by  forq-ettintr  his  jeopardy  while  yet  his 
danger  continued.  The  sinner  i<  the  enemv  of 
God,  and  the  child  of  wrath;  and  there  is  but  a 
iwcen  him  and  eternal  death.  The  thought 
of  this — the  reflection  that  I  must  soon,  and  mar 
every  moment  exchange  all  my  good  things  here 
for  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  nevpr 
shall  be  quenched — whv  surely  this  is  sufficient  to 
turn  all  my  joy  into  sadness  and  horror.    Tc  en- 


50 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


joy,  therefore,  in  this  state,  I  must  forget  my  expo- 
sure. Conscience  tells  me  I  have  no  right  to  take 
comfort.  I  must  therefore  creep  forth  and  steal, 
while  conscience  is  asleep.  But  will  it,  can  it  sleep 
always  ?  How  quickly  may  it  be  awakened  !  And 
then  trembling  takes  hold  upon  me.  My  enjoy- 
ment, if  it  deserves  the  name,  depends  therefore  on 
delusion;  and  this  delusion  is  at  the  mercy  of  a 
thousand  disturbers.  If,  therefore,  I  am  not  always 
in  bondage,  I  am  always  subject  to  bondage  through 
fear  of  death  ;  and  there  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God, 
unto  the  wicked.  But  the  Christian  being  justified 
by  faith,  has  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ.  His  anger  is  turned  away;  and  as  soon 
as  he  smiles  every  thing  smiles.  In  his  favor  is  life. 
Tell  me,  ye  who  are  unpardoned  and  unrenewed, 
can  you,  you  who  have  no  hope  of  a  better  world, 
and  no  certainty  of  continuing  an  instant  in  this — 
can  you  enjoy  the  comforts  of  life  like  one  who 
knows  that  whenever  he  dies,  to  die  is  gain  ?  That 
lie  has  in  heaven  a  better  and  an  enduring  sub- 
stance 1  That  he  has  a  covenant  right  to  all  he 
possesses  ?  That  it  comes  to  him  with  the  good 
will  of  his  God  and  Saviour  1  saying,  as  he  par- 
takes— "  Eat  thy  bread  with  cheerfulness,  and  drink 
thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart,  for  God  hath  accepted 
ihy  works  ?" 

"  He  looks  abroad  into  the  varied  field 
Of  nature,  and  though  poor  perhaps,  compared 
With  those  whose  mansions  glitter  in  his  sight, 
Calls  the  delightful  scenery  all  his  own. 
His  are  the  mountains,  and  the  valleys  his, 
And  the  resplendent  rivers.     His  to  enjoy 
With  a  propriety  that  none  can  feel ; 
But  who,  with  filial  confidence  inspired, 
Can  lift  to  heaven  an  unpresumptuous  eye, 
And  smiling  say — "  My  Father  made  them  all!" 
Are  khey  not  his  by  a  peculiar  right, 
And  by  an  emphasis  of  interest  his, 
Whose  eye  they  fill  with  tears  of  holy  joy, 
Whose  heart  with  praise,  and  whose  exalted  mind 
With  worthy  thoughts  of  that  unwearied  love, 
That  planned,  and  built,  and  still  upholds  a  world 
So  clothed  with  beauty  for  rebellious  man  ? 
Yes — ye  may  fill  your  garners,  ye  that  reap 
The  loaded  soil,  and  ye  may  waste  much  good 
In  senseless  riot ;  but  ye  will  not  find 
In  feasts,  or  in  the  chase,  in  song,  or  dance, 
A  liberty  like  his,  who,  unimpeachsd 
Of  usurpation,  and  to  no  man's  wrong, 
Appropriates  nature  as  his  Father's  work, 
And  has  a  richer  use  of  your:)  than  you." 

We  have  seen  how  religion  befriends  Prosperity, 
by  raising  and  increasing  its  enjoyments.  But  you 
ask,  can  it  preserve  ?  Yes.  It  insures  the  continu- 
ance as  far  as  it  is  good  for  us. 

But  we  are  not  goins;  to  deny  that  every  thing 
here  is  precarious.  "  Truly  light  is  sweet,  and  a 
pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  b-?hold  the  sun  : 
but  if  a  man  live  many  years,  and  rejoice  in  them 
all;  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of  darkness,  for 
they  be  many.  All  that  cometh  is  vanity."  Yes, 
your  treasure  on  earth  moth  and  rust  may  corrupt, 
or  thieves  break  through  and  steal.  Your  health 
may  be  exchanged  for  sickness.  Your  friends  may 
be  converted  into  enemies.  Your  relations  may  be 
carried  down  to  the  dust.  The  soft  and  delicate 
hand  may  be  forced  to  ply  the  oar  of  labor.  You 
mav  not  be  known  of  those  your  bounty  has  fed. 
And  after  the  morning  sunshine,  the  noon  or  the 
evening  of  life  may  set  in  with  dark  waters  and 
thick  clouds  of  the  sky.  Is  such  vicissitude  impos- 
sible ?  Improbable  1 '  Unfrequent ?  Let  the  day 
in  which  we  live  answer  this. 

And  such  desolation  religion  may  not  interfere 


to  prevent.  Is  it  then  useless  ?  And  does  it  keep 
aloof  when  we  need  its  aid  ?  No.  When  it  does 
not  rescue  us  from  the  evil  day,  it  prepares  us  for 
it.  What  it  does  not  prevent  it  softens.  What  ii 
does  not  hinder  it  sanctifies.  It  indemnifies  the 
sufferer  by  inward  supports,  and  future  expectation. 
It  renders  every  loss  a  gain.  It  turns  the  curse  into 
a  blessing. 

What  will  the  worldling  do  in  the  loss  of  Ms 
prosperity!  His  portion  is  gone.  His  hope  is 
wrecked.  His  heart  is  desolate.  Refuge  fails  him. 
He  curses  God  and  his  king,  and  looks  upward.  Or 
he  lies  down  in  his  shame,  and  his  soul  prefers 
strangling  and  death  rather  than  life.  His  time 
ends  with  one  hell,  and  his  eternity  begins  with  an- 
other. But  to  the  upright  there  ariseth  light  in  the 
darkness.  God  is  his  refuge  and  strength;  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble.  He  feels,  but  he  is  not 
miserable.  He  is  perplexed,  but  not  in  despair.  He 
is  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed.  He  is  laid  waste, 
but  he  is  not  resourceless :  "Although  the  fig-tree, 
shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines ; 
the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall 
yield  no  meat ;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the 
fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  :  yet  I 
will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my 
salvation.  The  Lord  God  is  my  strength,  and  he 
will  make  my  feet  like  hinds'  feet,  and  he  will 
make  me  to  walk  upon  mine  high  places." 

But  this  falls  in  with  the  subject  of  our  next  Lec- 
ture ;  which  will  show  us  the  Christian  in  Adver- 
sity. 


LECTURE  VII. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,    IN    ADVERSITY. 

"  In  the  day  of  adversity  consider." — Eccles.  vii.  14. 

The  condition  in  which  we  have  recently  viewed 
the  Christian  is  not  a  very  common  one.  We  felt 
the  difficulty;  and  in  the  course  of  the  Lecture  were 
often  led  to  make  the  Prosperous  the  subjects  of  re- 
flection, rather  than  the  objects  of  address.  For 
when  a  minister  enters  his  pulpit,  how  few  among 
the  godly  can  he  see  in  his  audience,  that  are  set 
on  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  and  have  the  wa- 
ters of  a  full  cup  wrung  out  unto  them,  and  have 
more  than  heart  can  wish! 

But,  of  this  kind,  we  feel  no  difficulty  in  the  pre- 
sent service.  We  are  no  more  at  a  loss  to  find  per- 
sons to  address,  than  topics  to  enlarge  upon,  when 
we  treat  of  affliction.  The  inheritance  of  grief  is 
as  sure  to  mortals,  as  the  laws  of  nature  are  invio- 
lable— "  Man  is  born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  up- 
ward." Some  parts  of  his  destiny  are  less  exposed, 
and  less  painful  than  others;  but  after  every  con- 
cession, life  is  a  warfare,  and  earth  is  a  vale  of 
tears. 

"  I  hang  the  world  in  mourning?"  It  is  Solomon, 
who  saw  its  most  favored  aspects,  and  enjoyed  its 
most  envied  resources;  it  is  all  history;  it  is  uni- 
versal observation  ;  it  is  individual  experience,  that 
proclaims,  "  All  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit." 
Who  has  purchased  an  assurance  from  accident 
and  disease?  Who  has  not  enemies  that  oppose 
him  ?  Cares  that  corrode  him  ?  Fears  that  dismay 
him?  Disappointment  that  confound  him?  Who 
does  not  find  in  his  comforts  the  elements  of  sorrow? 
In  his  possessions,  the  sources  of  danger  ?  In  his 
distinctions,  the  excitements  of  envy  and  detrac- 
tion? In  his  affections,  the  seeds  of  anxiety  and 
anguish  ?  In  his  connections,  the  pledges  of  appre- 
hension and  bereavement  ? 

"  E'en  roses  grow  on  thorns, 
And  honey  wears  a  sting." 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


51 


Sufferer !  you  think  your  case  is  singular,  and 
you  are  often  urged  to  exclaim,  "  1  am  the  man  that 
hath  seen  affliction  by  the  rod  of  his  wrath."  "Be- 
hold and  see,  if  there  be  sorrow  like  unto  my  sor- 
row." But  this  is  the  language  of  self-importance, 
and  ignorance.  "  For  there  hath  no  temptation 
taken  you,  but  such  as  is  common  to  man." 

But  you  ask — "  How  is  it,  not  with  the  man,  but 
with  the  Christian?  Has  the  favorite  of  Heaven 
no  indulgences,  or  at  least,  no  exemptions  on  earth  'I 
Surely,  if  they  had  it  in  their  power;  surely,  the 
friend  would  secure  the  companion  of  his  bosom, 
and  the  father  the  child  of  his  love,  from  every 
thing  hurtful  and  distressing.  If  God  was  my  la- 
ther and  my  friend,  he  could  by  one  volition  of  his 
will  set  me  at  ease;  and  would  he  suffer  me  to  walk 
in  the  midst  of  trouble,  to  be  straitened  in  want, 
and  to  pine  away  with  sickness  1  If  I  am  his,  why 
am  I  thus?"  Yet  David  said,  "Many  are  the  af- 
flictions of  the  righteous."  And  our  Saviour  says 
to  his  disciples,  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribu- 
lation." And  it  is  the  Christian  we  are  to  view, 
this  morning, 

In  Adversity. 

It  is  to  "  the  elect  according  to  the  foreknowledge 
of  God  the  Father,"  that  the  apostle  Peter  addressed 
himself,  when,  to  break  the  force  of  their  surprise, 
he  said,  "  Beloved,  think  it  not  strange  concerning 
the  fiery  trial  which  is  to  try  you,  as  though  some 
strange  thing  happened  unto  you."  No.  Religion 
does  not  preclude  the  evil  day  ;  but  it  prepares  us 
for  it ;  and  shows  itself  to  most  advantage,  when 
all  other  resources  must  fail. 

We  have  a  thousand  instructions  and  admoni- 
tions concerning  the  spirit  and  demeanor  of  the 
Christian  in  tribulation  :  but  they  may  be  all  sum- 
med up  in  the  words  of  our  text — "  In  the  day  of 
adversity  consider." 

We  enter  upon  our  subject  with  one  important 
remark.  Whatever  the  people  of  the  world  may 
think  of  it,  the  religion  of  Christ  is  "a  reasonable 
service."  Nothing  can  be  more  distinguishable 
from  groundless  belief,  from  the  enthusiasm  of  ig- 
norant impulses,  from  a  mere  mass  of  unintelligible 
feelings.  It  commences  in  the  renewing  of  the 
mind.  It  is  carried  on  through  the  medium  of 
thought.  Nothing  can  be  moral  that  does  not  arise 
from  design,  and  is  not  influenced  by  motive.  Spi- 
ritual agencies  are  not  like  the  cures  of  a  charm,  of 
whose  efficiency  no  account  can  be  given.  They 
are  not  like  the  forced  motions  of  a  machine  insen- 
sible of  its  workings  and  results.  Neither  are  they 
like  the  operations  of  the  physical  powers  in  the 
human  body:  these  are  carried  on  independently 
of  the  mind  and  will.  The  digestive  action,  the 
secretion  of  the  fluids,  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
go  on  as  well,  if  not  better,  when  we  are  asleep,  as 
when  we  are  awake.  This,  it  would  appear,  is  too 
much  the  notion  some  entertain  of  the  work  of  the 
Spirit.  But  this  is  the  perversion  of  the  language 
of  Scripture.  According  to  the  sacred  writers,  as 
to  religious  influences,  we  are  not  only  the  subjects, 
but  the  instruments.  What  is  done  in  us,  is  done 
by  us.  God  is  the  author  of  every  thing  good:  our 
progress  is  from  him ;  but  he  does  not  carry  us 
along  in  the  way  everlasting,  but  enables  us  to  walk. 
He  works  in  us ;  but  it  is  to  wiU  and  to  do.  We 
are  not  only  impressed,  but  employed.  Faith  and 
repentance  are  the  gifts  of  God;  yet  we  believe  and 
repent,  and  not  God. 

This  being  premised,  we  observe,  that  religion 
arises  from  consideration.  Therefore,  God,  com- 
plaining of  the  Jews,  says,  "  My  people  do  not  con- 
sider." Therefore  he  cries,  "  Consider  your  ways." 
Therefore  David  says,  "  I  thought  on  my  ways,  and 
turned  my  feet  unto  thy  testimonies."    This  ex- 


tends to  each  part  of  religion,  as  well  as  the  whole 
The  Christian's  abhorrence  of  sin  is  not  a  thought- 
less aversion — "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wicked- 
ness, and  sin  against  God  V  His  godly  sorrow  is 
not  a  thoughtless  grief — "  They  shall  look  on  him 
whom  they  have  pierced,  and  mourn."  His  confi- 
dence is  not  a  thoughtless  trust — "  They  that  know 
thy  luiine  will  put  their  trust  in  thee."  His  hope 
is  not  a  presumptuous  expectation.— He  is  "ready 
to  give  a  reason  of  the  hope  that,  is  in  him."  His 
conduct  in  trouble  is  not  the  result  of  a  natural 
hardihood,  a  brutal  apathy,  a  careless  desperation — 
it  is  the  effect  of  thought,  scriptural  thought,  sanc- 
tified thought — "  In  the  day  of  adversity  consider." 

Christians!  there  are  many  things  you  ought  to 
consider  in  the  day  of  trouble;  but  we  shall  confine 
your  attention  to  two  only.  The  design  of  Af- 
fliction, and  the  relief  of  Affliction. 

I.  The  design  of  affliction,  to  regulate  your 
duty.    And 

II.  The  relief  of  affliction,  to  support  your 
hope. 

The  one  will  keep  you  from  "despising  the 
chastening  of  the  Lord;"  the  other,  from  "fainting 
when  you  are  rebuked  of  him." 

I.  Consider  the  design  of  affliction. 

Without  this,  you  cannot  discharge  the  duty  of 
the  condition.  For  what  is  this  duty  1  It  is  not 
only  to  possess  your  souls  in  patience — it  is  not 
only  to  submit  yourselves  under  the  mighty  hand 
of  God — but  to  acquiesce  in  the  pleasure  of  the  Al- 
mighty. It  is  not  to  say,  "  This  is  my  grief,  and  I 
must  bear  it ;"  but  "  Here  I  am,  let  him  do  what 
seemeth  him  good."  Nothing  less  is  required  of 
you,  as  Christians,  than  a  willing,  cheerful  resigna- 
tion. But  this  can  only  flow  from  a  knowledge  of 
him  that  smiteth  you.  You  may  yield,  but  you 
cannot  acquiesce,  without  confidence  in  him.  You 
may,  with  David,  be  dumb  and  open  not  your 
mouth,  because  he  doeth  it ;  and  you  may  say  with 
Watts, 

"  Peace,  all  our  angry  passions  :  then 
Let  each  rebellious  sigh 
Be  silent  at  his  sovereign  will, 
And  every  murmur  die." 

— But  you  cannot  render  a  voluntary,  and  cheer- 
ful, and  grateful  resignation,  till  you  see  the  right- 
eousness, the  wisdom,  and,  above  all,  the  kindness 
of  his  dispensations  towards  you.  Therefore  you 
are  commanded  to  hear  the  rod — What  does  it  say  ? 
"  And  in  the  day  of  adversity  to  consider" — to  con- 
sider the  ends  he  has  in  view  in  afflicting  you. 
What  are  these  ends  1  They  all  show  that  resig- 
nation is  the  most  dutiful  and  becoming  thing  in 
the  world.  They  are  all  founded  in  our  exigences 
and  advantages :  but  they  are  various ;  and  none 
of  them  must  be  lost  sight  of.  For  a  Chrisiian  will 
often  find  it  necessary  to  turn  to  each  of  them  be- 
fore he  can  obtain  an  answer  to  the  prayer,  "  Show 
me  wherefore  thou  contendest  with  me."  They  in- 
clude Correction — Prevention — Trial — Instruction 
— and  Usefulness. 

First,  Correction.  How  absurd  it  is  to  suppose 
that  God  will  suffer  his  children  to  act  improperly, 
and  not  reprove  them  !  The  very  discipline  shows 
that  they  are  not  abandoned.  It  is  the  language  of 
the  paternal  heart — "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up, 
Ephraiml  How  shall  I  deliver  thee,  Israel  1  How 
shall  I  make  thee  as  Admah  1  How  shall  I  set  thee 
as  Zeboiml  Mine  heart  is  turned  within  me,  my 
repentings  are  kindled  together." 

No ;  he  "  will  not  cast  away  his  people  whom  he 
foreknew:"  but  this  is  the  law  of  his  house — "If 
his  children  forsake  my  law,  and  walk  not  in  my 


52 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


judgments ;  if  they  break  my  statutes,  and  keep  not 
my  commandments,  then  will  I  visit  their  transgres- 
sion with  the  rod,  and  their  iniquity  with  stripes." 

And  these  stripes  regard  sins  of  omission,  as  well 
as  of  commission.  For  God  enjoins,  as  well  as  for- 
bids ;  and  we  offend  by  refusing  his  orders,  as  well 
as  by  opposing  his  prohibitions.  Yea,  further, 
they  regard  the  state  of  the  heart,  as  well  as  the 
conduct  of  the  life — for  "  the  backslider  in  heart 
shall  be  filled  with  his  own  ways."  Where  no 
miscarriages  have  appeared  to  our  fellow-Chris- 
tians, what  a  fall  is  there  often  in  our  feelings  and 
our  motives !  What  a  decay  of  devotion  !  What 
a  coldness  of  love !  What  a  want  of  gratitude ! 
What  a  loss  of  confidence !  What  a  waste  of 
time !  What  a  misimprovement  of  privileges ! 
How  does  this  enlarge  the  sphere  of  correction  ! 
And  when  all  these  calls  for  the  rod  are  taken  into 
the  account,  have  we  any  reason  to  wonder  that  we 
are  afflicted  1  Surely  the  cause  for  astonishment 
lies  on  the  other  side — that  we  so  often  escape;  and 
that  our  chastisements  are  not  only  so  few,  but  so 
gentle  and  tender.  "  I  will  bear  tlie  indignation  of 
the  Lord,  because  I  have  sinned  against  him." 
"Surely  it  is  meet  to  be  said  unto  God,  I  have 
borne  chastisement,  I  will  not  offend  any  more : 
that  which  I  see  not,  teach  thou  me :  if  I  have  done 
iniquity,  I  will  do  no  more." 

Secondly,  Prevention.  It  is  proverbially  and 
truly  said,  that  prevention  is  more  than  cure.  In 
no  case  will  this  better  apply,  than  in  our  moral 
failures.  Repentance  will  not  always  fully  recover 
us  as  to  this  world  ;  or  hinder  the  natural  effects  of 
our  conduct,  from  being  entailed  upon  us  for  life. 
David  fell  by  temptation,  and  was  reclaimed,  and 
forgiven:  yet  his  child  died,  and  the  sword  never 
departed  from  his  house;  and  his  sin,  in  the  scandal 
and  mischief,  was  ever  before  him.  Joseph  was  as- 
sailed oy  the  same  foe;  but  he  was  preserved;  and 
thus  sustained  his  peace  of  mind,  and  the  approba- 
tion of  his  conduct,  and  the  value  of  his  reputation, 
and  the  usefulness  of  his  character,  and  the  benefit 
of  his  example.  Hezekiah's  "  heart  was  lifted  up ;" 
and  as  the  consequence,  "  wrath  came  upon  him 
and  upon  all  Judah."  Paul  was  in  danger  from 
the  same  quarter.  From  his  peculiar  privileges  he 
was  exposed  to  high-mindedness ;  and  we  know 
not  what  injuries  might  have  resulted  from  it  to 
himself  and  others;  but  he  was  not  elated.  It 
would  seem  that  he  was  ignorant  of  his  jeopardy  ; 
but  he  had  one  to  watch  over  him,  who  was  wiser 
than  himself,  and  could  see  effects  in  their  causes. 
And  how  did  he  secure  him  1  "  Lest,"  says  he,  "  I 
should  be  exalted  above  measure,  through  the  abun- 
dance of  the  revelations,  there  was  given  to  me  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh,  the  messenger  of  Satan  to  buffet 
me."  What  this  particularly  was,  we  cannot  de- 
termine :  but  it  was — and  this  is  sufficient  for  our 
purpose — it  was  a  very  sharp  and  painful  affliction; 
and  so  anguished  him,  that  he  "  besought  the  Lord 
thrice,"  that  is,  frequency  and  fervently,  "  that  it 
might  depart  from  him." 

Ah,  Christian,  if  you  could  see  things  as  they 
really  are  in  their  moral  relations,  how  many  of 
your  sufferings  might  be  explained  upon  this  prin- 
ciple. You  have  perhaps  examined  yourself;  and 
though  you  have  always  enough  in  "your  general 
unworthiness  and  imperfections  to  render  you  vul- 
nerable to  trouble,  yet  you  have  been  able  to  dis- 
cover no  one  duty  that  yon  have  knowingly  ne- 
glected ;  no  one  sin  that  you  have  knowingly  com- 
mitted; no  one  idol  that  you  have  knowingly  adored. 
But  the  case  was  this.  You  were  not  vain ;  but 
you  were  becoming  so;  and  it  was  needful  to  with- 
draw the  adulation  and  the  incense  in  time.  You 
were,  not  avaricious;  but  you  were  becoming  so; 
and  it  -was  necessary  to  lay  waste  the  gain  which 


made  you  think  of  accumulation.  You  had  not 
worshipped  the  creature;  but  the  growing  fondness 
would  soon  have  made  you  kneel,  had  not  the  de- 
sire of  your  eyes  been  taken  away  with  a  stroke. 

We  are  little  aware,  now,  of  the  obligations  we 
are  under,  for  our  preservation,  to  the  goodness  of 
God ;  and  the  reason  is,  because  the  prevention 
which  hinders  the  injury,  hinders  the  discovery. 
But  there  are  no  blessings  for  which  Ave  shall  be 
more  thankful  in  the  world  of  light,  than  preserving 
mercies;  and  we  shall  then  perceive  that  the  greater 
part  of  these  were  administered  by  affliction. — 
These  often  answered  the  prayer,  "  Lead  ns  not 
into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil."  These 
checked  us  ;  but  it  was  in  going  astray.  The  hin- 
derance  was  suddenly  interposed  ;  but  the  danger 
was  immediate,  and  the  next  movement  would 
have  been  into  a  pitfall.  It  was  sharp  as  a  hedge 
of  thorns;  but  it  was  necessary  to  pierce  us  back. 
It  was  impenetrable  as  a  wall;  but  it  was  necessary 
to  make  us  despair  of  going  on.  At  first,  we  felt 
that  we  did  well  to  be  angry;  but  a  pause  was  ad- 
mitted, and  the  disappointment  induced  reflection, 
and  we  said,  'I  will  go  and  return  to  my  first  hus- 
band, for  then  it  was  better  with  me  than  now." 

Thirdly,  Probation.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  af- 
flictions are  so  often  called  trials  and  temptations  in 
the  Scripture.  They  are  in  the  nature  of  tests  ap- 
plied to  our  principles  and  dispositions  ;  they  are  ex- 
periments employed  to  discover  and  display  the 
reality  and  the  degree  of  the  evil  or  good  there  is  in 
us.  Moses  tells  the  Jews,  the  design  of  the  disci- 
pline to  which  they  had  been  so  long  subjected  in 
the  wilderness,  was  to  prove  them,  and  to  know 
what  was  in  their  heart,  and  whether  they  would 
keep  his  commandments  or  no.  And  without  this 
process,  others  would  not  have  believed,  nor  could 
they  have  believed  themselves,  that  they  were  so 
unbelieving,  so  rebellious,  so  perverse,  so  ungrate- 
ful, as  they  were  now  demonstrated  to  be.  Job  was 
charged  with  not  serving  God  for  nought;  and  the 
accuser  of  the  brethren  said,  "  Hast  thou  not  made 
an  hedge  about  him,  and  about  all  that  he  hath  on 
every  side  1  But  put  forth  thy  hand  now,  and  touch 
all  that  he  hath,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  thy  face." 
How  was  this  to  be  decided  1  God  stripped  him  of 
all;  of  his  cattle,  of  his  servants,  of  his  children. — 
But  instead  of  resentment  and  reviling,  he  worships, 
and  says,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  tak- 
en away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord."  "  Skin 
for  skin,  yea,  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for 
his  life,"  says  the  defeated  but  insolent  foe:  But 
"put  forth  now  thine  hand  and  touch  his  bone  and 
his  flesh,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  thy  face."  And 
lo !  he  is  covered  with  sore  biles  from  the  sole  of  his 
foot  to  the  crown  of  his  head  ;  and  he  takes  a  pot- 
sherd to  scrape  himself  withal;  and  he  sits  among 
the  ashes.  But  his  lips  murmur  no  reflection  upon 
Providence.  And  when  his  wife,  amazed  at  his 
enduring,  asks,  "  Dost  thou  still  retain  thine  integri- 
ty 1  Curse  God  and  die,"  what  says  the  sufferer  ?- 
"  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the  Lord's  hand,  and 
shall  we  not  receive  evil  1  In  all  this  Job  sinned  not, 
nor  charged  God  foolishly."  A  friend  is  born  for 
adversity.  But  this  last  solace  fails  him,  and  his 
connections,  instead  of  soothing  him,  reproach  and 
condemn.  But  even  now  he  looks  up  and  cries — 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him." 

Was  he  then  perfect  in  the  trial?  He  bore  the 
proof;  and  was  evinced  to  be  gold.  But  he  was  not 
free  from  dross.  He  partially  failed  in  the  process 
—  and  even  cursed  the  day  of  his  birth.  And  he, 
even  he,  left  a  complete  example  to  be  furnished, 
by  one  who  was  fairer  than  the  children  of  men ; 
who  did  no  evil,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth ;  who,  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not 
again ;  when  he  suffered,  threatened  not ;  but  com- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


53 


mitted  himself  to  him  that  judgeth  righteously,  say- 
ing, "  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me;  nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done." 
When  the  prince  of  this  world  came,  even  in  his 
hour  and  power  of  darkness,  he  found  nothing  in 
him:  no  guilt  to  accuse  him  of;  no  corruption  to 
operate  upon.  Agitate  pure  water,  and  no  defile- 
ment will  appear;  but  let  the  sea  that  has  filthiness 
at  the  bottom  be  troubled,  and  however  clean  and 
clear  if  looks  above,  its  waves  will  cast  up  mire  and 
dirt.  Afflictions  are  to  the  soul,  like  the  rains  to  the 
house;  we  suspected  no  apertures  in  the  roof,  till 
the  droppings  through  told  the  tale.  The  effects  of 
these  trials,  therefore,  are  always  humbling  to  the 
Christian.  He  is  convinced  by  them  that  he  has 
much  less  grace  than  he  imagined:  he  is  often  ren- 
dered a  wonder  as  well  as  a  grief  to  himself.  "  I  lit- 
tle thought  I  was  so  proud,  till  I  was  required  to 
stoop;  or  so  impatient,  till  I  was  required  to  wait ; 
or  so  easily  provoked,  till  I  met  with  such  an  of- 
lence;  or  was  so  rooted  to  earth,  till  so  much  force 
was  exerted  to  delach  me  from  it."  Such  must  be 
the  language  of  every  attentive  and  faithful  self- 
observer,  when  he  reviews  the  trying  scenes  through 
which  he  has  passed.  We  resemble  the  birds;  they 
build  in  the  lovely  and  inviting  part  of  the  year; 
and  the  foliage  hides  their  nests;  but  in  the  winter, 
when  the  leaves  have  dropped  off,  their  nests  ap- 
pear. Our  retreats  and  delights  in  prosperity  are 
discovered  in  adversity:  and  many  a  passenger  can 
see  where  we  rested  when  we  made  not  God  our 
trust.  When  we  have,  with  the  Lord,  health,  and 
honor,  and  affluence,  and  friends;  it  is  not  easy  to 
determine  whether  we  are  making  him  or  these  our 
dependance  and  our  portion.  But  when  these  are 
removed,  the  case  is  decided.  If  we  were  relying 
upon  them,  we  sink;  but  if  while  we  were  using 
them,  we  were  cleaving  to  him,  our  support  will  re- 
main :  and  embracing  him  firmer  than  before,  we 
shall  break  through  every  despondence  and  say — 
"  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines;  the  labor  of  the  olive 
shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meal;  the 
flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall 
be  no  herd  in  the  stalls;  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation." 

Fourthly,  Instruction.  By  long  usage  affliction 
has  been  spoken  of  as  a  school.  It  is  indeed  a  dear 
one:  but  there  is  none  like  it.  In  this  lecture-room 
the  lessons  are  accompanied  with  experiments;  and 
the  great  Teacher,  by  facts  as  well  as  words,  says — 
":  There — There — See  what  an  evil  and  bitter  thing 
sin  is.  See  what  a  poor  and  vain  thing  the  world  is. 
See  how  it  attracts  its  votaries  to  show  its  empti- 
ness, and  elevates  only  to  depress.  See  what  a  pre- 
carious thing  friendship  is.  See  what  human  help- 
ers can  do  for  you.  Men  of  low  degree  are  vanity, 
and  men  of  high  degree  are  a  lie.  Cease  from  man, 
whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils  ;  for  wherein  is  he  to 
be  accounted  of?  Happy  is  he  that  hath  the  God 
of  Jacob  for  his  help,  whose  hope  is  in  the  Lord  his 
God:  which  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and 
all  that  therein  is;  which  keepeth  truth  for  ever." 

These  instances  appeal  to  the  conscience  as  well 
as  the  understanding.  They  serve  not  only  to  ex- 
plain the  subjects,  but  to  quicken  our  attention. — 
Thcv  produce  a  silence  in  the  mind;  a  solemnity 
of  sou! ;  asoftne  of  heart,  that  prepares  us  to  re- 
ceive divine  truth..  "  Then  heopeneth  the  ears  of 
men  and  sealeth  their  instruction.  These  are  the 
lessons  that  make  the  deepest  impression;  that  are 
the  most  easily  and  firmly  remembered;  that  are  the 
most  useful  and  profitable  in  their  effects. 

"  Blessed,"  says  David,  "  is  the  man  whom  thou 
chas'enest  and  teachest  out  of  thy  law."  Nor  did  he 
speak  from  reasoning  or  faith  only,  but  from  expe- 
rience: "  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflict- 


ed ;  that  I  might  learn  thy  statutes."  Luther  says, 
"I  never  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word,  til.  I  was 
afflicted."  "  We  fear,"  says  Bishop  Hall,  "  our  best 
friends;  for  my  part,  I  have  learned  more  of  God 
and  myself  in  one  week's  extremity,  than  the  pros- 
perity of  a  whole  life  had  taught  me  before." 

Lastly.  Usefulness.  Affliction  gives  a  man  the 
tongue  of  the  learned,  that  he  may  know  how  to 
speak  a  word  in  season  to  him  that  is  weary.  I'. 
produces  that  sympathy  which  arises  most  power- 
fully from  experience ;  and  which  indeed  can  hard- 
ly be  found  without  it.  In  vain  you  repair  in  the 
hour  of  trouble  to  those  who  never  knew  what  an 
anguish  meant.  They  will  not  listen  to  your  tale 
of  wo. — It  does  not  interest  them — they  do  not  un- 
derstand it — they  are  unacquainted  with  grief.  But 
he  who  has  borne  the  smart  himself,  will  not,  can- 
not, with  a  careless  mein  and  an  unfeeling  heart, 
listen  to  a  sufferer  who  cries,  "  Pity  me,  pity  me,  O 
ye,  my  friends,  for  the  hand  of  God  hath  touched 
me."  "  Be  kind,"  said  Moses  to  the  Jews,  "  be  kind 
to  strangers,  for  ye  know  the  heart  of  a  stranger; 
for  ye  were  strangers  in  a  strange  land."  In  this 
way,  the  Redeemer  himself  is  not  an  high-priest 
who  cannot  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  in- 
firmities; he  was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we 
are:  and  in  that  he  himself  hath  suffered  being 
tempted,  he  is  able  also  to  succor  them  that  are 
tempted. 

But  nothing  strikes  like  a  fact.  The  oak  scathed 
with  lightning  attracts  the  notice  of  passengers, 
more  than  all  the  other  trees  of  the  forest.  Trouble 
awakens  attention,  and  draws  forth  inquiry.  The 
Christian  is  never  so  well  circumstanced,  to  "  glori- 
fy the  Lord,  as  in  the  fires."  There  he  can  display 
the  tenderness  of  his  care,  the  truth  of  Lis  promise, 
the  excellency  of  the  gospel,  the  supports  of  divine 
grace.  In  the  review  of  mv  own  varied  intercourse 
with  society,  I  confess  nothing  so  vividly  and  pow- 
erfully affects  me,  as  what  I  recollect  to  have  met 
with  from  pious  individuals  exemplifying  the  spirit 
and  resources  of  Christianity  under  bodily  disease, 
and  the  losses,  and  bereavements,  and  disappoint- 
ments of  life.  O  when  I  have  visited  such  a  martyr 
— such  a  witness  for  God  ;  when  I  have  found  him 
standing  in  the  evil  day  like  a  rock  m  a  raging  cur- 
rent with  sunshine  on  his  brow;  when  !  Lave  ob- 
served him,  full  of  tribulation  in  the  world,  and  of 
peace  in  Christ — mourning  mure  for  his  sins  than 
his  sorrows— afraid  of  dishonoring  his  profession  by 
impatience  and  unbelief— more  concerned  to  have 
his  crosses  sanctified,  than  in  have  them  removed — 
turning  a  fearful  eye  towards  the  Infiictor,  and  say- 
ing, "I  know,  OLord,  that  thy  judgments  are  right, 
and  that  thou  in  faithfulness  hast  inflicted  me;  just 
and  true  are  all  thy  ways,  0  thou  King  of  saints — 
He  hath  done  all  things  well"— when  I  have  wit- 
nessed religion — and  I  have  witnessed  it — accom- 
plishing achievements  like  these,  I  have  said  to  it 
as  I  withdrew,  "  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing 
of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  secth  thee." 

As  the  sky  is  only  decked  with  stars  in  the 
night,  so  the  Christian  shines  most  in  the  darkness 
of  affliction;  and  by  nothing  is  he  so  impressive  as 
by  the  exercise  of  the  passive  graces.  And  this 
should  reconcile  you  to  the  will  of  God  in  your  suf- 
ferings. You  are  not  to  be  selfish.  You  are  not  de- 
tached individuals  ;  but  parts  of  a  community,  civil 
and  religious.  And  you  should  think  yourselves 
honored  and  happy  in  serving  your  generation; 
and  the  manner  in  which  you  are  to  serve  it,  you 
are  to  leave  to  God.  People  sometimes  express  a 
wish  to  be  useful:  but  it  must  be  in  their  own  way. 
They  wish  to  do  something,  but  their  meaning  is, 
to  do  something  that  is  public  and  striking;  origi- 
nating, perhaps,  some  institution,  or  heading  some 
new  party— doing  something  that  excites  notice  anvi 


54 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


noise.  Here  the  motive  may  be  good,  but  it  should 
be  peculiarly  examined;  for  exertions  of  this  kind 
fall  in  with  the  principles  of  our  nature,  the  love  of 
action  and  the  desire  of  fame.  "But  they  also  serve 
that  wait."  And  they  also  serve  that  suffer.  You 
may  be  called  to  retire  rather  than  to  act.  You  may 
be  usefully  employed  in  the  quiet  duties  of  domestic 
life,  or  in  the  soberness  and  sameness  of  business. 
Yea,  you  may  be  detached  from  your  callings,  and 
be  confined  by  accident  or  sickness,  and  have  not 
only  wearisome  nights,  but  months  of  vanity  ap- 
pointed you.  So  you  may  deem  them — and  sup- 
pose that  you  are  going  to  be  laid  aside,  when  you 
are  perhaps  approaching  the  most  profitable  portion 
of  your  lives.  For  there,  in  the  house,  of  affliction, 
and  on  the  bed  of  languishing;  there,  the  minister 
who  visits  you  shall  be  taught  how  to  preach ;  your 
fellow-christians  shall  be  edified ;  the  young  convert 
shall  be  encouraged  and  confirmed;  the  careless 
neighbor  shall  be  impressed  —  or,  even  in  the 
want  of  human  observers,  who  can  tell  but  other 
witnesses  may  look  down  and  adore  the  displays  of 
divine  grace  in  your  sufferings,  and  glorify  God  in 
you.  For  we  are  "  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  to  an- 
gels, and  to  men." 

II.  In  the  day  of  adversity  consider  your  re- 
lief. 

This  is  necessary  to  support  your  hope,  and  to 
keep  you  from  being  swallowed  rip  of  over-much 
sorrow.  You  may  feel.  You  must  feel.  "No 
chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but 
grievous."  It  does  not  depend  upon  us  to  be  unaf- 
fected with  certain  events.  We  are  made  suscepti- 
ble of  pain,  and  of  sorrow :  religion  cannot  require 
us  to  attempt  to  throw  off  our  nature,  and  to  say  to 
our  Maker,  "Why  hast  thou  made  me  thusl" — 
There  is  no  giving  up  what  we  do  not  prize;  no 
bearing  what  we  do  not  feel;  no  enduring  what  we 
do  not  suffer.  Correction  is  founded  on  our  aver- 
sion to  misery;  and  without  the  sensibility,  the  dis- 
cipline cannot  answer  any  of  the  moral  purposes 
for  which  it  is  designed;  all  of  which  are  included 
in  our  being  made  perfect  through  suffering. 

Yet  there  is  an  extreme  on  the  right  hand,  as  well 
as  on  the  left.  As  we  are  not  apt  to  "  despise  the 
chastening  of  the  Lord,"  so  neither  are  we  to  "  faint 
when  we  are  rebuked  of  him."  To  the  upright 
there  ariseth  light  in  the  darkness :  and  he  has  re- 
sources which  are  not  only  sufficient  to  moderate 
his  sorrow,  but  even  to  turn  his  sorrow  into  joy. 
This  is  the  high  ground  we  take  for  a  suffering 
Christian;  to  " glorify  also  in  tribulation;"  and  to 
"  count  it  all  joy  when"  he  falls  "  into  divers  tempt- 
ations." We  are  far  from  saying  that  he  always 
can  do  this  actually:  but  we  are  not  to  take  his 
duty  from  his  experience;  but  to  endeavor  to  bring 
his  experience  to  his  duty.  What  is  not  invariably 
his  attainment,  should  be  constantly  his  aim.  To 
aid  you  in  aspiring  after  this  distinction, 

Consider,  First,  That  your  afflictions  are  not  pe- 
culiar. "  The  same  afflictions  are  accomplished  in 
your  brethren  who  are  in  the  world."  And  will  you 
refuse  to  drink  of  the  cup  they  drink  of,  and  to  be 
baptized  with  the  baptism  they  are  baptized  withl 
Is  Providence  in  your  case  to  deviate  from  the 
treatment  of  all  the  other  branches  of  the  house- 
hold of  faith'?  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasten- 
eth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth." 
To  which  of  the  saints  in  Scripture  or  in  history 
will  you  turn,  in  refutation  of  this  decision  1  "What 
son  is  he  whom  the  Father  chasteneth  notl"  In 
vain  you  allege  that  you  are  acquainted  with  per- 
sons truly  godly  who  are"  not  afflicted.  It  is  no  easy 
thing  to  determine  who  are  truly  godly.  Besides — 
Have  they  not  been  afflicted  1     Will  they  not  be  af- 


flicted'? Arc  you  sure  they  are  not  afflicted  even 
now?  The  rod  is  not  always  composed  of  the  same 
twigs.  There  are  griefs  relative  as  well  as  per- 
sonal ;  mental  as  well  as  corporeal ;  imaginary  as 
well  as  real;  invisible  as  well  as  apparent.  "The 
heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness."  There  are  crosses 
which  cannot  be  displayed.  There  are  groanings 
which  cannot  be  uttered — He  sitteth  alone  and  keep 
eth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him — 

"  The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown. 
No  traveller  e'er  reached  that  blest  abode, 
Who  found  not  thorns  and  briers  in  his  road. 
The  world  may  dance  along  the  flowery  plain, 
Cheered  as  they  go  by  many  a  sprightly  strain; 
Where  Nature  has  her  mossy  velvet  spread 
With  unshod  feet  they  yet  securely  tread : 
Admonished,  scorn  the  caution  and  the  friend; 
Bent  upon  pleasure,  heedless  of  its  end. 
But  He  who  knew  what  human  hearts  would 

prove, 
How  slow  to  learn  the  dictates  of  his  love; 
That,  hard  by  nature,  and  of  stubborn  will, 
A  life  of  ease  would  make  them  harder  still; 
In  pity  to  the  sinners  he  designed 
To  rescue  from  the  ruins  of  mankind, 
Called  for  a  cloud  to  darken  all  their  years, 
And  said,  'Go,  spend  them  in  the  vale  of  tears.' " 

Secondly,  Consider  that  they  are  not  casual.  Do 
our  fellow-creatures  oppose  and  injure  us1?  They 
always  act  freely,  and  often  criminally ;  yet  we  are 
not  left  to  the  vices  and  passions  of  men.  They 
could  have  no  power  at  all  against  us  except  it  were 
given  them  from  above.  Nothing  in  any  of  our  suf- 
ferings occurs  by  chance — there  is  no  such  divinity 
in  the  universe.  Occurrences  may  be  accidental 
and  contingent  with  regard  to  us,  who  are  not  ac- 
quainted with  the  plan  to  be  executed  and  develop- 
ed :  but  they  are  not  so  with  regard  to  him  who  sees 
the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  worketh  all  things 
after  the  counsel  of  his  own  will.  What  takes  place 
without  him'?  "I  form  the  light,  and  create  dark- 
ness ;  I  make  peace  and  create  evil.  I  the  Lord  do 
all  these  things."  And  he  strikes  no  random  blows. 
"  He  performeth  the  thing  that  is  appointed  for  us:" 
and  the  appointment  is  made  by  one  who  has  not 
only  a  right  to  ordain,  but  who  cannot  pervert  jus- 
tice ;  who  is  too  wise  to  err  ;  and  who  loved  us  so 
as  not  to  spare  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up 
for  us  all.  We  are  allowed,  we  are  required  to  cast 
all  our  care  on  him,  with  the  assurance  that  he 
careth  for  us.  And  is  not  his  attention,  his  solici- 
tude— how  condescending  is  God  in  his  language — 
sufficient  to  relieve  our  minds  1  How  delightful  is 
it  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  great  Teacher,  and  hear 
him  discourse  on  the  doctrine  of  Providence.  Here 
we  have  nothing  of  the  language  of  infidel  philoso- 
phy. He  does  not  represent  the  Supreme  Being  as 
occupied  with  worlds  and  whole  systems,  but  over- 
looking individuals,  and  minute  concerns — he  did 
not  suppose  the  Supreme  Being  capable  of  perplex- 
ity and  fatigue — he  did  not  think  any  thing  too  hard 
for  infinite  wisdom  and  power — he  did  not  think  it 
beneath  God  to  govern  what,  was  not  beneath  him 
to  create.  Among  men,  an  attention  to  little  things 
prevents  an  attention  to  great  things ;  and  an  at- 
tention to  great  things  prevents  an  attention  to  little 
ones;  and  no  one  can  equally  regard  all  the  claims 
of  the  province  of  government  he  fills,  however 
limited  it  may  be.  But,  says  Jesus,  "  He  maketh 
his  sun  to  rise  ;  and,  he  "  sends  forth  his  angels  ;" 
and  "  a  sparrow  falls  not  to  the  ground  without 
your  heavenly  Father ;  and  the  hairs  of  your  head 
are  all  numbered."  "  Are  ye  not  of  more  value 
than  many  sparrows  V    "  Behold  the  fowls  of  the 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


air :  for  they  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap,  nor 
gather  into  barns ;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feed- 
eth  them.  Are  ye  not  much  better  than  theyl  And 
why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  1  Consider  the 
lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow  :  they  toil  not, 
neither  do  they  spin :  and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that 
even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like 
one  of  these.  Wherefore,  if  God  so  clothe  the  grass 
of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast 
into  the  oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you, 

0  ye  of  little  faith  '?" 

Exclude  this  doctrine,  and  God  is  a  God  afar  off; 
there  is  no  foundation  for  conn  lence  ;  there  is  no 
excitement  to  devotion  :  in  the  darkness  of  my  per- 
plexities and  difficulties,  I  grope  around,  and  can 
feel  nothing  to  support  me.  But  by  realizing  his 
superintending  agency,  I  bring  him  near  ;  and  by 
his  presence  fill  svhat  otherwise  would  be  an  awful 
and  irksome  void.  He  hears  prayer.  His  interpo- 
sition is  attainable.  By  being  connected  with  God, 
every  place  is  rendered  holy,  every  object  interest- 
ing; every  comfort  is  enriched,  and  every  trial  is 
softened.  This  principle  I  take  with  me  into  every 
allotment,  every  circumstance  ;  and  say,  "  the  cup 
which  my  Father  giveth  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it'? 
It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him  good. 

1  will  cry  unto  God  most  high,  unto  God  who  per- 
formeth  all  things  for  me." 

Thirdly,  Consider  that  they  are  not  penal.  "When 
the  Israelites  came  to  Marah,  they  could  not  drink 
of  the  waters,  for  they  were  bitter.  "And  Moses 
cried  unto  the  Lord;  and  the  Lord  showed  him  a 
tree,  which  when  he  had  cast  into  the  waters,  the 
waters  were  made  sweet."  If  this  was  not  designed 
to  be  a  type,  it  yields  us  a  striking  allusion. 

"  Bitter  indeed  the  waters  are 
Which  in  this  desert  flow; 
Though  to  the  eye  they  promise  fair, 
They  taste  of  sin  and  wo." 

What  is  the  cure  1    The  Cross — 

"  The  Cross  on  which  the  Saviour  hung, 
And  conquered  for  his  saints, — 
This  is  the  tree,  by  faith  applied, 
That  sweetens  all  complaints. 

Thousands  have  found  the  blest  effect, 

Nor  longer  mourn  their  lot : 
While  on  his  sorrows  they  reflect, 

Their  own  are  all  forgot." 

If  the  burden  of  sin  be  removed,  whatever  else 
is  laid  on  us  will  be  felt  to  be  light.  And  surely  he 
hath  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows. 
The  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and 
by  his  stripes  we  are  healed.  Hence  though  his 
sufferings  do  not  secure  us  from  suffering,  they 
change  the  nature  and  design  of  our  afflictions ;  so 
that,  instead  of  their  being  punishments,  they  are 
corrections;  and  are  inflicted  not  by  the  sword  of 
the  Judge,  but  by  the  rod  of  a  Father.  The  be- 
liever may  sometimes  misapprehend  them,  and  fear- 
ful of  their  being  the  messengers  of  justice,  may 
say  unto  God,  Do  not  condemn  me.  But  the  appre- 
hension is  groundless.  We  are  chastened  of  the 
Lord,  that  we  may  not  be  condemned  with  the  world. 
For  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are  in 
Christ  Jesus.  He  has  releemed  them  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  having  been  made  a  curse  for 
them.  And  being  now  justified  by  his  blood,  they 
shall  be  saved  from  wrath  through  him.  This  is 
the  rest  wherewith  we  are  to  cause  the  uneasy  to 
rest ;  and  this  is  the  refreshing.  He  was  angry 
with  us,  but  his  anger  is  turned  away :  and  he  com- 
ic rteth  us.  And  not  only  so,  but  we  also  joy  through 
cur  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  we  have  now  re- 
ceived the  atonement. 


Fourthly,  Consider  that  they  are  not  unalloyed. 
The  apostle  seems  to  enjoin  too  much,  when  he  says, 
"  In  every  thing  give  thanks."  But  there  is  a  rea- 
son for  it.  Take  your  condition,  however  trying. 
Has  if.  no  alleviations'?  Let  candor,  let  gratitude, 
let  truth  examine  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  Is 
there  nothing  in  the  lime?  nothing  in  the  place? 
nothing  in  the  manner"?  nothing  in  the  subject  of 
affliction,  that  serves  to  soften  its  pressure!  Do 
you  believe  that  it  might  not  have  been  worse" 
"  Hath  he  smitten  him,  as  he  smote  those  that  smote 
him  1  or  is  he  slain  according  to  the  slaughter  of 
them  that  are  slain  by  him!  In  measure,  when  it 
shooteth  forth,  thou  wilt  debate  with  it.  He  stayeth 
his  rough  wind  in  the  day  of  the  east  wind."  Take 
your  case  and  lay  it  by  the  side  of  your  desert. 
What  would  you  have  suffered  had  he  dealt  with 
you  after  your  sins,  or  rewarded  you  according  to 
your  iniquities'?  Place  it  by  the  side  of  the  condi- 
tion of  others.  You  have  lost  much  of  your  sub- 
stance: but  they  have  nothing  left.  You  have 
buried  one  of  your  children;  the  grave  has  written 
them  childless  in  the  earth.  You  walk  upon  crutch- 
es; they  are  bed-ridden.  You  have  months  of  va- 
nity; but  they  have  wearisome  nights,  and  the  mul- 
titude of  their  bones  is  filled  with  strong  pain.  But 
O  think  of  the  Saviour.  Think  of  his  dignity:  oi 
his  preceding  state;  of  his  innocency.  We  suffer 
justly,  for  we  suffer  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds  ; 
but  this  Man  has  done  nothing  amiss.  Yet  see  him. 
You  suffer  partially;  he  suffered  in  every  part  that 
was  capable  of  passion.  You  suffer  occasionally; 
and,  for  hours  and  days  of  pain,  you  have  weeks 
and  months  of  ease  and  pleasure;  his  sufferings 
reached  from  the  manger  to  the  cross:  "  He  was  a 
man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief."  Your 
sufferings  are  unforeseen ;  his  were  known  from  the 
beginning ;  and  he  bore  them  in  prospect  before  he 
endured  them  in  reality.  And  whose  tongue  can 
express,  whose  imagination  can  conceive,  what  he 
endured  when  he  began  to  be  sore  amazed  and  very 
heavy  1  when  his  soul  was  exceeding  sorrowful 
even  unto  death  1  when  his  sweat  was  as  it  were 
great  drops  of  blood,  falling  to  the  ground'?  when 
he  exclaimed,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me  V 

"  Now  let  our  pains  be  all  forgot, 
Our  hearts  no  more  repine: 
Our  sufferings  are  not  worth  a  thought, 
When,  Lord,  compared  with  thine." 

Fifthly,  Consider  that  you  are  not  to  bear  them 
alone.  For  he  hath  said,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee, 
nor  forsake  thee."  This  is  a  general  promise,  and 
necessarily  includes  every  particular  case.  But 
knowing  the  anxieties  and  forebodings  of  the  heart, 
he  has  been  pleased  to  issue  particular  assurances 
with  regard  to  the  hour  of  'suffering.  "  I  will  be 
with  thee  in  trouble."  "  When  thou  passest  through 
the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee ;  and  through  the 
rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee;  when  thou 
walkest  through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be  burnt; 
neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  thee."  Herein 
his  conduct  forms  a  contrast  with  the  friendship  of 
others.  A  friend  is  born  for  adversity ;  but  he  oftener 
raises  expectations  than  realizes  them.  And  Solo- 
mon tells  us,  that  "  confidence  in  an  unfaithful  man 
in  the  time  of  trouble  is  like  a  broken  tooth,  or  a 
foot  out  of  joint."  These  are  more  than  useless. — 
You  attempt  to  use  them,  and  they  not  only  fail, 
but  make  you  writhe  with  pain.  "  To  him  "that  is 
afflicted,  pity  should  be  showed  of  his  friend  ;  but 
he  forsaketh  the  fear  of  the  Almighty."  Job  found 
it  so,  and  said,  "  My  brethren  have  dealt  deceitfully 
as  a  brook,  and  as  the  stream  of  brooks  that  pass 
away."  Paul  found  it  so  :  and  though  the  brethren 
came  to  mee-t  him,  when  he  was  going  to  Rome  to 


56 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED 


appeal  unto  Ccesar,  as  far  as  Appii  Forum  and  the 
Three  Taverns,  he  complains,  "  At  my  first  answer 
no  man  stood  by  me,  but  all  men  forsook  me."  But 
he  adds,  "  Notwithstanding  the  Lord  stood  by  me 
and  strengthened  me."  He  is  true,  whoever  is 
treacherous  :  whoever  fails,  he  is  faithful.  To  this, 
Latimer  testified  in  his  last  moments.  Being  fast- 
ened to  the  stake,  and  the  fire  just  about  to  be  kin- 
dled, he  turned  a  heavenly  countenance  towards  his 
fellow-sufferer,  and  said,  "  God  is  faithful,  who 
will  not  suffer  us  to  be  tempted  above  that  we  are 
able."  While  Ridley  answered,  "Yes,  be  of  good 
cheer,  brother ;  he  will  abate  the  fury  of  the  flames, 
or  give  us  strength  to  abide  them."  Spilsbury  had 
suffered  for  conscience'  sake,  and  had  been  released 
from  his  confinement.  But  when  apprehended  a 
second  time,  he  said,  seeing  his  wife  and  children 
weeping,  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  go  to  prison  now — I 
found  God  there  the  first  time."  In  his  flight  and 
dreariness,  the  vision  at  Bethel  was  a  privilege  be- 
yond all  Jacob's  expectation  and  thought.  Driven 
from  home,  and  travelling  alone  :  having  no  guide 
to  direct  him,  no  defender  to  protect  him,  no  asso- 
ciate to  soothe  his  mind  by  communion  ;  a  forlorn 
vouth,  ruminating  on  his  sad  condition,  and  con- 
flicting with  those  fears  which  attend  uncertain 
events — he  lights  on  a  certain  place,  and  tarries 
there  all  night,  because  the  sun  was  set.  The  dark- 
ness was  his  curtains,  the  ground  his  bed,  and  a 
stone  his  pillow.  There  he  fails  asleep,  and  sees 
and  hears  what  encouraged  him  to  the  last  moment 
of  life.  But  said  he  in  the  morning,  "  Surely  God 
is  in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  not."  This  ignorance 
and  surprise  serve  to  represent  the  apprehensions 
of  many  of  the  people  of  God  :  they  seem  to  think 
they  shall  be  found  deserted  in  such  situations  and 
difficulties.  But  he  is  better  than  their  fears;  he 
surpasses  even  their  hopes.  He  is  there,  and  no 
sooner  do  they  call,  than  he  answers,  "  Here  I  am." 
Yea,  he  is  not  only  with  them  really,  but  pecu- 
liarly in  the  day  of  trouble.  "  As  one  whom  his 
mother  comforteth,"  says  he,  "  so  will  I  comfort 
you;  and  ye  shall  be  comforted  in  Jerusalem." — 
The  anxious,  tender  mother,  regards  all  her  off- 
spring ;  but  she  is  most  concerned  for  the  poor  weak- 
ly, sickly  child.  The  knee,  the  bosom  is  for  him; 
for  him  is  the  prepared  delicacy,  and  the  noiseless 
room,  and  the  breathless  step,  and  the  frequent 
watching  and  leaning  over  the  bed  of  languishing, 
and  the  entreated  reception  of  the  offensive  draught, 
accompanied  with  the  sincere  assurance,  "  Ah,  my 
darling  child,  how  gladly  would  I  take  it  for  thee." 
And  thus  it  is  with  his  afflicted  people.  They  have 
their  special  privileges.  As  their  day,  so  their 
strength  is  ;  and  as  the  sufferings  of  Christ  abound 
in  them,  the  consolation  also  aboundeth  by  Christ : 
and  thousands  can  testify  that  they  have  had  clearer 
discoveries,  richer  communications,  and  tenderer 
supports  under  their  trials  than  they  ever  experienc- 
ed in  seasons  of  ease  and  prosperity.  What  want 
we  more  1  "  God,"  says  the  Church,  "  is  our  re- 
fuge and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble  : 
therefore  will  not  we  fear,  though  the  earth  be  re- 
moved, and  though  the  mountains  be  carried  into 
the  midst  of  the  sea ;  though  the  waters  thereof  roar 
and  be  troubled,  though  the  mountains  shake  with 
the  swelling  thereof."  No  creature  can  be  a  sub- 
stitute for  him  ;  but  he  is  more  than  a  substitute  for 
every  creature  :  and  his  presence  peoples  and  fer- 
tilizes and  gladdens  the  gloomiest  desert :  "  I  will 
allure  her,  and  bring  her  into  the  wilderness,  and 
there  will  I  speak  comfortably  unto  her.  And  I  will 
give  her  her  vineyards  from  thence :  and  the  val- 
ley of  Achor  for  a  door  of  hope  ;  and  she  shall  sing 
there."  The  lamp  cannot  supply  the  place  of  the 
sun ;  but  you  have  no  reason  to  complain,  if  you  can 
say,  with  Mrs.  Rowe, 


"  Thou  dost  but  take  the  lamp  away. 
To  bless  we  with  unclouded  day." 

If  we  faint  in  the  day  of  adversity,  it  is  by  losing 
sight  of  him  whose  grace  is  always  sufficient  for  us. 
We  resemble  Peter.  "  Come,"  said  our  Saviour 
"  And  when  he  was  come  down  out  of  the  ship,  he 
walketh  upon  the  water,  to  go  to  Jesus.  But  when 
he  saw  the  wind  boisterous,  he  was  afraid,  and  be- 
ginning to  sink,  he  cried,  Lord,  save  me."  Ah, 
said  Jesus,  you  should  have  looked  not  at  the  waves, 
but  at  me.  Am  not  I  here  1  Within  sight  1  with- 
in reach  7  "  And  immediately  Jesus  stretched  forth 
his  hand,  and  caught  him  ;  and  said  unto  him,  O 
thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  1" — 
How  sublime  is  the  exclamation  of  Doddridge  ;  but 
it  is  founded  in  reason  and  truth— make  it,  Christian, 
whatever  threatens,  your  own— 

"  If  thou,  my  Jesus,  still  art  nigh, 
Cheerful  I  live,  and  cheerful  die  ; 
Secure,  when  mortal  comforts  flee, 
To  find  ten  thousand  worlds  in  thee !" 

Lastly,  Consider  that  you  are  not  to  endure  them 
always.  "  For  there  is  an  end,  and  thy  expectation 
shall  not  be  cut  off."  That  end  in  certain.  Siseria's 
mother  anxiously  waited  at  the  window  for  the  ar- 
rival of  her  son,  but  he  never  came.  The  warrior 
has  confidently  reckoned  upon  a  victory,  which  he 
never  obtained;  and  the  mariner  has  been  ready  to 
hail  a  desired  haven,  which  he  never  reached. — 
"  We  looked,"  said  the  disappointed  Jews,  "  for 
light,  and  behold  darkness;  for  peace,  and  behold 
trouble."  But,  O  Christian,  there  is  hope  in  thy 
end — a  hope  that  cannot  make  ashamed.  Thy  re- 
lease from  sorrow  is  as  sure  as  the  purpose,  the 
promise,  the  covenant,  the  oath  of  God  can  render 
it.  That  end  is  near,  "  Yet  a  little  while,  and  he 
that  shall  come,  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry."  If 
your  cross  be  heavy,  you  have  not  to  carry  it  far. — 
If  life  be  short,  trouble  cannot  be  long.  When  a 
few  years  are  come,  you  will  go  the  way  whence 
you  will  not  return.  It  may  be  much  less.  A  few 
months;  a  few  weeks;  a  few  days  more;  and  all 
will  be  peace,  all  will  be  quietness,  all  will  be  as- 
surance for  ever.  The  sacred  writers  love  to  di- 
minish the  period.  In  one  place  they  tell  us,  "  weep- 
ing may  endure  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing." In  another,  that  these  "  light  afflictions  are 
but  for  a  moment."  In  a  third,  that  "  for  a  small 
moment  we  are  forsaken."  So,  and  no  more  is  it 
in  the  estimation  of  faith,  and  compared  with  eter- 
nity. That  end  is  blessed  and  glorious.  No  power 
of  description  or  thought  can  do  it  justice.  It  will 
bring  a  full  development  of  all  the  trying  dispensa- 
tions through  which  you  have  passed.  You  shall 
no  longer  walk  by  faith,  but  by  sight.  You  shall 
see  that  his  work  is  perfect,  and  his  ways  judgment. 
You  shall  see  how  the  most  adverse  providences 
were  essential  to  your  welfare;  and  not  only  feel- 
ing satisfied,  but  filled  with  wonder  and  gratitude, 
you  will  be  able  to  say, 

"  Amidst  my  list  of  blessings  infinite, 
Stands  this  the  foremost,  that  my  heart  has  bled. 
For  all,  I  bless  thee  ;  most  for  the  severe." 

What  was  Canaan  to  the  Jews,  after  all  the  bond- 
age of  Egypt,  and  the  travels  and  privations  of  trie 
desert ;  what  was  that  land  flowing  with  milk  ami 
honey,  that  rest  which  the  Lord  their  God  ga  e 
them,  compared  with  the  rest  that  remains  for  tie 
people  of  God— that  better,  that  heavenly  country  • 
What  a  complete,  what  an  eternal  discharge  !  Of 
all  your  sufferings,  nothing  will  remain  but  the  re- 
membrance, andthis  will  enhance  the  deliverance ; 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


57 


and  "  the  greater  the  sorrow,  the  louderyou'll  sing." 
The  shadow  of  care,  of  sorrow,  of  fear,  shall  never 

tiir  over  those  regions  of  repose  and  blessedness. — 
•'  Thy  -mi  shall  no  more  go  down;  neither  shall 
thy  moon  withdraw  itself:  for  the  Lord  shall  be 
thine  everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of  thy  mourn- 
ing shi  ed."  I  could  go  on  repeating  Scrip- 
ture, for  it  loves  to  dwell  upon  (his  subject;  but  I 
will  conclude  this  reference  with  two  passages. — 
The  one  is,  the  t  -  im  my  of  the  apostle  Paul.  Pie 
spoke  from  experience.  No  one  had  suffered  more  ; 
and  he  had  been  in  the  third  heaven.  But  hear 
him  :  "  I  reck  m  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed  in  us.-'  The  other  is  the  ad- 
dress ol  ■  ;  1  to  John  in  the  Revelation^  words 
which  Earns,  the  poet,  says  he  could  never,  from  a 
child,  read  without  tears — so  allied  is  the  tenderness 
of  genius  to  the  sentiments  of  piety.  "  He  said  unto 
me,  what  are  these  which  are  arrayed  in  white 
robes  1  and  whence  came  they  1  And  1  said  unto 
him,  Sir,  thou  Imowest.  And  he  said  unto  me, 
these  are  they  which  came  out  of  great  tribulation, 
and  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they  be- 
fore the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  him  day  and  night 
in  his  temple  :  and  he  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall 
dwell  among  them.  They  shall  hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more,  neither  shall  the  sun  light 
on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and  shall 
lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters  ;  and  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

Alert  and  brethren,  you  have  often  heard  it  said, 
"The  end  crowns  the  action."  "All  is  well,  that 
ends  well."  Now  religion  has  this  recommenda- 
tion. We  are  far  from  denying  its  present  advan- 
tages ;  for  we  know  from  Scripture  and  observation 
and  experience,  that  it  is  profitable  nnto  all  things, 
and  has  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as 
of  that  which  is  to  come.  But  allowing  that  it  were 
all  gloom,  and  self-denial,  and  sacrifice,  and  suffer- 
ing here  ;  yet  "  mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold 
the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that  mart  is  peace."  The 
happiness  in  -which  it  terminates,  infinitely  more 
than  indemnifies  and  recompenses  all  the  hardships 
and  trials  of  the  passage.  Even  Balaam  confessed 
this ;  and  prayed,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

What  a  difference  between  the  Christian  and 
others  !  Both  are  advancing  towards  the  close  of 
life;  but  they  are  leaving  their  good  things,  and  he 
his  evil  ones.  Both  will  soon  bid  an  eternal  fare- 
well ;  but  they  to  their  joys,  and  he  to  his  sorrows. 
They  at  death  will  plunsre  into  "  the  blackness  of 
darkness  for  ever;"  while  he  will  reach  "  the  in- 
heritance of  the  saints  in  light." 

— So  reasonable  is  the  Christian's  resignation  ; 
and  so  well  founded  is  the  Christian's  hope,  with 
regard  to  affliction. 

— "  But  what  has  such  a  subject  as  this  to  do  with 
me1?  I  am  not  in  trouble."  Then  I  tremble  for 
you.  We  know  of  whom  David  speaks,  when  he 
says,  "  They  are  not  in  trouble  as  other  men :  neither 
are  they  plagued  like  other  men."  And  we  know 
who  has  said,  "Because  they  have  no  changes, 
therefore  they  fear  not  God."  But  if  you  are  not 
afflicted,  you  soon  may  be.  Every  thing  here  is  un- 
certain. How  often  is  the  lamp  of  the  wicked  put 
out.  Truth  whispers,  "  Truly  the  light  is  sweet, 
and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the 
sun:  but  if  a  man  live  many  years,  and  rejoice  in 
them  all,  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of  dark- 
ness, for  they  shall  be  many.  All  that  cometh  is 
vanity  "  Is  it  not  therefore  wise  to  provide  against 
what  is  possible,  what  is  probable — yea,  I  will  add, 
unavoidable  1    '■  A  prudent  man  forseeth  the  evil, 


and  hideth  himself;  but  the  simple  pass  wii,  and  are 
punished."  But  are  von  sure  you  are  not  afflicted 
even  now]  In  the  midst  of  your  suffici-mcy,  are 
you  not  in  straits]  In  all  your  successes,  do  you 
not  feel  a  cold  aching  void  within,  still  urging  you 
to  ask,  "  Who  will  show  us  any  good!"  While 
you  walk  according  to  the  course  of  the  world,  do 
you  no;  complain  of  the  poverty  of  its  pleasures, 
and,  the  falseness  of  is  resourcesl  Are  yon  not 
dissatisfied  with  all  creatine  enjoyments'?  Is  there 
not  a  constant  war  between  your  inclinations  and 
convictions'?  Does  not  conscience  often  condemn 
youl  Have  you  not  your  forebodings  of  the  fu- 
ture] Do  you  never  think  of  the  infirmities  of  ap- 
proaching years;  of  the  house  appointed  for  all 
living;  of  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ] 

Perhaps  at  this  very  moment  you  are  not  strang- 
ers to  a  wish  that  you  had  never  been  born.  Colo- 
nel Gardiner  tells  us,  "that  while  he  was  keeping 
up  every  gay  appearance,  and  was  envied  as  the 
happiest  of  mortals,  he  would  gladly  have  ex- 
changed conditions  with  a  dog."  "There  is  no 
peace,  saith  my  God,  unto  the  wicked." 

— But  here  are  some,  here  are  many  before  me 
who  are  in  trouble.  For  the  days  are  evil ;  and  the 
cup  is  going  round;  and  what  family,  what  indivi- 
dual is  not  called  to  taste  the  bitterness,  if  not  to 
drink  the  very  dregs]  I  do  not  ask  you  what  your 
trials  are;  but  I  must  inquire,  what  are  you  doing 
under  them  ]  Are  you  despising  the  chastening  of 
the  Lord,  or  are  you  fainting  now  you  are  rebuked 
of  him  1 — Unsanctified  trouble  always  produces  one 
of  these:  it  always  hardens  the  sufferer  against 
God,  or  sinks  him  into  despondency. 

Is  the  former  of  these  your  ease  ]  Are  you  one 
of  those,  who,  when  he  arrays  himself  against 
them,  instead  of  submitting,  "rush  upon  the  thick 
bosses  of  his  buckler;"  and  "fl'^lit  against  God  1" 
Are  you  like  Ahaz,  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  in  his  af- 
fliction  he  sinned  yet  more  and  more  against  God — 
This  is  that  Ahaz!"  It  was  an  awful  appeal  that 
Jeremiah  made  to  God,  concerning  many  of  his 
hearers.  Must  3rour  preacher  prefer  the  same  ]  "  O 
Lord,  are  not  thine  eyes  upon  the  truth]  Thou 
hasl  stricken  them,  but  they  have  not  grieved  ;  thou 
hast  consumed  them,  but  they  ha^e  refused  to  re- 
ceive correction ;  they  have  made  their  faces  harder 
than  a  rock;  they  have  refused  to  return."  If  this 
be  the  case,  faithfulness  requires  me  to  tell  you  that 
one  of  these  two  consequences  will  be  sure  to  fol- 
low. That  is — either  God,  provoked  by  your  con- 
tempt of  his  correction,  will  cease  to  disturb  you, 
and  recallingthe  instruments  of  his  discipline,  will 
say,  "They  are  joined  to  idols,  let.  them  alone;" 
or  he  will  turn  the  rod  into  a  scorpion,  and  fulfil  the 
threatening,  "  If  ye  walk  contrary  to  me,  I  also  will 
walk  contrary  to  yon,  and  punish  you  seven  times 
for  your  iniquity."  Thus  the  blow  first  affects  the 
man's  property.  Then  it  strikes  a  remoter  relation. 
Then  it  takes  away  the  desire  of  his  eyes.  Then 
it  invades  his  own  person,  and  shakes  him  by  dis- 
order over  the  pit — and  he  recovers — and  turns 
again  to  folly.  At  length,  having  been  often  re- 
proved, and  hardening  his  neck,  he  is  suddenly  de- 
stroyed, and  that  without  remedy.  Are  none  of 
you  in  danger  of  this]  Are  there  not  some  of  you 
who  have  not  only  been  addressed  by  him,  and  fre- 
quently addressed;  but  also  have  been  smitten  by 
him,  and  awfully  too;  so  that  it  would  have  seemed 
impossible  for  you  to  stand  out.  "  I  have  overthrown 
some  of  you,  as  God  overthrew  Sodom  and  Gomor- 
rah, and  ye  were  as  a  firebrand  plucked  out  of  the 
burning:  yet  have  ye  not  returned  unto  me,  saith 
the  Lord.  "Therefore  thus  will  I  do  unto  thee,  O  Is- 
rael: and  because  I  will  do  this  unto  thee,  prepare 
to  meet  thy  God,  O  Israel."  But  canst  thou  stand 
before  him!    Can  thy  heart  endure,  or  thy  hand  b» 


b8 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


strong,  when  he  shall  deal  with  thee'!  How  much 
better  to  be  in  subjection  to  the  Father  of  spirits, 
ana  live!  Then  will  his  repentings  be  kindled  to- 
gether. Then  will  he  say,  "  I  have  surely  heard 
Epb-aim  bemoaning  himself  thus:  Thou  hast  chas- 
tised me,  and  I  was  chastised,  as  a  bullock  unac- 
customed to  the  yoke:  turn  thou  me,  and  I  shall  be 
turned;  for  thou  art  the  Lord  my  God.  Surely  af- 
ter that  I  was  turned,  I  repented :  and  after  that  I 
was  instructed,  I  smote  upon  my  thigh:  I  was 
ashamed,  yea,  even  confounded,  because  I  did  bear 
the  reproach  of  my  youth.  Is  Ephraim  my  dear 
son  1  is  he  a  pleasant  child  1  for  since  I  spake 
against  him,  I  do  earnestly  remember  him  still : 
therefore  my  bowels  are  troubled  for  him;  1  will 
surely  have  mercy  upon  him,  saith  the  Lord." 

There  is  another  extreme.  Instead  of  despising, 
perhaps  you  are  fainting.  You  are  desponding. 
You  are  at  your  wits'  end.  You  are  tempted  to 
curse  the  day  of  your  birth.  Life  has  lost  all  its 
charm — it  is  a  burden  too  heavy  for  you  to  bear. 
Yo'i  turn  to  solitude;  but  there  grief  preys  upon 
itself.  You  think  of  intoxication ;  this  is  drown- 
ing misery  in  madness.  You  glance  at  infidelity; 
but  annihilation  may  be  a  fiction,  and  the  present 
only  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  You  resolve  on 
suicide ;  but  you  cannot  destroy  yourself.  You  take 
the  pistol,  and  shatter  to  pieces  the  tabernacle,  and 
your  friends  are  aghast  at  the  ruins;  but  the  inha- 
bitant has  escaped,  and  the  spirit  feels  itself  still  in 
the  grasp  of  God.  I  am  far  from  insulting  your 
grief.  I  sympathize  with  you ;  and  rejoice  that  I 
can  show  unto  you  a  more  excellent  way.  "  There 
is  One  standing  among  you,  whom  ye  know  not." 
Let  me  introduce  him  in  all  the  fulness  of  his  pity 
and  power.  He  is  equally  able  and  willing  to  re- 
lieve you.  He  is  the  enemy  of  sin,  but  he  is  the 
friend  of  sinners.  jCast  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord: 
a.-)d  say,  Lord,  I  am  oppressed;  undertake  for  me. 
He  will  not,  he  cannot  refuse  thy  application.  For 
he  has  said,  and  is  now  saying,  "  Come  unto  me,  all 
ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."  S^e  Manasseh.  He  was  stripped  of  all, 
and  carried  away  captive.  But  his  salvation  sprang 
not  from  his  prosperity,  but  his  adversity.  "  When 
he  was  in  affliction,  he  besought  the  Lord  his  God, 
and  humbled  himself  greatly  before  the  God  of  his 
fathers,  and  prayed  unto  him :  and  he  was  entreated 
of  him,  and  heard  his  supplication,  and  brought 
him  again  to  Jerusalem  into  his  kingdom.  Then 
Manasseh  knew  that  the  Lord  he  was  God."  Think 
of  the  Prodigal.  Plenty  had  ruined  him.  The 
famine,  and  the  husks  which  the  swine  did  eat, 
made  him  think  of  home — "How  many  hired  ser- 
vants of  my  father  have  bread  enough  and  to  spare, 
and  I  perish  with  hunger.  I  will  arise,  and  go  to 
my  father."  And  that  father,  while  he  was  yet  "  a 
great  way  off,  saw  him,  and  had  compassion  upon 
him,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed  him;" 
and  not  only  clothed  and  fed,  but  adorned  and 
feasted  him :  and  said,  "  Let  us  eat  and  be  merry : 
for  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;  and 
was  lost,  and  is  found."  Despair  not;  but  follow 
these  examples,  and  you  will  be  able  to  say,  with 
the  famous  Athenian,  "  I  should  have  been  lost,  had 
I  not. been  lost:"  and  to  sin  with  many  a  sufferer 
before  you, 

"  Father,  I  bless  thy  gentle  hand  ; 

How  kind  was  thy  chastening  rod, 
That  forced  my  conscience  to  a  stand, 
And  brought  my  wandering  soul  to  God. 

Foolish  and  vain,  I  went  astray 
Ere  I  had  felt  thy  scourges,  Lord : 

I  left  my  guide,  I  lost  my  way ; 
But  now  I  love  and  keep  thy  word." 


LECTURE  VIII. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,   IN   HIS   SPIRITUAL    SORROWS. 

"  We  hanged  our  harps  upon  the  ivillows,  in  the  midst 
thereof." — Psalm  cxxxvii.  2. 

We  now  pass  from  the  condition  of  the  Chris- 
tian, to  his  experience.  We  have  contemplated  the 
changes  that  may  take  place  in  his  outward  circum- 
stances. We  have  viewed  him  in  his  prosperity 
and  in  his  adversity;  and  have  seen  him  carrying 
his  religion  along  with  him  through  all  the  varying 
scenes  of  human  life. 

But  there  are  similar  variations  in  "  the  inward 
man,"  "  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart."  And  these 
changes  are  no  inconsiderable  evidences  of  the  re- 
ality of  a  work  of  grace,  in  distinction  from  reli- 
gious pretensions.  The  picture  of  a  tree  is  invari- 
able ;  but  the  tree  itself  has  its  seasons.  At  one 
time  it  is  leafless,  and  the  sap,  though  not  destroyed, 
retires  into  the  roots.  At  another,  it  revives,  and 
buds,  and  blossoms,  and  is  filled  with  fruitfulness. 
I  walk  in  my  garden,  and  see  the  stones  arranged 
there,  always  the  same.  But  it  is  otherwise  with 
the  flowers  and  plants.  And  the  reason  is,  because 
the  former  are  dead,  while  the  latter  have  in  them 
a  principle  of  life.  And  such  is  the  difference  be 
tween  the  form  of  godliness,  and  the  power:  be- 
tween a  man  alive  to  God,  and  one  that  hath  a 
name  that  he  liveth,  but  is  dead. 

Let  us  proceed  to  the  part  of  the  Christian's  ex- 
perience which  we  are  pledged  to  consider  this 
morning.  And  here,  I  can  easily  imagine,  that  the 
subject  itself  will  hardly  appear  necessary  to  some. 
They  are  rather  surprised  by  the  very  fact,  we  have 
assumed,  as  a  clear  and  common  verity.  Young 
converts  often  wonder  to  hear  of  the  believer's  sad- 
ness. They  are  often  indulged  with  a  peculiar  kind 
and  degree  of  consolation  to  allure  them  on,  till, 
whatever  difficulties  they  meet  with,  they  feel  them- 
selves too  much  interested,  and  too  far  advanced,  to 
think  of  retreating.  Because,  from  a  regard  to 
their  weakness,  their  enemies  are  restrained,  they 
seem  to  conclude  that  they  are  destroyed ;  and  be- 
cause, in  the  novelty  of  their  views  and  the  liveli- 
ness of  their  feelings,  their  corruptions  are  but  little 
noticed,  they  hope  to  be  vexed  with  them  no  more. 
They  therefore  wonder  to  hear  older  Christians 
complaining  of  distraction  in  duty,  and  languor  of 
zeal,  and  weakness  of  hope,  and  conflicts  with 
doubts  and  fears.  Thus  it  was  with  Israel  "  in  the 
kindness  of  their  youth."  See  them  on  the  shore 
of  the  Red  Sea.  '  They  rejoiced  in  the  Lord,  and 
sang  his  praise,  and  thought  they  had  only  to  go 
forward  and  possess  the  pleasant  land — ignorant  of 
the  wilderness  between;  and  having  no  foreboding 
of  the  drought,  and  the  bitter  waters,  and  the  fiery 
serpents,  and  the  Amalekites  and  Moabites,  and 
their  long  detentions,  and  their  being  led  about,  and 
their  being  turned  back— by  all  of  which  the  souls 
of  the  people  were  much  discouraged  because  of 
the  way. 

But  if  there  are  some  to  whom  the  intimation  of 
these  sorrows  is  surprising,  there  are  others  t,o 
whom  it  will  be  relieving,  if  not  delightful.  For 
there  are  some  who  are  distressed  and  perplexed, 
owing  to  apprehensions  that  their  experience  is  pe- 
culiar. They  think  none  ever  had  such  vain 
thoughts,  such  dull  frames,  such  woful  depressions, 
as  they  often  mourn  over.  Therefore,  in  their  com- 
munings with  their  own  hearts,  they  are  led  to  ask, 
"  If  I  am  his,  why  am  I  thusl"  and  anxiously  turn- 
ing to  others,  in  whom  they  repose  more  confidence 
than  they  can  place  in  themselves,  say, 

"  Ye  that  love  the  Lord  indeed, 
Tell  me,  is  it  thus  with  you?" 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


59 


Now  these  will  not  rejoice  in  the  deficiencies  and 
distresses  of  others ;  but  it  yields  them  encourage- 
ment to  learn,  that  there  are  some  who  can  sym- 
pathize with  them;  and  that  what  they  feel,  is  not, 
though  grievous,  incompatible,  with  a  state  of 
grace;  since  others,  and  even  those  who  are  far  supe- 
rior to  themselves,  utter  the  same  sighs  and  groans. 
To  return.  The  Psalm  from  which  the  words 
of  our  text  are  taken,  is  universally  admired.  In- 
deed nothing  can  be  more  exquisitely  beautiful.  It 
is  written  in  a  strain  of  sensibility  that  must  touch 
every  soul  that  is  capable  of  feeling.  It  is  remark- 
able that  Dr.  Watts,  in  his  excellent  versification, 
has  omitted  it.  He  has  indeed  some  verses  upon  it 
in  his  Lyrics;  and  many  others  have  written  on  the 
same.     "We  have  seen  more  than  ten  productions 

of  this  kind But  who  is  satisfied  with  any 

of  these  attempts 1 — Thus  it  begins:  "  By  the  rivers 
of  Babylon,  there  we  sat  down,  yea,  we  wept  when 
we  remembered  Zion."  These  rivers  were  proba- 
bly some  of  the  streams  branching  off  from  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris.  Here  it  is  commonly  sup- 
posed these  captive  Jews  were  placed  by  their  task- 
masters, to  preserve  or  repair  the  water-works.  But 
is  it  improper  to  conjecture  that  the  Psalmist  refers 
to  their  being  here — not  constantly,  but  occasionally; 
not  by  compulsion,  but  choice'?  Hither  I  imagine  j 
them  retiring  to  unbend  their  oppressed  minds  in  I 
solitude.  "  Come,"  said  one  of  these  pious  Jews  to 
another,  "  Come,  let  us  for  a  while  go  forth  from  i 
this  vanity  and  vileness.  Let  us  assemble  together  I 
by  ourselves  under  the  refreshing  shade  of  the  wil- 1 
lows  by  the  water-courses.  And  let  us  take  our 
harps  with  us,  and  solace  ourselves  with  some  of  I 
the  songs  of  Zion."  But  as  soon  as  they  arrive, 
and  begin  to  touch  the  chords,  the  notes — such  is 
the  power  of  association — awaken  the  memory  of 
their  former  privileges  and  pleasures.  And  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  they  sit  down  on  the  grass; 
and  weep  when  they  remember  Zion;  their  deject- 
ed looks,  averted  from  each  other,  seeming  to  say, 
"  If  I  forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand 
forget  her  cunning.  If  I  do  not  remember  thee, 
let  my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth;  ii  I 
prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my  chief  joy."  But 
what  do  they  with  their  harps  1  The  voice  of  mirth 
is  heard  no  more;  and  all  the  daughters  of  music 
are  brought  low.  Melody  is  not  in  season  to  a  dis- 
tressed spirit.  "Is  any  afflicted !  Let  him  pray. 
Is  any  merry  1  Let  him  sing  psalms."  "As  he 
that  taketh  away  a  garment  in  cold  weather,  and  as 
vinegar  upon  nitre,  so  is  he  that  singeth  songs  to  a 
heavy  heart." — They  did  not,  however,  break  them 
to  pieces,  or  throw  them  into  the  stream — but  hang- 
ed them  up  only.  They  hoped  that  what  they  could 
cot  use  at  present  they  might  be  able  to  resume  at 
some  happier  period.  To  be  cast  down  is  not  to  be 
destroyed.     Distress  is  not  despondency. 

"  Beware  of  desperate  steps ;  the  darkest  day, 
Live  till  to-morrow,  will  have  passed  away." 

"  We  hanged  our  harps  upon  the  willows  in  the 
midst  thereof."  Let  us  pass  from  the  Jew  to  the 
Christian;  and  let  us  survey  the  Christian, 

In  his  Spiritual  Sorrows. 

He  who  would  preach  well,  says  Luther,  must 
distinguish  well.  It  is  peculiarly  necessary  to  dis- 
criminate, when  we  enter  upon  the  present  subject. 
For  all  the  sorrows  of  the  Christian  are  not  of  the 
same  kind  or  descent.  Let  ns  consider  four  sources 
of  his  moral  sadness. 

I.   Will  be  PHYSICAL. 
II.  Will  be  criminal. 

ITT.    Will  be  INTELLECTUAL. 

IV.  Will  be  pious. 


The  first  source  is  physical. 

There  are  some  who  understand  very  little  ot 
this.  They  are  blessed  with  a  favored  constitution: 
and  can  hardly  enter  into  the  feelings  of  those  who 
pass  much  of  their  time  under  the  dominion  of  a 
gloomy  and  depressive  temperament  that  leads  them 
to  view  every  thing  through  an  alarming  and  dis- 
maying medium;  and  to  draw  towards  themselves 
all  that  is  awful  and  distressing.  How  affecting  is 
it  to  hear  a  man  of  genius  and  piety  complaining, 
that  in  one  day,  in  one  hour,  he  who  was  such  aa 
enthusiastical  admirer  of  the  works  of  nature,  had 
presented  to  him  an  universal  blank;  so  that  no- 
thing after,  could  ever  charm  him  again.  We  ad- 
mit that  the  case  of  Cowper  was  extraordinary :  but 
it  was  so  in  the  degree,  rather  than  in  the  quality. 
Others  are  subject  to  a  measure  of  the  same  inllu- 
ence ;  and  while  the  increased  prevalence  of  this 
morbid  affection  produces  fixed  melancholy,  the 
slighter  diffusion  of  it  may  be  attended  with  the 
most  trying  irritation  and  depression.  We  often 
censure,  where,  if  we  knew  all,  we  should  only  pity. 
What  a  conflict  have  some  Christians  even  in 
wrestling  with  flesh  and  blood.  We  are  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made.  We  know  little  of  the  me- 
chanism of  the  body:  but  we  know  much  less  of  the 
chemistry.  Who  can  tell  how  the  nervous  juices 
and  the  animal  spirits  are  secreted?  Who  can  ex- 
plain how  the  fluids  blend  and  temper  each  other  1 
Who  knows  how  it  is  that  when  a  particular  humor 
predominates  unequally,  such  a  change  is  resistless- 
ly  produced  in  our  mass  of  apprehensions  and  feel- 
ings'? Yet  we  know  the  fact.  We  know  that  ex- 
ternal things  affect  the  body.  We  know  that  the 
body  affects  the  mind.  We  know  that  we  are  the 
creatures  of  the  season  and  of  the  sky.  We  know 
that  we  are  not  the  same  in  a  foggy  day,  as  in  a 
clear  one.  We  know  that  if  there  be  a  suffusion  of 
bile,  the  world,  and  the  church,  and  the  family,  are 
not  governed  so  well  now,  as  they  were  yesterday. 
Nothing  is  so  agreeable  in  our  condition.  Our  veiy 
religion  is  doubtful;  and  God  is  not  the  same. 

Several  things  result  from  this  reasoning.  Is  it 
not  astonishing  that  many  Christians  will  ascribe 
every  animal  variation  and  effect  to  the  agency  of 
Satan  !  Especially  when  they  know  how  often, 
by  the  aid  of  a  little  medicine,  all  these  supposed 
temptations  have  been  chased  away,  and  every 
thing  restored  to  its  proper  hues  and  attractions 
again  ! 

It  is  not  necessary  for  a  Christian  to  be  a  physi 
cian  ;  but  it  is  desirable  for  him  to  be  able  to  distin- 
guish between  influences  purely  bodily,  and  the 
principles,  disposition,  and  state  of  his  mind.  It  is 
difficult  to  reason  with  people  in  this  frame,  or  un- 
der this  tendency;  otherwise  we  should  be  amazed 
at  the  perplexity  and  disconsolateness  of  some  ex- 
cellent characters,  and  the  readiness  with  which 
they  refuse  to  be  comforted.  We  have  known  per- 
sons, poor  in  spirit,  hungering  and  thirsting  after 
righteousness,  glorying  only  in  the  cross  of  Christ, 
and  cheerfully  going  forth  to  him  w  thout  the  camp, 
bearing  his  reproach — yet  gloomily  concluding  that 
they  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter,  and  that 
their  heart  is  not  right  in  the  sight  of  God.  And 
wherefore  do  they  write  these  bitter  things  against 
themselves'?  There  is  no  reason  why  they  should  ; 
but  the  cause  why  they  do,  is  to  be  found  in  some- 
thing beyond  the  preacher's  province.  And  till 
there  is  a  change  in  the  physical  economy,  all  the 
succors  of  religion  will  be  urged  in  vain. 

Good  men  should  also  learn  from  hence  to  be  at- 
tentive to  their  health,  and  keep  the  body  as  much 
as  possible  the  fit  medium  of  the  mind.  A  man  may 
be  a  good  performer;  but  what  can  he  do  with  3 
disordered  instrument  ?     The  inhabitant  may  have 


GO 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


good  eyes;  but  how  can  he  see  accurately  through 
a  soiled  window  "?  Keep  therefore  the  glass  clean; 
and  the  organ  in  tune.  We  do  not  wish  you  to  be 
finical  and  fanciful;  to  live  in  the  shop  of  an  apo- 
thecary; or  have  a  medical  attendant  always  dan- 
gling at  your  heels.  But  be  soberly  and  prudently 
attentive  to  the  body.  Rise  early.  Take  proper 
exercise.  Beware  of  sloth.  Observe  and  avoid 
whatever  disagrees  with  your  system.  Never  over- 
burden nature.  Be  moderate  in  your  table  indulg- 
ences. Let  not  appetite  bemire  and  clog  the  mind. 
Medical  authority  will  tell  you,  that  where  one 
disorder  arises  from  deficiency,  a  thousand  spring 
from  repletion;  and  that  the  Board  slays  far  more 
than  the  Sword.— The 

Second  source  is  criminal. 

It  will  be  allowed  that  they  who  cannot  apostatize 
may  backslide  ;  and  we  know  who  hath  said,  "  The 
backslider  in  heart  shall  be  filled  with  his  own 
ways."  "  Thine  own  wickedness  shall  correct  thee; 
and  thy  backsliding  shall  reprove  thee :  know  there- 
fore and  see,  that  it  is  an  evil  thing  and  bitter 
that  thou  hast  forsaken  the  Lord  thy  God."  Ob- 
serve: it  is  both  evil  and  bitter;  evil  in  its  nature, 
and  bitter  in  its  consequences.  And  these  bitter  ef- 
fects take  in,  not  only  outward  troubles,  but  inward 
distresses;  the  corrosions  of  fretfulness  under  a 
feeling  of  guilt ;  the  reproaches  of  conscience  awak- 
ened from  its  slumbers,  and  ashamed  of  its  negli- 
gence; the  perplexities  arising  from  the  doubtful- 
ness of  our  condition  :  the  loss  of  peace,  and  a  sense 
of  God's  favor.  What  was  said  of  Israel  as  a  peo- 
ple, will  apply  here  to  individual  experience.  "O 
that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  commandments; 
then  had  thy  peace  been  as  a  river,  and  thy  righte- 
ousness like  the  waves  of  the  sea."  You  hear  much 
«-{  the  hidings  of  God's  face.  The  expression  is  per- 
lectly  Scriptural.  "Make  thy  face,"  says  David, 
"  to  shine  upon  thy  servant."  His  face  signifies  his 
favorable  regard.  This  can  never  be  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  the  Christian,  whether  we  consider 
his  supreme  love  to  God,  or  his  entire  dependence 
U[  on  him.  He  must  be  miserable  under  the  loss  of 
God's  smiles.  And  as  Absalom  said,  "  What  do  I 
here  in  Geshur,  unless  I  see  the  king's  face"?"  So 
says  the  believer — What  do  I  in  the  closet,  or  in  the 
house  of  God,  or  at  his  table  without  him'?  I  can- 
not improve  a  providence  or  an  ordinance;  I  cannot 
enjoy  my  friends  or  myself,  without  my  God.  So  it 
was  with  David.  "  Thou  didst  hide  thy  face,  and  I 
was  troubled." 

But  why  does  he  ever  hide  his  face?  Is  it  to 
display  his  sovereignty  1  No :  but  to  testify  his  dis- 
approbation of  our  spirit  or  our  conduct.  It  is  of  the 
nature  of  moral  correction.  "  Behold,  the  Lord's 
hand  is  not  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save;  neither 
his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear;  but  your  iniqui- 
ties have  separated  between  you  and  your  God,  and 
your  sins  have  hid  his  face  from  you,  that  he  will 
not  hear." 

There  are  some  who  say — quoting  the  words  of 
Scripture,  but  mistaking  their  design— God  sees 
"  no  iniquity  in  Jacob,  and  beholds  no  perverseness 
in  Israel."  Yet  we  read  of  "the  provoking  of  his 
sons  and  of  his  daughters."  Yet  "  the  Lord  spake 
unto  Moses  and  Aaron,  because  ye  believed  me  not, 
to  sanctify  me  in  the  eyes  of  the  children  of  Israel, 
therefore  ye  shall  not  bring  this  congregation  into 
the  land  which  I  have  given  them."  And  no  im- 
portunity could  obtain  a  relaxation  of  the  sentence. 
"  Sin  never  hurts  a  believer  !"  "  He  never  need  be 
afraid  of  sin!"  And  whose  inspiration  is  this  lan- 
guage"? Where  do  we  learn  this  doctrine'?  Did 
David  believe  it,  after  his  transgression"?  Along 
with  the  very  announcement  of  his  pardon,  was  he 


not  informed  of  the  sufferings  that  would  still  re- 
sult from  his  guilt  1  Did  he  not  continue  to  confess, 
"  my  sin  is  ever  before  me  "?"  If  not  bruised  and 
fractured  by  his  fall,  why  does  he  pray,  "  Make  me 
to  hear  joy  and  gladness,  that  the  bones  which  thou 
hast  broken  may  rejoice!"  If  not  filled  with  a  dread 
of  divine  abandonment,  why  does  he  say,  "Cast  me 
not  away  from  thy  presence  ;  and  take  not  thy  Holy 
Spirit  from  me  "?"  If  he  had  not  been  deprived  of 
the  consolation,  why  does  he  say,  "  Restore  unto  me 
the  joy  of  thy  salvation,  and  uphold  me  with  thy 
free  Spirit"?"  If  he  had  not  been  struck  dumb,  why 
does  he  pray,  "Open  thou  my  lips,  that  my  mouth 
may  show  forth  thy  praise"?"  If  he  had  not  impair- 
ed the  cause  of  God,  why  does  he  pray,  "  Do  good 
in  thy  good  pleasure  unto  Zion,  build  thou  the  walls 
of  Jerusalem"?" 

Upon  this  principle,  the  chief  hope  I  entertain 
with  regard  to  some  professors  of  religion,  is  their 
uncomfbrtableness.  For  it  would  be  a  sad  symptom 
in  their  case,  if  they  were  tranquil,  and  cheerful, 
and  rejoicing  in  Christ,  while  they  are  indifferent  to 
the  means  of  grace,  and  mind  earthly  things,  and 
display  such  a  worldly  conversation  and  spirit.  For 
I  am  sure  of  this,  that  if  they  really  belong  to  God, 
he  will  rebuke  them,  and  make  them  look  back, 
with  the  exclamation,  "O!  that  it  was  with  me  as 
in  months  past,  when  the  candle  of  the  Lord  shone 
upon  my  head,  and  when  by  his  light  I  walked 
through  darkness ;  while  as  yet  the  Almighty  was 
with  me."  The  way  to  see  and  enjoy  God  is  to  live 
near  him,  and  to  be  always  endeavoring  to  please 
him.  The  first  Christians  "walked  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord,  and  in  the  comforts  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 
These  are  inseparable ;  and  all  pretensions  to  the 
latter  without  the  former,  are  nothing  but  delusion. 
Let  me,  therefore,  if  the  consolations  of  God  are 
small  with  thee,  ask,  "Is  there  any  secret  thing 
with  thee"?"  Thy  gourd  withers:  Is  there  any 
worm  at  the  root "?  You  are  repulsed,  and  turn  your 
back  on  your  enemies  :  Is  there  any  accursed  thing 
in  the  camp"?  "  Let  us  search  and  try  our  ways-; 
and  turn  again  unto  the  Lord."  Let  us  do  more. — 
Let  us  fall  upon  our  knees,  and  pray  for  divine  exa- 
mination. "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart  ■, 
try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts  ;  and  see  if  there  be 
any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way 
everlasting." — The 

Third  source  is  intellectual. 

For  the  joy  of  a  Christian  is  not  a  vain  imagina- 
tion or  a  groundless  persuasion,  endangered  by  in- 
quiry— it  flows  from  knowledge;  and  the  possessor 
is  able  to  give  a  reason  of  the  hope  that  is  in  him. 
Hence  it  will  follow,  that  though  a  Christian's  safe- 
ty does  not  depend  upon  the  extent  and  the  degree 
of  his  religious  information,  his  comfort  will  be 
very  much  affected  by  it.  Now  there  are  some  who 
are  very  defective  in  their  acquaintance  with  the 
gospel;  and  these,  like  persons  walking  in  dark- 
ness, or  at  least  twilight,  are  afraid  to  tread  firmly  , 
and  are  liable  to  convert  harmless  objects  into  spec- 
tres of  terror.  Owing  to  a  want  of  evangelical 
instruction  from  books  or  teachers,  there  is  in  them 
a  prevalence  of  legality  that  leads  them  to  look  af- 
ter something  in  themselves  wherein  they  may  glo- 
ry, or  which  shall  entitle  them  to  pardon  and  ac- 
ceptance. Instead  of  resting  in  a  mediator  between 
God  and  them,  they  seek  after  something  media- 
torial, between  Christ  and  them  ;  and  thus  not  com- 
ing to  him.  as  they  are,  they  wait  till  they  shall 
possess  certain  qualifications,  or  perform  certain 
conditions.  Thus  they  labor  in  the  fire,  and  weary 
themselves  for  very  vanity — for 

"  If  we  tarry  till  we  're  better, 
We  shall  never  come  at  all." 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


61 


They  set  themselves  a  mark  of  attainment;  and  not 
being  able  to  reach  it,  they  are  cast  down.  They 
mistake  the  degree  of  their  experience  for  the 
ground  of  their  hope;  and  their  confidence  varies 
with  their  frames.  And  as  to  their  perseverance 
and  final  victory,  their  own  vigilance  and  fidelity 
usurp  their  dependence,  instead  of  the  everlasting 
covenant  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure.  In  the 
Lord  they  have  righteousness  and  strength.  His 
grace  is  sufficient  for  them;  and  were  they  to  be 
only  and  always  looking  unto  Jesus,  their  joy  might 
be  full  and  constant;  but  now  they  often  go  mourn- 
ing all  the  day. 

It  is  therefore  of  great  importance  to  have  the 
understanding  well  informed  in  "the  way  of  salva- 
tion," that  we  "  may  know  the  things  that  are  freely 
given  to  us  of  God."  For  as  the  gospel  is  glad  tid- 
ings; and  all  its  doctrines  are  truths  and  facts ;  the 
more  distinctly  we  hear  the  one,  and  the  more  clear- 
ly we  discern  the  other,  the  more  effectual  will  be 
our  relief,  and  the  full  assurance  of  our  hope. — 
Peter  admonishes  Christians  to  grow  in  grace,  and 
in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ;  and  we  may  consider  the  latter  part  of  the 
injunction  not  only  as  additional  to  the  former,  but 
as  explanatory  of  its  import,  and  subservient  to  its 
performance.  The  one  is  necessary  to  the  other. — 
We  never  shall  grow  in  grace,  but  as  we  grow  in 
knowledge,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Saviour. — 
We  are  well  aware  that  there  may  be  speculative 
knowledge  without  practical;  but  there  cannot  be 
practical  without  speculative.  Everything  in  re- 
ligion is  produced  and  supported  and  influenced  by 
just  views  of  things.  And  this  is  peculiarly  the  case 
with  the  consolation  of  the  Spirit.  Hence  it  is  said, 
"  They  that  know  thy  name,  will  put  their  trust  in 
thee."  Hence,  "  Blessed  is  the  people  that  know  the 
joyful  sound :  they  shall  walk,  O  Lord,  in  the  light 
of  thy  countenance:  in  thy  name  shall  they  rejoice 
all  the  day  :  and  in  thy  righteousness  shall  they  be 
exalted."  Hence  also  our  Lord  said  to  his  disciples, 
"  These  things  have  I  spoken  unto  you,  that  in  me 
ye  might  have  peace."  And  again,  "  These  things 
have  I  spoken  unto  you,  that  my  joy  may  remain  in 
you,  and  that  your  joy  may  be  full." 

Seek  therefore  "  the  riches  of  the  full  assurance 
of  understanding."  Gain  clear  and  enlarged  views 
of  the  nature  and  provisions  of  the  glorious  gospel; 
of  the  warrant  and  command  we  have  to  believe  on 
the  name  of  the  Son  of  God;  of  the  ground  of  our 
acceptance  through  the  sacrifice  and  obedience  of 
the  Surety  of  the  new  covenant-,  of  his  ability  to 
save  to  the  uttermost ;  of  the  efficacy  of  his  blood 
(o  cleanse  from  all  sin;  of  the  perfection  of  his 
righteousness  to  justify  the  ungodly,  and  give  them 
a  title  to  endless  life;  of  the  prevalencyof  his  inter- 
cession within  the  veil;  his  changeless  heart;  his 
constant  presence;  his  infinite  fulness  of  grace; 
and  our  being  blessed  in  him  with  all  spiritual  bless- 
ings in  heavenly  places.  Where  shall  I  end  1  To 
be  led  into  all  this  truth,  is  to  be  made  to  .ie  down 
in  green  pastures,  and  to  be  fed  beside  the  still  wa- 
ters—to  know  all  this  love  of  Christ,  which  pass- 
eth  knowledge,  is  to  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness 
of  God. 

Thus  far,  the  sorrows  which  have  been  spoken 
of,  we  have  been  constrained  to  pity,  or  censure, 
or  excuse.  They  have  arisen  from  constitution,  or 
moral  infirmity,  or  ignorance. — But  there  are  sor- 
rows, which. 

Fourthly,  Have  a  pious  source. 

These  are  only  experienced  by  those  who  are 
called  a  peculiar  people.  But  they  are  familiar 
With  them :  and  they  feel  them  on  various  accounts. 
Let  us  view  the  Christian  taking  a  four-fold  pros- 
pact.    He  looks  backward— and  inward— and  for- 


ward— and  around  him:  and  at  each  look  he 
weeps. 

First.  He  looks  backward,  and  weeps  as  he  re- 
views the  jiast.  Some  never  review  life ;  we  mean, 
that  they  never  review  it  for  a  religious  purpose. 
They  may  look  back  occasionally  and  frequently, 
to  see  how  they  have  missed  their  opportunity  for 
securing  some  earthly  advantage,  or  how  they  have 
been  overreached  by  their  fellow-creatures,  in  order 
to  act  a  shrewder  part  in  future:  but  not  to  become 
acquainted  with  their  depravity  ;  not  to  mark  how 
long  and  how  much  they  lived  without  God  with 
them  in  the  world. 

But  grace  leads  a  man  to  reflect  upon  his  former 
character  and  conduct;  and  to  reflect  properly. 
We  say  properly :  for  we  have  heard  some  pro- 
fessors of  religion  talk  of  their  former  wickedness 
with  no  very  sorrowful  emotions;  yea,  with  a  kind 
of  complacency,  as  if  they  were  relating  some 
remarkable  exploits.  But  how  is  the  Christian  af- 
fected with  the  retrospect?  "Surely,"  says  God, 
"  I  have  heard  Ephraim  bemoaning  himself  thus — 
Thou  hast  chastised  me,  and  I  was  chastised,  like  a 
bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke — I  was  ashamed, 
yea,  even  confounded,  because  I  did  bear  the  re- 
proach of  my  youth."  How  often  did  Paul,  after 
his  conversion,  think  of  his  previous  state  ;  and 
with  what  deep  humiliation  does  he  acknowledge 
his  guilt.  "  When  the  blood  of  thy  martyr  Stephen 
was  shed,  I  was  standing  by,  and  consented  unto 
his  death,  and  I  kept  the  raiment  of  them  that  slew 
him — I  Was  a  blasphemer,  a  persecutor,  and  in- 
jurious— I  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  an  apostle, 
because  I  persecuted  the  church  of  God."  "  When," 
says  Baxter,  "  I  reflect  on  my  sins,  I  find  it  much 
easier  to  believe  that  God  will  forgive  me,  than  I 
can  forgive  myself." 

I  enter  a  Christian's  retirement.  His  eyes  have 
been  pouring  out  tears  unto  God.  I  ask  him,  "  Why 
weepest  thou  V  "  I  have  been  taking  a  retrospect 
of  the  past.  I  have  been  examining  my  former 
years  morally;  and  every  view  I  take  is  humiliating 
and  distressing.  Time  wasted — means  neglected— 
faculties  misimproved — injuries  done  to  others  by 
my  advice,  or  example,  or  influence;  and  where  in 
many  cases  the  mischief  cannot  be  repaired  !  I 
passed  by  the  cross;  and  that  which  angels  desire 
to  look  into,  was  nothing  to  me.  He  wooed  and 
awed;  blessed  and  chastised;  and  I  set  at  nought 
all  his  counsel,  and  would  none  of  his  reproof— I 
violated  a  thousand  resolutions.  I  resisted  and  con- 
quered the  most  powerful  conviction.  I  trampled 
under  foot  the  Son  of  God,  and  did  despite  unto 
the  Spirit  of  grace.     For  these  things  I  weep." 

Sccoiulhi.  He  looks  mthin,  and  weeps  as  he  ex- 
amines the  present.  Let  it  be  at  once  conceded, 
that  grace  makes  the  Christian  to  differ  from  his 
fellow-creatures,  and  from  himself.  It  delivers  him 
from  the  spirit  of  the  world,  and  possesses  him 
with  the  spirit  which  is  of  God.  It  calls  him  out 
of  darkness  into  his  marvellous  light.  It  turns  him 
from  idols  to  serve  the  living  God,  and  to  wait  for 
his  Son  from  heaven.  He  is  a  new  creature.  Old 
things  are  passed  away;  and  all  things  are  become 
new.  But  though  he 'is  really  sanctified  in  every 
part,  he  is  completely  renovated  in  none.  The 
good  work  is  bcp;nn  ;  but  a  thousand  deficiencies 
urge  him  to  pray,  "Perfect  that  which  concerncfh 
me:  thy  mercy,  O  Lord,  endureth  forever;  forsake 
not  the'works'of  thine  own  hands."  Ask  him  now 
why  he  weeps.  And  you  will  hear  him  say,  Tho 
flesh  lusteth  against  the  Spirit,  and  the  Spirit  against 
the  flesh,  and  these  are  contrary  the  one  to  the 
other,  so  that  I  cannot  do  the  thing  that  I  would. 
,  For  what  I  would  that  I  do  not ;  but  what  I  hat« 
!  tint  I  do.  For  to  will  is  present  with  me ;  but  how 
i  to  perform  that  which  is  SooA  l  find  not     '  lin(1 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


then  a  law,  that  when  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  pre- 
sent with  me.  For  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God 
after  the  inward  man :  but  1  see  another  law  in  my 
members  warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind,  and 
bringing  me  into"  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin,  which 
is  in  mv  members.  O  wretched  man  that  I  am, 
who  sha'll  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  !" 
Instead  of  advancing,  I  seem  to  be  stationary — yea, 
going  back  in  the  heavenly  life.  "What  ingratitude  | 
under  benefits!  What  incorrigibleness  under  re- 
bukes! What  unprofitableness  under  ordinances! 
My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust !  What  dullness, 
de'adness,  distractions,  in  attending  upon  the  Lord  ! 
What  little  enjoyment  in  the  things  of  God!  The 
Sabbath  returns,  and  leaves  me  as  it  finds  me.  I 
hear  ;  but  it  is  almost,  if  not  altogether,  in  vain.  I 
pray  ;  but  often  seem  at  the  throne  of  grace  to  for- 
get my  errand,  and  sometimes  fall  asleep  there.  I 
have  promises  that  I  cannot  believe,  and  a  God  I 
cannot  trust.  He  deserves  all  the  confidence  of  my 
heart,  and  I  treat  him  with  the  most  unworthy  sus- 
picions— 

"  Sure,  were  not  I  most  vile  and  base, 
I  could  not  thus  my  friend  requite: 
And  were  not  he  the  God  of  grace, 

He  'd  frown  and  spurn  me  from  his  sight." 

— How  mistaken  are  the  people  of  the  world.  They 
often  charge  the  Christian  with  antinomianism: 
they  suppose  that  he  embraces  doctrines  which  fa- 
vor licentiousness;  and  that  he  loves  sin — when, 
could  they  witness  him  alone,  where  no  one  sees 
him  and  hears  him  but  God,  they  would  find  him 
bewailing  evils  which  are  beneath  their  notice,  and 
even  infirmities  which  never  strike  their  minds,  for 
want  of  a  holy  susceptibility.  But  his  conscience 
is  so  tender,  that  it  resembles  the  eye,  which  is  of- 
fended even  with  a  mote.  For  a  Christian  feels  all 
the  remains  of  the  sin  that  dwelleth  in  him.  His 
new  principles  render  it  unavoidable.  He  who 
longs  to  advance,  groans  at  every  detention  and 
delay;  he  who  pants  to  excel,  is  mortified  at  little 
deficiencies;  he  who  delights  in  purity,  is  offended 
with  the  least  stain.  It  may  be  supposed,  that  under 
a  perception  of  his  failings,  he  will  be  unconcerned, 
if  at  the  same  time  he  is  assured  of  his  safety,  and 
can  repose  on  the  certainty  and  permanency  of  the 
Saviour's  love.  But  nothing  can  be  more  remote 
from  the  truth  than  this  supposition:  for  it  is  then 
the  Christian  fee!-;  his  imperfections  the  most  pain- 
fully. The  more  he  sees  of  the  excellency  and 
goodness  of  his  Benefactor  and  Friend,  the  more 
he  laments  that  he  loves  him  no  more,  and  serves 
him  no  better.  This  is  godly  sorrow.  Thus  a 
good  man  dying,  when  observed  to  weep  profusely, 
said,  "I  weep  not  that  my  sins  may  be  pardoned, 
but  because  I  know  they  are  pardoned."  This  ac- 
cords with  the  promise:  "  I  will  establish  my  cove- 
nant with  thee;  and  thou  shalt  know  that  I  am  the 
Lord :  that  thou  mayest  remember,  and  be  con- 
founded, and  never  open  thy  mouth  any  more  be- 
cause of  thy  shame,  when  I  am  pacified  toward  thee 
for  all  that  thou  hast  done,  saith  the  Lord  God." 

Thirdly.  He  looks  forward,  and  weeps  as  he 
surveys  the  future.  Not  that  he  is  miserable  be- 
cause God  does  not  admit  him  into  the  secrets  of 
his  providence,  but  keeps  him  ignorant  of  what  a 
day  may  bring  forth.  He  knows  that  all  his  times 
are  in  God's  hands,  and  there  he  is  willing  to  leave 
them. 

But  there  are  moral  hazards  sufficient  to  induce 
him  to  pass  the  time  of  his  sojourning  here  in  fear 
— not  the  fear  of  diffidence  as  to  the  truth  of  God's 
promises,  or  of  uncertainty  as  to  his  final  salvation; 
but  a  fear  of  moral  circumspection  and  vigilance. 
Is  there  not  enough  to  make  him  tremble  as  he 
moves  on.  lest  he  should  enter  into  temptation  1 


Is  there  not  enough  to  make  him  apprehensive,  that 
he  has  to  pass  through  an  enemy's  country,  and 
that  snares  are  every  where  laid  for  his  feet  1  Does 
he  not  know  that  he  carries  within  him  the  remains 
of  unmortified  passions — so  that  every  thing  he 
meets  with  from  without  may  draw  him  aside  ? 
That  even  things  harmless  in  themselves  may  occa- 
sion his  falling  1  That  characters  far  superior  to 
himself  have  yielded  in  the  hour  of  danger — and 
when  no  danger  has  been  suspected  1  Is  it  not 
painful  to  think — that  by  one  wrong  step  he  may 
lose  his  evidences  of  heaven,  distress  and  injure  his 
brethren,  and  cause  the  way  of  truth  to  be  evil 
spoken  of;  and  induce  the  adversaries  of  the  Lord 
to  blaspheme  1  Is  it  not  painful  to  think — that 
after  all  his  professions  of  attachment,  he  may  yet 
by  his  sin  pierce  the  dear  bosom  on  which  his  soul 
leans,  and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit  by  which  he  is 
sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption  1  Is  it  not 
enough  to  make  him  sigh — to  think  that  as  long  as 
he  remains  here,  he  will  never  appear  before  One 
he  infinitely  loves,  without  carrying  into  his  pre- 
sence so  much  of  that  which  he  infinitely  hates  1 
Is  it  not  enough  to  make  him  groan — being  bur- 
dened— to  think  that  the  leprosy  is  so  inherent  and 
inseparable,  that  the  walls  of  the  house  itself  must 
be  pulled  down  and  lie  under  ground  for  ages,  be- 
fore it  can  be  re-edified,  and  become  an  habitation 
for  God  through  the  Spirit  1 

Fourthly.  He  looks  around  him,  and  weeps  as 
he  beholds  others.  Fools  make  a  mock  at  sin  ;  but 
they  that  are  wise  know  that  it  is  exceeding  sinful, 
and"  say,  with  David,  "  Rivers  of  waters  run  down 
mine  eyes,  because  they  keep  not  thy  law.  I  be- 
held the  transgressors,  and  was  grieved." 

Is  he  a  citizen  1  He  is  a  patriot.  He  sighs  and 
cries  for  all  the  abominations  that  are  done  in  the 
midst  of  the  land.  For  he  knows  that  righteous- 
ness exalteth  a  nation,  and  that  sin  is  the  reproach 
of  any  people. 

Is  he  a  minister?  O,  how  distressing  is  it  to  look 
down  upon  those  who,  after  the  labor  of  twenty 
years,  remain  the  same ;  yea,  who  wax  worse  ami 
worse ;  to  know  that  he  is  only  preaching  them 
blind,  and  deaf,  and  impenitent :  and  to  think  that 
he  is  destined  to  be  a  swift  witness  against  many 
that  he  would  gladly  save.  "  I  have  told  you  often ,': 
says  Paul,  "  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that 
they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ :  whose 
end  is  destruction,  whose  god  is  their  belly,  and 
whose  glory  is  in  their  shame ;  who  mind  earthly 
things."  "  Give  glory  to  the  Lord  your  God,"  says 
Jeremiah,  "  before  he  cause  darkness,  and  before 
your  feet  stumble  upon  the  dark  mountains ;  and 
while  ye  look  for  light,  he  turn  it  into  the  shadow 
of  death,  and  make  it  gross  darkness.  But  if  ye 
will  not  hear,  my  soul  shall  weep  in  secret  places 
for  your  pride  ;  and  mine  eye  shall  weep  sore,  and 
run  down  with  tears,  because  the  Lord's  flock  is 
carried  away  captive." 

Is  he  a  member  of  a  church  1  "  He  is  sorrowful 
for  the  solemn  assembly,  and  the  reproach  of  it  is 
his  burden." 

Is  he  a  relation  1  "  How,"  says  he,  with  Esther, 
"  can  I  endure  to  see  the  destruction  of  my  kin- 
dred V  Of  those  living  in  the  same  house,  sitting 
at  the  same  table,  endeared  by  all  the  impressions 
and  attractions  of  breeding  and  of  birth  'I  Can  a 
wife,  without  anxiety  and  anguish,  see  a  husband, 
otherwise  amiable  and  kind,  refusing  to  hear  the 
word  of  life,  and  resolved  not  to  receive  the  love  of 
the  truth,  that  he  might  be  saved  1  Can  a  parent, 
with  unbroken  heart,  see  a  child  in  the  way  to  hell, 
going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death  1  We  sympa- 
thize with  bereaved  fathers  and  mothers.  Yet  we 
ought  even  to  hail  those  who  have  buried  early 
hopes,  compared  with  those  whose  offspring  are 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


& 


living  but  erroneous  and  infidel  and  wicked.  Oh  ! 
Rachael,  "refrain  thy  voice  from  weeping;  and 
thine  eyes  from  tears :  for  thy  work  shall  be  reward- 
ed, and  they  shall  come  again  from  the  land  of  the 
enemy.  There  is  hope  in  thine  end,  saith  the  Lord, 
that  thy  children  shall  come  again  to  thine  own 
border."  "  Weep  ye  not  for  the  dead,  neither  be- 
moan him  ;  but  weep  sore  for  him  that  goeth  away : 
for  he  shall  return  no  more,  nor  see  his  native  coun- 
try." O  ye  ungodly  !  how  unreasonable,  how  un- 
just are  your  reflections !  You  often  reproach  Chris- 
tians for  their  sorrows,  when  you  yourselves  in  the 
various  relations  of  life  occasion  a  large  number  of 
them.  For  they  see  the  danger  you  see  not,  and 
weep  for  you  when  you  weep  not  for  yourselves. — 
Have  any  of  you  connections  that  are  godly  1  And 
have  you  grieved  them  ?  Resolve  immediately  to 
end  this  cruel  persecution.  Retire  and  pray.  "  O 
God  of  my  sister,  be  my  God  !  God  of  my  parents, 
be  my  God  !"  Let  not  thy  father  longer  repeat  in 
vain,  "  My  son,  if  thy  heart  be  wise,  my  heart  shall 
rejoice,  even  mine."  O  hasten  and  ingenuously 
wipe  away  the  tears  of  her  who  has  long  been  say- 
ing, "  What,  my  son,  and  the  son  of  my  womb,  and 
the  son  of  my  vows  V  Yea,  let  them  have  joy  of 
thee  in  the  Lord,;  refresh  their  bowels  in  the  Lord. 

Such  are  the  sorrows  which  arise  from  a  pious 
source.  These  are  not  only  compatible  with  grace, 
but  spring  from  gracious  principles  and  disposi- 
tions. They  are  not  only  found  in  religious  people, 
but  are  religious.  And  we  cannot  conclude  without 
encouraging,  and  commending  them. 

We  are  aware  that  this  is  not  the  way  in  which 
they  are  commonly  treated.  The  subjects  of  these 
spiritual  griefs  are  generally  despised,  or  deplored. 
Commonly,  as  soon  as  persons  begin  to  discover  any 
tendency  to  these  sorrows,  they  are  men  wondered 
at ;  and  they  are  considered  as  likely  to  become 
melancholy  or  deranged.  But  the  prodigal  lost  his 
senses  when  he  left  his  father's  house,  and  came  to 
himself  when  he  resolved  to  return.  And  what  but 
a  carnal  mind  that  is  enmity  against  God,  can  lead 
a  man  to  justify  or  excuse  sorrow  in  all  other  in- 
stances, and  degrade  and  vilify  it  here  s  What  is 
the  loss  of  properly  to  the  loss  of  the  soul "?  What 
is  the  burning  of  a  house,  or  the  loss  of  a  limb,  to 
the  casting  of  both  body  and  soul  into  hell  ?  What 
evil  can  we  bewail  that  deserves  a  thought,  com- 
pared with  sin;  in  its  guilt;  in  its  pollution;  the 
miseries  it  entails ;  the  God  it  dishonors ;  the  Sa- 
viour it  crucifies'?  Bunyan  remarks,  that  when 
he  was  awakened  to  consider  his  condition,  nothing 
amazed  him  so  much  as  to  see  how  much  men  were 
affected  with  their  temporal  inconveniences  and 
troubles.  "  These,"  says  he,  "  had  no  power  now 
to  interest  me.  All  my  concern  was  absorbed  in 
something  infinitely  more  weighty — what  must  I  do 
to  be  saved  V  And  he  is  a  fool,  even  judged  at  the 
tribunal  of  reason,  who  does  not  feel  the  same  dif- 
ference— if  this  book  be  true. 

If,  however,  such  persons  escape  scorn,  they  are 
sure  to  be  pitied.  They  are  regarded  as  strangers 
to  every  thing  like  enjoyment,  and  are  considered 
as  passing  all  their  lives  in  mopishness  and  dread. 
But  they  no  more  deserve  our  commiseration  than 
our  contempt,  They  are  to  be  pitied  who  have  their 
portion  in  this  life,  which  we  spend  as  a  shadow, 
and  possess  nothing  to  carry  away  with  them  into 
another  world  a  few  weeks  hence — who  can  speai 
every  language  but  the  language  of  Canaan — who 
are  familiar  with  the  stars,  those  orbs  of  light,  and 
are  plunged  into  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever 
—who  are  caressed  by  worms,  but  are  an  abomina- 
tion to  the  Lord — who  are  placed  on  a  stream,  and 
are  gladdened  with  the  flowers  of  the  bank,  and 
charmed  with  the  music  on  board,  and  the  gliding 
down  into  the  gulf  of  perdition — these  we  pity;  but 


not  those  who  are  weary  and  heavy  laden  -not  thosa 
who  are  invited  by  the  Saviour  to  partake  of  his 
rest — not  those  who  are  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven — not  those  who  hunger  ami 
thirst  after  righteousness,  for  they  shall  be  filled — 
not  those  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be  comforted. 
Though  their  life  may  be  deemed  not  only  mad- 
ness, but  misery,  it  alloics  of  happiness,  and  there 
is  a  blessedness  arising  from  it.  We  cannot  make 
out  this  to  the  comprehension  of  a  natural  man. — 
It  is  a  mystery  to  him  how  we  "  become  fools  that 
we  may  be  wise :"  how,  when  we  "  are  weak,  we 
are  strong:"  how,  "though  sorrowful,  we  are  yet 
always  rejoicing."  Yet  so  it  is.  There  is  pleasure 
even  in  these  sorrows  ;  and  there  is  nothing  so  pain- 
ful to  a  Christian  as  a  hard,  unfeeling  heart.  His 
weeping  moments  are  his  most  welcome  ;  and  he  is 
never  more  at  home  than  when  looking  on  him 
whom  he  has  pierced,  and  mourning  for  him.  This 
yields  him  evidence.  It  is  a  token  for  good.  It  is 
a  proof  that  he  is  the  subject  of  that  divine  agency 
which  takes  away  the  heart  of  stone,  and  gives  a 
heart  of  flesh — that  he  is  the  heir  of  that  promise, 
"  they  shall  come  with  weeping,  and  with  supplica- 
tions will  I  lead  them."  Observe  the  words  of  the 
apostle :  "  The  sorrow  of  the  world  worketh  death  ; 
but  godly  sorrow  worketh  repentance  unto  life,  and 
needeth  not  to  be  repented  of."  Of  how  many  of 
your  griefs  are  you  now  ashamed  !  How  unworthy 
do  they  now  appear  of  the  concern  they  once  gave 
you  !  But  you  will  never  repent  of  a  tear  you  shed 
upon  the  Bible,  or  a  groan  you  utter  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross.  It  allows,  it  justifies  every  hope.  He  is 
faithful  who  promised :  and  what  has  he  said  1 — 
"  To  that  man  will  I  look,  even  to  him  who  is  poor, 
of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  irembleth  at  my  word."— 
"  They  that  sow  in  tears,  shall  reap  in  joy."  "  He 
that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed, 
shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing 
his  sheaves  with  him."  Yes,  the  Saviour  is  appoint- 
ed "  unto  them  that  mourn  in  Zion,  to  give  them 
beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the 
garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness;  that 
they  might  be  called  trees  of  righteousness,  the  plant- 
ing of  the  Lord,  that  he  might  be  glorified."  Their 
comforter  is  the  God  of  all  comfort;  and  he  will 
soon  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes,  and  the 
days  of  their  mourning  shall  be  ended. 

But,  "  wo  to  you  that  laugh  now,  for  ye  shall 
mourn  and  weep."  As  there  is  a  sorrow  connected 
with  joy,  so  there  is  a  joy  that  forebodes  sorrow  ; 
issues  in  sorrow ;  is  no  better  than  sorrow  disguised. 
Such  are  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season.  Such 
are  all  worldly  enticements  and  dissipations.  You 
!  boast  of  these.  But  one  who  had  a  much  greater 
experience  of  them  than  you,  and  was  much  more 
honest  and  ingenuous,  makes  no  scruple  to  say,  that 
"  even  in  laughter  the  heart  is  sorrowful,  and  the 
end  of  that  mirth  is  heaviness."  He  said  "  of  laugh- 
ter, it  is  mad,  and  of  mirth,  what  doeth  it  V  You 
may  profess  nothing  like  this;  but  while  yon  wear 
smiles,  the  vulture  is  gnawing  within.  While  you 
celebrate  the  day  of  your  birth,  you  wish  you  had 
never  been  horn.  What  have  you  to  do  with  plea- 
sure 1  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the 
wicked." 

Yield  no  longer  to  the  temptation,  which  led 
many,  in  the  days  of  Malachi,  to  say,  "  It  is  vain  to 
serve  God:  and  what  profit  is  it  that  we  have  kept 
his  ordinance,  and  that  we  have  walked  mournfully 
before  the  Lord  of  hosts  V  Tell  the  enemy  that  he 
is  a  liar ;  that  godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things, 
and  especially  in  its  griefs.  Tell  him  that  this  is 
the  high  road  to  safety  and  satisfaction,  for  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it. 

And  take  hold  of  the  skirt  of  him  that  is  a  Jew, 


64 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


saying,  "  I  will  go  with  you,  for  I  have  heard  that 
God  is  with  you."  "  Intreat  me  not  to  leave  thee, 
or  to  return  from  following  after  thee  ;  for  whither 
thou  goest,  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgest,  I  will 
lodge  ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God 
my  God  ;  where  thou  diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will 
I  be  buried  :  the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also, 
if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me." 

"  Blessed  are  they  that  keep  judgment,  and  he 
that  doeth  righteousness  at  all  times."  "  Remem- 
ber me,  O  Lord,  with  the  favor  thou  bearest  unto 
thy  people  :  O  visit  me  with  thy  salvation  ;  that  I 
may  see  the  good  of  thy  chosen,  that  I  may  rejoice 
in  the  gladness  of  thy  nation,  that  I  may  glory  with 
thine  inheritance."     Amen. 


LECTURE  IX. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  HIS  SPIRITUAL  JOYS. 

"  Then,  he  said  unto  them,  Go  your  way,  eat  the  fat, 
and  drink  the  siccet,  and  send  portions  unto  them 
for  whom  nothing  is  prepared  :  for  this  day  is  holy 
unto  our  Lord  :  neither  be  ye  sorry  ;  for  the  joy  of 
the  Lord  is  our  strength." — Nehemiah  viii.  10. 

My  brethren  :  some  tell  us,  that  religion  has  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  passions.  If  it  were  necessary 
to  refute  such  a  notion,  we  could  appeal  even  to  the 
style  of  the  Scriptures.  When  an  author  intends 
only  to  convince  the  judgment,  lie  expresses  him- 
self plainly,  and  merely  reasonj.  But  when  he 
means  to  affect,  as  well  as  to  inform ;  when  he  wishes 
to  strike,  and  excite,  and  to  carry  along  the  feelings 
with  the  convictions ;  he  is  never  satisfied  with  sim- 
ple representation — his  language  unavoidably  avails 
itself  of  circumstances,  and  qualities,  and  imagery. 
And  can  any  one  deny  that  this  is  the  mode  per- 
petually employed  by  all  the  sacied  writers? 

But  we  observe  also,  that  such  a  view  of  religion 
is  not  adapted  to  our  very  nature.  Our  passions 
are  original  parts  of  our  being,  and  designed  to  be 
the  impulses  of  action.  And  the  Christian  does  not 
destroy,  but  sanctifies  and  employs,  the  man.  And 
what  passion  is  there,  for  whic'i  religion  does  not 
find  a  place  and  an  object  1  Is  it  anger  1  "  Be  ye 
angry  and  sin  not."  Is  it  hatred  1  "Abhor  that 
which  is  evil."  Is  it  fear  ?  "  Be  not  high  minded, 
but  fear."  Is  it  sorrow  1  "  They  shall  look  on 
him  whom  they  have  pierced,  and  they  shall  mourn 
for  him."  Is  it  pity  1  "  H*»ve  compassion  one  for 
another."  Is  it  love  1  :' O  lov°  the  Lord,  all  ye 
his  saints."  Is  it  joy  ?  "  We  joy  in  God,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  we  have  now  re- 
ceived the  atonement." 

We  are  aware  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  what 
may  be  justlv  called  strange  fire  offered  on  the  altar 
of  piety.  We  are  not  therefore  pleading  for  a  zeal 
without  knowledge  ;  but  we  are  not  satisfied  with  a 
knowledge  without  zeal.  We  do  not  wish  for  the 
heat  and  ravines  of  the  fever,  but  for  the  genial 
warmth  and  glowing  stimulus  that  pervade  the 
whole  system,  when  the  body  is  in  full  health  ; 
knowing  that  what  is  cold  and  benumbed  and  un- 
affected by  application  and  friction,  is  nigh  unto 
death,  or  is  palsied  already.  While  therefore  we 
acknowledge  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  real  en- 
thusiasm, the  admission  shall  not  drive  us  to  take 
up  with  a  religion  that  consists  in  nothing  but  specu- 
lative opinions,  and  lifeless:  ceremonies,  and  formal 
duties.  Religion  is  indeed  a  practical  thing :  but  it 
is  also  experimental.  It  does  include  doctrinal 
truths;  but  in  the  Christian,  these  become  princi- 
ples. They  descend  from  the  head  into  the  heart ; 
and  there  grace  reigns  through  righteousness  unto 
everlasting  life  bv  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 


We  have  viewed  the  Christian's  sadness:  we  are 
now  to  witness  his  toy.  We  have  seen  him  hang- 
ing his  harp  on  the  willows;  but  he  now  takes  i* 
down,  and  proves  that  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  his 
strength. 

The  words  which  introduce  our  subject  were 
spoken  on  a  very  memorable  occasion.  All  the 
people  were  gathered  together  as  one  man  into  the 
street  that  was  before  the  water-gate;  and  they 
spake  unto  Ezra  the  scribe  to  bring  the  book  of  the 
law  of  Moses,  which  the  Lord  had  commanded  to 
all  Israel.  And  "upon  the  first  day  of  the  seventh 
month,  Ezra  opened  the  book  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
people;  and  when  he  had  opened  it,  all  the  people 
stood  up.  And  Ezra  blessed  the  Lord.  And  all  the 
people  answered,  Amen,  amen,  with  lifting  up  their 
hands;  and  they  bowed  their  heads,  and  worship- 
ped the  Lord,  with  their  faces  to  the  ground.  So 
Ezra  and  his  assistants  read  in  the  book  of  the  law 
of  God  distinctly,  and  gave  the  sense,  and  caused 
them  to  understand  the  reading-."  The  power  of 
God  seems  to  have  been  peculiarly  present.  The 
whole  assembly  "wept  when  they  heard  the  words 
of  the  law."  "  Then  he  said  unto  them,  Go  your 
way,  eat  the  fat,  and  drink  the  sweet,  and  send  por- 
tions unto  them  for  whom  Jiothingis  prepared :  for 
this  day  is  holy  unto  our  Lord  :  neither  be  ye  sorry : 
for  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." 

When  he  says,  This  day  is  holy  unto  our  Lord, 
he  means  that  it  was  a  sacred  festival.  When  he 
says,  Go  your  way,  he  means  that  they  should  re- 
turn home,  and  refresh  themselves;  for  now  noon 
was  begun,  and  they  had  been  standing  for  hours 
to  hear  the  reading  and  expounding  of  the  law.  He 
does  not  forbid  them  the  delicacies  which  they  had 
provided  for  the  solemnity,  and  which  were  distin- 
guishable from  their  ordinary  meals — Eat  the  fat, 
and  drink  the  sweet — But  all  this  was  to  be  accom- 
panied with  two  things. 

First,  Liberality  towards  the  indigent  and  desti- 
tute, who  would  find  nothing  to  regale  them,  when 
they  returned  to  their  humble  dwellings.  And  send 
portions  unto  them,  for  whovi  nothing  is  prepared. 
By  the  law  of  Moses,  the  poor,  the  fatherless,  the 
widows,  and  the  strangers  within  the  gate,  were  ail 
to  be  entertained  on  these  festive  occasions;  and  if 
they  could  not  provide  for  themselves,  I  will  not  say 
their  betters,  but  their  superiors,  were  to  replenish 
them.  In  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  this  statute 
is  the  intimation  of  our  Lord  to  the  person  who  had 
invited  him  to  his  house.  "When  thou  makest  a 
dinneT  or  a  supper,  call  not  thy  friends,  nor  thy 
brethren,  neither  thy  kinsmen,  nor  thy  rich  neigh- 
bors; lest  they  also  bid  thee  again,  and  a  recom- 
pense be  made  thee.  But  when  thou  makest  a  feast, 
call  the  poor,  the  lame,  the  maimed,  the  blind:  and 
thou  shalt  be  blessed ;  for  they  cannot  recompense 
thee:  for  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  just." — The  very  thing  that  his  professed 
followers  are  constantly  doing ! !  The  same  rule  is 
enjoined  in  religious  fasting  as  well  as  feasting. 
"  Is  not  this  the  fast  that  I  have  chosen — to  loose  the 
bonds  of  wickedness,  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens, 
and  to  let  the  oppressed  go  free,  and  that  ye  break 
every  yoke"?  Is  it  not  to  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hun- 
gry, and  that  thou  bring  the  poor  that  are  cast  out 
to  thy  house  1  when  thou  seest  the  naked,  that  thou 
cover  him;  and  that  thou  hide  not  thyself  from 
thine  own  flesh  V  Well  therefore  does  the  Apostle 
say,  "  Let  all  your  works  be  done  with  charity."  O ! 
what  a  lovely  religion  do  we  profess;  and  what  a 
church,  what  a  world  shall  we  have,  when  those 
who  profess  it  will  throw  off,  with  execration,  the 
detestable  habits  of  avarice  and  selfishness,  hoard- 
ing and  extravagance;  and  living  according  to  its 
admonitions,  instead  of  practically  insulting  them 
as  they  now  do,  will  easilv  and  cheerfully  furnish  a 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


G5 


sufficiency  for  all  the  exigencies  of  sacred  and  civil 
beneficence ! 

Secondly,  with  Cheerfulness.  Neither  be  ye  sorry 
— Not  that  sorrow  is  improper  in  itself,  or  absolute- 
ly forbidden;  but  it  was  now  unseasonable,  and 
every  thing  is  beautiful  in  its  time.  Joy  becomes 
a  feast.  And  this  joy,  says  Nehemiah,  is  as  import- 
ant as  it  is  becoming— for  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your 
strength — It  will  strengthen  your  bodily  frame;  and 
what  is  more,  it  will  renew  the  strength  of  your 
souls,  so  that  you  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as 
eagles,  run  and  not  be  weary,  and  walk  and  not 
faint. 

Let  us  contemplate  the  Christian 

I.  In  the  divinity;  and 
II.  In  the  utility  of  his  joy. 

I.  The  divinity  of  it. 

— It  is  the  joy  of  the  Lord.  So  it  is  called  by  the 
Judge  of  all,  in  his  address  at  the  last  day.  "  Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant;  enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord."  Now,  this  joy  enters  the  Chris- 
tian ;  and  as  he  is  so  contracted  a  vessel,  he  cannot 
contain  much;  but  then,  he  will  enter  the  joy,  and 
he  will  find  it  a  boundless  ocean.  The  dawn  is  no- 
thing compared  with  the  day;  yet  the  one  always 
results  in  the  other;  and  "  the  path  of  the  just  is  as 
the  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day."  The  dawn  also  arises  from  the 
same  sun  as  the  day;  and  this  joy  is  divine,  not 
only  in  its  completion,  but  in  its  progress  and  even 
commencement — it  is  the  joy  of  the  Lord. 

The  joy  of  the  Lord,  means  religious  joy.  But 
there  is  always  a  reason  for  the  language  of  Scrip- 
ture; and  we  lose  much,  by  not  remarking  the 
beauty  and  energy  of  "  the  words  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  teacheth."  It  is  the  joy  of  the  Lord  in  every 
view  he  can  take  of  it. 

— His,  in  the  authority  that  binds  it  upon  us  as  a 
duty.  He  has  commanded  it.  He  has  done  this 
virtually  in  enjoining  many  things  which  necessa- 
rily pre-suppose  and  require  it.  But  he  has  ex- 
pressly enjoined  the  joy  itself;  and  in  terms  of  pe- 
culiar extent  and  degree — "  Rejoice  evermore." 
"Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always,  and  again  I  say,  re- 
joice." "Rejoice  in  the  Lord,  ye  righteous;  and 
shout  for  joy,  all  ye  that  are  upright  in  heart." 

— His,  in  the  assurance  which  holds  it  forth  as  a 
privilege.  His  purpose  could  have  taken  effect 
without  a  promise;  but  in  this  case  we  could  not 
have  known  his  thoughts  towards  us ;  nor  have 
walked  by  faith;  nor  have  lived  in  hope;  nor  have 
pleaded  his  own  engagement  in  prayer.  But  now 
we  can  go  to  him  and  say,  "  Lord,  do  as  thou  hast 
said.  Fulfil  the  word  unto  thy  servant  upon  which 
thou  hast  caused  me  to  hope."  The  promises  of 
men  are  vain  and  false  like  themselves,  and  often 
make  us  ashamed  of  our  hope.  But  the  Lord  is 
not  a  man  that  he  should  lie,  nor  the  son  of  man 
that  he  should  repent.  Hath  he  said,  and  shall  he 
not  do  it  7  Hath  he  spoken,  and  shall  he  not  make  | 
it  good]  And  has  he  not  said,  "The  redeemed  of 
the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with  songs, 
and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads;  they  shall 
obtain  joy  and  gladness;  and  sorrow  and  sighing 
shall  flee  awayl"  "Blessed  are  the  people  that 
know  the  joyful  sound;  they  shall  walk,  O  Lord, 
in  the  light  of  thy  countenance;  in  thy  name  shall 
they  rejoice  all  the  day,  and  in  thy  righteousness 
shall  they  be  exalted."  The  assurance  is  also  con- 
firmed by  an  oath.  And,  "because  h#  could  swear 
by  no  greater,  he  sware  by  himself:  that  by  two 
immutable  things,  in  which  it  was  impossible  for 
God  to  lie,  we  might  have  a  strong  consolation  who 
have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  upon  the  hope  set 
before  us." 

Number  29. 


— His,  in  the  resemblance  it  bears  to  Ins  itw/i. 
Christians  are  "partakers  of  the  divine  nature." 
They  are  "partakers  of  his  holiness."  As  turns 
they  are  renewed,  his  views  are  their  views,  and  his 
dispositions  are  their  dispositions.  When  John 
says,  "  Whoso  hath  this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his 
brother  had  need,  and  sbuttelh  up  Ins  bowels  of 
compassion  from  him,  how  dwellelh  the  love  of  God 
in  him  '?"—  by  the  love  of  God  he  means  obviously 
a  love  like  God's.  As  if  he  should  say,  God  gave 
his  own  Son  for  his  enemies;  and  this  wretch  win 
not  give  a  little  of  his  substance  for  the  relief  of 
one,  who  is  bone  of  his  bone,  and  flesh  of  his  flesh. 
Now  the  same  may  be  said  of  this  joy.  Did  the 
joy  of  the  Prodigal  himself  surpass  that  of  the  fa- 
ther, when  he  said,  "  Let  us  eat  and  be  merry;  for 
this  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost 
and  is  found"?"  Do  we  feel  the  joy  of  God's  salva- 
tion? He  feels  it  too;  and  this  salvation  is  called 
"  the  pleasure  of  the  Lord."  If  it  be  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive,  what  must  be  the  pleasure 
of  Him  who  "openeth  his  hand  and  satisfieth  the 
desire  of  every  living  thing'?"  But  you  share  in 
this  pleasure,  in  doing  good.  Is  he  "  ready  to  par- 
don ;"  and  does  he  "  delight  in  mercy  V  You  may 
taste  the  same  delight  in  the  exercise  of  cordial  for- 
giveness. Doth  the  "Lord  take  pleasure  in  them 
ihat  fear  him,  in  them  that  hope  in  his  mercy'?"  So 
does  the  Christian.  In  them  is  "all  his  delight." 
Does  the  Lord  call  his  Son  his  "  Elect,  in  whom  his 
soul  delighteth  1"  And  "  to  them  that  believe  he  is 
precious."  What  a  commendation !  To  have  the 
same  end,  and  the  same  way  with  God !  To  choose 
what  He  chooses!  To  pursue  what  He  pursues! 
To  relish  His  happiness!  To  have  His  joy  fulfill- 
ed in  themselves! 

— His,  in  the  subject.  The  material  of  it,  so  to 
speak,  is  found  in  him,  and  in  him  alone.  As  the 
dove  returned  into  the  ark  because  she  could  find 
no  rest  for  the  sole  of  her  foot,  so  is  it  impossible 
for  the  mind  of  man  to  know  any  true  satisfaction 
till  he  says  with  David,  "  Return  unto  thy  rest,  O 
my  soul,  for  the  Lord  hath  dealt  bountifully  with 
thee."  Though,  as  a  fallen  creature,  he  is  alienated 
from  the  life  of  God,  he  retains  the  same  relation 
to  him,  as  his  portion;  and  having  been  made  ca- 
pable of  communion  with  God,  and  designed  for  it, 
he  is  necessarily  miserable  without  it.  He  mayr  for- 
get his  resting  place;  but  he  ran  find  no  substitute 
for  it.  He  may  debase  himself  into  a  congeniality 
with  the  lowest  gratifications:  but  for  happiness  he 
must  draw  near  to  God  as  his  exceeding  joy.  With 
him  is  the  fountain  of  life.  And  there  is  enough 
in  him  to  bless  us,  whatever  be  our  wants,  or  our 
capacities  of  enjoyment.  And  therefore,  says  the 
Christian,  "My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  and 
my  spirit  rejoices  in  God  my  Saviour."  In  him  I 
have  a  shelter  from  every  storm;  a  support  under 
every  load.  The  eternal  God  is  my  refuge,  and 
underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms.  Am  I  guilty? 
"Willi  him  there  is  plenteous  redemption."  He 
was  angry  with  me,  but  his  anger  is  turned  away, 
and  he  comforteth  me.  And  what  comfort  can  be 
compared  with  that  which  arises  from  the  thought, 
that  I  am  reconciled  unto  God  by  the  death  of  his 
Son  1  That  I  am  accepted  in  the  Beloved  ?  Do  I 
want  ability  to  "travel  all  the  length  of  the  celes- 
tial road,"  and  a  title  to  heaven  when  I  arrive  1  "  In 
the  Lord  have  I  righteousness  and  strength."  "I 
will  go  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God  ;  I  will  make 
mention  of  his  righteousness,  even  of  his  only." 
All  his  relations  are  mine.  He  is  my  physician, 
my  friend,  my  shepherd,  my  father.  All  his  per- 
fections are  mine — his  wisdom,  his  power,  his  mer- 
cy, and  his  truth.  All  the  dispensations  of  his  pro- 
vidence, all  the  treasures  of  his  word,  are  mine. 
All  his  grace,  all  his  glorv  is  mine.   "  I  will  greatly 


66 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


rejoice  in  the  Lord,  my  soul  shall  be  joyful  in  my 
God;  for  he  hath  clothed  me  with  the  garments  of 
salvation,  he  hath  covered  me  with  the  robe  of 
righteousness:  as  a  bridegroom  decketh  himself 
with  ornaments,  and  a  bride  adorneth  herself  with 
her  jewels."  Is  this  exultation  excessive  1  There 
can  be  no  excess  here.  As  the  Lord  himself  is  the 
source  of  this  joy,  the  joy  passeth  all  understand- 
ing. And  the  meek  shall  increase  their  joy  in  the 
Lord  for  ever  and  ever,  because  the  subject  of  it  is 
not  only  perfect  but  infinite. 

— His,  finally,  in  the  production.  In  vain  is  pro- 
vision, however  suitable  and  rich,  spread  within 
cur  view,  if  it  be  placed  beyond  our  reach.  Ob- 
serve the  language  of  God  with  regard  to  Ephraim: 
"  I  drew  them  with  cords  of  a  man,  with  bands  of 
love :  and  I  was  to  them  as  they  that  take  off  the 
yoke  on  their  jaws;  and  I  laid  meat  unto  them." 
The  former  was  as  necessary  as  the  latter:  while 
the  mouth  of  the  ox  was  muzzled,  the  nearness  of 
the  food  would  only  tantalize  and  distress.  What 
we  mean  by  the  allusion  is  this:  There  maybe 
reasons  for  rejoicing  when  yet  no  joy  is  experi- 
enced :  for  the  mourner  may  be  unable  to  lay  hold 
of  them,  and  appropriate  them  to  his  own  use. 
Asaph  saw  his  safety,  but  felt  his  inability  to  reach 
it  without  the  aid  of  him  who  had  provided  it. 
"  Lead  me  to  the  rock  that  is  higher  than  I."  David 
therefore  says,  "Thou  shalt  make  them  drink  of 
the  river  of  thy  pleasures."  And  he  prays,  "  Re- 
joice the  soul  of  thy  servant."  And  he  acknow- 
ledges, "  Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart."  And 
who  can  put  it  there,  if  he  does  notl  Can  con- 
science! Can  a  Christian  friend"?  Can  a  minis- 
ter;  even  a  Barnabas,  a  son  of  consolation  1  "  When 
he  maketh  peace,  then  who  can  make  trouble'?  And 
when  he  hideth  his  face,  then  who  can  behold  him, 
whether  it  be  done  against  a  nation  or  a  man  only'?" 
Means  are  to  be  used ;  but  the  agency  that  renders 
them  effectual  is  the  Lord's.  Our  sleep  would  not 
refresh  us  without  the  divine  blessing.  Our  food 
does  not  nourish  us;  but  "every  word  proceedeth 
out  of  the  mouth  of  God." 

And  if  this  be  true  in  natural  things,  is  it  less  so 
in  spiritual  1  Who  then  is  Paul,  and  who  is  Apol- 
losl  Neither  is  he  that  planteth  any  thinsr,  nor  he 
that  watereth,  but  God  that  giveth  the  increase.  He 
is  therefore  called  the  "God  of  all  comfort."  And 
he  is  so  called,  not  only  to  forbid  our  confidence  in 
creatures,  but  to  enlarge  our  expectations  from  him- 
self, by  bringing  an  Almighty  Creator  of  succor 
and  refreshment  into  view,  in  our  difficulties  and 
sorrows.  It  says,  I,  even  7,  am  he  that  comforteth 
yon.  Is  any  thing  too  hard  for  the  Lord?  How- 
ever dark  the  scene,  if  he  says,  Let  there  be  light, 
all  shall  be  irradiated.  However  rough  the  winds 
and  waves,  if  he  says,  Peace,  be  still,  there  shall  be 
a  great  calm.  He  can  turn  the  shadow  of  death  into 
the  morning.  He  can  plant  the  hope  of  glory  in  the 
very  bosom  of  despair.  What  he  does  not  find,  he 
can  produce.  If  there  be  no  pre-existent  materials, 
he  can  create.  Nothing  hears  Ms  voice,  and  yields 
a  world  of  life  and  plenty  and  bliss.  He  calleth 
those  things  which  be  not,  as  though  they  were.  He 
is  the  God  of  all  comfort,  who  comforteth  us  in  all 
our  tribulations. — Let  us  consider, 

II.  The  utility  of  this  joy. 

For  it  is  not  only  divine,  but  efficacious;  and  effi- 
cacious, because  divine.  The  joy  of  the  Lrrd  is 
your  strength.  To  know  the  force  of  an  argument, 
we  apply  it.  To  know  the  power  of  an  implement' 
we  make  trial  of  it.  To  ascertain  the  strength  of  a 
man,  we  compare  him  with  others;  we  task  him 
with  some  exertion;  we  judge  by  the  difficulty  of 
the  work  which  he  achieves,  and  especially  by  the 
might  of  opposition  he  overcomes.     Let  us  exa- 


I  mine  this  joy.  Let  us  bring  it  to  six  tests — some  of 
|  them  very  severe  ones.  And  let  us  see  what  it  can 
!  do  for  the  Christian — in  his  profession  of  religion 
|  — in  his  concern  to  recommend  it  to  others — in  the 
!  discharge  of  duty — in  his  perils — in  his  sufferings 
;  — and  in  death. 

First,  Let  us  review  the  Christian  in  his  profession 
j  of  religion.     That  this  profession  is  required  of  us, 
j  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  prove.     In  one  place  we 
j  are  commanded  to  "  hold  fast  our  profession."     In 
i  a  second,  to  "  hold  fast  the  profession  of  our  faith 
I  without  wavering."     In  a  third,  we  are  represented 
!  not  only  as  "  believing  with  the  heart  unto  right- 
I  eousness,  but  as  confessing  with   the  mouth  unto 
I  salvation."    In  a  fourth,  our  Master  tells  us,  that  if 
we  "  deny  him,  he  will  also  deny  us  ;"  and  that  of 
those  who  "are  ashamed  of  him  and  of  his  words, 
he  will  be  ashamed  when  he  comes  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven  with  the  holy  angels."     So  necessary  is 
it,  not  only  that  we  should  be  what  we  appear,  but 
appear  what  we  are.     The  religion  of  Jesus  is  so 
perfectly  true  and  excellent,  that  it  will  bear  any 
kind  of  exhibition.     And  it  demands  examination. 
And  it  is  the  more  beneficial  the  more  it  is  known. 
Now  let  us  see  how  the  joy  of  the  Lord  affects 
this  profession.     It  is  the  very  strength  of  it.    For 
in  proportion  as  a  man  possesses  it,  he  feels  satisfied 
with  his  portion :  he  glories  in  his  choice  ;  he  is 
ready  to  avow  it.     And  if  it  should  occasion  him 
some  privations  or  sacrifices  which  may  lead  the 
enemy  to  reproach  him,  "Where  is  now  your  God  V 
he  feels  more  than  indemnified  already;  and  can 
say  with  the  apostle,  "for  which  cause  I  suffer  these 
things:      Nevertheless   I   am   not   ashamed,  for   I 
know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded 
that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  is  committed  to 
him  against  that  day."     David  found  God's  testi- 
monies his  delight  and  his  counsellor ;  and  there- 
fore he  could  say,  "  I  will  speak  of  thy  testimonies 
also  before  kings,  and  will  not  be  ashamed." 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  godly  sorrow 
and  godly  joy.  When  we  feel  the  former,  we  natu- 
rally seek  to  elude  observation;  we  retire  to  weep, 
and  the  eye  pours  out  tears  unto  God.  But  joy  is 
stirring  and  manifestative.  It  says  to  them  that  are 
in  darkness,  "Show  yourselves."  To  the  prisoners, 
"  Go  forth" — and  they  "  go  forth  with  joy,  and  are 
led  forth  in  peace."  We  can  appeal  to  the  expe- 
rience of  many  of  you.  How  long  did  you  carry  a 
wounded  and  a  bleeding  conscience,  before  you 
laid  open  the  distress  to  any  creature-inspection. 
It  was  otherwise  when  the  desire  was  accomplished. 
When  he  commanded  deliverance  for  you  ;  when 
you  were  made  free  indeed;  you  could  no  longer 
conceal  your  emotions.  You  then  said,  "Come 
and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare 
what  he  hath  done  for  my  soul.  I  cried  unto  him 
with  my  mouth,  and  he  was  extolled  with  my 
tongue.  I  will  go  into  thy  house  with  burnt-offer- 
ings :  I  will  pay  thee  my  vows,  which  my  lips  have 
uttered,  and  my  mouth  hath  spoken,  when  I  was  in 
trouble.  Thou  hast  turned  for  me  my  mourning 
into  dancing ;  thou  hast  put  off  my  sackcloth  and 
girded  me  with  gladness,  to  the  end  that  my  glory 
may  sing  praise  to  thee,  and  not  be  silent ;  O  Lord 
my  God,  I  will  give  thanks  unto  thee  for  ever."  It 
was  the  loss  of  his  joy,  that  made  David  dumb.  He 
therefore  prays,  "  Open  thou  my  lips,  and  my  mouth 
shall  show  forth  thy  praise.  Restore  unto  me  the 
joy  of  thy  salvation  ;  and  uphold  me  with  thy  free 
Spirit.  Then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy  ways, 
and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  thee." — Let  us 
therefore  observe  the  Christian, 

Secondly,  In  his  concern  to  recommend  religion  fo 
others.  Real  godliness  shows  itself  not  only  per- 
sonally, but  socially.  It  must  begin  at  home ;  but 
it  can  never  end  here.    He  will  not  value  the  sou' 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


67 


of  another  who  despises  his  own ;  but  an  earnest- 
ness for  our  own  salvation  involves  principles  that 
must  make  us  anxious  to  save  all  that  are  around 
i  us.  We  shall  therefore  say  to  them,  as  Moses  said 
to  Hobab,  ''We  are  journeying  towards  a  place  of 
which  the  Lord  said,  I  will  give  it  you  :  come  with 
us,  and  we  will  do  you  good,  for  the  Lord  hath 
spoken  good  concerning  Israel." 

Now  of  this  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  joy  of  the 
Lord  is  the  strength.  It  is  this  that  gives  us  confi- 
dence in  our  addresses.  We  speak  not  from  con- 
jecture, or  from  opinion,  but  experience.  "  That 
which  we  have  seen  and  heard,  declare  we  unto 
you,  that  ye  also  may  have  fellowship  with  us  ;  and 
truly  our  fellowship  is  with  the  Father,  and  with 
his  Son  Jesus  Christ."  It  is  this  that  gives  earnest- 
ness to  our  invitations.  We  have  something  suit- 
able and  valuable  to  recommend.  We  do  not  ask 
persons  to  a  barren  entertainment.  We  have  a 
rich  abundance ;  and  we  have  found  the  plenty 
after  we  were  perishing  ourselves;  and  knowing 
that  others  are  still  in  the  same  condition,  we  re- 
semble the  lepers  at  Samaria,  who  said,  "  This  day 
is  a  day  of  good  things,  and  we  hold  our  peace.  If 
we  tarry  till  the  morning  light,  some  mischief  will 
befall  us;  now  therefore  come,  that  we  may  tell  the 
king's  household."  He  is  the  man  to  say  to  others, 
"  O  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good,"  who  has 
himself  tasted  that  he  is  gracious,  and  from  his 
own  enjoyment  can  say,  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
trusteth  in  him." 

This  also  adds  conviction  and  force  to  our  testi- 
mony and  commendation.  Men  see  what  our  re- 
ligion has  done  for  us,  and  what  it  can  do  for  them 
also.  Will  any  thing  recommend  a  master  more 
than  the  cheerfulness  of  his  servants'?  When  they 
constantly  sing  at  their  work,  is  it  not  a  proof  that 
they  do  not  find  it  an  irksome,  wearisome  thing  to 
serve  him  1  All  are  looking  out  for  happiness;  and 
if  they  see  that  you  have  found  what  others  in 
every  direction  miss  ;  that  while  others,  like  fools, 
are  running  up  and  down  the  earth,  asking,  "  Who 
will  show  us  any  good  V  your  heart  is  set  at  rest ; 
that  while  others  are  full  of  complaint,  you  are 
filled  with  praise;  that  while  they  are  enlarging 
their  desires  as  hell,  you  learn  to  be  content  with 
such  things  as  you  have ;  troubled,  yet  not  dis- 
tressed ;  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing;  having 
nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things — must  not 
this  induce  them  to  say,  "  This  is  the  seed  which 
the  Lord  hath  blessed  V  Will  not  this  move  them 
to  take  hold  of  the  skirt  of  him  that  is  a  Jew,  say- 
ing, we  will  go  with  you,  for  we  have  heard  that 
God  is  with  you  1 

Wo  to  the  world  because  of  offences,  says  the 
Saviour.  And  professors  should  remember,  these 
offences  are  various  and  many.  The  way  of  truth 
may  be  evil  spoken  of,  not  only  by  your  immoral 
conduct,  but  by  your  perverse  disposition ;  and  by 
your  unlovely  temper  ;  and  by  your  sullenness,  and 
mopi.-.hness,  and  gloom,  and  fear.  Your  delicate 
regard  for  the  honor  of  the  gospel  should  lead  you 
to  attend  to  the  command  of  your  Lord,  "  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid." 
But  when  you  are  unable  to  suppress  sorrowful  and 
desponding  feelings,  should  you  not  endeavor  to 
concca l  them  1  "I  was  ashamed,"  sayrs  Ezra,  "to 
require  of  the  king  a  band  of  soldiers  and  horsemen 
to  help  us  against  the  enemy  in  the  way;  because 
we  had  spoken  unto  the  king,  saying,  The  hand  of 
our  God  is  upon  all  them  that  seek  him."  Now 
confidence  in  God  was  not  incompatible  with  his 
asking  for  such  assistance;  but  it  was  likely  to  ope- 
rate stiangely  and  injuriously  on  the  mind  of  this 
pagan  monarch ;  and  because  it  would  look  like 
suspicion  and  apprehension,  he  avoided  the  very 
appearance  of  evil. 


Thirdly,  Let  us  view  the  Christian  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  duties.  These  are  numerous,  and  ex- 
tensive, and  difficult;  and  he  is  required  to  be  al- 
ways abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  And 
here,  too,  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  his  strength.  It 
is  well  known  that  fear  chills;  despondency  un- 
nerves; sorrow  depresses.  But  hope  is  encourage- 
ment. It  is  energy.  It  is  the  main-spring  of  ac- 
tion. It  sets  and  keeps  the  world  in  motion.  Joy 
inspires  ;  excites ;  elevates.  It  renders  our  work, 
our  privilege.  It  throws  off  the  dullness  and  for- 
mality in  our  holy  exercises.  We  not  only  have 
life,  but  have  it  more  abundantly.  The  absence  of 
this  joy  is  a  kind  of  winter ;  and  then  we  are  not 
only  dark,  but  barren ;  not  only  cold,  but  lifeless. 
But  the  return  of  it  makes  the  spring;  and  again 
the  earth  teems,  and  the  field  and  garden  are  all 
movement,  and  the  trees  are  blossom,  and  the  air 
all  song.  David  understood  this,  and  therefore 
said,  "  Then  will  I  run  in  the  way  of  thy  command- 
ments, when  thou  shalt  have  enlarged"  my  heart." 
Bunyan  knew  this,  and  therefore  he  releases  his 
Pilgrim  from  his  burden ;  and  so,  not  only  delights 
him  by  the  relief,  but  prepares  him  for  the  better 
and  more  successful  execution  of  his  journey. — 
From  this  load  persons  are  not  all  discharged  at 
the  same  time;  and  some  carry  it  long.  But  it  is 
an  hinderance,  as  well  as  a  distress;  and  favored 
is  he  who  is  early  delivered,  and  can  lightsomely 
advance  in  the  way  everlasting. 

Some  seem  afraid  to  administer  the  consolations 
of  the  glorious  gospel  fully,  as  if  they  would  have, 
if  not  a  licentious,  yet  a  paralyzing  effect  on  the  re- 
ceiver. But  these  timid  dispensers  of  divine  truth, 
though  they  may  be  well  meaning,  are  not  well  in- 
formed. They  are  ignorant  of  the  very  principles 
of  our  nature  ;  and  know  very  little  of  the  comforts 
of  the  Holy  Ghost — or  they  would  know  that  these 
comforts  are  not  opiates,  but  cordials — that  while 
theyr  refresh,  they  also  animate.  If  there  must  be 
any  thing  of  an  extreme,  (for  which,  however,  we 
do  not  plead,)  it  would  be  better  for  the  leaning  to 
be  on  the  .side  of  privilege  than  of  legality,  even 
with  regard  to  practical  religion.  Such  a  man, 
grateful  for  his  indulgences,  at  the  feet  of  his  Bene- 
factor as  well  as  Muster,  will  feel  himself  much 
more  disposed  and  bound  to  dedicate  himself  to  his 
service;  and  his  langunge  must  be,  "What  shall  I 
render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  towards 
me  1" 

Fourthly,  Let  us  view  the  Christian  in  his  perils. 
He  is  perpetually  surrounded  with  temptations  in 
the  world.  These  flatter  him,  and  would  entice 
him  away  from  God.  And  these  he  is  to  resist, 
steadfast  in  the  faith.  But  how  is  this  to  be  done  1 
By  threatening  1  By  constraints  1  These  may  in- 
deed induce  him  actually  to  refuse  the  offers  and 
allurements;  but  not  in  affection.  The  joy  of  the 
Lord  is  his  strength  ;  and  without  this,  a  man  will 
only  leave  the  world  as  Lot's  wife  left  Sodom — she 
left  it,  but  her  heart  was  still  in  the  place  ;  and  she 
inwardly  sighed,  O  that  I  was  there!  O  that  I 
could  return,  and — not  be  destroyed  !  Thus  there 
are  some  who  forsake  the  world,  as  far  as  they  are 
impelled  by  the  fear  of  hell,  or  the  dread  of  re- 
proach or  shame  of  inconsistency;  but  they  hate 
the  obligation  that  keeps  them  back  from  their  loved 
indulgences;  and,  like  wasps  burnt  out  of  their 
nests,  are  angry  and  resentful  towards  all  around 
them,  for  the  injuries  they  have  endured.  Prohi- 
bition, so  far  from  killing  desire,  has  a  tendency  to 
increase  it ;  sin  takes  occasion  by  the  command- 
ment; and  that  which  was  ordained  to  be  unto  life, 
proves  to  be  unto  death.  The  Christian  is  not 
saved  from  the  world  by  the  law,  but  by  grace. 
He  is  not  driven  out  of  it  against  his  inclination- 
he  leaves  it  voluntarily;  and  gives  proof  of  it;  for 


68 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED, 


truly  if  he  were  mindful  of  the  country  from  whence 
he  came  out,  he  would  have  opportunities  to  return. 
He  has  the  same  allurements  end  seductions  pre- 
sented to  him,  as  others.  But  here  is  the  difference ; 
they  are  alive  to  them,  but  he  is  dead.  He  has 
found  something  infinitely  superior;  this,  by  re- 
fining and  exalting  his  taste,  has  weaned  him ;  and 
he  can  no  longer  relish  the  mean  and  ignoble  pro- 
vision of  former  days.  Having  found  the  pure 
spring,  he  no  longer  kneels  to  the  filthy  puddle. 
Having  tasted  the  grapes  of  Eshcol,  he  longs  no 
more  tor  the  leeks,  and  garlic,  and  onions  of  Egypt. 
The  palace  makes  him  forget  the  dunghill. 

This,  this  is  the  way,  and  the  only  effectual  way 
of  separating  the  heart  from  the  world ;  it  is  to  sub- 
due the  sense  of  an  inferior  good,  by  the  enjoyment 
of  a  greater.  Who  would  exchange  the  green  pas- 
tures and  still  waters  for  barrenness  and  drought! 
Who  wants  lamps,  or  even  stars,  when  the  sun  is  up! 

'As  by  the  light  of  opening  day 
The  stars  are  all  concealed  ; 
So  earthly  pleasures  fade  away 
When  Jesus  is  revealed." 

This  joy  exorcises  a  man  of  carnal  affection :  and 
we  are  persuaded  the  efficacy  of  it  is  far  greater 
to  mortiiy  us  to  the  world,  than  the  influence  of 
afflictions.  Losses  and  disappointments  may  sur- 
prise and  c;mfound  us,  and  lead  us  to  lament  the 
uncertainty  of  every  thing  below  ;  but  they  do  not 
make  us  leel  their  unsatisfactory  and  polluted  na- 
ture. Even  under  the  pressure  of  their  trials,  and 
amidst  all  their  complaints,  you  will  often  discern 
the  disposition  of  the  sufferers  remaining  unchanged. 
And  if  not,  how  soon  after  does  renewed  pursuit 
succeed  deplored  deceptions,  and  men  flee  to  a  repe- 
tition of  similar  experiments,  till  all  the  mad  career 
is  ended !  But  the  experience  produced  by  the 
sight  of  the  cross,  and  communion  with  God  in 
Christ,  will  never  allow  the  world  to  become  again 
the  Christian's  end,  or  portion.  If  by  the  power 
of  delusion  he  be  drawn  astray  for  a  moment,  he 
will  soon  find  that  it  is  not  with  him  as  in  months 
past:  and  he  will  be  sure  to  feel  the  wretchedness 
of  what  he  has  chosen,  compared  with  the  glory  of 
what  he  has  left.  And  this  feeling  will  serve  to 
recall  him.  The  apostate  has  no  such  experience  as 
this  to  check  and  turn  him.  But  the  backslider  has: 
and  see  the  result — "  I  will  go,"  says  the  church, 
"  and  return  to  my  first  husband,  for  then  it  was 
better  with  me  than  now." 

Fifthly,  We  shall  see  that  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is 
his  strength,  if  we  view  the  Christian  in  his  suffer- 
ings. Here  we  might  lead  you  back,  and  call  to 
your  remembrance  the  former  times.  We  might 
show  you  the  glorious  army  of  martyrs  tortured, 
not  accepting  deliverance,  that  they  might  obtain  a 
belter  resurrection.  We  might  show  you  Peter 
and  John,  after  being  scourged,  departing  from  the 
council,  rejoicing  that  they  were  counted  worthy  to 
suffer  shame  for  his  name.  We  might  show  you 
the  Hebrews  taking  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their 
goods  ;  and  men,  and  women,  and  youths,  severing 
from  their  friends  who  hung  on  their  necks,  willing 
to  go  to  prison  and  to  death.  I  might  show  you 
Bradford,  who,  when  the  keeper's  wife,  weeping, 
said  to  him,  "  O  sir,  I  am  come  with  heavy  tidings 
— you  are  to  be  burnt  to-morrow,  and  they  are 
gone  into  the  city  to  buy  the  chain  :"  taking  off  his 
hat  and  laying  it  upon  the  ground,  and  kneeling 
and  raising  his  hands,  he  said,  "Lord,  I  thank  thee 
for  this  honor.  This  is  what  I  have  been  waiting 
for,  and  longing  for." 

Such  scenes  as  these,  owing  to  the  laws  of  the 
land,  we  are  not  called  to  witness.  With  us,  per- 
secution is  not  national ;  is  not  legal.  We  can  sit 
under  our  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  none  daring  to 


,  make  us  afraid.  Yet  there  aie  instances  of  private 
and  personal  wrongs  beyond  the  prevention  of  law. 
The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,  and  the 
tongue  can  no  man  tame.  We  have  seen  servants 
deprived  of  their  places  ;  and  workmen  of  their  em- 
ployment; and  tradesmen  of  their  custom.  We 
have  seen  wives  and  children  enduring  privations, 
and  insults,  and  outrage.  We  have  seen  the  fol- 
lower of  the  Lamb,  bearing  his  reproach,  scorned 
by  his  companions,  and  deserted  by  his  friends — yet 
acting  with  decision  and  consistency,  and  practically 
saying,  "  None  of  these  things  move  me  ;  neither 
count  I  my  life  dear,  so  that  1  but  finish  my  course 
with  joy."  And  why  have  they  not  been  overcome  1 
Why  have  they  not  partially  yielded  1  They  were 
filled  with  everlasting  consolation,  and  good  hope 
through  grace.  "  The  joy  of  the  Lord  was  their 
strength." 

But  afflictions  of  any  kind  may  supply  the  place 
of  persecution,  and  try  every  religious  principle. — 
We  talk  of  martyrs.  What  martyrs  have  endured, 
what  some  Christians  have  been  called  in  private 
life  to  suffer  month  after  month,  and  year  after  year 
— a  great  part  of  the  heart's  bitterness  perhaps 
known  only  to  themselves  !  Yet,  under  bodily  an- 
guish, and  family  bereavements,  and  the  cruelty  of 
connections,  and  reductions  in  life  the  most  humili- 
ating, we  have  witnessed  them — not  raging  against 
instruments,  not  cursing  the  day  of  their  birth,  not 
impeaching  the  providence  of  God,  not  charging 
him  unkindly ;  but  looking  upward  and  meekly 
saying,  "  I  know,  O  Lord,  that  thy  judgments  are 
right,  and  that  thou  in  faithfulness  hast  afflicted  me." 
Not  insensible,  yet  more  than  resigned — not  under- 
valuing the  comforts  of  which  they  have  been  strip- 
ped, yet  exulting,  "  Though  the  fig-tree  shall  not  y 
blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines ;  the  " 
labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield 
no  meat ;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold, 
and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls ;  yet  I  will 
rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  sal- 
vation." 

Finally,  It  is  hardly  needful  to  say,  this  joy  of  the 
Lord  is  the  Christian's  strength  in  death.  For 
what  but  this  can  be  his  support  then  1  Then  lover 
and  friend  must  fail  him.  Then  the  keepers  of  the 
house  tremble.  Then  desire  fails.  What  can  na- 
ture do  here  1  or  nature's  light  1  or  nature's  reli- 
gion 1  But  in  the  multitude  of  his  thoughts  within 
him — and  what  a  multitude  of  thoughts  will  beset  a 
dying  man  ! — God's  comforts  delight  his  soul.  The 
world  passeth  away  ;  but  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
at  hand.  The  outward  man  perisheth  ;  but  the  in- 
ward man  is  renewed.  He  looks  at  his  trembling 
limbs,  and  feels  his  fainting  heart.  His  heart  and 
bis  flesh  faileth  :  but  God  is  the  strength  of  his  heart, 
and  his  portion  for  ever.  He  looks  forward,  and 
sees  enough  to  dismay  all  mortal  courage — but,  says 
he,  "  my  shepherd's  with  me  there."  "  Yea,  though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I 
will  fear  no  evil ;  for  thou  art  with  me,  thy  rod  and 
thy  staff  they  comfort  me." 

And  now  what  says  our  subject  in  a  way  of 
practical  improvement  1 

— It  says,  Enquire  what  your  joy  is.  Is  it  the  joy 
of  the  Lord  !  For  there  is  the  joy  of  the  sinner. — 
And  we  read  of  the  pleasures  of  sin  :  these  are  for 
a  season  ;  and  as  they  are  soon  over,  so  they  leave 
nothing  but  stains  and  stings  behind.  We  read  of 
the  joy  of  the  hypocrite,  and  are  told  that  it  is  but 
for  a  moment ;  because  at  death  he  must  be  detected, 
and  may  be  laid  open  much  sooner.  There  is  the 
joy  of  the  Pharisee,  who  trusts  in  himself  that  he  is 
righteous  and  despises  others,  and  even  glories  be- 
fore God.  Some  are  said  to  rejoice  in  a  thing  of 
nought.  Such  are  all  worldlings :  for  all  that 
cometh  is  vanity ;  and  honors  and  riches  and  powei 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


6y 


are  but  to  them,  as  so  man)-  toys  or  flowers  thrown 
into  the  vehicle,  that  is  conveying  the  condemned 
criminal  to  the  place  of  execution. 

Now  it  matters  little  which  of  these  joys  charac- 
terizes you,  if  you  are  a  stranger  to  the  joy  of  which 
we  have  been  speaking.  But  allow  me,  in  refer- 
ence to  your  choice,  to  remind  you  of  the  language 
of  Solomon.  "  Even  in  laughter  the  heart  is  sor- 
rowful, and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is  heaviness.  I 
said  of  laughter,  it  is  mad,  and  of  mirth,  what  doth 
if?"  Yes,  this  is  the' question— What  doth  it? — 
You  have  seen  what  the  joy  of  the  Christian  can  do? 
— But  what  doth  yours  ?  Does  it  purify  your  pas- 
sions ?  Does  it  make  you  happy  alone  1  Does  it 
afford  you  any  thing  like  satisfaction  ?  Does  it  bear 
you  up  under  the  trials  of  life  ?  Does  it  raise  you 
above  the  dread  of  death  and  eternity  ?  Has  it  any 
constant  source  1  any  solid  foundation  ?  Is  it  not 
the  creature  of  ignorance  1  Are  you  not  afraid  to 
let  in  one  ray  of  divine  truth  upon  it  1  Would  not 
cne  serious  thought  of  God  and  of  another  world 
strike  it  dead  upon  the  spot  1  "I  create  the  fruit  of 
the  lips ;  peace,  peace  to  him  that  is  far  off,  and  to 
him  that  is  near,  saith  the  Lord ;  and  I  will  heal 
him.  But  the  wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea, 
when  it  cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and 
dirt.  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked. 
Therefore  thus  said  the  Lord  God,  Behold,  my  ser- 
vants shall  eat,  but  ye  shall  be  hungry  :  behold,  my 
servants  shall  drink,  but  ye  shall  be  thirsty ;  beholxl, 
my  servants  shall  rejoice,  but  ye  shall  be  ashamed; 
behold,  my  servants  shall  sing  for  joy  of  heart,  but 
ye  shall  cry  for  sorrow  of  heart,  and  shall  howl  for 
vexation  of  spirit." 

— It  says,  See  how  greatly  religion  is  libelled.  You 
well  know  that  it  is  commonly  represented  as  at 
variance  with  every  thing  like  pleasure  ;  and  no- 
thing can  be  more  injurious  than  such  a  representa- 
tion, especially  to  the  young,  who  are  so  alive  to 
happiness.  But  can  any  thing  be  so  unfounded  and 
false  as  this  vile  and  repulsive  opinion  ?  Surely 
God  is  able  to  make  a  man  happy ;  and  is  it  there- 
fore reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  will  suffer  one 
who  neglects  and  hates  him  to  be  happier  than  one 
who  loves  and  serves  him  1  Has  my  hoping  and 
believing  that  death  is  the  gate  of  life  ;  that  heaven 
is  my  home  ;  that  God  is  my  father ;  that  all  things 
are  working  together  for  my  good  ;  a  tendency  to 
prevent  or  diminish  my  enjoyment  of  the  beauties 
of  nature,  and  the  bounties  of  providence,  and  the 
intercourses  of  life?  But  if  the  Scriptures  are  al- 
lowed to  decide,  and  they  contain  the  judgment  of 
the  only  wise  and  true  God,  we  know  that  wisdom's 
ways  "  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths 
are  peace.  She  is  a  tree  of  life  to  them  that  lay 
hold  of  her,  and  happy  is  every  one  that  retaineth 
her."  And  in  this  testimony  every  partaker  of  di- 
vine grace  acquiesces.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  ap- 
peal to  others.  They  have  not  made  the  trial ;  but 
these  have.  And  these  will  tell  you,  that  they  know 
nothing  of  bondage.  To  them  his  service  is  perfect 
freedom.  They  find  his  yoke  easy,  and  his  burden 
light.  They  will  tell  you  that  they  were  strangers 
to  real  pleasure  as  long  as  they  were  without  Christ ; 
but  since  their  knowledge  of  Him,  their  common 
mercies  have  been  sweetened  ;  their  very  sorrows 
have  been  blessed  ;  and  they  prefer  their  own  lowest 
estate,  to  all  the  glory  and  goodness  of  the  world. 

— Tt  snvs,  Wliil  an  inducement  is  here  to  seek  the 
Lord  and  his  strength,  In  seek  his  fare  evermore.  Joy 
is  a  thing  to  which  none  are  indifferent.  All  are 
contriving  or  laboring  to  acquire  something  in  which 
they  may  rejoice.  But  here  the  blessing  is.  Here 
is  a  joy  that  deserves  the  name.  A  joy  soft  as  the 
ciher  of  Paradise,  and  pure  as  the  river  of  life  pro- 
•Jftpdina  fiom  tho  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb — 


the  hidden  manna — the  bread  of  heaven— angels' 
food — yea,  more — for 

"  Never  did  angels  taste  above 
Redeeming  grace  and  dying  love." 

And  can  you  do  without  this  joy  ?  If  you  can  dis- 
pense with  it  while  every  thing  prospers — what  will 
you  do  in  the  day  of  adversity  ?  If  you  can  dis- 
pense with  it  in  the  smiles  of  youth— what  will  you 
do,  in  the  decays  and  privations  and  depressions  of 
age  ?  If  you  can  dispense  with  it  in  the  excitements 
of  society — what  will  you  do,  in  the  dreariness  of 
solitude  ?  If  you  can  dispense  with  it  in  the  at- 
tractions of  life— what  will  you  do,  in  the  loneliness 
of  death  ?  If  you  can  dispense  with  it  in  a  world  of 
engrossment  and  diversions — 

"  O  ye  gay  dreamers  of  gay  dreams, 
How  will  you  weather  an  eternal  night 
Where  such  expedients  fail  ?" 

— But  do  you  not  now  feel  your  need  of  it  ?  How- 
ever successful,  however  indulged,  however  amused, 
do  you  not  now  feel  a  void  within  which  this  alone 
can  fill— a  craving  which  this  alone  can  relieve — a 
restlessness  which  this  alone  can  soothe  and  calm  ] 
And  is  it  not  attainable?  Is  there  not  one,  among 
all  your  dissatisfactions  and  disquietudes,  now  say- 
ing, "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  rhat  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon 
you,  and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls." 

—  It  says,  Your  religion  is  to  be  suspected,  if  i;nu 
are  habitually  destitute  of  joy.  Here  we  readily  ex- 
clude all  constitutional  cases,  such  as  we  have  ad- 
mitted in  the  former  Lecture  :  there  is  no  reasoning 
from  these.  We  also  limit  our  intimation  by  ob- 
serving, that  it  does  not  extend  to  that  joy  which 
springs  from  strong  confidence,  or  the  full  assurance 
of  hope.  With  regard  to  this,  every  one  whose 
heart  is  right  with  God  will  prize  it  and  desire  it.— 
But  we  have  known  many  who  have  possessed  very 
little  of  it  through  life,  and  yet  have  given  unde- 
niable proof  that  they  are  renewed  in  the  spirit  of 
their  mind.  But  this  is  only  one  view  of  the  Chris- 
tian's joy,  or  rather  one  kind  of  it.  There  are  other, 
and  many  other  sources  of  sacred  delight.  There 
are  the  pleasures  of  divine  knowledge ;  the  plea- 
sures of  hope  ;  the  pleasures  of  review,  in  looking 
back  upon  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  has  led  ps  ; 
the  pleasures  arising  from  attendance  on  the  means 
of  grace;  the  pleasures  arising  from  congeniality 
with  the  things  of  the  Spirit,  and  which  makes  h 
our  meat  to  do  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father  ;  the 
pleasures  arising  from  the  approbation  of  conscience ; 
and  the  pleasures  of  usefulness.  There  are  persons 
who  are  ready  to  exclude  themselves  from  the  glad- 
ness of  God's  nation,  and  yet  their  eye  sparkles  with 
pleasure  when  they  see  the  prosperity  of  Jerusalem, 
and  hear  that  the  w-ord  of  the  Lord  has  free  course 
and  is  glorified.  But  are  they  strangers  to  the  joy 
of  the  Lord? 

— It  says,  Let  this  joy  be  a,  peculiar  object  of  atten- 
tion to  every  Christian — Let  him  never  forget  that 
it  is  his  strength. 

If  therefore  he  has  lost  it,  let  him  not  rest  till  he 
has  regained  it.  Let  him  hasten  back  to  the  place 
where  he  slept  and  dropped  his  roll.  Let  him  re- 
pent and  do  his  first  works. 

Though  his  state  be  secure,  let  him  remember 
that  his  comfort  may  vary  and  decline  ;  and  there- 
fore let  him  guard  against  every  thing  that  may 
wound  his  peace,  and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
interrupt  his  communion  with  God. 

Some  of  you  know  the  worth  of  this  joy  from  the 
want,  rather  than  from  the  experience.  You  are 
nut  strangers  to  the  nature  of  it;  but  the  degree  in 
which  you  possess  it,  is  far  below  your  duty  and 


70 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


your  privilege.  Let  me  beseech  you,  as  you  value 
your  own  welfare,  and  the  honor  of  your  God,  to 
seek,  immediately  and  earnestly,  an  increase  of  it. 

And  for  this  purpose,  suffer  the  word  of  exhorta- 
tion. Commune  with  your  own  heart,  and  insist 
upon  a  reason  for  your  distress;  saying  with  David, 
"  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul,  and  why  art 
thou  disquieted  in  me  V  Maintain  intercourse  with 
the  wise  and  experienced.  Two  are  better  than 
one.  Jonathan  jvent  to  David  in  the  wood,  and 
strengthened  his  hand  in  God.  One  Christian  is 
frequently  to  another  like  the  angel  to  Hagar — she 
was  ready  to  die  of  thirst  with  water  near  her ;  but 
he  opened  her  eyes  and  showed  her  the  well.  "  Re- 
tire and  read  thy  Bible,  to  be  gay."  Peruse  much 
the  Scriptures,  which  are  filled  with  words  good 
and  comfortable.  Acquaint  yourselves  with  the 
method  of  salvation — the  freeness  and  plenitude  of 
divine  grace — the  ground  of  our  acceptance — and 
all  the  provision  made,  not  only  for  our  safety  but 
consolation.  Pay  much  attention  to  the  ordinances 
of  God.  His  ministers  are  helpers  of  your  joys. 
He  is  known  in  his  palaces  for  a  refuge.  Accord- 
ing to  your  conduct  here,  you  will  be  vouchers,  both 
for  the  promise  and  the  threatening;  "Them  that 
honor  me,  I  will  honor;  and  they  that  despise  me 
shall  be  lightly  esteemed."  Be  much  in  prayer. 
Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive,  that  your  joy  may  be  full. 
We  read  of  the  joy  of  faith.  Look  after  more  of 
this  all-important  principle.  You  can  only  be  filled 
with  all  joy  and  peace,  in  believing.  But  believing, 
ye  shall  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory. 

Follow  these  admonitions  ;  and  while  the  joy  of 
the  Lord  is  your  strength,  you  shall  not  want  the 
strength  of  the  joy.  You  shall  know  the  truth,  and 
the  truth  shall  make  you  free.  You  shall  go  on 
pinging  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord ;  and  you  soon  shall 
reach  his  presence,  where  there  is  fulness  of  joy ; 
and  his  right  hand,  where  there  are  pleasures  for 
evermore.     Amen. 


LECTURE  X. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  DEATH. 

"  Mark  the  perfect  man  and  behold  the  upright :  for 
the  end  of  that  man  is  peace." — Psalm  xxxvii.  37. 

You  have  heard  of  the  manner  in  w»hich  a  dis- 
tinguished writer,  and  a  Secretary  of  State,  expired, 
"  Come,"  said  Addison,  to  a  young  nobleman  of 
rather  infidel  principles,  as  he  entered  his  dying 
chamber  ;  "  Come,"  said  he,  taking  him  softly  by 
the  hand ;  "  Come,  and  see  how  a  Christian  can 
die." 

This  has  always  been  admired  as  a  noble  expres- 
sion of  composure,  and  faith,  and  zeal.  And  to  this 
the  poet  alludes  when  he  says — 

"  He  taught  us  how  to  live ;  and  O  !  too  high 
The  price  of  knowledge,  taught  us  how  to  die." 

If  we  object  to  any  thing  in  the  address,  it  is  not 
that  it  came  from  a  character  whose  religion  some 
may  think  too  undecided  ;  for  candor  should  lead 
us  to  conclude  that  he  was  what  he  professed  to  be 
— especially  at  a  period  so  awful— but  that  the  sub- 
ject of  the  eulogy  should  have  been  the  author. 
"Let  another  praise  thee,  and  not  thy  own  mouth; 
a  stranger,  and  not  thy  own  lips."  The  exclama- 
tion may  indeed  have  been  designed,  not  to  glorify 
the  man,  but  his  religion;  and  to  recommend  from 
his  own  experience  what  could  support  and  refresh, 
even  when  all  other  succors  and  comforts  failed! 
Yet  we  would  rather  the  friend  or  the  minister  had 
laid  bold  of  the  approaching  observer,  and  leading 


him  into  the  room,  had  said,  "Come,  see  how  a 
Christian  can  die." 

Such  an  office  your  Lecturer  has  to  perform  this 
morning.  "  Mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the 
upright :  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace." 

"Fly,  ye  profane,  or  else  draw  near  with  awe. 
For  here  resistless  demonstration  dwells. 
Here  tired  dissimulation  drops  her  mask, 
Here  real  and  apparent  are  the  same. 
— You  see  the  man ;  you  see  his  hold  on  heaven. 
Heaven  waits  not  the  last  moment :  owns  its  friends 
On  this  side  death,  and  points  them  out  to  men — 
A  lecture  silent,  but  of  sovereign  use. 
Life  take  thy  chance — but  O  for  such  an  end." 

"Mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the  righteous: 
for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace."  We  premise  three 
remarks. 

The  First,  regards  the  character — The  perfect 
man.  This  may  seem  discouraging ;  but  it  really 
is  not  so.  If  it  intended  absolute  purity,  no  crea- 
ture could  claim  the  title.  "  Behold,  he  put  no  trust 
in  his  servants,  and  his  angels  he  charged  with 
folly."  If  it  intended  actual  exemption  from  all 
moral  infirmities,  none  of  the  human  race — no,  not 
even  of  the  sanctified  part  of  it,  could  be  included. 
"For  there  is  not  on  earth  a  just  man  that,  liveth 
and  sinneth  not."  "  In  many  things,"  says  an  apostle, 
"  we  offend  all."  And  our  Saviour  teaches  us  to 
pray  for  daily  pardon  as  well  as  for  daily  bread. 

To  say  that  the  Christain  will  certainly  be  com- 
plete hereafter,  and  that  he  is  complete  in  Christ 
now,  is  true.  But  the  character  refers  to  something 
present  and  personal.  Bishop  Lowth,  in  his  admir- 
able prelections  on  the  Hebrew  poetry,  remarks 
how  commonly  it  abounds  with  parallelisms.  The 
second  member  of  the  verse  never  expresses  a  new 
idea,  but  always  repeats  the  sentiment  contained  in 
the  first.  It  may  enlarge  or  enforce  or  explain  it; 
but  never  gives  it  up  for  another.  According  to 
this  rule,  the  character  is  not  only  called  perfect, 
but  upright.  And  the  latter  attribute  is  explanatory 
of  the  former — the  perfect  man  is  the  upright — one 
who  is  upright  in  his  transactions  with  his  own  soul 
— upright  in  his  dealings  with  his  God — upright  in 
his  conduct  with  his  fellow  creatures — one  "  whose 
rejoicing  is  this,  the  testimony  of  his  conscience,  that 
in  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity,  not  with  fleshly 
wisdom,  but  by  the  grace  of  God,  he  has  his  conver- 
sation in  the  world." 

The  Second,  regards  the  subject  of  attention. — 
The  end  of  this  man.  Every  thing  pertaining  to  his 
character  is  deserving  of  notice:  his  birth;  his  re- 
lations; his  conduct;  his  condition.  But  here  our 
eyes  are  fixed  on  his  death.  "  Mark  the  perfect  man, 
and  behold  the  upright :  for  the  end  of  that  man  is 
peace." 

The  Third  regards  the  testimony  concerning  his 
end — it  is  peace.  This  word  was  not  used  by  the 
Jews  as  if  is  with  us.  With  us  it  always  suggests 
the  idea  of  reconciliation  and  concord,  after  vari- 
ance and  strife;  or  of  serenity  of  mind  as  opposed 
to  some  kind  of  conflict.  With  them  the  term  was 
significant  of  good  at  large:  prosperity;  welfare; 
happiness.  Thus  we  are  commanded  to  pray  for 
the  "  peace  of  Jerusalem."  Thus  Joseph  says, 
"God  shall  give  Pharaoh  an  answer  of  peace." 
Thus  Artaxerxes  superscribes  his  letter,  "Peace, 
and  at  such  a  time."  Thus  the  disciples  were  to 
say  as  they  entered,  "  Peace  be  to  this  house."  Thus 
we  are  to  understand  it,  as  used  by  Simeon  when  he 
took  up  the  Saviour  in  his  arms  and  blessed  God 
and  said,  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  de- 
part in  peace."  "  My  desires  and  hopes  are  accom- 
plished ;  I  am  now  happy ;  satisfied  with  favor,  and 
filled  with  the  blessing  of  the  Lord." — And  this  is 
the  meaning  in  the  words  before  us—  "Mark  the 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


n 


perfect  nan,  and  behold  the  upright :  for  the  end  of 
that  man  is  peace."  This  accords  with  our  design 
this  morning,  which  is  to  view  the  Christian, 

In  Death. 

There  are  four  things  in  the  dying  of  the  Chris- 
tian I  would  call  upon  yon  to  observe — Its  prospect. 
Its  Experience.     Its  Influence.     Its  Issue. 

I.  The  PROSPECT  IS  NOT  ALWAYS  PLEASING. 

II.  The  ACTUAL  EXPERIENCE  IS  COMMONLY  MUCH 
INDULGED   AND    DISTINGUISHED. 

III.  It  is  OFTENER  PECULIARLY  USEFUL  EY  ITS  IN- 
FLUENCE. 

IV.  It   is  ALWAYS  SAFE  AND  GLORIOUS  IN  THE  ISSUE. 
I.    It    is    NOT  ALWAYS  PLEASING  IN  ITS  PROSPECT. 

There  are  some  indeed  who  are  able  to  look  for- 
ward to  the  scene,  not  only  without  reluctance  and 
dread,  but  with  resignation  and  pleasure.  They 
contemplate  death,  as  their  deliverance;  their  vic- 
tory; their  triumph.  In  all  their  dissatisfactions 
and  trials  they  seem  to  say,  "  Well ;  all  will  be  soon 
explained,  rectified,  completed.  When  a  few 
years  are  come,  I  shall  go  the  way  I  shall  not  re- 
turn." Thus  Dr.  Gouge  was  accustomed  to  say,  "  I 
have  two  friends  in  the  world :  Christ  and  death. 
Christ  is  my  first,  but  death  is  my  second."  Such  a 
Christian  may  be  compared  to  a  child  at  school. 
The  little  pupil  is  no  enemy  to  his  book;  but  he 
likes  home  ;  and  finds  his  present  condition  not  only 
a  place  of  tuition,  but  of  comparative  confinement 
and  exclusion.  He  does  not  run  away;  but  while 
he  studies,  he  thinks  with  delight  of  his  return.  He 
welcomes  every  messenger  to  him — but  far  more  the 
messenger  that  comes  for  him.  And  though  he 
may  be  a  black  servant,  he  says,  "Well,  he  will 
take  me  to  my  father's  house." 

But  such  cheerfulness  in  the  prospect  is  not  inva- 
riably nor  commonly  the  feeling  of  good  men. 
When  David  says,  "Yea,  though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no 
evil,"  he  speaks  of  this  anticipation,  as  an  attain- 
ment; and  intimates  that  the  fear  which  he  was  en- 
abled to  defy,  was  much  connected  with  the  event 
itself. 

Here  is  a  difficulty — not  indeed  with  regard  to 
the  unconverted.  To  them  we  say,  death  may  well 
be  the  king  of  terrors — and  it  is.  The  dread  of  it 
prevails  more  deeply  and  generally  than  they  are 
willing  to  acknowledge.  The  apprehension  of  it 
often  makes  them  superstitious  and  credulous;  and 
they  find  a  prognostic  of  their  fate  in  a  dream,  in 
the  howling  of  a  dog,  the  croaking  of  a  raven,  the 
ticking  of  an  insect,  and  a  thousand  other  absurd- 
ities. How  eager  are  they  to  guard  against  every 
thing  that  would  accelerate  the  fatal  hour.  And 
how  sedulously  they  strive  to  keep  themselves  from 
every  thing  that  would  prove  a  memento  of  it.  One 
of  the  Kings  of  France  gave  orders  that  death 
should  never  be  mentioned  in  his  hearing.  Catha- 
rine, the  Empress  of  Russia,  forbade  funeral  proces- 
sions to  pass  the  street  near  her  palace,  and  required 
all  burials  to  be  performed  in  the  night.  Many 
avoid  every  reference  to  their  deceased  relations 
and  friends,  as  if  in  tenderness  to  their  memory ; 
while  it  really  arises  from  an  unwillingness  to  think 
of  an  event  to  which  they  are  themselves  equally 
exposed.  The  constant  effort  of  multitudes  is  to 
banish  the  thought  from  their  minds,  or  to  hinder 
its  entrance.  The  Apostle  therefore  says,  that  they 
are  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage,  through 
fear  of  death.  Not  always  actually  in  it,  but  liable 
to  it — as  reading,  or  hearing;  a  coffin,  or  an  open- 
ing grave;  an  accident,  or  disease  ;  may  urge  the 
subject  upon  their  revolting  attention.  And  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  the  wretchedness  of  such  a  life:  for 
Low  hard  must  it  be  to  keep  off  from  their  thoughts 


a  thing  that  they  very  much  hate  and  dread  ,  and 
which  daily  and  hourly  occurrences  must  often  ob- 
trude upon  them,  yet,  as  soon  as  the  sentiment  is 
felt,  all  peace  and  comfort  vanish. 

— But  the  difficulty  respects  the  Christian.  Why 
should  he  be  afraid  in  the  prospect  1  Is  not  death 
conquered]  and  rendered  harmless  with  regard  to 
him]  But  the  serpent  may  hiss,  when  ii  cannot 
bite.  The  poisonous  fang  may  be  extracted  before 
our  eyes,  and  yet  we  may  feel,  at  taking  the  harm- 
less adder  into  our  bosom.  There  are  many  Chris- 
tians whose  anxieties  and  forebodings  with  regard 
to  death,  are  only  dispelled  and  destroyed  by  the 
event  itself.  Let  us  look  at  the  case ;  and  see  if  we 
cannot  remove  a  stumbling-block  out  of  the  way  of 
God's  people.  There  are  several  things  to  be  con- 
sidered. 

The  fear  of  death  is  naturally  unavoidable ;  and 
must  therefore  in  itself  be  innocent.  The  very  law 
of  self-preservation  necessarily  makes  every  being 
averse  to  danger  and  injury.  All  the  animal  crea- 
tures have  a  dread  of  death.  In  them,  this  is 
merely  an  impulse,  and  operates  without  any  dis- 
tinct apprehension  of  evil;  but  in  man,  this  instinc- 
tive repulsion  has  blended  with  it  the  result  of  rea- 
soning, and  of  local  attachment,  and  social  love, 
and  moral  responsibility,  and  reflection,  and  forecast. 
Adam  and  Eve  felt  this  fear  in  Paradise.  To  this 
principle  the  words  were  addressed,  "  In  the  day 
thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die."  For  this 
denunciation  had  been  no  threatening,  had  not  death 
been  viewed  by  them  as  the  greatest  evil.  The  apos- 
tles themselves,  who  had  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spi- 
rit, said,  "  In  this  we  groan,  earnestly  desiring  to  be 
clothed  upon  with  our  house  which  is  from  heaven: 
if  so  be  that  being  clothed,  we  shall  not  be  found 
naked.  For  we  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan, 
being  burdened;  not  for  that  we  would  be  unclothed, 
but  clothed  upon,  that  mortality  might  be  swallowed 
up  of  life."  What  wonder,  therefore,  if  ordinary 
Christians  feel  the  samel 

And  how  much  is  there  to  excite  apprehension  1 
There  is  the  novelty  of  the  case.  For,  as  Joshua 
said  to  the  Jews,  this  is  a  way  they  have  not  gone 
heretofore.  Here  their  own  experience  affords 
them  no  assistance:  nor  can  they  derive  advantage 
from  the  experience  of  others.  No  one  has  return- 
ed to  "blab  the  secret  out,"  and  tell  them  what  it  is 
to  die.  Wh  <;  .hey  think  of  the  leaving  for  ever 
of  objects  to  .vhich  they  have  been  long  accustom- 
ed— The  separation  from  weeping  friends — The 
pains,  the  groans,  the  dying  strife — The  destruction 
of  the  body— The  consigning  of  it  to  the  lonely 
grave — The  conversion  of  it  into  food  for  worms 
Their  immediate  access  into  the  presence  of  purity 
and  holiness— The  judgment  that  follows  after- 
Doubts  of  their  acceptance  with  God — Uncertain- 
ties about  their  future  state— Is  there  not  enough 
here  to  try  all  their  confidence  and  courage? 

There  is  one  thing  more  to  be  taken  into  the  ac- 
count. Others  not  only  endeavor  to  avoid  thinking 
of  the  seriousness  of  the  subject,  but  in  some  mea- 
sure they  often  succeed.  By  infidelity,  and  vain 
reasonings,  and  dissipations,  they  may  preserve  a 
kind  of  composure  even  to  the  last._  Yea,  they  may 
amuse  themselves  even  in  death  itself,  as  Hume 
was,  joking  about  Charon  and  his  boat — 

"Whistling  aloud  to  keep  his  courage  up." 
Yea,  they  may  even  bring  their  principles  over  to 
their  deluded  interest.  For  though  unbelief  and 
diversion  do  not  abate  their  danger,  they  affect  their 
apprehension  of  it,  and  make  them  insensible.  A 
man  walking  upon  a  precipice  is  not  secure  because 
he  is  ignorant  of  his  situation;  but  this  ignorance 
keeps  him  easy,  and  laughing,  and  singing,  till  he 
falls  off.    And  thus  we  are  told  of  the  wicked,  that 


72 


THE    CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


they  "have  no  Lands  in  their  death;  and  their 
strength  is  firm."  But  a  Christian  does  not  turn 
away  from  the  subject.  He  must  look  at  it.  He 
must  examine  its  nature,  and  bearings,  and  conse- 
quences: and  in  doing  this,  he  feels  much  more  in 
the  prospect  than  numbers  of  those  feel,  who  are 
ruined  by  the  reality. 

Be  not  therefore  ashamed  of  your  own  feeling, 
especially  to  your  fellow  Christians  and  to  your 
minister.  Do  not  conclude  that  it  is  an  evidence 
against  the  reality  or  degree  of  your  religion.  Do 
not  imagine  that  it  disproves,  or  renders  suspicious 
your  attachment  to  the  Saviour.  "Oh!  if  I  loved 
him  I  should  long  to  be  with  him;  and  then  I  should 
love  his  appearing;  and  then  I  should  be  able  to 
say,  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly."  But  you 
do  love  him ;  and  you  wish  to  be  with  him,  by  wish- 
ing full  conformity  to  his  image,  and  the  constant 
beholding  of  his  glory.  But  you  dread  the  passage. 
It  is  thus  with  the  absentee,  when  thinking  of  his 
return.  His  estate,  and  wife,  and  children,  are  in 
America:  And  his  heart  is  there  also.  Yet  when 
he  looks  on  the  vast  Atlantic,  he  shudders  and 
shrinks  back.  But  he  does  not  from  hence  question 
his  love  to  them,  or  his  desire  to  be  with  them. 

We  acknowledge  however  that  as  believers  you 
stand  in  a  very  different  condition  from  others: 
and  you  ought  to  endeavor  to  rise  above  the  fear  of 
death.  And  there  is  enough,  if  you  ever  realize 
it,  to  produce  in  your  minds  a  noble  confidence. 
And  it  does  not  follow,  that  what  you  now  feel,  you 
will  feel  when  the  season  of  dissolution  arrives.— For, 

II.  The  DYING  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  IS  COMMONLY 
MUCH  INDULGED  AND  DISTINGUISHED,  IN  THE  ACTUAL 
EXPERIENCE. 

Thus  it  is  said,  "  The  righteous  hath  hope  in  his 
death."  The  degrees  of  this  hope  vary.  In  some 
we  see  this  hope  contending  with  fear,  and  not  al- 
ways able  to  repel  it.  In  some,  it  produces  a  sere- 
nity in  which  the  mind  is  stayed  upon  God,  yet  un- 
attended with  any  higher  feeling  and  pleasure : 
while  some  possess  and  display  the  full  assurance 
of  hope;  and  have  an  entrance  ministered  unto 
them  abundantly  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of 
their  Lord  and  Saviour.  Amidst  the  wreck  of  na- 
ture, these  are  joyful  in  glory;  and  shout  aloud  upon 
their  beds,  as  if  they  were  already  within  the  veil. 

Now  we  are  not  going  to  claim  this  joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory ;  or  even  this  perfect  peace  ; 
or  even  this  supporting  confidence,  for  all  Christians 
in  their  dying  moments.  And  yet  we  mean  to  say, 
that  the  highest  degree  is  attainable;  and  that  in 
general,  they  are  much  more  favored,  as  to  reli- 
gious consolation,  in  death  than  in  life.  Here  we 
will  not  speak  of  things  beyond  our  reach.  Were 
we  to  say — that  the  chinks  and  breaks  made  in  the 
falling  tenement  of  clay,  may  let  in  more  light  than 
could  enter  before — that  the  believer's  nearer  ap- 
proach to  the  world  of  glory,  may  bring  him  more 
under  its  influence  and  impressions — that  when  he 
reaches  the  borders  of  the  river,  between  him  and 
Immanuel's  land,  he  may  glance  the  hills,  and  hear 
something  of  the  harmony,  and  inhale  the  fra- 
grance blown  across— you  would  say,  perhaps,  and 
say  justly,  all  this  is  figure.  But  there  is  truth  in 
the  dying  privilege  of  the  Christian.  And  four 
reasons  may  be  mentioned  for  his  superior  indul- 
gence at  that  solemn  hour. 

First,  He  has  now  more  of  that  single  and  entire 
dependence  on  the  Saviour,  which  is  sa  friendly  to 
our  relief  and  comfort.  A  legal  bias  is  natural  to 
us;  and  during  life,  a  degree  of  it  prevails,  of 
which  the  Christian  is  not  himself  sufficiently 
aware.  He  is  searching  after  something,  in  which, 
if  he  does  not  glory,  he  insensibly  trusts;  and  feels 
his  hope  varying  often  with  his  attainments,  as  if 


the  one  was  founded  on  the  other.  But  all  this  is 
now  over.  Now  he  must  have  immediate  consola- 
tion. But  where  is  he  to  find  it  1  When  he  looks 
back,  he  cannot  derive  it  from  a  well-spent  life: 
and  when  he  looks  inward,  he  cannot  derive  it  from 
a  sense  of  his  pesent  worthiness.  He  sees  more 
clearly  than  ever  that  he  is  an  unprofitable  servant. 
In  all  his  doings  his  sins  do  appear.  And  what  can 
he  do  now  1  He  must  look  to  another;  and  apply 
to  him  as  he  is.     He  therefore  cries, 

"  A  guilty,  weak,  and  worthless  worm, 
On  thy  kind  arm  I  fall; 
Be  thou  my  strength  and  righteousness, 
My  Jesus,  and  my  all." 

And  a  satisfaction  is  experienced,  which  was  only 
hindered  before  by  unbelief. 

Secondly,  He  is  then  urged  to  come  more  conclu- 
sively to  a  judgment  concerning  his  state.  He  must, 
indeed,  have  often  examined  himself  before;  but 
he  never  felt  so  pressing  an  excitement  as  he  now 
does.  He  can  comparatively  neglect  it  no  longer. 
He  now  must  know  how  matters  stand  between  him 
and  God,  for  they  will  soon  be  found  unalterable. 
And  if  his  condition  was  an  unsound  one,  the  ex- 
ploring of  it  would  be  the  way  to  alarm  him,  and 
not  to  tranquillize.  But  his  state  is  good;  and  ig- 
norance is  the  only  cause  of  his  suspicion  and  dis- 
quietude. Let  this  be  removed,  therefore,  and  let 
him  see  things  as  they  truly  are,  and  his  trembling 
hope  is  confirmed.  His  fear  before  was  needless, 
for  the  house  was  safe,  and  able  to  abide  the  storm. 
But  now,  having  been  driven  to  inspect  the  founda- 
tion, he  knows  its  security  and  permanence;  and 
can  rejoice  because  he  sees  that  it  is  founded  on  a 
rock. 

Thirdly,  He  then  needs  peculiar  support  and  con- 
solation ;  and  the  Lord  deals  with  hh  people  accord- 
ins  to  the  principles  of  the  truest  friendship.  He  is 
with  them  most,  when  they  most  require  his  pre- 
sence. "  I  will  be  with  him  in  trouble."  He  is  al- 
ways with  him,  for  he  hath  said,  "  I  will  never  leave 
thee,  nor  forsake  thee."  But  the  meaning  is,  that 
he  will  be  with  them  then  pre-eminently.  And 
where  is  the  believer  who,  in  passing  through  life, 
has  not  had  more  of  his  manifestations  and  influ- 
ences and  comforts,  in  his  sufferings,  than  in  any 
other  circumstances'?  But  what  an  hour  is  here! 
when  he  gathers  up  his  feet  into  the  bed,  and  turns 
his  face  to  the  wall ;  and  Satan  for  the  last  onset 
comes  down,  having  great  wrath,  knowing  that  his 
time  is  short!  But  the  Lord  he  has  trusted  and 
served  will  draw  near  at  his  breathing,  at  his  cry. 
He  will  whisper  into  his  very  soul,  "  Fear  not,  for  I 
am  with  thee;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am  thy  God: 
I  will  strengthen  thee;  yea,  I  will  help  thee;  yea,  I 
will  uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my  right- 
eousness." And  what  is  the  result  7  "  Whom  have 
I  in  heaven  but  thee!  and  there  is  none  upon  earth 
I  desire  beside  thee.  My  heart  and  my  flesh  faileth ; 
but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion 
for  ever." 

Lastly,  He  can  then  safely  receive  those  discoveries 
and  communications  which  would  have  made  undue 
impressions  before.  For  every  thing  there  is  a  sea- 
son ;  and  the  believer  must  be  prepared  for  his  work, 
as  well  as  his  reward  ;  and  for  his  duty  in  the  way, 
as  well  as  for  his  blessedness  at  the  end.  Our  pre- 
sent conditions  and  stations  are  appointed  us  by  the 
Lord ;  and  while  we  are  in  them,  their  claims  must 
not  be  despised  or  neglected.  But  if  we  are  to  re- 
gard our  natural  connections,  and  our  civil  and  se- 
cular concerns,  and  the  preservation  of  our  health 
and  life,  we  must  be  attached  to  them,  and  feel  a 
degree  of  interest  in  them.  Yet  there  are  measures 
of  knowledge  and  comfort,  ■which  would  so  power- 
fully affect  us,  as  to  draw  us  away  from  earth,  and 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


73 


make  every  thing  seen  and  temporal  feel  too  low 
and  little  to  engage  us.  We  see  this  n\  Peter.  When 
our  Saviour  was  transfigured,  and  Moses  and  Elias 
appeared  with  him  in  glory,  Peter  was  so  charmed, 
that  he  proposed  building  tabernacles,  to  reside 
there.  But,  says  the  Holy  Ghost,  he  knew  not  what 
he  said.  For,  to  take  but  one  view  of  the  proposal, 
had  it  been  complied  with,  what  would  have  become 
of  his  house  and  wife  and  children?  O!  Peter,  in 
his  ecstasy,  had  forgotten  these.  These  however 
must  not  be  forgotten  while  we  continue  in  our  re- 
lations to  them,  and  can  fulfil  their  demands.  But 
when  we  must  leave  the  scene,  it  is  wise  and  kind 
to  allow  us  to  be  dead  to  it.  When  we  are  going,  it 
is  well  to  be  loosened  from  our  detentions.  When 
life  is  ending,  and  the  love  of  it  can  no  longer  be 
useful,  it  is  a  privilege  to  have  our  love  to  it  van- 
quished by  something  better  than  life;  and  to  be 
blinded  to  every  thing  we  are  resigning  around  us, 
by  the  sight  of  the  glory  that  is  to  be  revealed;  and 
to  be  rendered  deaf  to  every  sound  but  the  voice 
that  cries,  "Come  up  hither." 

After  all,  we  may  not  have  perfectly  accounted 
for  the  higher  experience  of  the  Christian  in  death. 
But  the  fact  is  undeniable.  It  has  been  verified  in 
numberless  instances.  How  often  have  we  witness- 
ed it  ourselves.  How  often  have  we  found  Chris- 
tians the  reverse  of  all  their  previous  apprehen- 
sions. We  have  attended  them  when  they  have 
displayed  a  dignity  of  sentiment,  and  expressed 
themselves  with  a  force  of  language,  to  which  they 
had  been  strangers  before.  The  timorous  have 
become  heroical.  They  whose  minds  were  con- 
tracted by  ignorance,  have  burst  into  the  glorious 
liberty  of  the  sons  of  God.  The  illiterate  and  the 
vulgar  have  shown  an  elevation  and  refinement  of 
taste,  philosophers  never  knew;  and  servants  and 
rustics  have  sung, 

''  O  glorious  hour,  O  blest  abode, 
I  shall  be  near,  and  like  my  God; 
And  Mesh  and  sin  no  more  control 
The  sacred  pleasure  of  my  soul." 

Fear  not,  therefore,  O  ye  seed  of  Jacob.  En- 
courage yourselves  in  the  Lord  your  God;  while 
you  say,  I  wait  for  the  Lord,  my  soul  doth  wait; 
an.l  in  "his  word  do  I  hope.  Do  not  perplex  your- 
selves about  a  futurity  which  God  has  foreseen  and 
provided  for.  "  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the  things 
of  itself;  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof" 
— and  the  good.  Your  duty  has  only  to  do  with  the 
present ;  and  the  grace  you  are  to  seek  is  grace  to 
help  in  time  of  need;  active  grace  for  the  hour  of 
exeriion;  and  passive  grace  for  the  hour  of  suffer- 
ing: grace  for  life,  in  life;  and  dying  grace,  for  a 
dying  hour.  The  Jews  were  not  to  live  on  a  hoard. 
If  in  their  anxious  distrustfulness  they  laid  up  man- 
na for  the  ensuing  day,  instead  of  affording  them  a 
wholesome  resource,  it  bred  worms;  they  therefore 
gathered  it  fresh  every  morning,  and  it  failed  them 
not  till  they  could  eat  of  the  old  corn  of  the  land. 
Take  another  allusion.  If  you  were  travelling,  and 
before  you  could  reach  your  destination  you  had  a 
trying  river  to  pass,  would  it  not  be  enough  to  re- 
lieve you  to  know,  that  when  you  came  to  the  brink 
there  would  be  a  boat  ready  to  convey  you  over? 
Must  it  be  brought  to  you  now  in  your  journey'? 
Though  necessary  for  the  water,  would  it  not  ra- 
ther encumber  you  on  land?  Yet  so  it  is;  you  are 
not  satisfied  unless  you  can  take  the  vehicle  along 
with  you.  You  must  see:  but  you  are  not  to  sec — 
"  We  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight." 

III.  The  dying  op  TtiF.  Chkistian  is  often  pecu- 
liarly USEFUL  BY  ITS  INFLUENCE. 

When  our  Saviour  was  foretelling  the  destiny  of< 


Peter,  he  said,  "When  thou  wast  young,  then,  gird- 
edst  thyself,  and  walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest : 
but  when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou  shalt  stretch  forth 
thy  hands,  and  another  shall  gird  thee,  and  carry 
thee  whither  thou  wouldest  not.  This  sDake  Le, 
signifying  by  what  death  he  should  glorify  God." 
He  was  to  die  by  violence  and  crucifixion.  Eccle- 
siastical history  informs  us  of  numbers  who  were 
converted  to  the  faith  by  the  death  of  those  who  suf- 
fered lor  the  gospel.  The  scene  naturally  tended 
to  raise  their  curiosity,  and  lix  their  attention:  and 
witnessing  t^e  firmness  of  their  conviction,  and 
the  dignity  ol  ^eir  support;  and  seeing  their  gen- 
tleness and  patience  ;  and  hearing  their  prayers  for 
their  persecutors  and  murderers;  they  became  com- 
panions of  them  that  were  so  used.  And  t'.iS  led 
to  the  remark,  that  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  was  the 
seed  of  the  churches. 

All  are  not  called  to  die  for  the  truth's  sake:  but 
the  effect  ascribed  to  Peter's  death  will  apply  to  the 
death  of  every  Christian.  Not  only  is  it  important 
to  himself,  but  the  glory  of  God  is  concerned  in  it. 

"  His  God  sustains  him  in  his  final  hour. 
His  final  hour  brings  glory  to  his  God." 

The  useful  death,  however,  is  not  that  only  which 
abounds  with  ecstasy  and  rapture;  but  also  that  in 
which  en  inferior  degree  of  confidence  is  blended 
with  patience  under  suffering,  submission  to  the 
will  of  God,  humbleness  of  mind,  penitence  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  a  concern  to  recommend  the  Sa- 
viour's service  and  to  promote  his  cause.  This,  if 
it  does  not  excite  so  much  wonder  and  discourse,  is 
more  exemplary.  A  death,  too,  strikes  us  where 
we  see  a  victory  over  the  world;  when  the  indivi- 
dual is  willing  to  depart,  though  not  pressed  by  the 
infirmities  and  pains  of  age :  but  in  the  midst  of 
life  ;  and  leaving  not  a  scene  of  penury  and  wretch- 
edness, behind,  but  every  present  attraction  and 
agreeable  prospect.  We  also  prize  a  death  pre- 
ceded by  a  holy  and  consistent  life.  Some  religion- 
ists are  fond  of  the  marvellous  and  the  sudden ;  and 
our  obituaries  are  often  filled  with  the  triumphant 
departures  of  those  who  began  to  prayr  a  few  days 
before.  This  is  often  peculiarly  the  case  with 
malefactors.  Few  of  these,  if  attended  by  certain 
orders  of  men,  but  in  a  few  hours  are  quickly 
ripened  for  a  confident  and  joyful  death.  We  do 
not  wish  to  limit  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  in  the 
freeness  of  his  mercy  and  grace.  But  wiser  people 
hesitate  about  these  prodigies.  They  wish  for  more 
certainty,  more  evidence  than  can  be  satisfactorily 
obtained  in  cases,  where  the  impressions  of  the 
condition  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the 
operation  of  the  principle:  and  therefore,  while 
they  may  sometimes  indulge  a  hope,  they  will 
rarely  be  disposed  to  proclaim  it — "Precious  in 
the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints. 
Mark  the  perfect  vian,  and  behold  the  upright ;  for 
the  end  of  that  man  is  peace." 

— Yes,  it  is  peculiarly  worthy  attention.  How 
often  has  the  death  of  the  saint  proved  the  life  of 
the  sinner:  and  also  helped  those  much  who  have 
believed  through  grace.  A  dying  minister's  end 
has  exemplified,  and  confirmed,  and  enforced  his 
doctrine ;  and  he  has  effected  in  the  sick  chamber 
what  he  failed  to  accomplish  in  the  church.  A 
dying  father,  disregarded  before,  has  been  heard  to 

Curpose,  when  he  has  summoned  his  children  tc 
is  bed,  and  solemnly  addressed  them,  as  Bolton 
did  Ins  family  :  "  See  that  none  of  you  meet  me  in 
an  unconverted  state  at  the  dey  of  judgment."  Or 
as  David  admonished  Solomcn  :  "  I  go  the  way  of 
the  world.  And  thou,  Solomon  my  son,  know  thoi 
the  God  of  thy  father,  and  serve  him  with  a  per- 
fect heart  and  with  a  willing  mind :  for  the  Lord 


74 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


searcheth  all  hearts,  and  understandeth  all  the 
imaginations  of  the  thoughts:  if  thou  seek  him,  he 
will  be  found  of  thee :  but  if  thou  forsake  him,  he 
will  cast  thee  off  for  ever."  What  ingenuousness 
has  ever  resisted  a  dying  mother — heaven  in  her 
countenance — her  tearful  eye — the  grasp  of  her 
soft  hand — her  last  trembling  embrace — her  ex- 
piring accents — "  What  my  son,  and  the  son  of  my 
womb,  ar.d  the  son  of  my  vows — are  we  here  to 
part  for  ever  V  The  husband  who  refused  to  hear 
the  word,  though  urged  by  be-auty,  and  affection, 
and  tears;  when  the  desire  of  his  eyes  is  removed — 
is  now  won,  by  the  last  instances  of  her  lovely  con- 
versation made  sacred  by  death :  and  while  he 
rears  the  monument  to  her  memory,  resolves  to 
trace  her  steps,  once — how  painful  now  the  thought 
—  taken  alone! 

— How  affecting  and  interesting  does  grace  ren- 
der the  dying  of  the  Chrisiian — not  only  to  his  re- 
lations and  friends,  but  to  all  who  see  or  hear  it. 
Not  only  is  the  attention  then  excited,  but  every 
tning  is  adapted  to  aid  impression.  Persons  are 
now  regarded  with  peculiar  earnestness.  They  are 
supposed  to  be  five  from  the  influence  of  the  world. 
They  are  regarded  as  sincere,  and  entitled  to  credit. 
All  now  is  final — it  is  the  last  time  they  can  be  seen 
or  heard.  What  a  lecture  is  the  event  itself!  It 
cries,  See,  every  thing  is  vanity,  the  world  is  passing 
away.  But  here  is  a  man  that  has  hold  of  a  better 
and  an  enduring  substance,  and  displays  a  great- 
ness that  defies  the  ravages  of  death.  The  out- 
ward man  perishes,  but  the  inward  man  is  renewed. 
He  is  bound,  yet  free.  He  is  dying,  and  behold  he 
lives — and  not  only  has  life,  but  has  it  more  abun- 
dantly. The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard,  and 
they  say  nothing  in  praise  of  those  things  of  which 
they  are  now  ashamed.  The  people  of  the  world 
never  speak  well  of  it  at  parting.  But  here  is  a 
man  commending  the  ways  of  holiness,  and  bearing 
testimony  to  the  excellences  and  goodness  of  the 
Master  he  has  served  to  the  last — "  Thou  hast 
dealt  well  with  thy  servant,  O  Lord.  O  taste,  and 
see  that  the  Lord  is  good :  blessed  is  the  man  that 
trusteth  in  him."  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I 
have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith: 
henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge, 
shall  give  me  at  that  day :  and  not  to  me  only,  but 
unto  all  thera  also  that  love  his  appearing." 

Oh!  such  a  dying  chamber  is  none  other  than 
the  house  of  God,  and  the  gate  of  heaven.  There 
"  is  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written,  Death 
is  swallowed  up  in  victory."  There  angels  hear  the 
acclamation,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  1  O 
grave,  where  is  thy  victory  %  The  sting  of  death 
is  sin ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  Here, 
weaned  from  the  world,  and  loosened  from  life,  we 
have  said,  "  Let  us  go  away,  that  we  may  die  with 
him."  Here  a  glory  has  been  shed,  an  influence 
has  been  felt,  that  has  impressed  the  careless,  fixed 
the  wavering,  emboldened  the  timid,  convinced  the 
ignorant.  It  has  strengthened  the  saint  to  live.  It 
has  taught  the  paster  to  preach.  It  has  led  the  infi- 
del to  retire  and  pray,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his!" 

Upon  the  principle  of  this  part  of  our  subject, 
we  may  make  a  remark  concerning  a  slow  or  a 
sudden  death.  Unquestionably  a  sudden  death  is 
desirable,  with  regard  to  exemption  and  privilege. 
For  what  an  indulgence  must  it  be,  to  be  spared  all 
the  forerunners  and  attendants  of  dissolution  ;  and 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  to  pass  from  earth  and 
to  be  with  God.  But  it  is  less  preferable  on  the 
score  of  usefulness.  We  derive  nothing  from  the 
dying  experience  and  language  of  such.  A  Chris- 
tian is  not  to  choose  for  himself;  and  if  a  lingering 
dsath  will  subserve  more  the  honor  of  God  and 


the  benefit  of  man,  there  is  enough  to  induce  him 
to  say,  "  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  Heaven 
will  make  amends  for  all — Yea,  the  usefulness  it- 
self is  the  sufferer's  reward. 

And,  Christians,  let  me  from  hence  admonish 
you  to  be  concerned  to  serve  religion,  not  only  by 
the  life  you  live,  but  by  the  death  you  die.  The 
Saviour's  empire  and  claims  extend  to  both.  "  None 
of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself. 
Whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and  whe- 
ther we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord:  whether  we 
live  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's."  "  By 
faith,  Jacob,  when  he  was  dying,  blessed  both  the 
sons  of  Joseph ;  and  worshipped,  leaning  upon  the 
top  of  his  staff."  Dr.  Rivet  said,  "  Let  those  who 
come  to  inquire,  see  me  ;  I  ought  to  be  an  example 
in  death  as  well  as  in  life."  Samson,  when  about 
to  die,  prayed  that  God  would  strengthen  him  "  this 
once."  This  is  the  last  time  you  can  do  anything 
in  the  world.  It  is  the  last  arrow  you  have  in  your 
quiver,  says  an  old  writer,  and  you  should  take  a 
good  aim  with  this.  Cato  is  made  in  the  tragedy 
to  complain,  that  he  could  die  but  once  for  his 
country.  You  can  die  but  once  for  your  family, 
the  church,  and  the  world.  O  let  it  adorn  the  doc- 
trine of  God  your  Saviour  in  all  things. 

IV.  The  dying  of  the  Christian  is  always  safe 

AND  GLORIOUS  IN  THE  ISSUE. 

We  must  take  this  into  the  account  in  doing 
justice  to  his  end.  For  there  are  instances  in  which 
the  Christian  may  not  be  able  to  express,  or  enjoy 
pleasure  or  hope  in  death.  There  are  two  cases 
of  this  kind. 

The  first  is,  the  case  of  divine  rebuke  for  moral 
delinquency.  For  God,  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than 
to  behold  iniquity,  has  said,  "  If  his  children  for- 
sake my  law,  and  walk  not  in  my  judgments ;  if 
they  break  my  statutes,  and  keep  not  my  command- 
ments ;  then  will  I  visit  their  transgression  with  the 
rod,  and  their  iniquity  with  stripes.  Nevertheless, 
my  loving  kindness  will  I  not  utterly  take  from  him, 
nor  suffer  my  faithfulness  to  fail."  This,  however, 
is  not  wrath,  but  anger.  Anger  is  consistent  with 
love,  and  springs  from  it.  "  As  many  as  I  love,  I 
rebuke  and  chasten."  And  he  sometimes  rebukes 
and  chastens  at  the  last.  He  hides  his  face,  and 
they  are  troubled  ;  and  perhaps  even  their  sun  goes 
down  under  a  cloud.  But  he  retains  not  his  anger 
for  ever.  Though  they  are  chastened  of  the  Lord, 
they  are  not  condemned  with  the  world ;  and  though 
here  he  humbles  them  under  his  mighty  hand,  he 
exalts  them  in  due  time,  for  ever. 

The  other  is  the  case  of  constitutional  malady. 
In  this  condition  our  heavenly  bard  died ;  and  we 
have  known  others  who  have  died  under  a  physical 
depression,  with  which  religious  encouragements 
have  contended  in  vain.  But  though  their  end 
was  not  peace  in  the — exit,  it  was  peace  in  the — 
issue.  Their  despondency  did  not  affect  their  right 
to  the  tree  of  life.  They  condemned  themselves  • 
but  God  delighted  in  them. 

And  what  an  exchange;  what  a  surprise  did 
such  sufferers  experience  !  They  departed,  expect- 
ing to  awake  in  torment,  and  found  themselves  in 
Abraham's  bosom  !  They  left  the  world  in  a  mo- 
mentary gloom,  and  entered  into  everlasting  sun- 
shine ! 

For  observe,  I  beseech  you,  the  difference  be- 
tween the  delusion  of  the  infidel,  and  the  mistake 
of  the  Christian.  "  I  give,"  says  Hobbs,  "  I  give 
my  body  to  the  dust,  and  my  soul  to  the  Great 
Perhaps."  "  I  am  going  to  take,"  says  he,  "  a  leap 
in  the  dark."  And  such  a  man  not  only  takes  a 
leap  in  the  dark,  but  into  the  dark.  And  from  the 
darkness  of  ignorance,  and  doubt,  and  uncertainty, 
he  plunges  into  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


73 


But  it  is  infinitely  different  with  the  Christian.  He 
may  take  this  last  step  in  the  dark,  but  he  steps  into 
day  ;  perfect  and  endless  day  :  where  it  will  be  said 
to  him,  "  Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down  ;  neither 
shall  thy  moon  withdraw  herself:  for  the  Lord  shall 
oe  thine  everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of  thy 
mourning  shall  be  ended." 

Thus,  however  he  may  expire,  the  result  is  bless- 
ed; and  the  day  of  his  death  is  better  than  the  day 
of  his  birth.  It  is  the  day,  when,  as  a  weary  tra- 
veller, he  arrives  at  home :  when,  as  a  sea-tossed 
mariner,  he  enters  his  desired  haven :  when,  as  a 
long-enduring  patient,  he  throws  off  the  last  feelings 
of  his  lingering  complaint:  when,  as  an  heir  of 
immortality,  he  comes  of  age,  and  obtains  the  inhe- 
ritance of  the  saints  in  light.  Thus,  whatever  may 
be  the  manner  of  his  death,  for  him  "  to  die  is  gain." 
And  what  gain  ?  Can  the  tongue  of  men  or  of 
angels  express  what  the  Christian  by  dying  gains — 
In  exemption  1  In  residence  1  In  fellowship  1  In 
knowledge  1  In  holiness"?  In  pleasure"?  For  when 
he  closes  his  eye  on  the  sorrows  of  life,  he  "shall 
not  see  evil  any  more."  When  he  leaves  this  pol- 
luted earth,  he  has  a  better,  even  a  heavenly  country. 
When  the  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  is  dis- 
solved, he  has  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  When  he 
leaves  the  wicked  world,  and  the  defective  church, 
he  joins  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and 
the  innumerable  company  of  angels.  Now  he  sees 
through  a  glass  darkly,  then  face  to  face.  Now, 
when  he  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  him. 
Now,  the  consolations  of  God  are  often  small  with 
him.  Then  he  will  be  presented  faultless  before 
the  presence  of  his  glory  with  exceeding  joy.  For 
when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which 
is  in  part  shall  be  done  away.  But  it  doth  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  be. 

"  In  vain  my  feeble  fancy  paints 
The  moment  after  death; 
The  glory  that  surrounds  the  saints, 
When  yielding  up  their  breath. 

One  gentle  sigh  their  fetters  breaks; 

We  scarce  can  say,  They  're  gone  ! 
Before  the  willing  spirit  takes 

Her  mansion  near  the  throne. 

Faith  strives,  but  all  its  efforts  fail, 

To  trace  her  in  her  flight; 
No  eye  can  pierce  within  the  veil 

Which  hides  that  woild  of  light. 

Thus  much  (and  this  is  all)  we  know — 

They  are  completely  blest ; 
Have  done  with  sin,  and  care,  and  wo, 

And  with  their  Saviour  rest." 

And  is  it  for  such  we  put  on  sable  attire,  and  go 
mourning  all  the  dayl  Is  this  thy  kindness  to  thy 
friends  1  If  you  loved  them,  would  you  not  rejoice 
because  they' are  gone  to  the  Father  1  Are  they 
not  now,  from  the  most  excellent  glory,  ready  to 
exclaim,  "  Weep  not  for  us,  but  for  yourselves  and 
children— you  are  the  proper  objects  of  pity,  not 
we.  You  who  are  still  in  the  conflict,  not  we  who 
have  gotten  the  victory.  You  who  are  yet  in  the 
bodv,  not  wc  who  are  delivered  from  the  burden  of 
the  flesh.  You  who  rise  in  the  morning  to  cares  that 
perplex  you;  fears  that  dismay  you;  disappoint- 
ments that  vex  you;  infirmities  that  depress  you; — 
not  we  who  are  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

Ah!  my  brethren,  if  all  this  be  true,  what  reason 
have  we  to  adore  the  undeserved  and  infinite  good- 
ness of  God.  We  cannot  think  too  highly  of  this 
attribute;  and  it  is  well  for  our  consciences  that 


the  proofs  of  it  are  so  numerous  and  obvious.  The 
earth  is  full  of  his  riches.  In  the  various  seasons, 
he  crowns  the  year  with  his  goodness.  He  daily 
loadeth  us  with  his  benefits.  He  gives  us  all  thing's 
richly  to  enjoy.  But  what  would  all  these  have 
been,  with  destruction  at  the  end  1  Who  remem- 
bered us  in  our  low  estate  1  Who  turned  the  curse 
into  a  blessing "?  Who  converted  the  avenue  to 
hell  into  the  gcte  of  life  1  Who  caused  the  spoiler 
to  enrich  us!  and  made  the  last  enemy  an  inesti- 
mable friend  7 

Let  us  not  lIso  forget  the  way  in  which  this  change 
is  accomplished  ;  the  mediation  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
Here  is  the  mystery.  We  who  were  poor  could 
never  have  been  rich,  if  he  who  was  rich  had  not 
for  our  sake  become  poor.  Because  the  children 
were  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  likewise  him- 
self tcck  part  of  the  same.  He  bore  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree :  and  died  that  we  may  live. 
He  abolished  death,  and  hath  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light  through  the  gospel.  He  therefore 
says,  "  If  a  man  keep  my  sayings,  he  shall  not  see 
death."  He  has  indeed  to  pass  through  the  state  ; 
but  the  bitterness  of  death  is  past.  He  has  only  to 
finish  his  course  with  joy  :  to  fall  asleep  in  Jesus  ; 
to  depart  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better. 

— But,  my  dear  hearers,  will  this  be  the  case  with 
us?  Let  us  not  think  the  inquiry  needless,  or  in- 
capable of  solution.  Here  people  often  show  their 
ignorance  and  presumption.  They  talk  of  the  desi- 
rableness of  death ;  but  expose  themselves  to  the 
censure  of  the  prophet,  "  Wo  unto  you  that  desire 
the  day  of  the  Lord  !  to  what  end  is  it  for  you  1  the 
day  of  the  Lord  is  darkness,  and  not  light.  As  if  a 
man  did  flee  from  a  lion,  and  a  bear  met  him  ;  or 
went  into  the  house,  and  leaned  his  hand  on  the 
wall,  and  a  serpent  bit  him.  Shall  not  the  day  of 
the  Lord  be  darkness,  and  not  light  1  even  very 
dark,  and  no  brightness  V  When  some  of  you  wish 
you  were  dead,  what  is  it  in  reality,  but  wishing  you 
were  damned  1  You  are  just  as  near  to  hell  as  you 
are  to  death  ;  and  the  one  is  as  sure  as  the  other. — 
Be  not  therefore  deceived.  Whatever  privations 
or  sufferings  you  are  now  enduring,  it  is  not  better 
for  yoic  to  die  than  to  live.  Much  as  you  complain, 
these  are  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows,  the  earnests 
and  foretastes  of  everlasting  lamentation  and  mourn- 
ing and  wo.  What  says  the  voice  from  heaven  1 
"  Write,  blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord." 
These  are  all  blessed  ;  but  these  only.  As  for  those 
who  are  not  in  Him,  they  are  not  under  grace,  but 
under  the  law.  And,  "  as  many  as  are  under  the 
law  are  under  the  curse."  His  righteousness  is  not 
theirs  to  justify  them.  His  Spirit  is  not  theirs  to 
sanctify  them.  They  have  no  title  to  glory.  No 
meekness  for  it.  No  capacity  for  its  services.  No 
susceptibility  of  its  joys. 

Finally.  Let  us  now  turn  the  medal.  We  have 
been  speaking  of  the  death  of  the  Christian — but 
mark  the  wicked  man,  and  behold  the  ungodly — 
What  is  his  end  1  The  answer  would  seem  too  aw- 
ful for  declamation  ;  and  we  should  not  even  present 
the  scene,  but  to  heighten  the  subject  by  contrast; 
and  to  prevent,  if  possible,  your  realizing  it  in  your 
own  experience.  We  therefore  endeavor  to  save 
with  fear;  and  knowing  the  terror  of  the  Lord, 
would  persuade  men.  And  in  this  work  of  appa- 
rent severity,  but  real  compassion,  the  sacred  writers 
go  before  us.  "  What,"  says  Peter,  "  shall  ihe  end 
be  of  them  that  obey  not  the  gospel  of  God  V  "  The 
Lord,"  says  David,  "shall  laugh  at  him,  for  he 
seeth  that  the  day  is  coming.  For  yet  a  littl 
and  the  wicked  shall  not  be;  yea,  thou  shall  dili- 
gently consider  his  place,  an. 1  itshallnol  be,  I  was 
perplexed  and  pained  at  the  sight  of  their  pros]  , 
until  I  went  into  the  snnctnarv  of  G  1 1  the  i  a 
stood  I  their  end.     Surely  thou  didst  sel  them 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


slippery  places;  thou  castedst  them  down  into  de- 
struction. How  are  they  brought  into  desolation, 
as  in  a  moment !  they  are  utterly  consumed  with 
terrors.  As  a  dream  when  one  awaketh ;  so,  O 
Lord,  when  thou  awakest,  thou  shall  despise  their 
ironic 

Does  'he  dying  sinner  look  back  upon  the  past  1 
"  Vanitv  of  vanities,"  says  the  reviewer,  "  vanity 
of  vanities,  all  is  vanity."  His  life  appears  a  suc- 
cession of  fancies,  dreams,  and  impositions.  No- 
thing seems  real— but  his  sins.  These— his  neglect 
of  prayer,  his  forgetfulness  of  God,  the  profanation 
of  his  Sabbaths,  the  contempt  of  his  word  and  com- 
mandments—these, in  their  number  and  aggrava- 
tions, revive  and  reproach— and  conscience  keeps 
them  in  view. 

—What  satisfaction  or  relief  can  the  present  af- 
ford him!  Every  thing  in  his  outward  condition 
may  be  agreeable ;  but  what  is  this  to  a  wounded 
spirit  1  Righteousness  delivers  from  death,  but 
riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath.  What  is  honor 
to  one  who  knows  he  is  ready  for  the  worms  1  Can 
flattery  sooth  the  dull  cold  ear  of  death  1  What  is 
the  consolation  of  being  praised  where  we  are  not 
— while  we  are  miserable  where  we  are  ! 

What  does  the  future  promise  1  He  is  separating 
from  every  thing  he  loves,  to  enter  a  state  in  which 
he  has  no  hope,  after  which  he  has  no  desire,  and 
from  which  he  has  no  escape — a  state  of  thought 
without  the  possibility  of  diversion  ;  of  passion  with- 
out the  means  of  gratification  ;  of  society  without 
friendship;  of  enmity  without  restraint;  of  accounta- 
bleness  without  excuse  ;  of  retribution  without  mer- 
cy ;  of  loss  without  recovery ;  and  of  misery  with- 
out end  1  Who  knoweth  the  power  of  thine  anger  ? 
Even  according  to  thy  fear,  so  is  thy  wrath.  In 
many  cases  fear  magnifies  ;  and  when  the  evil 
comes,  the  reality  falls  far  short  of  the  apprehen- 
sion. But  here  the  event  infinitely  exceeds  the  fore- 
boding. It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  living  God.  No  wonder  therefore  the  death 
of  the  sinner  is  represented  in  the  Scripture  as  the 
effect  of  compulsion — "  The  wicked  is  driven  away 
in  his  wickedness."  "  He  shall  be  driven  from 
light  unto  darkness,  and  chased  out  of  this  world." 
Some  of  these  scenes  are  kept  secret — perhaps  they 
are  misunderstood.  They  are  ascribed  to  a  dis- 
tempered imagination.  The  terrified  victim  is  sup- 
posed to  be  in  the  phrensy  of  delirium.  Some,  by 
the  composing  draught,  are  stupified,  who  would 
otherwise  drive  and  keep  every  attendant  from  the 
room.  Yet  the  reluctance  and  anguish  and  horror, 
are  sometimes  known  ;  and  make  an  awful  impres- 
sion for  the  time.  But  suppose  there  is  nothing  of 
this ;  and  the  sinner  dies,  as  it  is  often  expressed, 
like  a  lamb ;  the  delusion  is  but  for  a  moment. — 
He  instantly  sees  his  mistake.  But  the  immutability 
of  his  state  renders  the  knowledge  as  dreadful  as  it 
is  unavoidable.  His  disappointment  is  an  unspeaka- 
ble aggravation  of  his  misery ;  and  the  consequen- 
ces are  remediless. 

O  !  that  you  were  wise,  that  you  understood  this, 
that  you  would  consider  your  latter  end !  Then 
surely  you  would  not  give  sleep  to  your  eyes,  or 
slumber  to  your  eyelids,  till  you  had  a  good  hope 
through  grace,  that  you  were  delivered  from  such 
a  doom. 

— But  you  think  the  end  is  not  near ;  and  distant 
things  do  not  impress.  You  put  away  the  evil  day. 
But  cnn  you  put  it  entirely  away  1  Yea,  can  you 
really  put  it  far  away  1  How  long  do  you  think  of 
living?  Fix  the  period.  Place  it  at  three-score 
years  and  ten — place  it  at  four-score  years — It  is 
sonn  cut  off,  and  you  flee  away — whither  1  What 
will  become  of  you  then  ? 

But  how  uncertain  is  your  reaching  this  period  ! 
A1:  what  ngf,  in  what  place,  in  what  condition,  in 


what  employment,  have  not  men  died  1  On  what 
are  you  relying  to  escape  a  death  which  has  unex- 
pectedly and  prematurely  carried  so  many  of  your 
connections  and  neighbors  down  to  the  dust  1  On 
youth  ?  On  strength  1— What  is  your  life  ]  "  It  is 
even  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and 
then  vanisheth  away."  "Every  man  at  his  best 
state  is  altogether  vanity."  O  !  Thou,  in  whose 
hands  our  breath  is,  and  whose  are  all  our  ways,  so 
teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply 
our  heart  unto  wisdom. 

And,  my  brethren,  what  is  this  wisdom  1  What 
is  the  one  proper  and  rational  part  which  creatures, 
circumstanced  as  we  are,  have  to  act  1  Is  it  not  to 
prefer  the  soul  to  the  body,  and  eternity  to  time  ?— 
Is  it  not  to  agree  with  our  adversary  while  we  are 
in  the  way  with  him ;  lest  at  any  time  the  adversa- 
ry deliver  us  to  the  judge,  and  the  judge  deliver  ua 
to  the  officer,  and  we  be  cast  into  prison  "?  Is  it  not 
to  flee  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set  before  us  1  Is  it 
not  to  make  the  concern  of  Paul  supremely  and  im- 
mediately our  own  7  1:  That  I  may  win  Christ,  and 
be  found  in  him,  not  having  mine  own  righteous- 
ness, which  is  of  the  law,  but  that  which  is  through 
the  faith  of  Christ,  the  righteousness  which  is  of 
God  by  faith  :  that  I  may  know  him,  and  the  power 
of  his  resurrection,  and  "the  fellowship  of  his  suffer- 
ings, being  made  conformable  unto  his  death." 


LECTURE  XI. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,  IN  THE  GRAVE. 

"  If  limit,  the  grave  is  mine  house."-~Jos  xvii.  13. 

This  was  in  answer  to  the  opinion  and  advice  of 
his  friends.  They  had  repeatedly  intimated,  that 
if  he  repented,  and  reformed,  and  prayed  to  God, 
he  might  surely  reckon  upon  a  speedy  restoration 
to  health,  and  a  peaceful  abode,  and  a  prosperous 
condition.  "  If  thou  wouldest  seek  unto  God  be- 
times, and  make  thy  supplications  to  the  Almighty; 
if  thou  wert  pure  and  upright ;  surely  now  he  would 
awake  for  thee,  and  make  the  habitation  of  thy 
righteousness  prosperous.  Though  thy  beginning 
was  small,  yet  thy  latter  end  should  greatly  in- 
crease." "  If  thou  prepare  thine  heart,  and  stretch 
out  thine  hands  toward  him  ;  if  iniquity  be  in  thine 
hand,  put  it  far  away,  and  let  not  wickedness  dwell 
in  thy  tabernacles.  For  then  shalt  thou  lift  up  thy 
face  without  spot ;  yea,  thou  shalt  be  steadfast,  and 
shalt  not  fear  :  because  thou  shalt  forget  thy  misery, 
and  remember  it  as  waters  that  pass  away :  and 
thine  age  shalt  be  clearer  than  the  noon-day;  thou 
shalt  shine  forth,  thou  shalt  be  as  the  morning. — 
And  thou  shalt  be  secure,  because  there  is  hope ; 
yea,  thou  shalt  dig  about  thee,  and  thou  shalt  take 
thy  rest  in  safety.  Also  thou  shalt  lie  down,  and 
none  shall  make  thee  afraid  ;  yea,  many  shall  make 
suit  unto  thee." 

Now,  says  Job,  if  I  were  to  do  this,  and  wait  for 
the  accomplishment  of  your  promises,  I  should  be 
disappointed.  Not  that  it  would  be  in  vain  for  me 
to  serve  God  ;  but  he  would  not  appear  for  me  in 
the  way  of  which  you  speak.  He  will  not  deliver 
me  from  my  present  afflictions  in  this  world ;  or 
recover  me  from  the  disorder  under  which  I  am 
ready  to  expire — No.  The  case  is  mortal  and  des- 
perate— "  If  I  wait,  the  grave  is  mine  house." 

This  leads  us  to  make  two  remarks.  The  first 
connects  itself  with  a  passage  which  he  presently 
uttered,  and  which  has  given  rise  to  much  dispute. 
I  refer  to  his  noble  confession.  There  are  some 
who  contend,  that  he  means  only  to  express  his  hope 
of  a  temporal  redemption,  or  the  revival  of  his  for- 
mer greatness.  But,  in  answer  to  this  poor  and  low 
interpretation,  not  to  observe  the  solemnity  of  the 
introduction,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  sentiment  and 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


77 


diction,  it  is  plain,  not  from  a  few,  but  many  decla- 
rations, that  Job  entertained  no  expectation  of  being 
restored  in  this  life.  "  The  eye  that  seeth  me  shall 
sec  me  no  more.  For  now  shall  I  sleep  in  the  dust, 
and  thou  shalt  seek  me  in  the  morning,  and  I  shall 
not  be.  My  breath  is  corrupt,  my  days  are  extinct, 
the  graves  are  ready  for  me.  My  days  are  past, 
my  purj  oses  are  broken  off,  even  the  thoughts  of 
my  heart.  And  where  is  now  my  hope  1  as  for  my 
hope,  who  shall  see  it  V  "  If  I  watt,  the  grave  is 
mine  house."  He  must  therefore  have  reference  to 
the  most  glorious  of  all  events  when  he  says,  "  O 
that  my  words  were  now  written !  oh  that  they  were 
printed  in  a  book!  that  they  were  graven  with  an 
iron  pen  and  lead  in  the  rock  for  ever  !  For  I  know 
that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at 
the  latter  day  upon  the  earth :  and  though  after  my 
skin  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shail 
I  see  God  :  whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine 
eyes  shall  behold,  and  not  another;  though  my 
reins  be  consumed  within  me." 

The  second  remark  is,  that  when  Job  said,  "  If 
I  wait,  the  grave  is  mine  house."  he  was  mistaken. 
Instead  of  a  speedy  dissolution,  which  he  obviously 
looked  for,  "the  Lord  turned  his  captivity,  and  gave 
him  twice  as  much  as  he  had  before.  And  after 
this,  Job  lived  an  hundred  and  forty  years,  and  saw 
his  sons  and  his  sons's  sons,  even  four  generations." 
How  often,  in  the  risings  of  His  grace  and  of  his 
providence,  does  he  not  only  deliver,  but  surprise 
his  people.  The  day  seemed  setting  in  with  clouds 
and  darkness;  but  at  evening  time  it  was  light. 
"We  would  not,  brethren,"  says  Paul,  "have  you 
ignorant  of  our  trouble  which  came  to  us  in  Asia, 
that  we  were  pressed  out  of  measure,  above  strength, 
insomuch  that  we  despaired  even  of  life:  but  we 
had  the  sentence  of  death  in  ourselves,  that  we 
should  not  trust  in  ourselves,  but  in  God  which 
raiseth  the  dead :  who  delivered  us  from  so  great  a 
death,  and  doth  deliver:  in  whom  we  trust  that  he 
will  yet  deliver  us."  David,  also,  was  soon  able  to 
refute  his  own  unbelieving  conclusion:  "  I  said  in 
my  haste,  I  am  cut  off  from  before  thine  eyes:  ne- 
vertheless thou  heardest  the  voice  of  my  supplica- 
tion when  I  cried  unto  thee."  And  is  there  a  Chris- 
tian here,  but  can  acknowledge,  to  his  praise,  that 
he  has  been  better  to  him  than  his  fears;  and  done 
for  him  exceeding  abundantly,  above  all  he  was 
once  able  to  ask  or  think'? 

— Yet  Job's  recovery,  with  regard  to  life,  was  not 
a  cure.  He  was  only  reprieved.  The  sentence  was 
left  suspended  over  him  still — "Dust  thou  art,  and 
unto  dust  shalt  thou  return."  And  thus,  the  words 
were  true  in  his  case — "  If  I  wait,  the  grave  is  mine 
house:"  and  his  house  it  was.  And  thus,  my  dear 
hearers,  the  words  furnish  a  motto  for  each  of  you. 
Whatever  be  the  object  of  your  hope,  here  is  your 
destination.  You  may  wish,  and  you  may  wait ; 
but  here  is  the  end  of  all  your  solicitudes.  What- 
ever is  your  present  abode,  here  is  your  last.  You 
may  now  occupy  a  strait  and  mean  tenement,  or  a 
large  and  splendid  mansion:  but  you  will  neither 
be  incommoded  with  the  one,  or  delighted  with  the 
other,  long — Here  is  the  residence  to  which  you  are 
nil  hastening — hastening  even  while  I  speak — The 
grave  is  mine  house.  Let  two  things  engage  our  at- 
tention.— Let  us 

I.  Consider  what  is  awful  and  repulsive  in  TnE 
grave. — And 

II.  What  the  Christian  can  find  to  relieve  it. 
I.  Consider  what  is  awful  and  repulsive  in  the 

CRAVE. 

"The  grave,  dread  thing; 

Men  shiver  when  thou'rt  nam'd.  Nature  appalled 
Shakes  off  her  wonted  firmness.    Ah !  how  dark 


Thy  long  extended  realms,  and  rueful  wastes, 
Where  naught  but  silence  reigns,  and  night,  dark 
night." 

— This  Ls  fine,  but  Job  excels  it.  "  Before  I  go 
whence  I  shall  not  return,  even  to  the  land  of  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow  of  death.  A  land  of  darkness, 
as  darkness  itself;  and  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
withoutany  order,  and  where  the  light  is  as  dark- 
ness." What  a  solemn  grandeur  pervades  this  re- 
presentation! What  an  evidence  does  it  furnish 
of  Burke's  observation,  that  obscurity  is  a  source 
of  the  true  sublime;  and  that,  even  in  poetry,  a 
powerful  impression  may  be  made,  where  no  dis- 
tinct imagery  is  represented. — Let  us  take  three 
views  of  the  grave;  they  are  all  awful  and  affect- 
ing. 

First,  We  may  regard  it  as  a  monument  of  human 
guilt.  What  error  can  be  named,  that  is  not  con- 
nected with  diminishing  apprehensions  of  sin? 
Hence  we  must  seize  every  opportunity  of  pro- 
ducing the  needful  conviction,  that  it  is  an  evil  and 
bitter  thing;  evil  with  regard  to  God,  and  bitter 
with  regard  to  ourselves.  Men  think  lightly  of  it, 
but  it  is  more  poisonous  than  the  gall  of  asps.  They 
cannot  be  induced  to  hate  it,  and  fear  it:  and  yet 
they  may  constantly  and  easily  see  its  hateful  and 
fearful  effects.  If  they  will  not  believe  in  the  hell 
that  it  has  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels  in 
another  world,  they  cannot  deny  the  desolations  it 
has  produced  among  the  children  of  men  in  this. 
Once  all  that  moved  upon  the  earth  was  buried  in 
the  deluge — Could  you  have  witnessed  the  specta- 
cle without  horror?  But  the  same  sin  which  then 
destroyed  all  the  human  race  at  once,  acts  no  less 
fatally  now  in  killing  them  all  successively  and  in- 
dividually. The  time  is  nothing;  the  execution  is 
the  same.  Earthquakes,  and  wars,  and  pestilence, 
and  famine,  are  of  more  rare  occurrence,  and  few 
comparatively  can  view  the  effects:  but  you  can  all 
trace  the  ravages  of  disease;  you  can  all  see  men 
going  to  their  long  home,  and  the  mourners  going 
about  the  streets.  Repair  to  some  Golgotha.  Enter 
a  church-yard.  Throw  your  eye  over  the  inscribed 
stones,  and  the  turfed  hillocks;  think  of  the  undis- 
tinguished mass  on  which  you  tread — and  then  ask 
the  question,  which  Jehu  asked  when  he  saw  the 
remains  of  the  sons  of  Ahab — "  Who  slew  all 
these  V  Why  every  burying  ground,  according  to 
its  size,  is  a  jail  with  so  many  cells,  some  holding 
one,  and  some  more  prisoners:  and  they  who  are 
lodged  there  are  not  confined  in  consequence  of  a 
debt  due  to  nature,  but  to  the  justice  of  God.  There 
is  no  grave  in  heaven ;  there  was  no  grave  in  para- 
dise; and  there  would  have  been  none  in  all  tho 
earth,  but  for  sin.  Man  was  indeed  originally  ca- 
pable of  dying,  as  his  experience  soon  evinced;  yet. 
no  accident  without,  and  no  malady  within,  would 
have  endangered  his  being,  or  diminished  his  vigor, 
but  for  sin.  While  innocent,  he  was  immortal — not 
from  the  inherency  of  any  immutable  properties  of 
nature,  but  from  the  divine  appointment  and  pre- 
servation, of  which  the  tree  of  life  in  the  midst  of 
the  garden  was  either  the  means  or  the  pledge. 
"The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  "By  one  man  sin 
entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin,  and  so 
death  came  on  all,  because  all  have  sinned." 

Secondly,  We  may  view  it  as  a  state  of  extreme 
degradation.  Of  whatever  we  are  invested  with, 
we  must  be  despoiled  at  the  gate  of  the  ■.. 
Even  the  costly  and  templing  attire  that  ministered 
so  much  to  the  vanity  of  the  wearer,  and  the  danger 
of  the  beholder,  is  here  stripped  off;  and  if  any  sub- 
stitute be  allowed,  it  is  the  shroud  and  tin-  winding- 
sheet — though  thousands  are  denied  even  the  <■ 
"  We  brought  nothing  with  us  into  the  world,  an  1 
it  is  certain  we  shall  carry  nothing  out.''    "  As  lie 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


73 

came  forth  of  his  mother's  womb,  naked  shall  he 
return  to  go  as  he  came,  and  shall  take  nothing  of 
his  labor,  which  he  may  carry  away  in  his  hand." 
"For  when  he  dieth  he  shall  carry  nothing  away: 
his  glory  shall  not  descend  after  him." 

What  is  any  condition  without  society  1  But  the 
grave  forbids  all  intercourse,  all  interview.  Says 
Ilezekiah,  with  tears,  "  I  shall  behold  man  no  more, 
with  the  inhabitants  of  the  world." 

Here  the  man  boasts  of  his  relations.  There  he 
savs  to  corruption,  thou  art  my  father,  and  to  the 
worm,  thou  art  my  mother  and  my  sister. 

There  all  his  active  functions,  and  the  feelings 
which  they  engendered  or  subserved,  have  ceased. 
"  The  living  know  that  they  shall  die;  but  the  dead 
know  not  any  thing.  Also  their  love  and  hatred, 
and  envy,  is  now  perished;  neither  have  they  any 
more  a  portion  for  ever  in  any  thing  that  is  done 
under  the  sun."  His  business,  his  profession,  de- 
scends to  his  successor,  or  passes  to  his  rival.  Even 
his  religious  exercises  are  there  abandoned.  "  In 
death  there  is  no  remembrance  of  thee.  In  the 
grave  who  shall  give  thee  thanks'?  Shall  the  dust 
praise  thee,  shall  it  declare  thy  truth1?  Shall  thy 
loving-kindness  be  declared  in  the  grave  ?"  "  Shall 
thy  wonders  be  known  in  the  dark?  and  thy  right- 
eousness in  the  land  of  forgetfnlness?" 

The  body  itself,  that  fine  piece  of  divine  work- 
manship, so  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,  is  here 
broken  and  thrown  by  as  a  vessel  wherein  is  no 
pleasure.  The  hands  have  forgotten  their  enter- 
prise. The  cherubic  tints  have  left  the  cheek,  cokl 
and  palid.  The  bright  eye  is  quenched  in  dark- 
ness; and  the  tongue  that  exciled  so  much  emotion 
is  muteness  itself.  Nor  is  this  all.  There  is  enough 
in  the  body,  even  while  living,  to  prevent  all  glory- 
ing in  the  "flesh.  It  had  its  humbling  appetites  and 
infirmities:  it  was  the  seat  of  diseases  which  some- 
times required  all  the  force  of  duty  and  friendship 
to  discharge  the  offices  of  humanity.  See  Job  co- 
vered with  sore  biles  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to 
the  sole  of  his  foot,  sitting  among  the  ashes,  and 
scraping  himself  with  a  potsherd.  But  let  the  ana- 
tomist take  off  from  a  human  body  that  translucent 
veil,  the  skin;  and  then  observe  the  hideous  and 
shocking  spectacle  of  flesh,  and  sinews,  and  mus- 
°lfcf.  View  the  skeleton,  when  every  thing  is  re- 
nic  «e>?  from  the  dry  bones.  But  see  the  body  in  the 
various  j*ages  of  decomposition  and  putrefaction — 
What  an  exhibition  of  expense  and  finery  is  that 
funeral !  Why  all  this  pomp  and  artifice  ?  It  is  in 
honor  of  the  deceased.  Why  then  do  you  not  show 
to  the  multitude  of  gazers,  "  the  Principal  conceal- 
ed, for  whom  you  make  the  mighty  stir'?"  You  dare 
not.  You  have  been  obligee  to  enclose,  and  solder, 
and  coffin  him  up.  What  tears  bedew  the  grave  at 
parting !  Why  then  do  you  part  ?  Why  not  take 
and  preserve  at  home  "  the  deceased  angel  V  You 
dare  not — The  form  is  intolerable.  You  must  bury 
your  dead  out  of  your  sight,  and  shut  too  the  door, 
and  inscribe  over  "it — 

"  How  loved,  how  valued  once,  avails  thee  not, 
To  whom  related,  or  by  whom  begot: 
A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  thee; 
'Tis  all  thou  art,  and  all  the  proud  shall  be." 

Thirdly,  We  may  notice  it  as  an  universal  recep- 
tacle. "  I  know  that  thou  wilt  bring  me  to  death  : 
and  to  the  house  appointed  for  all  living." 

Then,  how  large  its  extent!  Though  the  memo- 
rials of  death  do  not  every  where  meet  your  sight : 
and  particular  spaces  are  properly  appropriated  for 
interment;  and  some  of  them  are  very  capacious 
and  crowded:  yet  there  is  scarcely  a  spot,  that  holds 
not  some  portion  of  humanity.  You  feel  as  you 
march  over  a  field  of  battle:  you  feel  as  you  walk 
through  a  church-yard,  especially  in  the  darkness 


of  the  night.  But  are  the  dead  only  there?  Per- 
haps some  one  has  been  turned  to  dust  beneath  tne 
pew  in  which  you  are  now  sitting.  Perhaps  your 
house  stands,  and  your  garden  blossoms,  over  the 
remains  of  some  who  were  once  as  active  as  you. 
What  walk  can  you  take,  and  not  tramole  on  the 
ashes  of  those  who  are  gone  before  ? 

"  What  is  the  world  itself?  Thy  world?—  A  grave. 
Where  is  the  dust  that  has  not  been  alive? 
The  spade,  the  plough  disturbs  our  ancestors; 
From  human  mould  we  reap  our  daily  bread. 
O'er  devastations  we  blind  revels  keep. 
Whole  buried  towns  support  the  dancer's  heel. 
As  nature,  wide  our  ruin  spread ;  and  death 
Inhabits  all  things  but  the  thought  of  man!" 

Then,  how  numerous  its  victims!  How  soon  the 
power  of  calculation  fails  in  reckoning  up  the  my- 
riads that  do  occupy,  and  will  occupy  this  dark 
abode.  Seven  hundred  and  fifty  millions  constitute 
the  population  of  the  globe.  These,  in  less  than  a 
century,  will  be  all  lodged  in  the  grave.  Yet  what 
are  these  to  the  multitudes  which  will  follow,  and 
to  the  immensities  that  precede ! — "  Every  man 
shall  draw  after  him,  as  there  have  been  innume- 
rable before  him !" 

Then,  how  impartial  its  demands!  Infinitely  di- 
versified as  the  ways  of  human  life  are,  here  they 
all  approximate  and  unite.  The  paths  of  glory  lead 
but  to  the  grave.  Here  come  the  nobles  with  their 
titles,  and  princes  with  their  crowns,  and  scholars 
with  their  volumes. 

"  Why  all  this  toil,  the  triumph  of  an  hour? 
What,  though  we  wade  in  wealth,  or  soar  in  fame, 
Earth's  highest  station  ends  in — Here  he  lies  ! 
And  dust  to  dust  concludes  her  noblest  song!" 

"  One  dieth  in  his  full  strength,  being  wholly  at 
ease  and  quiet.  His  breasts  are  full  of  milk,  and 
his  bones  are  moistened  with  marrow.  And  an- 
other dieth  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  and  never 
eateth  with  pleasure.  They  shall  lie  down  alike  in 
the  dust,  and  the  worms  shall  cover  them."  There 
lies  the  babe  that  perished  in  the  porch  of  life;  and 
there  the  thrice  greyheaded  Parr.  The  beautiful 
and  the  deformed,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  there  meet 
together.  "There  the  prisoners  rest  together:  the 
small  and  the  great  are  there;  and  the  servant  is 
free  from  his  master."  "  Do  not  all  go  to  one  place  ? 
All  are  of  the  dust,  and  all  turn  to  dust  again  !" 

Then,  how  painful  its  separations'.  If  it  be  ap- 
pointed for  all  living,  then  must  it  entomb  the  friend 
that  is  as  thine  own  soul ;  the  child  of  thy  love,  the 
wife  of  thy  bosom,  the  guide  of  thy  youth.  There 
Mary  goes  to  the  grave  to  weep  over  Lazarus. 
There  David  cries,  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my 
brother  Jonathan."  Who  has  not  sustained  some 
bereavement?  Who  has  not  some  spot  the  dearest 
on  earth,  and  rendered  sacred  by  a  deposit  more 
precious  than  gold?  Thus  every  man  feels  an  in- 
terest in  the  grave.  It  is  to  him  the  residence  not  of 
strangers  and  foreigners,  but  of  kindred  who  de- 
tach him  hence.  What  do  I  here,  and  what  have  I 
here?  I  am  related  not  to  the  living,  but  the  dead 
— There  lie  all  that  bound  me  to  earth.  "  Lover  and 
friend  hast  thou  put  far  from  me,  and  my  acquaint- 
ance into  darkness." 

Then,  how  personal  its  claims !  If  it  be  appointed 
for  all  living,  it  must  require  me.  I  may  escape  a 
thousand  other  things  that  befall  my  fellow  crea- 
tures; but  I  must  follow  them  here.  I  see,  in  their 
end,  the  emblem,  the  pledge,  the  certainty  of  my 
own.  No  privilege  can  exempt  me  here.  I  am  go- 
ing the  way  of  all  the  earth,  "  If  Iicait,  the  grave 
is  mine  house." 

But  surely  there  is  one  exception  to  be  found, 
We  read  of  a  peculiar  people,  and  who  are  not  to 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


79 


be  numbered  among  the  rations.  They  are  the 
children  of  God  :  and  if  children,  then  heirs,  heirs 
>f  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ.  The  Chris- 
.ian,  is  not  he  free  1  No.  There  is  no  entering 
heaven  but  under  ground. 

Yel,  even  in  those  things  in  which  the  Christian 
seems  confounded  with  others,  he  is  really,  he  is 
divinely  distinguished.  The  Christian  can  view 
the  grave  with  an  eye  of  faith,  as  well  as  of  sense. 
He  can  view  it  not  only  in  connection  with  that  sin 
which  has  reigned  unto  death,  but  in  connection 
with  that  grace  which  reigns  through  righteousness 
unto  eternal  life.  Though  he  cannot  escape  it,  he 
need  not  dread  it.  He  is  prepared  to  meet  it :  to 
encounter  it;  to  vanquish  it;  to  triumph  over  it ; 
to  insult  it ;  to  say,  "  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory'?" 
— Let  us  pass  to  the 

II.  Part  of  our  subject,  and  consider  what  the 
Christian  can  find  to  relieve  the  scene. 

People  seem  to  have  found  a  kind  of  satisfaction 
when  entering  the  grave,  from  the  thought  that  they 
are  going  to  join  their  connections.  Hence,  as  well 
as  from  the  pride  of  distinction,  sprang  the  mauso- 
leums of  the  great,  a  kind  of  family-tomb.  Hence, 
among  the  Jews,  the  frequency  of  sepulchres  in 
their  gardens;  where  they  seemed  still  to  retain  the 
departed  near  them;  and  maintain  a  kind  of  com- 
munion with  them;  and  feel  soothed  at  the  thought 
of  blending  with  them,  in  the  exclusive  and  endear- 
ing abode.  Hence  Ruth  said  to  Naomi,  "  Where 
thou  diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will  1  be  buried." 
Jacob  said,  "I  will  go  down  into  the  grave  to  my 
son."  "I  will  lie  with  my  fathers;  and  thou  shalt 
carry  me  out  of  Egypt,  and  bury  me  in  their  bury- 
ing-place."  "And  he  charged  them,  and  said  unto 
them,  I  am  to  be  gathered  unto  my  people ;  bury 
me  with  my  fathers  in  the  cave  that  is  in  the  field  of 
Ephron  the  Hittite."  "In  the  cave  that  is  in  the 
field  of  Machpelah,  which  is  before  Mamre,  in  the 
land  of  Canaan,  which  Abraham  bought  with  the 
field  of  Ephron  the  Hittite,  for  a  possession  of  a  bu- 
rying-place ;  there  they  buried  Abraham  and  Sarah 
his  wife;  there  they  buried  Isaac  and  Rebekah  his 
wife;  &r.d  there  I  buried  Leah."  Nor  was  this  only 
the  language  of  faith,  but  of  nature.  In  vain  I  am 
told  there  is  no  reason  in  the  thing,  since  there  is  no 
conscious  community  in  the  grave.  There  are 
beautiful  insects,  too  fine  for  dissection  :  yet  there  is 
in  them  all  the  reality  of  organization.  There  are 
sentiments  to  be  felt  rather  than  explained — instincts 
of  the  heart ;  it  is  nature — it  is  the  God  of  nature 
that  speaks  in  them.  We  often  feel  most  forcibly 
an  impression  whore  cause  is  hidden  and  undefina- 
ble.     What  occurs  to  the  mind  in  a  kind  of  distinct 

Eroposition  may  be  met,  and  argued,  and  repulsed; 
ut  a  principle  whose  influence  is  really,  yet  secret- 
ly and  unaccountably  exerted,  resembles  those  in- 
visible laws  in  the  natural  world,  whose  agency  we 
can  neither  deny  nor  withstand.  To  which  we  may 
add,  that  whatever  tends  to  diminish  the  gloom  of 
the  grave,  and  to  render  it  more  inviting,  is  to  be 
cherished,  and  not  despised.  But  we  have  some- 
thins;  superior  to  all  this.  There  are  five  things 
which  a  Christian  should  think  of  with  regard  to 
the  grave.  Jesus  himself  has  been  in  it.  It  is  a 
plaee  of  repose.  It  receives  only  a  part  of  the  man. 
It  will  not  be  able  to  retain  this  always.  It  must 
not  only  restore  it,  but  restore  it  improved. 

first,  When  vmi  think  of  the  grave,  remember 
that  Jesus  himself  has  been  there.  How  far  did  he, 
who  is  all  your  salvation  and  all  your  desire,  carry 
his  humiliation1  He  descended  into  the  lowest 
parts  of  the  earth.  As  Jonah  was  three  days  and 
three  nights  in  the  whale's  belly,  so  the  Son  of  man 
was  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth.     He  not  only  died,  but  was  buried,  according 


to  the  Scripture.  And  hereby  he  not  only  said,  Se<". 
how  certain  my  death  is ;  but,  Are  you  afraid  to 
enter  the  grave "?  I  will  go  in  before  you,  and  ren- 
der it  safe  and  attractive — Yes,  the  Lily  of  the  Val- 
ley, and  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  was  laid  there,  and 
has  left  a  long  perfume.  Whenever  I  am  commit- 
t  ing  the  remains  of  a  believer  to  the  tomb,  1  seem  to 
hear  the  angels  saying,  "  Come,  see  the  place  where 
the  Lord  lay." 

"  The  graves  of  all  his  saints  he  blest, 
And  softened  every  bed  ; 
Where  should  the  dving  members  rest, 
But  with  the  dying  Head  1" 

Secondly,  When  you  think  of  the  grave,  remem- 
ber, It  is  a  place  of  repose.  Hence  Job  adds,  "  I 
have  made  my  bed  in  the  darkness."  But  who 
sleeps  the  less  sound  for  the  darkness  1  The  dark- 
ness aids  our  slumber.  And  who,  after  the  fatigues 
of  the  day,  dislikes  or  dreads  the  refreshment  of 
night  1  The  sleep  of  a  laboring  man  is  sweet.  He 
lies  down  and  forgets  his  sorrow,  and  remembers 
his  misery  no  more. 

God  has  a  hiding-place  for  his  people  even  in 
life  ;  and  often  says,  "  Come,  my  people,  enter  thou 
into  thy  chambers,  and  shut  thy  doors  about  thee ; 
hide  thee  also  for  a  little  season,  until  the  indigna- 
tion be  overpast."  But  here  the  clouds  return  after 
the  rain  ;  and  as  long  as  earth  is  their  abode,  bonds 
and  afflictions  abide  them.  Therefore,  says  Job, 
"  O  that  thou  wouldest  hide  me  in  the  grave  ;  that 
thou  wouldest  keep  me  secret  until  thy  wrath  be 
past ;  that  thou  wouldest  appoint  me  a  set  time,  and 
remember  me  !"  God  takes  away  his  people  from 
the  evil  to  come.  He  foresees  it ;  but  they  do  not. 
He  therefore  lays  hold  of  them,  and  places  them  in 
a  sheltered  retreat.  And  you  ofien  clearly  see,  after 
their  removal,  what  some  of  your  connections  would 
have  suffered  had  they  cor'irued  here  a  little  longer. 
Ah  !  says  one,  whose  purples  are  broken  ofT—  his 
very  heart  desolated  within  him — Ah  !  what  should 
/have  escaped, -had  I  ten  allowed  an  earlier  re- 
tirement. "  For  now  should  1  have  lain  still  and 
been  quiet ;  I  should  have  slept :  then  had  I  been 
at  rest."  Yes— from  the  snares  and  vexations  of 
the  world  ;  from  the  reproaches  and  persecutions 
of  the  ungodly;  from  the  perfidy  or  weakness  of 
friends;  from  the  temptatiuns  of  the  Devi! ;  from 
the  conflicts  of  flesh  and  spirit  :  there  all  will  be 
peace;  all  will  be  quietness;  all  will  be  assurance 
for  ever.  "  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  there  the  weary  are  at  rot." 

Thirdly,  When  you  think  of  the  grave,  remrm- 
ber  that  it  has  only  a  partial  empire  ;  it  only  leceii  ea 
what  is  corporeal  and  mortal.  Here  we  are  not 
going  to  enter  into  metaphysical  reasonings.  We 
understand  but  little  of  the  connection  of  spirit,  wi'.h 
matter;  yet  why  should  we  doubt  the  possibility  of 
its  existence  separate  from  it  1  Are  we  not  con- 
scious of  some  mental  operations,  in  which  the  body 
seems  to  take  no  share  1  And  when  the  powers  of 
the  body  are  suspended  in  sleep,  is  there  not  some- 
thing that  sees  without  eyes,  and  hears  without  ears  ? 
Do  we  not  even  then  dream  1  and  often  with  an 
amazing  decree  of  activpness  1 

The  heathens  seemed  to  allow  that  something  in 
man  could  exist,  and  would  either  suffer  or  enjoy 
independently  of  the  body — for  of  the  revival  of  the 
body  they  never  had  the  least  notion.  But  we  turn 
at  once  to  the  Scriptures,  the  only  source  of  satisfac- 
tory information  in  a  case  like  this.  "  Then  shall 
the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was;  and  the  spirit 
shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it."  Hear  the  state- 
ment of  the  Apostle  :  "  Absent  from  the  body,  aid 
present  with  the  Lord."  And  his  own  wish  express- 
ed to  the  Phiiippians  :  "  I  long  to  depart  to  be  with 


eo 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


Christ,  which  is  far  better ;"  i.  e.  far  better  for  him, 
though  to  abide  in  the  flesh  was  more  needful  for 
them.  Now  if  he  did  not  believe  that  his  soul  would 
be  immediately  with  Christ,  his  desire  is  perfectly 
■unintelligible.  For  by  dying,  he  would  have  been 
no  sooner  with  Christ,  than  he  would  by  remaining 
alive,  as  to  time  ;  nor  so  near,  as  to  enjoyment ;  for 
here  he  had  access  to  him  and  intercourse  with  him. 
How  undeniably  is  this  distinction  admitted  by  our 
Saviour,  and  made  the  rule  of  his  most  solemn  ad- 
monitions. "Fear  not  them  which  kill  the  body, 
but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul ;  but  rather  fear  him 
which  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell." 
"  I  say  unto  you,  my  friends,  be  not  afraid  of  them 
that  kill  the  body,  and  after  that  have  no  more  that 
they  can  do.  But  I  will  forewarn  you  whom  ye 
shall  fear:  fear  him,  which,  after  he  hath  killed, 
hath  power  to  cast  into  hell ;  yea,  I  say  unto  you, 
fear  him."  To  which  we  may  add  his  promise  to 
the  thief  on  the  cross  ;  which,  though  often  tortured, 
still  refuses  to  support  any  other  principle  ;  "  Veri- 
ly, verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  this  day  thou  shalt  be  with 
me  in  Paradise." 

This  being  premised  and  proved,  we  observe, 
that  the  souls  of  believers  are  in  their  bodies,  as  the 
lamps  of  Gideon  in  the  pitchers:  at  midnight  the 
pitchers  are  broken,  and  the  lamps  shine  forth,  and 
the  victory  is  obtained.  This,  to  drop  the  meta- 
phor, this  is  the  ground  of  consolation  taken  by  the 
Apostle :  "  And  if  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is 
dead  because  of  sin  ;  but  the  spirit  is  life  because  of 
righteousness." 

Fourthly,  "When  you  think  of  the  grave,  remem- 
ber that  its  reign  is  not  only  limited  as  to  subject,  but 
as  to  duration.  Even  the  body,  which  it  does  re- 
ceive, will  not,  cannot  be  retained  by  it  always; 
therefore  the  Apostle  adds,  "  But  if  the  Spirit  of 
him  that  raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  in 
you,  he  that  raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead  shall 
also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his  Spirit  that 
dwelleth  in  you." 

The  grave  is  called  our  long  home,  not  because 
it  ii  far  off,  for  we  live  in  the  veiy  neighborhood ; 
but  because  our  stay  there  will  be  long,  compared 
with  our  stay  in  our  present  home.  This,  indeed, 
will  not  apply  to  all.  Some  at  the  last  day  will 
have  been  buried  only  a  year,  or  a  week,  or  a  day. 
The  sexton  will  be  performing  his  office  on  some 
at  the  very  instant ;  and  the  re-animated  corpse  will 
burst  the  coffin  before  it  be  confined  in  the  grave  ; 
and  the  attendants  be  all  changed  in  a  moment,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  But  yon  will  lie  there  till 
the  heavens  be  no  more.  Many  will  have  been 
found  dwelling  there  for  thousands  of  years.  Yet 
whatever  be  the  length  of  the  occupancy,  it  will  have 
an  en.d,  and  all  the  inhabitants  will  be  sent  forth. 

And  why  should  it  be  thought  incredible  that 
God  should  raise  the  dead  1  With  God  all  things 
are  possible.  But  you  say,  appearances  do  not  ren- 
der it  probable.  We  see  nothing  more  of  the  body 
we  inter;  yea,  we  knew  it  dissolves  and  returns  to 
dust.  Yet  was  not  that  oak  once  an  acorn  1  Did 
not  that  beautiful  insect  once  lie  in  its  little  mummy 
grave  1  But  it  burst  its  confinement,  and  now  owns 
the  air  and  sky.  What  do  men  produce  from  the 
rudest  elements  1  Show  a  stranger  to  the  process,  a 
figure  of  glass;  and  then  place  him  before  the  bare 
materials  from  which  it  is  deduced.  "  How  are 
the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what  body  do  they 
cornel  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou  sowest  is  not 
quickened,  except  it  die  ;  and  that  which  thou  sow- 
est, thou  sowest  not  that  body  that  shall  be,  but  bare 
grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat,  or  of  some  other 
grain  ;  but  God  giveth  it  a  body  as  it  hath  pleased 
him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body."  But  how 
decisive  is  the  testimony  of  the  Scripture  !  The 
doctrine  is  found  even  in  the  Old  Testament.     Our 


Saviour  found  it  in  the  Pentateuch;  and  deduced 
it  from  the  declaration  of  God  at  the  burning  bush: 
"  I  am  the  God  of  Abraham,  and  of  Isaac,  and  of 
Jacob.  God  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the 
living  :"  for  all  live  unto  him — purpose  and  accom- 
plishment being  the  same  with  him.  In  Isaiah  we 
read,  "  Thy  dead  men  shall  live  :  together  with  my 
dead  body  shall  they  arise.  Awake  and  sing,  ye 
that  dwell  in  the  dust  :  for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of 
herbs,  and  the  earth  shall  cast  out  the  dead."  Many 
have  supposed,  with  much  probability,  that  here  is 
a  promise  of  the  resurrection  of  believers  through 
their  union  with  Christ.  But  if  the  evidence  of  this 
supposition  be  not  strong  enough  to  bear  such  an 
argument,  it  is  undeniable,  that  the  deliverance  of 
the  people  of  God  from  a  state  of  the  lowest  degra- 
dation and  hopelessness,  is  here  held  forth  by  an 
image  taken  from  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. — 
And  Ezekiel  employs  the  same  image  in  the  vision 
of  the  dry  bones,  raised  to  union  and  life.  And 
what  can  more  clearly  prove  that  the  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead  was  in  those  days  a 
known  and  popular  sentiment  1  For  an  image  em- 
ployed to  represent,  any  thing  in  the  way  of  allegory 
or  metaphor,  whether  in  poetry  or  prophecy,  must 
be  generally  and  well  understood,  or  the  end  of  its 
appropriation  is  defeated.  In  the  New  Testament, 
it  is  more  than  merely  admitted.  It  is  every  where 
affirmed,  and  reasoned  from,  as  an  important  prin- 
ciple. And  how  commonly  the  notion  and  belief 
of  it  prevailed  among  the  Jews,  appears  from  the 
language  of  Martha;  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  in  the  resurrection  at  the  last  day."  And 
from  the  defence  of  Paul  before  Felix  ;  "  And  have 
hope  towards  God,  which  they  themselves  also  al- 
low, that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the  dead, 
both  of  the  just  and  unjust." 

Here  also  we  have  it  in  fact  and  example.  Se- 
veral were  raised  again:  and  one  of  them  after  he 
had  lain  in  the  grave  four  days,  and  the  process  of 
corruption  must  have  more  than  commenced.  But 
Jesus  himself  arose:  and  he  is  not  only  an  instance, 
but  a  pledge.  If  ever  an  event  was  proved,  if  was 
at  the  resurrection  of  Christ.  But  if  Christ  be 
preached  that  he  rose  from  the  dead,  how  say  some 
that  there  is  no  resurrection  of  the  dead  ?  But  now 
is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first- 
fruits  of  them  that  sleep.  His  resurrection  is  the 
claim,  as  well  as  the  proof  of  ours — "  Because  I 
live,  ye  shall  live  also."  Our  nature  was  revived 
in  his  person;  and  thus  we  are  quickened  wi  h 
Christ,  and  raised  up,  and  made  to  sit  with  him  in 
heavenly  places. 

But  every  man  in  his  own  order:  Christ  the  firs*- 
fruits;  afterwards  they  that  are  Christ's,  at  his 
coming.  Our  Saviour  repeatedly  said,  "  I  will  raise 
him  up  at  the  last  day."  For  this  is  the  period  ap- 
pointed for  the  resurrection:  and  the  reason  of  the 
appointment,  in  a  measure,  appears.  If  each  bodv 
was  raised  in  succession  previously,  the  order  of 
nature  and  Providence  would  be  perpetually  in- 
vaded, and  miracles  would  be  constantly  required. 
And  not  only  for  this  reason,  but  also  for  the 
greater  honor  of  the  Redeemer,  this  greatest  and 
sublimest  exertion  of  Almightiness  is  reserved  for 
the  appearing  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Then  he 
shall  come  to  be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and  to  be 
admired  in  all  them,  that  believe.  Then,  O  Death ! 
he  will  be  thy  plagues;  then,  O  Grave!  he  will  be 
thy  destruction;  and  repentance  shall  be  hid  from 
his  eyes. 

Filially,  Remember,  to  complete  your  comfort, 
that  what  yon  resign  to  the  grave  will  not  only  be  re- 
stored, but  infinitely  improved.  As  Egypt  was  com- 
pelled not  only  to  allow  thp  Israelites  to  depart,  but 
to  send  them  away  enriched ;  and  as  Cyrus  not  only 
gave  up  the  captives  from  Babylon,  but  ordered 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


81 


tnem  to  be  helped  with  silver  and  gold,  and  with 
goods,  and  beasts,  beside  their  own  free-will  offer- 
isgs  to  the  house  of  God;  so  will  it  be  in  the  resur- 
rection. Believers  will  not  only  leave  the  grave  as 
they  entered  it — they  will  be,  not  only  delivered,  but 
exalted;  they  will  not  only  have  life,  but  have  it 
more  abundantly. 

I  deem  this  an  important  part  of  our  subject :  you 
will  therefore  allow  me  a  little  enlargement.  Who- 
ever has  looked  over  the  early  attacks  on  Christi- 
anity will  have  observed,  that  the  pagan  philoso- 
phers not  only  denied  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrec- 
tion, but  affected  to  contemn  the  thing  itself.  They 
considered  it  a  ban^,  rather  than  a  benefit;  and  re- 
presented it  as  imprisoning  us  again,  and  burdening 
us  again,  after  the  soul  had  been  freed  from  its  fet- 
ters and  load.  And  some  Christians  really  seem  to 
be  almost  like-minded.  Few  appear  to  consider  it 
a  prize ;  at  least,  such  a  prize  as  Paul  did  when  he 
said,  "  If  by  any  means  I  might  attain  unto  the  re- 
surrection of  the  dead."  And  the  reason  is  proba- 
bly this.  They  now  know  the  disadvantages  of  the 
body,  and  are  insensibly  led  to  judge  of  the  future 
by  their  feelings  at  present.  And  indeed  if  the  bo- 
dies raised  up  were  no  better  than  those  laid  down, 
the  resurrection  would  excite  but  little  eagerness  of 
desire.  But  what  saith  the  Scriptures'?  Do  not  the 
sacred  writers  supremely  lead  forward  your  minds 
to  this,  and  point  your  highest  hope,  not  to  the  inter- 
mediate state,  but  to  your  re-embodied  1 — "He  shall 
be  recompensed  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just."  "  I 
am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I 
have  committed  to  him  against  that  day."  Man,  in 
his  primeval  state,  was  incarnate:  and  if  hereafter 
we  could  attain  perfection  and  happiness  without 
our  bodies,  what  need  would  there  be  for  their  re- 
production from  the  dust?  Yet,  according  to  the 
views  and  feelings  of  many,  this  grandest  exertion 
of  divine  power  seems  to  be  entirely,  or  almost,  un- 
necessary. 

But  let  us  not  be  wiser  than  our  Maker.  How- 
ever incapable  we  may  be  of  reasoning  convincingly 
upon  the  subject,  there  must  be  an  accession  of  per- 
fection and  happiness  to  be  enjoyed  in  a  state  of  re- 
union with  the  body,  unattainable  in  a  separate 
state.  The  life  of  a  mere  spirit  must  differ  much 
from  its  subsistence  in  a  corporeal  organization. 
Without  the  latter,  it  can  hardly  connect  itself,  for 
want  of  a  medium,  with  the  material  universe,  the 
new  heavens  and  the  new  earth.  It  must  be  a 
stranger  to  the  pleasures  that  depend  on  our  senses 
and  passions;  and  also  those  which  arise  from  im- 
agination. Was  it  not  a  privilege  for  Enoch  and 
Elias  to  enter  heaven  embodied  1  "  But  their  bodies 
were  changed."  It  is  allowed.  And  ours  will  be 
changed  also;  for  flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God.  And  what  a  change  must  that 
be,  that  can  fit  us  for  such  a  state !  We  are  there- 
fore not  to  think  of  our  future  incarnation  by  our 
present.  The  body  then  will  not  be  a  prison,  a  bur- 
den; it  will  not  be  a  hinderance,  but  a  help;  and 
will  even  subserve  the  soul  in  knowledge,  holiness, 
benevolence,  and  enjoyment. 

There  are  two  ways  by  which  the  Scripture  ele- 
vates our  conceptions  of  the  resurrection  body. 
The  first  is,  to  compare,  or  rather  contrast  it  with 
the  body  we  now  have.  "So  is  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead.  It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in 
incorrup'ion:"  Not  only  incapable  of  defilement, 
but  of  dissolution,  of  declension,  of  injury:  impas- 
sive; immortal.  "It  is  sown  in  dishonor;  it  is 
raised  in  glory :"  No  longer  composed  of  base  ele- 
ments, subsisting  on  gross  supplies,  subject  to  the 
same  laws  with  the  beasts  that  perish,  employed  in 
low  and  degrading  toils  nnd  pursuits.  "  It  is  sown 
in  weakness;  it  is  raised  in  power:"  No  longer 
fatigued  with  a  little  exertion,  and  requiring  long 
29* 


insensibilities  of  sleep,  and  frequent  returns  of  food, 
to  renew  its  strength  and  keep  it  fit  for  action:  but 
capable  of  serving  Him  in  his  temple  day  and 
night,  without  languor,  and  without  repose.  "  It  is 
sown  a  natural  body;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body:" 
Not  a  spirit,  but  spiritual.  Not  spiritual  in  its  es- 
sence, but  in  the  refinement  of  its  senses,  and  in- 
dulgences, and  functions,  and  use.  Fur  "  There  is 
a  natural  body,  and  there  is  a  spiritual  body." 

The  second  is,  to  hold  forth  the  conformity  it  will 
bear  to  the  body  of  our  Saviour.  "And  so  it  is 
written,  The  first  man  Adam  was  made  a  living 
soul;  the  last  Adam  was  made  a  quickening  spirit. 
Howbeit  that  was  not  first  which  is  spiritual,  but 
that  which  is  natural;  and  afterward  that  which  is 
spiritual.  The  first  man  is  of  the  earth,  earthy :  the 
second  man  is  the  Lord  from  heaven.  As  is  the 
earthy,  such  are  they  also  that  are  earthy :  and  as 
is  the  heavenly,  such  are  they  also  that  are  heaven- 
ly. And  as  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earth)', 
we  shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly."  "  It 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be;  but  this  we 
know,  that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 
him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."  And  this  like- 
ness takes  in  the  body  as  well  as  the  soul.  What  a 
body  was  that,  which  after  his  resurrection  could 
render  itself  visible  and  invisible  at  pleasure ; 
which  walls  and  doors  could  not  exclude;  which 
moved  with  the  ease  and  expedition  of  thought ; 
which  ascended  up  on  high  without  impulsion 
which  appeared  to  Saul,  and  at  noon-day  shone 
above  the  brightness  of  the  sun;  in  which  he  is 
now  worshipped  by  all  the  angels  of  God ;  and  in 
which  he  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness,  and 
reign  for  ever  and  ever!  But  this,  O  believer,  is 
the  model  of  thy  destination.  "We  look  for  the 
Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  who  shall  change 
our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  his 
glorious  body,  according  to  the  working  whereby  he 
is  able  even  to  subdue  all  things  unto  himself." 

— Let  this  assurance  and  confidence  lead  us  to 
bless  God  for  revelation,  and  the  explicitness  of  its 
discoveries.  With  us  the  darkness  is  past,  and  the 
true  light  shineth.  And  what  does  it  leave  undis- 
covered that  is  important  to  our  safety,  or  our  wel- 
fare, or  our  comfort'?  Whatever  reasonings  and 
conjectures  the  Heathen  had  with  regard  to  a  fu- 
ture state,  it  is  well  known  they  gave  up  the  body. 
No  one  for  a  moment  ever  supposed  that  the  grave 
could  re-open,  and  the  dead  arise.  When  Paul  wa3 
at  Athens  (where  the  immortality  of  the  soul  was 
frequently  asserted,)  and  preached  unto  them  Jesus 
and  the  resurrection;  even  the  men  of  science,  for- 
getting the  gravity  that  became  their  character, 
"  mocked !"  and  said,  "  What  will  this  babbler  say?" 
But  there  is  not  a  peasant  or  a  child  in  our  land  of 
vision,  but  knows  that  the  dead,  small  and  great, 
will  stand  before  God. 

— This  prospect  should  comfort  you  in  the  loss 
of  5'our  connections.  You  are  not  forbidden  to  feel 
— "Your  grief  becomes  you,  and  your  tears  are 
just."  Jesus  wept.  But  "  Weeping  must  not  hin- 
der sowing."  "  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  igno- 
rant, brethren,  concerning  them  which  are  asleep, 
that  ye  sorrow  not,  even  as  others  which  have  no 
nope.  For  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose 
a°-ain,  even  so  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will 
( fod  I'ling  with  him."  "But  they  were  so  dear! 
They  were.  But  they  are  much  dearer  now.  They 
have  left  all  their  imDerfections,  and  all  their  sor- 
rows behind- 

"  They  sleep  in  Jesus,  and  are  blest: 
How  sweet  their  slumbers  are; 
From  suffering  and  from  sin  released, 
And  freed  from  every  care." 
And  this  is  not  all.  "  Martha !  Thy  brother  shall 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


rise  again.  Rachel !  You  weep  for  your  child,  and 
refuse  to  be  comforted,  because  he  is  not."  "  Why 
was  this  loved  babe  born  1  why  was  I  torn  with  pain 
at  his  birth,  and  again  rent  with  anguish  at  his 
death  1  What  purpose  has  his  brief  history  an- 
swered 1  What  has  now  become  of  him  1"  These 
and  a  thousand  other  inquiries  which  the  busy  mind 
will  ask,  could  never  have  been  answered,  but  for 
this  book — never  so  precious  as  in  the  hour  of  trou- 
ble. There  the  mystery  is  explained.  There,  you 
learn,  that  a  sparrow  falleth  not  to  the  ground  with- 
out your  heavenly  Father;  that  the  present  is  only 
the  threshold  of  existence;  that  the  soul  of  this  in- 
fant is  now  in  the  Shepherd's  bosom,  and  that  his 
body  will  not  perish,  but  be  seen  again,  "  all  heaven- 
ly and  divine."  "  Refrain  thy  voice  from  weeping, 
and  thine  eyes  from  tears;  for  thy  work  shall  be  re- 
warded, saith  the  Lord;  and  thy  children  shall  come 
again  from  the  land  of  the  enemy."  O  ye  children ! 
who  are  yet  spared,  and  are  now  responsible  for  your 
conduct;  let  this  comfort  be  put  into  our  hearts  with 
regard  to  you.  Remember  your  Creator.  Live  and 
die  in  the  Lord;  and  then,  though  we  lose  you  for  a 
moment,  you  shall  be  restored  to  us,  equal  to  the 
angels,  and  be  the  children  of  God,  being  the  child- 
ren of  the  resurrection.  And  you,  parents !  endear- 
ed by  so  much  affection,  and  whose  venerable  looks 
remind  us  of  separation ;  fear  not  to  go  in  good 
time.  We  will  rock  the  cradle  of  your  age;  and 
comfort  you  on  the  bed  of  languishing;  and  kiss 
your  cold  cheeks,  and  close  your  eyes,  and  lay  you 
in  the  dust — But  we  shall  see  you  again;  and  our 
heart  shall  rejoice,  and  our  joy  no  one  takethfromus. 
— And  let  this  animate  you  when  looking  towards 
your  own  grave.  And  surely  some  of  you  must  be 
thinking  of  it.  Your  complaints,  your  infirmities, 
your  years,  must  lead  you  to  ask,  How  long  have  I 
iolivel  Well!  if  you  are  a  Christian,  you  have 
every  reason  to  think  of  it  with  resignation  and 
pleasure.  God  says  to  3rou,  as  he  did  to  Jacob  trem- 
bling on  the  confines  of  Egypt,  "  Be  not  afraid  to  go 
down:  I  will  go  down  with  thee;  and  I  will  bring 
thee  up  again."  si  i  %>.][  watch  over  your  sleeping 
dust,  and  he  will  bid  it  rise.  If  it  be  trying  to  part 
with  your  companion  the  body,  remember  it  is  only 
for  a  time;  and  it  will  be  restored  to  you  in  the 
image  of  God's  Son.  Say  then,  "  I  am  not  follow- 
ing cunningly  devised  fables.  I  build  upon  a  rock. 
It  is  true,  sin  takes  away  my  health  and  breath,  and 
lays  my  body  down  in  the  grave.  But  I  hear  Him 
saying  among  the  tombs,  1  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life;  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live;  and  he  that  liveth  and  be- 
lieveth in  me  shall  never  die.  At  the  sound  of  this, 
I  take  courage  and  go  forward.  I  am  not  stumbling 
over  a  precipice,  uncertain  where  1  shall  fall,  and 
not  knowing  that  I  shall  ever  rise.  I  descend  into 
the  grave  by  a  gentle  flight  of  steps,  leaning  on  my 
Beloved  and  my  Friend — I  choose  to  die.  It  is  thou, 
my  God,  my  Saviour,  who  callest  me;  and  I  give 
up  my  life  into  thy  hand,  assuredly  persuaded,  that 
thou  art  able  and  willing  and  engaged  to  return  it." 
This  is  not  empty  declamation.  I  have  taken  the 
very  language  from  the  lips  of  a  dving  saint— I 
stood  by— and  after  she  had  surveyed  her  reduced 
and  wrinkled  hands  and  arms,  she  ended  her  ad- 
dress—and life  too,  a  few  moments  after— with  the 
words  of  the  sweet  Psalmist  in  our  British  Israel : 

"  Oft  have  I  heard  thy  threat'nings  roar, 
And  oft  endur'd  the  erief: 
And  when  thy  hand  hath  press'd  me  sore, 
Thy  grace  was  ray  relief. 

By  long  experience  i  nave  Known 

Thy  sov'reign  pow'r  to  save ; 
At  thy  command  I  venture  down 

Securely  to  the  grave. 


When  I  lie  buried  deep  in  dust, 

My  flesh  shall  be  thy  care ; 
Those  with' ring  limbs  with  thee  I  trust, 

To  raise  them  strong  and  fair." 

— But  what  is  all  this  to  some  of  you,  my  bre- 
thren"? Let  me  speak  freely;  and  do  not  consider 
me  as  your  enemy  because  I  tell  you  the  truth.  Who 
of  you  have  not  frequently  been  at  the  grave  of  a 
neighbor,  a  friend,  a  relation  '?  Sometimes  you  have 
been  deeply  impressed  there.  But  how  soon  did  the 
impression  wear  off;  and  you  renewed  your  pursuit 
of  the  world,  as  eagerly  as  if  you  had  never  heard, 
never  seen,  never  felt  that  all  was  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit. 

What  do  you  think  of  your  own  grave  1  Per- 
haps the  thought  never  enters  your  mind ;  or  if 
it  does,  you  deem  it  an  impertinent  and  hateful 
intruder;  and  you  drive  it  from  you,  as  you  would 
a  serpent.  Some  of  you  have  been  led  down  very 
nearly  to  the  grave,  by  perilous  accident  or  disease. 
And  how  did  it  appear  1  Did  it  not  seem  an  awful 
thing  to  enter  an  invisible  and  changeless  state'? 
Did  you  not  turn  your  face  to  the  wall  and  weep? 
If  ever  you  prayed,  was  it  not  then  1  "  O  spare 
me  a  little,  that  I  may  recover  strength,  before  I 
go  hence  and  be  no  more."  Where  now  are  the 
confessions  and  vows  of  that  hour  1  Perhaps  the 
very  scene  is  rendered  disagreeable  by  your  apos- 
tacy  from  your  convictions — your  endeavor  to  for- 
get it — and  you  shun  the  Christian,  and  the  minis- 
ter you  called  in,  because  they  are  now  witnesses 
against  you. 

Here  is  an  awful  case.  And  what  can  you  do  1 
If  you  wait,  the  grave  is  your  house — and  you 
know  you  must  enter  it.  You  may  play  the  infidel; 
you  may  deny  the  truth  of  the  gospel;  but  it  is  use- 
less to  deny  that  you  are  on  the  borders  of  the 
grave — you  may  reason  about  it ;  you  may  look  up 
and  curse  God  and  your  King.  But  you  cannot 
escape.  Perhaps  you  would  be  shocked  to  be  un- 
buried  ;  but  this  is  not  likely  to  be  youi  case.  You 
may  have  a  good  grave — a  much  better  grave  than 
many  of  your  neighbors;  and  it  will  afford  your 
body  ease  ;  and  in  this  sense,  the  clods  of  the  valley 
will  be  sweet  about  you.  But  is  there  not  a  spirit 
in  man?  Where  will  your  soul  be  while  your 
body  is  resting  in  the  grave  1  Yea,  and  how  is  the 
body  to  be  disposed  of  at  last  1 

The  Lord  Jesus  will  raise  you,  as  well  as  his 
people ;  but  his  agency  will  have  a  very  different 
principle.  The  resurrection  of  the  godly  will  be 
performed  by  him — as  their  Lord  and  Redeemer, 
under  the  administration  of  grace  ;  but  the  wicked 
will  be  raised  by  him  as  the  Ruler  and  the  Judge, 
under  an  administration  of  law  ;  for  they  are  under 
the  law,  and  not  under  grace.  They  refused  the 
ransom,  and  died  in  their  guilt;  and  the  grave  re- 
ceived them  as  criminals  in  charge,  bound  over  to 
justice — for  as  many  as  are  under  the  law,  are 
under  the  curse;  and  as  they  live,  and  die — so  they 
rise  the  same. 

There  is  also  a  difference  in  the  bodies  revived. 
What  the  bodies  of  the  righteous  will  be,  you  have 
heard  ;  but  they  that  sow  to  the  flesh  shall  of  the 
flesh  reap  corruption.  The  evils  attached  to  your 
bodies  will  not  be  left  in  the  grave,  but  will  cleave 
to  them  for  ever;  and  they  will  inherit  the  seeds 
of  disease,  and  the  principles  of  deformity;  and 
they  will  have  the  same  raging  appetites  and  pas- 
sions— but  all  unindulged. 

The  conditions  following  also  differ.  "And  many 
of  them  that  sleep  in  the  dust  of  the  earth  shall 
awake,  some  to  everlasting  life,  and  some  to  shame 
and  everlasting  contempt."  "Marvel  not  at  this; 
for  the  hour  is  coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in  the 
graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


83 


they  that  have  done  good,  unto  the  resurrection  of 
life  ;  and  they  that  have  done  evil,  unto  the  resur- 
rection of  damnation."  Thus  both  the  chief  butler 
and  chief  baker  were  released  at  the  same  time, 
and  from  the  same  confinement — the  one  to  be  ad- 
vanced, and  the  other  to  be  executed.  The  grave, 
to  the  believer,  is  an  avenue  to  heaven.  It  is  the 
dress-chamber,  in  -which  the  church  puts  on  her 
beautiful  garments,  to  arise  and  meet  the  Lord  in 
the  air.  But  to  others,  it  is  the  condemned  cell  in 
which  the  malefactor  is  lodged  till  he  is  led  out  to 
punishment.  That  can  hardly  be  called  a  deliver- 
ance, that  releases  a  man  from  a  bad  condition  and 
consigns  him  to  a  worse.  It  would  be  well  if  the 
bodies  of  the  wicked  could  remain  where  by  death 
they  are  deposited:  but  this  is  impossible.  The 
bodies — those  bodies  which  you  have  so  indulged, 
so  pampered,  so  adorned :  the  bodies  which  death 
delivers  to  the  worms,  the  resurrection  will  deliver 
to  the  flames ! 

And  where  are  you  now  1  Take  the  hemp  or 
the  steel,  and  destroy  yourself.  Ah  !  this  too  is 
impossible.  The  soul  is  instantly  before  God.  You 
have  got  rid  only  of  one  part  of  you.  And  even 
the  part  you  have  demolished,  will  be  re-animated 
and  rendered  invulnerable — and  you  shall  seek 
death,  but  shall  not  find  it;  and  shall  desire  to  die, 
but  death  shall  flee  from  you. 

— But  why  do  I  thus  address  you1?  It  is  that,  by 
awakening  your  consciences  from  a  fatal  security, 
I  may  in  time  dispose  you  to  ask,  "What  must  I 
do  to  be  saved  V  I  am  sure  of  this,  that  I  would 
not  have  enlarged  upon  your  awful  condition,  had 
I  not  believed  that  there  is  hope  in  Israel  concern- 
ing this  thing;  and  that  none  of  you  are  excluded 
from  it,  unless  those  who  exclude  themselves.  But 
so  it  is.  The  Saviour  stands  before  you  in  all  the 
combined  forms  of  power  and  of  pity.  He  is  able — 
he  is  willing  to  save  unto  the  uttermost.  Seek  him 
while  he  may  be  found.  Call  upon  him  while  he  is 
near.  Wait  for  no  qualifications  to  recommend 
you  to  his  gracious  notice.  He  requires  none.  If 
Paul  and  Silas  were  here,  they  would  say,  "  Be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved."  .Plead  not,  as  an  objection,  your  unworthi- 
ness.  This  should  only  increase  the  earnestness  of 
your  application.  Behold  the  number  and  the  cha- 
racter of  those  who  have  obtained  merc)r.  Read 
his  word:  and  hear  him  not  only  allowing,  but  in- 
viting and  commanding  you  to  approach,  with  the 
assurance,  "  him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out."  Obey  his  voice.  Commit  your- 
selves into  his  hands.  And  you  shall  never  come 
into  condemnation,  but  shall  pass  from  death  unto 
life.  And  though  even  then,  if  you  wait,  the  grave 
is  your  house,  it  will  only  be  a  peaceful  and  lem- 
porary  residence  to  sleep  in;  and  you  will  finally 
enter  another  house — a  building  of  God,  a  house 
not  made  with  hands — eternal  in  the  heavens. 


LECTURE  XII. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,    IN   HEAVEN. 

"  JVho   hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
through  the  gospel." — 2  Tim.  i.  10. 

Did  the  heathen  then  know  nothing  of  life  and 
immortality  before  1  They  had  their  schools  and 
their  philosophers.  Some  of  them  acquired  great 
distinction  and  fame.  Their  sagacity  and  learning 
were  deep  and  extensive.  They  were  enriched 
by  a  long  succession  of  preceding  discoveries  and 
improvements.  In  the  various  arts  and  sciences 
they  much  excelled;  and  hi;  that  would  see  a  fine 
piece  of  statuary  must  fetch  it  from  the  ruins  of 
Greece  and  Rome.     But,  as  to  the  things  of  God; 


we  are  assured  by  one  who  was  well  qualified  to 
judge,  "They  were  vain  in  their  imaginations: 
their  foolish  heart  was  darkened.  And  professing 
themselves  wise,  they  became  fools." 

They  had,  indeed,  their  surmisings  concerning 
a  future  state;  they  brought  forward  some  strong 
probabilities  in  it:;  favor;  and  aided  in  their  reason- 
ings by  hints  of  unacknowledged  tradition,  some 
fine  and  worthy  sentiments  escaped  from  them. 
But  they  never  taught  life  and  immortality  as  a 
doctrine;  they  never  employed  it  as  a  principle  and 
motive.  They  had  no  authority  to  publish  it  to 
others:  and  not  one  of  them  was  sure  of  the  thing 
in  his  own  mind.  And,  as  Paley  well  remarks, 
"Conjecture  and  opinion  are  not  knowledge:  and 
in  religion,  nothing  more  is  known  than  is  proved." 
Thus  the  world  by  wisdom  knew  not  God;  and  if 
this  was  the  case  with  the  wise  and  the  learned, 
what  was  it  with  the  common  people,  with  the  old, 
with  children,  with  the  busy  and  engrossed,  who 
could  only  eat  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their 
brow  1  The  apostle,  therefore,  speaking  of  the 
Gentiles,  says,  they  were  left,  "  If  haply  they  might 
feel  after  Him,  and  find  Him" — an  expression  bor- 
rowed from  the  blind,  who  grope  for  their  object, 
and  their  way,  uncertain  of  success,  and  in  danger 
of  hurting  themselves  by  their  own  efforts. 

But  did  not  the  Jews  know  1  We  make  no 
scruple  to  say,  they  did.  To  them  pertained  the 
oracles  of  God.  He  gave  his  word  unto  Jacob;  his 
statutes  and  his  judgments  unto  Israel ;  and  dealt 
not  so  with  any  other  people.  David  said,  "  Thou 
shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel,  and  afterward  re- 
ceive me  to  glory."  Jacob,  even  in  death,  was 
"  waiting  for  the  salvation  of  God."  How  explicit 
was  the  profession  of  Job,  "  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer ljveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter 
day  upon  the  earth;  and  though  after  my  skin 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see 
God:  whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine  eyes 
shall  behold,  and  not  another,  although  my  reins  be 
consumed  within  me." 

— How,  then,  could  "life  and  immortality  be 
brought  to  light  through  the  gospell"  We  answer. 
The  word  gospel  may  be  taken  two  ways.  The 
one  more  general,  for  revelation  at  large  ;  and  thus 
it  is  to  be  understood  when  it  is  said,  "  The  gospel 
was  preached  to  the  Jews,  but  the  word  preached 
did  not  profit  them."  And  thus  it  is  to  be  under- 
stood when  it  is  said,  "The  Scripture,  foreseeing 
that  God  would  justify  the  heathen  through  faith, 
preached  before  the  gospel  unto  Abraham,  savin/, 
in  thee  shall  all  nations  be  blessed."  The  other  is 
more  restricted,  and  signifies  the  evangelical  dis- 
pensation :  commencing  with  the  ministry  of  our 
Lord,  and  including  not  only  the  discourses  which 
he  personally  delivered,  but  all  the  inspired  com- 
munications of  the  apostles.  Now,  if  we  take  the 
word  gospel  here  in  the  former  sense,  the  meaning 
is,  that  it  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
really.  But  if  taken  in  the  latter  sense,  then  the 
meaning  is,  that  it  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light  pre-eminently.  And  it  must  be  confessed  that 
this  is  the  more  common  acceptation  of  the  term, 
and  so  it  is  required  to  be  taken  in  the  passage  be- 
fore us.  The  dawn  was  visible  before:  but  now 
the  day  appeared.  To  the  Jews  the  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness was  below  the  horizon ;  on  us  he  has 
risen  with  healing  under  his  wings;  and  Christians 
are  all  the  children  of  the  light  and  of  the  day: 
God  having  provided  some  better  thing  for  us,  that 
they  without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect.  Hence 
our  Saviour  said  to  his  disciples — not  comparing 
them  with  the  Gentiles,  but  with  their  own  nation  : 
"  Many  prophets  and  righteous  men  have  desired  to 
see  the  things  that  ye  see,  and  have  not  seen  them; 
and  to  hear  the  things  which  ye  hear,  and  have 


84 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


not  heard  them.  But  blessed  are  your  eyes,  for 
they  see,  and  your  ears,  for  they  hear." 

Therefore,  while  for  a  knowledge  of  life  and  im- 
mortality we  repair  to  the  Scripture  only,  we  must 
look  peculiarly  into  the  New  Testament,  where  we 
are  furnished  with  clearer  decisions,  and  ampler 
representations ;  and  above  all,  with  illustrations 
and  pledges,  in  a  risen  and  glorified  Saviour. — 
Here  again,  the  unrivalled  excellency  of  Christian- 
ity appears.  How  unsatisfactory,  how  cold,  how 
mean,  how  gross,  how  absurd,  how  disgusting,  are 
the  intimations  of  Deism,  the  Elysian  fields  of 
Pagan  poetry,  the  rewards  of  Hindooism,  the  para- 
dise of  Mohammedism — when  placed  by  the  side  of 
the  "  life  and  immortalitv  brought  to  light  through 
the  gospel !" 

Through  the  discoveries  of  this  gospel  we  are 
going  to  finish  our  series  of  Lectures,  by  viewing 
the  Christian  in  his  final  destination.  You  have 
seen  him — In  Christ,  the  source  of  all  his  princi- 
ples, and  consolations,  and  hopes.  You  have  seen 
him — Withdrawing  into  his  Closet,  and  dealing 
much  with  God  alone.  You  have  seen  him — Leav- 
ing his  retirement,  and  stepping  into  his  Family, 
and  with  his  house  serving  God.  You  have  seen 
him — Joining  himself  to  God's  people;  and  walk- 
ing in  the  Church  in  all  the  commandments  and 
ordinances  of  the  Lord  blameless.  You  have  seen 
him — In  the  World,  but  not  of  it.  You  have  seen 
him — Safe  and  sanctified  in  Prosperity.  You  have 
seen  him — Supported  and  comforted  in  Adversity. 
You  have  seen  him — In  his  Spiritual  Sorrows 
hanging  his  harp  on  the  willows.  You  have  seen — 
The  Joy  of  the  Lord  his  strength.  You  have  sur- 
veyed him — In  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  Death  ; 
and  have  seen  that  his  end  is  peace.  You  have 
seen  him  though — Laid  in  the  Grave,  not  left  there; 
but  rising  into  newness  of  life.  And  now  you  are 
to  view  him — In  Heaven.  Four  things  will  engage 
your  attention.     The 

I.  Regards  the  degree  of  our  present  know- 
ledge of  the  heavenly  world. — The 

II.  The  manner  in  which  the  Scripture  aids  us 
in  conceiving  of  a  subject  so  vast  and  difficult. — 
The 

III.  Its  principal  constituents. — And 

IV.  The  instructions  and  impressions  we  should 
derive  from  the  contemplation  of  the  Christian 
in  the  possession  of  it. 

I.  Regards  the  degree  of  our  present  know- 
ledge of  the  heavenly  world. 

Have  you  never,  my  brethren,  when  perusing  the 
sacred  writings,  been  struck  with  a  kind  of  contra- 
diction! Here,  in  one  place,  you  say,  I  read  that 
"life  and  immortality  are  brought  to  light;"  and  in 
another,  I  am  told  of  "  the  glory  that  shall  be  reveal- 
ed." In  one  I  am  assured,  that  "  eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  have  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  him."  And  yet  in  another  it  is  said, 
"  God  hath  revealed  them  unto  us  by  his  Spirit." 
But  this  apparent  contradiction  supplies  us  with  the 
fact  we  are  remarking ;  and  the  apostle  John  has 
fully  expressed  it  when  he  says,  "  It  doth  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  be;  but  this  we  know,  that 
when  he  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we 
shall  see  him  as  he  is."  That  is,  we  know  something 
of  it ;  but  much,  very  much,  remains  concealed.— 
We  have  some  developments  in  the  sacred  pages, 
and  in  the  illuminations  of  the  Holy  Ghost — 

Yet  we  are  able  only  to  survey 
Dawnings  of  beams,  and  glimmerings  of  day; 
Heaven's  fuller  affluence  mocks  our  dazzled  sight; 
Too  great  its  swiftness,  and  too  strong  its  light. 


Of  the  full  disclosure  of  the  heavenly  world,  there 
is  a  moral  and  a  natural  prevention.  It  would  not 
be  proper,  if  it  were  possible ;  and  it  would  not  be 
possible,  if  it  were  proper.     Let.  us  explain. 

The  only  wise  God  has  attempered  even  our  senses 
to  our  present  condition.  The  measure  in  which 
we  possess  them,  is  admirably  fitted  to  the  functions 
and  enjoyments  of  life.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  that 
if  our  feeling  was  more  exquisite,  it  would  annoy 
us ;  and  that  if  our  hearing  was  increased,  it  would 
prove  our  inconvenience  ;  and  that  if  our  eye  was 
to  become  microscopic,  we  should  be  afraid  to  move. 
It  is  precisely  the  same  with  our  knowledge.  This 
is  adjusted  in  conformity  to  the  claims  ol  our  pre- 
sent sphere  of  action  and  happiness.  We  are  now 
in  a  mixed  state,  where  sorrow  is  necessary  as  well 
as  pleasure;  and  darkness  as  well  as  light.  Some 
duties,  if  they  do  not  entirely  result  from  our  igno- 
rance, are  enforced  by  it.  Witness  the  admonition 
of  the  Saviour  :  "  Watch,  for  ye  know  not  the  day 
or  the  hour  wherein  the  Son  of  man  cometh." 
We  are  in  a  course  of  trial  and  discipline  ;  where 
the  grand  principle  of  our  training  is  confidence ; 
where  we  are  to  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight; 
for  we  are  to  honor  God  by  trusting  in  him  ;  and 
to  follow  the  example  of  our  father  Abraham,  who 
"  by  faith,  when  he  was  called  to  go  out  into  a  place 
which  he  should  afterwards  receive  for  an  inherit- 
ance, obeyed,  and  went  out,  not  knowing  whither 
he  went " — satisfied  with  his  Guide,  and  the  assur- 
ance he  had  received  ;  and  leaving  all  the  inquiries 
which  restless  curiosity,  and  proud  reasonings,  and 
conferring  with  flesh  and  blood,  would  have  gender- 
ed, as  unworthy  a  thought.  • 

We  may  venture  to  affirm,  that  if  heaven  was 
now  fully  laid  open  to  our  view,  it  would  be  so  im- 
pressive  and  engrossing,  as  to  render  every  thing  T 
here  insignificant  and  uninteresting,  and  loosen  and 
detach  us  from  all  our  present  engagements.  St. 
Pierre  tells  us  of  his  returning  to  France  in  a  ship 
that  had  been  absent  several  years  in  the  East  Indies. 
"  And  when,"  says  he,  "  the  crew  approached  their 
native  country,  they  were  all  eagerness  to  discern 
it.  Some  of  them  mounted  the  rigging  :  some  of 
them  employed  the  glass.  By-and-by  an  exclama- 
tion was  heard,  '  Yonder  it  is  !'  Then  they  became 
thoughtful,  and  listless.  But  when  they  drew  nearer 
and  began  to  discover  the  tops  of  the  hills  and  tow- 
ers, that  reminded  them  of  the  spots  on  which  they 
had  been  brought  up ;  they  knew  not  how  to  contain 
themselves.  They  dressed  themselves  in  their  best 
apparel ;  they  brought  out  the  presents  designed  for 
their  connections.  But  when  the  vessel  entered  the 
harbor;  and  they  saw  their  friends  and  relations 
on  the  quay,  stretching  forth  their  hands  to  embrace 
them,  many  of  them  leaped  from  the  ship,  and  other 
hands  were  employed  to  bring  it  to  its  moorings." 
Ah  !  Christians,  could  you  see  the  better  country 
from  which  you  were  born,  and  to  which  you  are 
bound — could  you  behold  your  connections  there, 
ready  to  receive  you  ;  your  station  would  soon  be 
deserted,  and  other  agents  would  be  wanted  to  carry 
on  their  concerns. 

We  go  further !  and  we  say  that  the  full  disclosure 
of  heaven  would  not  only  derange  the  present  order 
of  things,  but  endanger,  injure,  and  destroy  the 
very  being  to  whom  it  was  presented.  Our  physi- 
cal powers  have  their  limits ;  and  from  many  in- 
stances in  the  Scriptures,  we  see  the  effects  of  an 
excess  of  excitement  or  impression.  Accustomed 
as  she  was  to  grandeur,  the  queen  of  Sheba,  at  ..the 
sight  of  Solomon's  glory,  had  no  more  spirit  in  her. 
Jacob  fainted  away  when  he  saw  the  wagons  to 
convey  him  to  his  son  Joseph.  When  the  angel 
approached  Daniel,  there  was  no  strength  in  him, 
for  his  comeliness  was  turned  in  him  to  corruption. 
And  though  John  had  often  reclined  on  his  bosom. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


85 


when  the  Saviour  appeared  to  him,  he  fell  at  his  feet 
as  dead.  No ;  we  have  not  eyes  to  see  that  bril- 
liancy cow ;  we  have  not  ears  to  endure  that  melody 
now;  we  have  not  frames  to  bear  up  under  that 
weight  of  glory  now.  "Flesh  and  blood  cannot 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God." 

The  full  knowledge,  therefore,  is  no  more  prac- 
ticable than  it  is  expedient.  We  have  no  adequate 
medium  of  receiving  the  communication;  and 
heaven  entering  the  mind  now,  is  like  the  sun  en- 
tering the  house  through  a  few  little  crevices,  or 
the  sea  flowing  through  the  hollow  of  a  straw. — 
There  is  an  amazing  force  in  language,  as  we  see 
in  some  most  powerful  and  affecting  works :  but 
words,  however  chosen,  can  no  more  express  hea- 
ven, than  paint  can  do  justice  to  light,  or  heat,  or 
joy.  All  our  modes  of  apprehending  and  feeling, 
are  not  refined  and  exalted  enough  to  take  a  com- 
plete hold  of  an  object  so  peculiar  and  spiritual. — 
Even  our  thoughts,  that  seem  to  "  leave  dull  mor- 
tality behind,"  here  labor  and  strive  in  vain:  and 
one  of  the  sublimest  understandings  that  ever  soar- 
ed, even  also  when  inspired,  could  only  exclaim, 
"Oh!  how  great  is  the  goodness  which  thou  hast 
laid  up  for  them  that  fear  thee." 

This,  however,  is  not  to  be  taken  absolutely. 
With  all  our  deficiencies,  we  are  not  ignorant  of 
the  reality  of  this  glory;  nor  are  we  unfurnished 
with  such  a  degree  of  information  concerning  it, 
as  our  duty  and  our  welfare  allow  and  require. — 
And  we  proceed, 

II.  To  observe  how  the  Scripture  aids  us  in  con- 
ceiving OF  A  SUBJECT  SO  DIFFICULT  AND  VAST. 

It  does  this  four  ways. 

First,  It  enables  us  to  conceive  of  it  negatively. 
Thus  it  tells  us  what  it  is  not,  removing  from  it  every 
thing  we  know  and  feel  to  be  dreadful, or  trying,  or 
ssing.  And  such  representations  we  are  pre- 
pared to  understand  and  to  feel,  by  a  sad  and  com- 
mon experience.  For  often  in  a  world  like  this,  our 
most  lively  apprehension  of  good  is  the  removal  of 
evil ;  and  our  most  inviting  notion  of  joy  is  the 
cessation  of  grief.  Hence  the  sacred  writers  assure 
us,  "  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  nor  thirst  any 
more.  Neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor 
any  heat.  There  shall  be  no  more  curse.  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes ;  and  there 
shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying; 
neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain  ;  for  the  former 
things  are  passed  away." 

Secondly,  It  enables  us  to  conceive  of  it  figura- 
tively. Figures  are  like  dress  ;  they  arc  now  used 
for  ornament,  but  they  were  introduced  from  ne- 
cessity. They  were  originally  used  not  to  embel- 
lish, but  to  explain  ;  and  we  want  them  for  the 
same  purpose  still.  How  can  the  mind,  while  in- 
carnate, any  more  discern  than  operate,  but  through 
the  senses,  the  mediums  of  all  sensation  ami  reflec- 
tion 1  How  can  we  reach  t he  distant,  but  by  the 
intervention  of  what  is  near'?  How  can  we  under- 
stand what  is  difficult,  but  by  the  application  of 
what  is  familiar?  How  can  we  hold  communion 
with  things  unseen  and  eternal,  but  by  means  of 
those  which  are  seen  and  temporal  ?  Wh.it  wonder 
therefore  that  the  wisdom  of  God  should  have  levied 
a  tax  on  all  that  is  inviting  in  the  intercourses  of 
life,  and  in  the  productions  and  appearances  of  na- 
ture, to  afford  us  emblems  and  illustrations  1  Whal 
wonder  that  we  should  read  of  rivers  of  pleasure  : 
of  trees  of  life;  of  robes  and  crowns;  of  feastings 
and  mirth;  of  treasures  and  triumphs — and  a  thou- 
sand other  images  serving  to  hold  forth  a  little  of 
the  better  and  enduring  substance  1 

Thirdly,  It  helps  us  to  conceive  of  it  compara- 
tively,   li  is  a  blessed  change  Christians  now  expe- 


rience in  passing  from  death  unto  life.  Now  are 
they  the  sons  of  God  ;  and  they  have  the  Spirit  of 
adoption.  They  have  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gra- 
cious; and  they  know  the  things  that  are  freely 
given  them  of  God.  But  though  the  sacred  writers 
view  grace  and  glory  as  inseparable,  and  indeed 
consider  them  as  the  same  in  kind,  they  remark  the 
difference  there  is  in  degree.  Here  the  new  crea- 
ture is  in  its  infancy ;  there  it  comes  to  t lie  mea- 
sure of  the  fulness  of  the  stature  of  Christ.  Here 
we  are  faithful  over  a  few  things;  there  we  are 
made  rulers  over  many  things  Here  we  are  saved 
by  hope ;  there  we  possess  the  reality.  Here  we 
walk  by  faith ;  there  by  sight.  Now  we  have  the 
first-fruits  of  the  Spirit ;  then  the  whole  harvest. 
Now  we  have  the  earnest;  then  the  inheritance. 

The  Christian  is  therefore  led  from  his  present 
experience  to  his  future  attainments;  and  there  is 
no  way  of  his  conceiving  of  heaven  so  affecting, 
as  to  take  his  best  views  and  frames  now,  and  to 
imagine  them  perfect  and  perpetual.  He  can  learn 
more  from  one  hour's  communion  with  God,  than 
from  all  the  books  he  ever  read.  There  are  ordi- 
nances, in  the  use  of  which  he  is  sometimes  filled 
with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing;  and  he  can 
say, 

"  If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  streams. 
What  must  the  fountain  be; 
Where  saints  and  angels  draw  their  bliss 
Immediately  from  Thee  V 

There  are  spots  in  his  walks  rendered  sacred  by 
his  meeting  his  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  talking  with 
him  as  a  man  talketh  with  his  friend.  In  his  ver- 
nal or  autumnal  retreats  from  the  haunts  of  men,  he 
has  sat  beneath  the  branches  of  his  favorite  tree, 
and  has  felt  a  perfect  sympathy  with  all  that  is  in- 
nocent and  beautiful  around  him  ;  and  every  thing 
earthly  has  been  reduced  to  its  just  level  in  his  re- 
gards; and  the  world  has  been  conquered,  having 
nothing  to  tempt  and  nothing  to  terrify;  and  even 
death  has  been  fro  wnless ;  and,  ready  to  be  dissol  veil, 
he  could  sing, 

"  O  that  the  happy  hour  was  come, 
To  change  my  faith  to  sight ! 
I  shall  behold  my  Lord  at  home 
In  a  diviner  light." 

Finally,  It  helps  us  to  conceive  of  it  positively. — 
Telling  us  plainly,  "  That  the  upright  shall  dwell 
in  his  presence.  That  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
for  they  shall  see  God.  That  when  He  who  is  our 
life  shall  appear,  we  shall  appear  with  him  in  glory. 
The  righteous  shall  go  away  into  life  eternal." — 
Yet  what  does  this  mean  1  What  does  it  include  ? 
— And  what 

III.  Are  THE  PRINCIPAL  CONSTITUENTS  OF  Till-. 
HEAVENLY  STATE. 

Here  we  will  not  trifle,  or  pry  into  things  which 
we  have  not  seen.  We  shall  not  therefore  enlarge 
on  many  topics  which  have  commonly  been  con- 
nected with  the  subject ;  and  the  reason  is,  either 
because  they  are  not  so  explicitly  revealed,  or  be- 
cause they  are  not  so  important  in  themselves,  as 
those  articles  which  we  are  going  to  enumerate. 

It  has  been  asked,  Arc  there  degrees  in  glory  1- 
We  are  persuaded  there  are.  All  analogy  counte- 
nances the  conclusion.  We  see  divei  ilie  and  ine- 
qualities pervading  all  the  works  of  God.  We  know 
theie  are  gradations  among  angels  ;  for  we  read  of 
thrones  and  dominions,  principalities  and  powers. 
And  though  all  Christians  are  redeemed  by  the 
same  blood,  and  justified  by  the  same  righteousness, 
we  know  that  there  are  degrees  in  grace.  We  know 
the  good  ground  brought  forth  in  some  places  thirty 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CONTEMPLATED. 


in  some  sixty,  in  some  a  hundred  fold.  And  the 
Apostle  tells  us,  "  Every  man  shall  receive  his  own 
reward  according  to  his  own  labor."  But  here  we 
approve  of  the  old  illustration — however  unequal 
in  size  these  vessels  may  be,  when  plunged  into  this 
ocean,  they  shall  all  be  equally  filled. 

It  has  been  asked,  Shall  we  know  each  other  in 
heaven  1  Suppose  you  should  not ;  you  may  be  as- 
sured of  this,  that  nothing  will  be  wanting  to  your 
happiness.  ButO,  you  say,  how  would  the  t'-  ouq'it 
affect  me  now !  There  is  the  babe  that  was  torn 
from  my  bosom ;  how  lovely  then,  but  a  cherub  now. 
There  is  the  friend,  who  was  as  mine  own  soul, 
with  whom  I  took  sweet  counsel,  and  went  to  the 
house  of  God  in  company.  There  is  the  dear  minis- 
ter— whose  preaching  turned  my  feet  into  the  path 
of  peace — whose  words  were  to  me  a  well  of  life. — 
There  is  the  beloved  mother,  on  whose  knees  I  first 
laid  my  little  hands  to  pray,  and  whose  lips  first 
taught  my  tongue  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Jesus  ! 
And  are  these  removed  from  us  for  ever  1  Shall 
we  recognize  them  no  more  1 — Cease  your  anxie- 
ties. Can  memory  be  annihilated  1  Did  not  Peter, 
James,  and  John  know  Moses  and  Ellas'?  Does 
not  the  Saviour  inform  us  that  the  friends,  benefac- 
tors have  made  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness, 
shall  receive  them  into  everlasting  habitations'? — 
Does  not  Paul  tell  the  Thessalonians,  that  they  are 
his  hope,  and  joy,  and  crown  at  the  coming  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  1 

Some  would  ask,  Where  is  heaven  1  The  uni- 
verse is  immense  ;  but  what  particular  part  of  it  is 
assigned  for  the  abode  of  the  blessed,  we  cannot  de- 
termine. It  will  probably  be  our  present  system 
renovated.  May  we  not  infer  this  from  the  words 
of  the  Apostle  Peter — "  Looking  for  and  hasting 
unto  the  coming  of  the  day  of  God,  wherein  the 
heavens  being  on  fire  shall  be  dissolved,  and  the  ele- 
ments shall  melt  with  fervent  heat — Nevertheless, 
we,  according  to  his  promise,  look  for  new  heavens 
and  a  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness." 

But  is  it  a  place?  Our  Lord  has  a  body  like  our 
own  ;  and  this  cannot  be  omnipresent ;  and  wher- 
ever he  is  corporeally,  there  is  heaven — "  Where  I 
am,  there  shall  also  my  servants  be."  Enoch  and 
Elias  have  bodies  ;  all  the  saints  will  have  bodies  ; 
and  these  cannot  be  everywhere.  We  read  of  "  the 
hope  laid  up  for  us  in  heaven."  Of  "  entering  into 
the  holy  place."  "  And  I  go,"  says  Jesus  to  his 
disciples,  "  to  prepare  a  place  for  you."  But  though 
it  is  really  a  place,  we  must  chiefly  consider  it  as  a 
state.  Even  now,  happiness  does  not  essentially 
depend  on  what  is  without  us.  What  was  Eden  to 
Adam  and  Eve,  after  sin  had  filled  them  with 
shame,  and  sorrow,  and  fear  1  But  Paul  in  prison 
was  infinitely  happier  than  Caesar  on  the  throne  of 
the  nations. 

What  then  are  we  allowed  to  reckon  upon  as  the 
grand  component  parts  of  this  exalted  state  1  You 
may  reckon  upon 

— Pre-eminent  knowledge.  This  is  a  world  of  ac- 
tion rather  than  of  science  ;  and  the  wiser  men  are, 
the  more  readily  will  they  confess,  that  their  present 
knowledge  is  unspeakably  less  than  their  ignorance. 
In  whatever  direction  they  attempt  to  penetrate, 
they  are  checked  and  baffled.  Laboriousness  at- 
tends every  acquirement ;  and  doubts  and  uncer- 
tainties diminish  the  value  of  every  possession. — 
The  difference  between  the  knowledge  of  Newton 
and  the  most  illiterate  peasant,  will  befar  exceeded 
by  the  difference  between  the  knowledge  of  the 
Christian  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  "  The  light  of 
the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the 
light  of  the  sun  sevenfold  as  the  light  of  seven  days, 
when  the  Lord  bindeth  up  the  breach  of  his  people, 
and  healeth  the  stroke  of  their  wound."  Now  they 
understand  as  children,  then  they  will  know  as  men. 


Now  they  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face 
to  face.  Now  they  know  in  part,  then  they  will 
know  even  as  they  are  known.  How  delightful  the 
thought — amidst  my  present  perplexities  and  obscu- 
rities, and  under  a  sense  of  the  penury  of  my  talents, 
and  in  the  want  of  means  and  opportunities  of  im- 
provement, that  "Messiah  cometh  who  is  called 
Christ ;  and  that  when  he  is  come,  he  will  tell  us  ail 
things."     You  may  reckon  upon 

—  P  \rfect  purity.  This  announcement  has  little 
attraction  for  those  of  you  who  never  saw  the  beau- 
ty of  holincoS,  and  never  abhorred  yourselves,  re- 
penting in  dust  and  ashes.  But  O  !  to  a  Christian 
it  is  worth  dying  for,  to  leave  behind  him  the  body 
of  this  death ;  this  law  in  the  members  warring 
against  the  law  of  his  mind  ;  this  inability  to  do  the 
things  that  he  would ;  this  presence  of  evil  ever  with 
him  ;  this  liableness,  this  proneness  to  sin,  even  in 
his  holy  things — tarnishing  every  duty,  wounding 
his  own  peace,  and  vexing  and  grieving  the  Spirit 
of  his  best  Friend.  To  be  freed  from  the  enemy, 
and  to  have  nothing  in  me  that  temptation  can  ope- 
rate upon !  To  be  incapable  of  ingratitude,  and 
unbelief,  and  distractions  in  duty  !  To  be  innocent 
as  the  first  Adam,  and  holy  as  the  second  ! — What 
wonder,  the  Christian  exclaims,  with  Henry,  "  If 
this  be  heaven,  O  !  that  I  were  there." — You  may 
reckon  upon 

— The  most  delightful  associatio?is.  We  are  form- 
ed for  society.  Mach  of  our  present  happiness  re- 
sults from  attachment  and  intercourse.  Who  knows 
not  "  the  comforts  of  love  1"  Yea,  and  who  knows 
not  its  sorrows  also  1  We  must  weep  when  the  ob- 
jects of  our  affection  weep.  The  arrows  that  pierce 
our  friends  wound  us  also.  We  tolerate,  we  excuse 
their  imperfections,  but  we  fee!  them.  And  the 
thought  of  absence — separation — death — is  dreari- 
ness, pain  and  anguish.  Hence,  some  have  been 
ready  to  envy  the  unrelated,  unconnected  individual, 
whose  anxieties  and  griefs  are  all  personal.  But  it 
is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone  in  any  condition. — 
It  is  better  to  follow  the  course  of  providence  ;  to 
cherish  the  intimacies  of  life ;  to  improve  and  to 
sanctify  them;  and  under  the  disadvantages  which 
now  mingle  with  them,  to  look  forward  to  a  state 
where  the  honey  will  be  without  the  sting,  and  the 
rose  without  the  thorn  ;  and  attachment  and  inter- 
course without  the  deductions  arising  from  pain, 
and  infirmities,  and  pity,  and  fear.  In  the  Revela- 
tion, heaven  is  always  presented  as  a  social  state. — 
You  have  now  few  holy  companions  ;  the  many  are 
going  another  way.  But,  says  John,  "  I  beheld, 
and,  lo  a  great  multitude,  which  no  man  could 
number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people, 
and  tongues,  stood  before  the  throne,  and  before  the 
Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes,  and  palms  in  their 
hands  ;  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  Salva- 
tion to  our  God  which  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and 
unto  the  Lamb."  And  you  will  have  access  to  them 
all.  You  will  there  have  the  most  endeared  society ; 
for  it  will  include  those  to  whom  you  were  so  ten- 
derly related  by  nature,  or  pious  friendship,  and  at 
parting  with  whom  you  sorrowed  most  of  all,  that 
you  should  see  their  face  and  hear  their  voice  no 
more ;  and  also  those  you  left  behind  you  with  re- 
luctance and  anxiety  in  a  world  of  sin  and  trouble. 
With  these,  your  fellowship,  after  a  brief  separation, 
Avill  be  renewed,  improved,  and  perfected  for  ever. 
The  society  will  also  be  the  most  dignified ;  and 
without  its  present  embarrassments.  There  are 
now  personages  so  superior,  that  you  seem  reduced 
to  nothing  at  the  thought  of  them.  You  esteem  and 
admire  them  ;  and  wish  to  hear,  and  see,  and  min- 
gle with  them  ;  yet  you  shrink  from  the  presence  of 
such  genius,  wisdom,  and  goodness.  But  you  wiP 
feel  nothing  cf  this,  when  you  sit  down  with  Abra- 
ham, and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  Moses,  and  with 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


87 


prophets,  and  apostles,  and  martyrs,  and  reformers 
in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Nor  will  saints  only  be 
your  companions;  but  those  glorious  beings  who 
never  sinned  ;  who  excel  in  strength ;  who  are  pro- 
verbial for  their  wisdom  ;  who  are  your  models  in 
doing  the  will  of  God  on  earth  ;  who  are  your  mi- 
nistering spirits,  invisibly  watching  over  you  in 
your  minority — the  innumerable  company  of  angels. 
And  though  they  will  not  be  able  to  say,  He  hath 
redeemed  us,  unto  God  by  his  blood;  they  will  cry 
with  a  loud  voice — though  you  will  endeavor  to  be 
louder — "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to 
receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength, 
and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing." — You  may 
reckon  upon 

— The  most  glorious  employment.  I  should  as 
soon  think  that  heaven  was  a  nursery  of  vice,  as 
a  state  of  inaction.  Indolence  is  no  more  irrecon- 
cilable to  virtue,  than  perfectly  incompatible  with 
happiness. 

"  A  want  of  occupation  is  not  rest. 
A  mind  quite  vacant  is  a  mind  distressed." 

All  the  powers  conferred  by  a  wise  Creator  neces- 
sarily imply  their  application  and  use:  and  the  more 
life  any  being  possesses,  the  more  energy  and  ac- 
tiveness  will  distinguish  him,  unless  he  is  in  a  state 
of  perversion  or  restraint.  But  what  are  the  em- 
ployments of  heaven  ?  Dr.  Watts  has  speculated 
much  on  this  subject.     Some  of  his  conjectures  are 

Erobable,  and  all  pleasing.  But  we  dare  not  follow 
im.  Of  this  we  are  sure,  that  there  will  be  none 
of  those  mean  and  degrading  toils  which  arise  now 
from  the  necessities  of  our  nature,  or  from  luxury 
and  pride.  Neither  will  there  be  any  of  those  reli- 
gious exercises  which  pertain  to  a  state  of  imperfec- 
tion. Repentance  will  be  hid  from  our  eyes.  There 
will  be  no  more  warfare  and  watchings.  Neither 
will  there  be  any  more  prayers  with  strong  cryings 
and  tears.  Yet  it  is  said,  "  They  serve  him  clay  and 
night  in  his  temple."  And  their  powers  will  be 
equal  to  the  work ;  for  neither  the  fervency  nor  the 
duration  of  the  service  will  produce  exhaustion  or 
languor.  The  common  notion  of  always  standing 
up  and  singing,  is  too  childish  to  be  entertained. — 
We  have  no  doubt  but  that  there  may  be  stated  as- 
semblies for  adoration  and  praise.  But  Christians 
are  said  to  be  still  praising  him  now;  and  they  do 
this,  not  by  acts  of  worship  only,  but  by  performing 
his  will,  by  filling  up  their  stations  in  life  properly, 
and  promoting  the  welfare  of  all  around  them  :  and 
his  work  even  here  is  honorable  and  glorious. 

— On  the  presence  and  sight  of  the  Saviour,  in 
whom  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bo- 
dily, you  may  reckon;  and  you  will  reckon — and 
reckon  supremely — if  you  are  a  Christian.  "Ah!" 
says  Paul,  "  I  long  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ, 
which  is  far  better."  "We  are  confident,  I  say, 
and  willing  rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and 

E  resent  with  the  Lord."  What  would  every  thing 
e  in  his  absence !  Could  the  place,  the  company, 
the  harps,  be  a  substitute  for  himl  But  here  is  the 
consummation — you  shall  "serve  him  and  see  his 
face."  You  need  not  envy  those  who  knew  him 
nfier  the  flesh;  you  will  have  access  to  him;  you 
will  see  the  King,  and  see  him  in  his  beauty.  He 
is  now  with  you.  He  knows  your  soul  in  adversity  ; 
and  comes  to  you  as  a  friend,  and  helper,  and  com- 
forter. But  you  are  now  in  prison.  His  visits, 
when  he  looks  upon  you  through  the  bars,  and 
brings  you  supplies,  and  communes  with  you  in  the 
cell,  are  relieving.  They  solace  the  confinement; 
you  wish  t!:em  multiplied;  you  expect  them  with 
joy.  But  tlie  best  of  all  these  visits  will  be  the  last, 
when  he  will  come  not  only  to  you,  but  for  you : 
when  he  will  open  the  doors  of  (he  dungeon,  and 
knock  off  the  fetters,  and  take  you  home. to  his  pa- 


lace. Then  you  will  be  with  him:  you  will  "  walk 
with"  him  "in  white;"  you  will  "eat  and  drink  at 
his  table  in  his  kingdom;"  you  will  "be  forever 
with  the  Lord."  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  thai 
you  may  reckon  upon 

— The  most  exquisite  enjoyment.  This  will  spring 
abundantly  from  all  the  foregoing  sources,  and  es- 
pecially the  last.  It  will  far  transcend  every  feel- 
ing we  have  had  of  delight  and  ecstacy  here.  The 
state  itself  is  expressed  by  it.  "  Enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord."  Jude  says,  we  shall  be  "  present- 
ed before  the  presence  of  his  glory,  with  exceeding 
joy."  And  says  David,  "  In  thy  presence  is  fulness 
of  joy,  and  at  thy  right  hand  are  pleasures  for  ever- 
more."    For  you  may  reckon  upon 

The  perpetuity  of  all  this.  "  Permanency,"  says 
the  poet,  "adds  bliss  to  bliss."  But  here  it  is  abso- 
lutely indispensable  even  to  the  happiness  itself: 
for  the  greater  the  blessedness,  the  more  miserable 
we  should  feel  if  it  were  in  danger.  Who  in  the 
possession  of  such  a  prize,  could  exist  under  the 
thought  of  losing  it  1  How  careful  therefore  are 
the  sacred  writers  never  to  leave  out  this  essential 
attribute,  in  any  of  their  descriptions.  If  it  be  life, 
it  is  "eternal"  life.  If  it  be  salvation,  it  is  "ever- 
lasting/' salvation.  If  it  be  a  kingdom,  it  is  a  king- 
dom that  "cannot  be  shaken."  If  it  be  a  crown, it 
is  a  crown  of  "  glory,  that  fadeth  not  away." 

To  which  we  may  add,  that  you  may  reckon  not 
only  on  the  eternity,  but  the  increase.  Who  could 
think  of  being  doomed  to  remain  stationary  1  How 
irksome  would  any  condition  be,  in  which  there 
could  be  no  possibility  of  advance  and  improve- 
ment 1  But  your  faculties  will  not  be  confined  to 
a  circle  of  sameness:  they  will  be  free;  they  will 
break  forth  on  every  side.  How  much  more  do  the 
angels  know  now  than  once;  and  yet  still  they  de- 
sire to  look  into  the  Saviour's  sufferings  and  glory. 
How  often  will  there  be  new  songs  in  heaven,  or 
fresh  exclamations  of  admiration  and  praise,  from 
fresh  discoveries  and  displays  of  the  perfections  of 
God,  in  his  works  and  ways.  Every  finite  being  is 
capable  of  accession;  and  in  knowing,  and  doing, 
and  attaining,  and  enjoying,  there  will  be  an  infinite 
progression  before  us. 

If  with  this  account  of  heaven  you  are  dissatis- 
fied, be  assured,  the  Lecturer  is  still  more  so.  Who, 
upon  such  a  subject,  can  speak  worthily  1  I  will 
therefore  no  longer  darken  counsel  with  words 
without  knowledge,  but  conclude  by  calling  upon 
.V°u, 

IV.  To  BEHOLD  THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  HIS  FIN.VI,  DES- 
TINY, AND  TO  REMARK  THE  INSTRUCTIONS  AND  IMPRES- 
SIONS THAT  SHOULD  ARISE  FROM  THE  CONTEMPLATION. 

Behold  him  there,  as  a  monument  of  divine  grace. 
What  was  he  once?  He  will  not  be  unwilling  to 
look  to  the  rock  whence  he  was  hewn,  and  to  the 
hole  of  the  pit  whence  he  was  digged.  He  will 
acknowledge  that  by  nature  he  was  a  child  of  wrath 
even  as  others;  condemned  by  the  law  of  God;  a 
fallen,  guilty,  depraved  creature;  his  powers  all 
defiled  and  desolate;  helpless  and  ready  to  perish. 
But  what  is  he  now?  Redeemed;  justified;  re- 
newed; quickened  together  with  Christ ;  raised  up 
and  made  to  sit  with  him  in  the  heavenly  places. 
And  whence  is  all  this?  Is  it  by  his  own  worthiness, 
or  righteousness,  or  strength,  that  he  has  made  him- 
self whole?  '-'This  people,"  says  God,  "have  / 
formed  for  myself;  they  shall  show  forth  my  praise." 
Here  he  has  placed  them  to  display  in  their  salva- 
tion the  freeness,  the  power,  and  the  fulness  of  his 
grace — that  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might  show  the 
exceeding  riches  of  his  grace  in  his  kindness  to- 
waxds  them  by  Christ  Jesus.  And  falling  in  com- 
pletely with  this  design,  they  cast  their  crowns  at 
his  feet  and  exclaim,  "  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  not 


THE   CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED 


unto  us,  but  unto  thy  name,  give  glory,  for  thy  mer- 
cy and  thy  truth's  sake.  By  the  grace  of  God  I  am 
what  I  am.  Not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  which  was 
with  me." 

Behold  him  there,  and  see  the  conduct  of  God  to- 
wards him  in  this  world  explained  and  vindicated. 
It  will  be  acknowledged  that  though  God  does  much 
for  his  people  here,  yet  the  relation  in  which  he  has 
been  pleased  to  place  himself,  implies  and  requires 
far  more  than  he  now  performs.  A  future  state  of 
munificent  liberality  is  therefore  necessary.  To 
this  he  appeals,  and  by  this  his  promises  are  to  be 
estimated.  Hence  says  the  apostle,  "  Wherefore 
God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their  God,  seeing 
he  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city."  Here,  while  the 
wicked  prospered,  and  had  more  than  heart  could 
wish,  the  righteous  were  poor,  and  oppressed,  and 
afflicted;  plagued  every  morning,  and  chastened 
every  moment.  And  you  were  ready  to  ask,  If  they 
are  his,  why  are  they  thus!  You  were  so  perplexed 
at  the  strangeness  of  his  providence  towards  them, 
that  your  feet  were  almost  gone,  and  your  steps  had 
well  nigh  slipped.  But  even  then,  he  told  you  that 
his  ways  are  not  our  ways;  he  told  you  that  his 
people  were  under  an  economy,  a  very  small  part 
of  which  falls  within  your  inspection ;  he  told  you 
that  the  dispensations  you  complained  of  were  not 
yet  terminated:  he  said,  u Judge  nothing  before  the 
time,  until  the  Lord  come."  But  here"  is  the  full 
answer.  Look  at  them  now.  All  that  was  dark- 
ness, is  now  illuminated:  all  that  appeared  disor- 
derly, is  now  arranged:  all  that  seemed  evil,  is  now 
acknowledged  good.  Now  we  have  the  clue,  and 
the  difficulties  are  loosened.  Now  we  have  the  end, 
and  this  justifies  the  means.  We  now  see  by  what 
his  dispensations  towards  them  were  regulated,  and 
in  what  they  have  resulted.  They  were  chastened 
of  the  Lord,  that  the}''  might  not  be  condemned  with 
the  world.  The  trial  of  their  faith  was  much  more 
precious  than  that  of  gold  that  perisheth,  because  it 
was  to  be  found  unto  praise,  and  glory,  and  honor, 
at  the  appearing  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  light  afflic- 
tions which  were  but  for  a  moment,  have  worked 
out  for  them  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory.  They  themselves  are  more  than 
satisfied.  They  acknowledge  that  he  hath  dealt 
well  with  his  servants.  They  exclaim,  He  hath 
done  all  things  well.  "Marvellous  are  thy  works, 
Lord  God  Almighty;  just  and  true  are  all  thy  ways, 
O  thou  King  of  saints." 

— Behold  the  glorified  Christian,  and  see  the 
justifcxlion  of  his  choice.  Here,  his  fellow-crea- 
tures despised  him,  or  affected  to  pity.  If  they  al- 
lowed him  to  be  sincere,  they  reproached  him  as 
weak,  and  considered  his  life  a  system  of  restraints, 
and  privations,  and  sacrifices.  "Even  then  wisdom 
was  justified  of  all  her  children.  Even  then  they 
were  conscious  that  reason  itself  bore  them  out  in 
their  preference.  Even  then  they  were  not  ashamed 
of  their  self-denial  or  sufferings,  for  they  knew 
whom  they  had  believed;  and  were  persuaded  that 
he  was  able  to  keep  that  which  they  had  committed 
unto  him  against  that  day.  Even  then  they  rejoiced 
in  the  testimony  of  their  consciences,  and  the  secret 
smiles  and  whi°-  ers  of  their  Lord  and  Saviour.  But 
the  world  knew  them  not.  They  were  princes  in 
disguise.  Their  titles  were  refused,  and  their  ho- 
nors and  riches  were  turned  to  scorn.  And  they 
bore  this  with  firmness  and  patience— for  they  saw 
that  their  day  was  coming.  And  lo !  now  it  is  ar- 
rived. Now  they  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  king- 
dom of  their  Father.  Now  is  the  manifestation  of 
the  sons  of  God.  Now  their  enemies  return  and 
discern  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked;  be- 
tween him  I  hat  serveth  God,  and  him  that  ser'veth 
him  nol.  And  oh!  how  changed  their  sentiments 
and  their  language  now.    "  We  fools  counted  their 


life  madness,  and  their  end  to  be  without  honor! 
Now  are  they  numbered  with  the  saints,  and  their 
lot  is  among  the  children  of  God." 

— Contemplate  him  where  he  is,  and  inquire 
whether  you  will  be  a  partaker  of  the  same  blessedness. 
Is  it  not  astonishing  that  you  can  put  such  a  ques- 
tion from  you,  as  if  it  was  the  greatest  impertinence, 
from  week  to  week,  from  year  to  year,  though  in  the 
midst  of  life  you  are  in  death,  and  after  death  is  the 
judgment  1  And  is  it  not  strange  that  oihers  can 
remain  in  a  state  of  indecision,  with  only  such  a 
peradventure  as  this  to  support  their  peace — Per- 
haps I  am  in  the  way  to  heaven,  and  perhaps  I  am 
in  the  way  to  hell !  What  is  your  zeal  condition 
with  regard  to  that  eternity,  on  the  verge  of  which 
you  are?  Have  you  a  title  to  glory?  This  results 
from  relationship:  "If  children,  then  heirs;  heirs 
of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ."  Have  you 
any  mectness  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in 
light'!  Without  this  you  cannot  see  the  kingdom 
of  God — not  only  for  want  of  permission,  but  for 
want  of  capacity.  Threatenings  are  not  necessary 
to  exclude — your  disposition  bars  you  out.  The 
excellency  of  the  state  cannot  make  you  happy  with 
out  an  adaptation  to  it :  your  contrariety  of  temper 
and  taste  would  make  you  miserable.  "  God  has 
wrought  us,"  says  the  apostle,  "for  the  self-same 
thing."  Has  he  done  this  for  you  1  Have  you  an j- 
thing  in  you  that  is  congenial  with  heaven  1  Hea 
ven  is  a  holy  place.  Are  you  hungering  and  thirst- 
ing after  righteousness  1  It  consists  in  the  presence 
and  adoration  of  Christ.  Are  you  at  home  now 
when  you  are  saying — "Unto  him  that  loved  us, 
and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  be 
glory  and  dominion.  There  all  religious  distinc- 
tions will  be  done  away;  and  the  question  will  be, 
not  where  you  have  worshipped,  but  only  how.  Can 
you  now  rise  above  a  party  and  say,  "  Grace  be  with 
all  them  that  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  since- 
rity'?" Many  of  you  do  not  hope  for  heaven;  do 
not  desire  it.  You  cannot  hope  for  it,  you  cannot 
desire  it — unless  you  can  love  and  enjoy  its  ingre- 
dients now. 

— Let  the  contemplation  bring  you  upon  your 
knees,  and  be  this  your  prayer :  "Remember  me, 
O  Lord,  with  the  favor  thou  bearest  unto  thy  peo- 
ple. O  visit  me  with  thy  salvation,  that  I  may  see 
the  good  of  thy  chosen,  that  I  may  rejoice  in  the 
gladness  of  thy  nation,  and  glory  with  thine  inhe- 
ritance." O!  how  shall  I  plead  with  you  for  this 
purpose  7  By  what  motives  can  I  urge  you  to  make 
it  your  immediate  and  prevailing  concern  1 

Need  I  remind  you  of  the  importance  of  the  ob- 
ject 1  Glory!  Honor!  Immortality!  An  eter- 
nity, an  infinity,  of  blessedness  ! 

— Need  you  to  be  told  that  it  is  placed  within  your 
attainment — that  you  are  allowed,  invited,  com- 
manded to  seek  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  right- 
eousness, with  an  assurance  of  success  1  And  if 
you  perish,  what  an  aggravation  of  )'our  misery 
will  this  produce  !  When  an  event  is  unavoidable, 
you  may  lament,  but  j^ou  feel  no  self-reproach. 
When  you  suffer  innocently,  conscience  even  com- 
mends you  ;  you  feel  a  little  of  the  spirit  of  a  mar- 
tyr ;  you  claim  on  your  side  a  God  of  judgment, 
and  believe  that  in  due  time  he  will  appear  on  your 
behalf.  But  here  you  will  be  speechless.  You  will 
feel  that  you  have  destroyed  yourselves.  Your 
misery  will  be  your  greatest  sin.  Every  mouth 
will  be  stopped;  and  you  will  be  found  guilty  be- 
fore God.  Guilty  of  what  1  Of  transgressing  his 
law.  Yes — but  still  more  of  neglecting  so  great 
salvation,  of  rejecting  the  counsel  of  God  against 
yourselves,  and  judging  yourselves  unworthy  of 
everlasting  life. 

And  allow  me  to  ask,  for  what  is  it  that  you  are 
determined  to  sacrifice  this  attainable  and  infinite 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CONTEMPLATED. 


89 


aoon  ?  Are  you  not  spending  your  money  for  that 
which  is  nol  bread,  and  your  labor  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not-?  You  condemn  the  foliy  of  Esau, 
I  who  for  one  morsel  of  meat  sold  his  birth-right. 
Yba  reproach  Adam  and  Eve,  who  lost  the  garden 
of  Eden  for  a  taste  of  the  forbidden  tree.  But  you 
are  making  a  far  worse,  a  far  viler  exchange.  You 
are  sacrificing  all  the  glory  of  God  and  the  Lamb — 
I  again  ask,  for  what  ?  You  would  be  losers  if  you 
gained  the  whole  world.  But  are  you  gaining  em- 
pires ?  provinces  ?  estates'?  Are  you  gaining  repu- 
tation? The  esteem  of  the  wise  and  good  1  Health  1 
Peace  of  mind?  Support  in  trouble?  Freedom 
from  fear  ?  Sin  ought  to  yield  you  much,  for  it 
will  cost  you  dear.  But  the  way  of  transgressors 
is  hard.  There  is  no  peace  to  the  wicked.  When 
yon  lie  down  in  sorrow,  how  will  you  answer  the 
question,  "What  fruit  had  ye  then  in  those  things 
whereof  ye  are  now  ashamed  ?  for  the  end  of  these 
things  is  death."     Remember  also  the  alternative. 

— For  missing  this,  there  is  nothing  but  a  certain 
fearful  looking  forof  judgment  and  fiery  indignation 
to  devour  the  adver-a^y.  If  you  are  not  with  the 
sheep  at  the  right  hand,  you  must  be  with  the  goats 
at  the  left.  If  you  hear  not  the  sentence,  "Come, 
ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world," 
you  must  hear  the  doom,  "  Depart  ye  cursed,  into 
everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  an- 
gels." 

Lastly.  Let  us  look  and  hail  those  who  can  make 
the  prospect  their  own.  We  talk  of  happiness  !  Can 
any  thing  equal  the  state  of  those  who  can  humbly 
and  confidently  say.  "Being  justified  by  faith,  we 
have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
by  whom  also  we  have  access  by  faith  into  this 
grace  wherein  we  stand,  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  the 
glory  of  God  ?"  Many  are  in  adversity  and  tribu- 
lation ;  and  yet  have  no  such  prospect.  All  is  fight- 
ing against  them,  and  tl.ey  have  no  refuge.  Their 
thoughts  are  broken  off;  even  the  purposes  of  their 
hearts,  and  their  earthly  schemes,  laid  desolate  ; 
yet  they  have  nothing  better  before  them.  Yea, 
conscience  tells  them,  this  is  only  the  beginning  of 
sorrows;  the  short  preface  to  along  roll  written 
within  and  without,  with  lamentation,  and  mourn- 
ing, and  wo.  But  to  the  upright  there  ariseth  light 
in  the  darkness.  He  sees  the  storm  beginning  to 
clear  up:  and  he  knows  that  no  cloud  shall  return 
af.er  the  rain.  "  I  reckon,"  says  he,  "  that  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in 
us."  Soon,  want  will  ho  followed  with  fulness. — 
Soon,  the  wormwood  and  the  gall  will  be  succeeded 
by  the  cup  of  salvation. 

"  Yet  a  season,  and  we  know 

Happy  entrance  shall  Le  given  ; 
All  our  sorrows  left  below, 

And  earth  exchanged  for  heaveD." 

With  this  prospect,  how  superior  is  he  to  the 
envied,  the  indulged,  the  successful  man  of  the 
world.  He  has  his  portion  in  this  life;  but,  says  the 
Christian,  "As  for  me,  I  will  behold  thy  face  in 
righteousness ;  I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake 
with  thy  likeness."  His  good  things  are  temporal ; 
mine  are  eternal.  He  is  leaving  his  ;  I  am  advanc- 
ing to  mine.  Every  hour  diminishes  the  value  of 
his  hope;  but  every  moment  adds  interest  to  mine. 

Nor  need  the  Christian  envy  the  man  of  claims 


merely  intellectual.  Wisdom  indeed  excelleth  fol- 
ly, as  much  as  light  excelleth  darkness.  Monty  is 
a  defence;  but  the  excellency  of  knowledge  is,  that 
wisdom  giveth  life  to  them  that  have  it.  But  what 
wisdom  ?  It  was  a  fine  reply  of  the  converted  as- 
tronomer, who,  when  interrogated  concerning  the 
science  which  he  hail  been  idolizing  answered,  "  I 
am  now  bound  for  heaven,  and  I  take  the  stars  in 
my  way."  How  humiliating  is  it  to  reflect,  that 
the  treasures  of  learning  and  science  depend  upon 
the  brain  ;  that  an  accident  of  disease  mav  abolish 
them  ;  or  that,  at  most,  ihey  are  limited  to  the  life 
that  now  is,  and  which  we"  spend  as  a  shadow.— 
Whether  there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  away 
— unless  it  be  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord — for  this  life  is  eternal. 

In  much  w:edom  also,  there  is  much  grief;  and 
he  that  increaseth  knowledge,  increaseth  sorrow. 
Some  of  the  most  expansive  and  cultivated  minds 
are  the  most  miserable.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  ac- 
count for  this.  Genius  implies  a  sensibility  which 
strangers  intermeddle  not  with.  It  is  attended  with 
a  keenness  of  feeling,  that  rendets  the  possessor 
like  a  sensitive  plant,  that  shrinks  at  every  touch. 
He  lives  in  a  world  of  imagination,  as  well  as  a 
world  of  reality.  He  views  nothing  simply  and 
purely.  Everything  is  diessed  up  to  his  concep- 
tions; the  beautiful  in  preternatural  tints,  and  the 
evil  in  preternatural  horrors.  His  thoughts  are 
sentiments,  tie  feels  intensely:  and  nothing  very 
intense  can  continue.  Then  follows  a  void  which 
is  irksome,  and  a  listlessness  which  is  intolerable, 
and  which  are  sometimes  productive  of  fatal  effects. 
In  Madame  de  Stael's  Memoirs  of  her  father,  we 
have  the  following  remark:  "  I  have  a  proof,"  says 
Mr.  Necker,  "of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  in  this; 
that  it  is  at  least  after  a  while  desirable;  nnd  essen- 
tial to  our  happiness.  By  the  time  we  have  reached 
threescore  years  and  ten,  we  have  looked  around 
us,  and  become  familiar  with  the  whole  scene:  and 
though  not  satisfied,  we  are  sated.  Then  we  feel 
our  need  of  a  new  residence;  a  new  sphere  of  ac- 
tivity; and  new  sources  of  employment  and  enjoy- 
ment." This  is  a  striking  remark;  and  we  may 
observe,  that  if  at  such  a  period,  religion  with  its 
motives  and  promises  is  not  present  to  the  mind,  the 
man  wearied  of  existence,  and  feeling  every  thin:; 
here  to  be  vanity,  is  likely  to  become  the  victim  of 
an  insupportable  oppression,  and  in  a  moment  of 
rashness  may  welcome  self-destruction.  Have  we 
had  no  instances  of  this? 

— Here  the  Christian  is  guarded;  here  he  is  pro- 
vided for.  As  this  world  palls  upon  him,  an  other 
opens  to  his  view.  This  prospect  enlivens  the  soli- 
tudes which  bereavement  and  decays  of  nature  have 
produced.  This  prospect  becomes  a  substitute  for 
the  scenes  and  charms  which  have  faded  and  fled. 
This  prospect  entertains  and  engages,  now  the  days 
are  come  in  which  he  says,  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
them.  The  outward  man  pcrisheth,  but  the  inward 
man  is  renewed  day  by  day.  His  heart  and  his  flesh 
fail;  but  God  i<:  the  strength  of  his  heart  and  his 
portion  for  ever.  He  departs;  but  he  leaves  what 
is  not  his  rest,  what  is  polluted,  what  is  nigh  unto 
cursing,  and  whose  end  is  to  be  burned —while  he 
outers  a  creation  where  every  thing  that  is  new,  and 
marvellous,  and  pure,  and  attractive,  and  beautify- 
ing, says,  Arise,  and  come  away.  Am'  the  hour 
that  obscures  nnd  quenches  for  ever  all  other  g\o- 
ries,  immortalizes  him. 


INDEX. 


Page 

Preface * 1 

LECTURE  I. 

7HK  CHRISTIAN,   IN  CHRIST. 

2  Cor.  xii.  2. — "  I  knew  a  man  in  Christ." 9 

LECTURE  II. 

THE   CHRISTIAN,    IN   THE    CLOSET. 

Matt.  iv.  6. — "  Enter  into  thy  closet.3 14 

LECTURE  III. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,   IN   THE   FAMILY. 

2  Sam.  vi.  20. — "  Then  David  returned  to  bless 
Iris  household." 20 

LECTURE  IV. 

THE   CHRISTIAN,    IN   THE   ChfTKCK. 

1  Tim.  iii.  15. — "That  thou  mayest  know  how 
thou  oughtest  to  behave  thyself  in  the  house  of 
God,  which  is  the  church  of  the  living  God.".  .27 

LECTURE  V. 

THE   CHRISTIAN,    IN   THE   WORLD. 

John  xxvii.  11. — •'  And  now  I  am  no  more  in  the 
world ;  but  these  are  in  the  world." 35 

LECTURE  VI. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,    IN   PROSPERITY. 

Jer.  xxii.  21.—"  I  spake  unto  thee  in  (hy  pros- 
perity ;  but  thou  saidst,  I  will  not  hear." 42 


LECTURE  VII. 

THE  CHRISTIAN,   IN  ADVERSITY. 

Eccles.  vii.  14.—"  In  the  day  of  adversity  con- 
sider."   50 

LECTURE  Va  . 

THE   CHRISTIAN,    IN   HIS   SPIRITUAL    SORROWS. 

Psalm  cxxxvii.  2. — "We  hanged  our  harps  upon 
the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof." 58 

LECTURE  IX. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,   IN    HIS   SPIRITUAL    JOYS. 

Nehemiah  viii.  10—"  Then  he  said  unto  them,  Go 
your  way,  eat  the  fat,  and  di  ink  the  sweet,  and 
send  portions  unto  them  for  whom  nothing  is 
prepared :  for  this  day  is  holy  unto  our  Lord : 
neither  be  ye  sorry ;  for  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is 
your  strength." 64 

LECTURE  X. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,    iN    i^EATH. 

Psalm  xxxvii.  37. — "  Mark  the  perfect  man,  and 
behold  the  upright :  for  the  end  of  that  man  is 
peace." 70 

LECTURE  XI. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,    IN   THE    GRAVE. 

Job  xvii.  13. — "  If  I  wait,  the  grave  is  mine 
hon*e." 76 

LECTURE  XII. 

THE    CHRISTIAN,   IN    HEAVEN. 

2  Tim.  i.  10.-"  Who  hath  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light  through  the  gospel." 83 


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